t I3 1ji 07 v. - y** % l\ '# I .- i ' ^w .' " ' By the Same Author. Idols; or, The Secret of the Rue Chaussee D'Antin. From the French of Raoul de Navery. By ANNA T. SADLIER. 121110. Cloth, $1.25. " The story is intensely dramatic, and the plot is an excel- lent one. It certainly contains enough of startling situations to rivet the attention of any lover of sensational literature, but at (he same time it is thoroughly Catholic." Connecticut Catholic. "The story of 'Idols' is a remarkably clever one. It is well constructed and evinces a master hand." Catholic Columbian. " Full of romance, of incident, and religious inspiration." -AT. Y. Tablet. "An interesting, even sensational story, of a healthy, moral tone, free from the ' preachiness ' usually found in what are known as ' Catholic tales.' "nttsburg Catholic. BENZIGER BROTHERS, New York, Cincinnati, Chicago. THE MONK'S PARDON. A HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF THE TIME OF PHILIP IV. OF SPAIN. ilw rauU l sUaauI g* BY ANNA T. SADLIER, Author of " Names chat Live in Catholic Hearts." i'ii EDITION*. Miw YORK, CINCINNATI, AMD CHICAUO t BEN2IGER BROTHERS, Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. Copyright, 1883. by BENZIGER BROTHUS. TO M. ZACHARIE ASTRUE. You brought from Spain a copy of one of those works, which reflect the greatest honor upon the genius of that immortal galaxy of great men, whose glory reached its culminating point in the reign of Philip IV. I first thought of writing the dramatic story of Alonso Cano when I saw and admired his wonderful statue of St. Francis, which it is impossible to contemplate with- out respect and emotion. The book therefore belongs of right to him who first made this statue known in France, and who, like the Spanish master, wields alternately the pen of the author, the pencil of the painter, and the chisel of the sculptor. RAOUL DE NAVE"REY. 2138161 CONTENTS. CllAPTICK PAGB I. THE STUDIO < 9 II. THE MASTER. v ... 25 III. THE KING'S VISIT 38 IV. A LETTER 55 V. THE CONSPIRATORS 68 VI. THE CRIME , , 81 VII. SUSPICION v ..., 97 VIII. MIGUEL'S ALGUAZILS k . no IX. THE RIDE 123 X. THE HAUNTED HOUSE 135 XI. THE SECRET BETRAYED 155 XII. BETWEEN Two FIRES 175 XIII. THE CARTHUSIAN MONASTERY 188 XIV. THE STATUE OF ST. FRANCIS 307 XV. THE FEAST OF CORPUS CHRISTI 229 XVI. THE CHAMBER OF DEATH 345 XVII. TORTURE , 258 XVIII. THE KING'S PRESENT 274 XIX. THE GAMBLERS 286 XX. THE MONK'S PARDON 399 THE MONK'S PARDON. CHAPTER I. THE STUDIO. THE sun of a warm, glowing noontide fell in rich streams upon one of the finest studios in Madrid, and brought out its every detail in the fullest perfection. Students crowded eagerly to the luxurious dwelling of Alonso Cano, anxious to study and to perfect themselves in the various departments of art, all of which the great artist cultivated with equal success. It was because of the versatility of his talents that the studio of Alonso Cano presented an aspect so different from those of his rivals in genius and in fame, Estaban Murillo and Velasquez. One end of the large room, well lighted from above, was entirely occupied by the retablo * of an altar. Truly a magnificent one, such as is rarely seen outside of Spain or Flanders. Colossal in its proportions, it was executed with wonderful precision as to its merest details. The wood in the skilful hands of the artist formed an elaborate floral ornamentation, and, in an architectural point of view, the decorations were so exquisite that nothing of its kind had hitherto surpassed this work of Alonso Cano. Among floral * Altar screen. 10 THE MONK'S PARDON. bowers, graceful arcades, and groups of light, elegant pillars, statues of saints, figures of angels or processions of virgins seemed to wander, pausing to pray in Gothic chapels. Like the crown or complement of it all was the Madonna, with a face so living yet so divine in its expression, that the beholder felt inspired at once to pray. Painting had combined with sculpture to give life to these beautiful creations, and the warm sunlight of a spring day striking full upon this grand concep- tion reflected thence a double radiance upon the studio. The walls were covered with holy epics rudely sketched. Easels displayed great unfinished canvases, awaiting the artist's hand. One of these represented Balaam's ass. It was a picture wonderful in the richness of its color- ing, the exquisite grace of the angel, and the expression of the prophet's face. Alternating with these canvases were statues of marble, which, in their faultless precision of design, stood upon pedestals in all the perfection of that ideal life, with which the art of the sculptor had en- dowed them. Near these finished works were vague, half-defined forms of terra-cotta, wrapped in clamp cloths, and images of wax ready for the final touches. The chisel, the pencil, the brush, and the mallet fraternized in the studio of Alonso Cano. Comparing the marble statues from his hand with his paintings, one might vainly ask in which of these arts, both of which he so successfully cultivated, did the genius of Alonso Cano most appear! Great vases of flowers seemed to display their grace and beauty, as it were in contrast to the grandeur of all else around them. For this studio, in its sublimity, was like a temple. Hfre art heard as it were no sound but the light step of the S^iAsh Muse passing hither and thither among the disciples &*:' the great master, encour- aging them with merited praise, or dealing out needed THE STUDIO. II correction. The young men, all busy at their various tasks, usually worked with unflagging ardor, till the bell of a neighboring monastery warned them that the hour of rest had come. The silence which had hitherto reigned among them was then broken by a joyful move- ment. Each student put aside his palette, with a long- drawn sigh as of relief. He arose, shook hands with the others, and cordially, without the slightest jealousy, each inspected the other's work. One alone remained at his place. He was an Italian named Lello Lelli. He was apparently some twenty-five years of age, but in his face or manner there was none of that noble enthusiasm so delightful to behold in youth. The very suffering which was the predominant expression of his countenance had nothing noble or resigned about it; there was ill-con- cealed envy in his furtive glance, sarcasm in the corners of his thin lips, and a suggestion of torturing jealousy and ill-repressed rage in his deadly pallor. Fierce cu- pidity often shone in his eyes, which were yellow like those of a beast of prey, as he gazed upon purses filled with golden ducats, or the rich jewels of the court ladies who sat to his master. His mean, contracted forehead was surmounted by bristling red hair, whilst his dark brows, forming a straight black line over his eyes, lent a peculiar hardness to his expression. His long, nervous hands would have been beautiful, were it not for the form of the nails, and a habitual movement of the fin- gers, which constantly reminded one of the claws of a panther. His lithe, supple, willowy figure had some- thing of the fatal attraction of the serpent in it. He stooped too low. In fact, he never seemed to confront any one boldly, but rather to glide, to insinuate himself into one's presence. He scarcely ever allowed his face to be seen. The daylight appeared to hurt his eyes. His voice sometimes changed from its habitual low. 12 THE MONK'S PARDON. morose sound to a shrill, piercing treble when he was ex- cited. This peculiarity of voice had the same effect as his look; it gave one an uneasy feeling, for it too was treacherous. Certainly Lello Lelli seemed aware of his defects, for he avoided as much as possible all inter- course with his comrades, and if any of them forced him to speak, they usually regretted a conversation, which nearly always ended in bitter taunts or biting sarcasms. Too proud to admit his comparative failure as an artist, Lelli avenged himself by cordially hating all that was great and beautiful and pure. He never discovered the ideal side of a work, but quickly pointed out its defective one. His bitter sarcasms were translated by strokes of his pencil more cruel than any words. In this way he certainly had talent nay, as a caricaturist, in making travesties of the thoughts of others, he had genius. The poverty of his appearance formed a complete contrast to the elegance displayed in the costumes of his companions. Whilst they set off their handsome faces by doublets of rich stuffs, embroideries, Spanish laces, or ruffles edged with costly guipure, and arranged their hair with a careless and becoming grace, Lelli wore a thin reddish coat and a sober-colored, short cloak. A leathern belt encircled his waist, whence hung a stiletto with a very plain hilt, but a finely tempered blade, which had no doubt given many a cruel wound. The motives which had brought Lelli from Italy to Spain always re- mained a mystery. He himself maintained the deepest silence upon this subject. It seemed not improbable that it was an affair in which the poniard had played an important part. Hearing Lelli extol the Count de Ribera in the gran- diloquent terms peculiar to him, and dwell upon his talents and his munificence, the thought naturally oc- curred to one that he had belonged to the band of THE STUDIO. 13 vTiffians and cut-throats that Lo Spagnoletto kept in his pay. One thing which undoubtedly contributed to sour Lelli's disposition was his want of artistic power. Placed among a number of ardent young men, who were one and all fanatics in art and devoted to its highest cultivation, Lelli, limited to mere copying, felt it a double humiliation. But if creative genius were denied him, if his talent consisted in a purely mechanical reproduction of the work which he was set to copy, he was gifted as a compensation with a critical sense which none ever ventured to dispute. This being his only in- contestable superiority, he never lost an opportunity of displaying it and making it a means of revenge. What wrong did he want to avenge ? He could scarcely have defined it himself. His ugliness, his deficiencies as to talent, his own vicious nature, perhaps remorse and the hidden crimes of his past life, were all so many griev- ances, for which he would fain have held his companions responsible those companions whose noble pride and unblemished honor involuntarily exacted his respect. In spite of themselves, the latter often allowed their dislike of Lelli to appear. Their master vainly tried to overcome this dislike, and to smooth away the frequent difficulties which arose from the disposition of the copy- ist. Not that he felt any personal attachment for this enigmatical being, whose antecedents no less than his future plans remained a mystery, but he gave Lelli credit for the scrupulous fidelity with which he performed the task allotted him. Besides, at this period everything Italian was held in the highest esteem. Artistic Spain, not having yet reached her culminating point, openly admitted that all her sympathies were with Rome, Na- ples, or Florence. Of all the painters of Spain, Alonso Cano was certainly the least Spanish, and his canvases belong rather to the 14 THE MONKS PARDON- Lombard school than to that severer one, so ful. 1 of aus- terity and of archaism, which owes its origin to Sanchef de Castro,* who painted at Seville in 1454. This stylt of art continued until Vargas f found himself beaten in the breach by those ardent young spirits, who sought to overthrow that tradition of coldness. Juan de las Roe- las,J Herrera el Viejo Pacheco,|| who in this new path surpassed even Velasquez, Zurbaran,^" and at length, Alonso Cano, who was, so to say, the last expression of the artistic genius of Spain. Now Lello Lelli was an Italian, and was thoroughly versed in all the Italian schools: in the greatest as in the least studios he had painted and copied, becoming ini- tiated into a style of composition of which he had mas- tered the theory. * In or about 1450 Juan Sanchez de Castro founded the earliest school at Seville, whence came some of the most renowned artists of Spain. The style of his art has been intimated above. f Luis de Vargas, studied at Rome, and brought into his own country the true method of oil and fresco painting. It was he who substituted the Renaissance art for the Gothic. One of his greatest pictures is the famous Calle de Amargura (" Way of Bitterness"). He died about 1568. J Juan de las Roelas made himself famous for his use of the rich Venetian coloring which he studied under Titian, and afterwards brought into Spain. Herrera el Viejo was among the first and most noted of the An. dalusian school. He is said to have possessed ' ' the true science of art besides correctness of drawing, profound and varied expression, and grandeur in strength." His style was fiery, with a certain coarseness and harshness, yet breadth and freedom of expression. | Pacheco, another light of the Andalusian school, and one of the masters of Velasquez, was distinguished, on the contrary, by a cold correctness without passion or life. TfZurbaran has been called the Spanish Caravaggio, not because he resembled him in fire or passion, for his works are colder, more re- served, nobler, but from the bluish tint which both so much em- ployed. His greatest work is a St. Thomas Aquinas. THE STUDIO. 15 A fluent talker, and possessed of a rich store of curious facts and interesting anecdotes, his society was often ben- eficial to Alonso Cano, whose disposition tended some- what towards melancholy. So quick was he to seize upon and comprehend his master's thoughts that it almost seemed as if he spied upon him for the purpose of being able to anticipate them. Poor and wretched in appear- ance though he was he was naturally arrogant and even insolent; yet he was always ready to gratify Alonso's slightest wish, or the merest caprice of Mercedes, the art- ist's wife. He played very well upon the viol, de- claimed Tasso with great facility and considerable taste, and improvised verses at will. Without actually de- scending to the role of a buffoon, he was always ready to lend himself to the amusement of others. Friends, and amongst them Velasquez himself, often asked Alonso why he kept about him this repulsive stranger, who in- spired such antipathy in every one. " He copies with wonderful precision," would Alonso reply, " and in his interpretation of my work puts a cer- tain suggestion of the Grecian which pleases me might- ily. His poverty is made a reproach against him, but I do not see how he can help it, nor I either, since he earns so little. He works very slowly. He is, besides, very amusing, and then people hate him so cordially that I feel myself bound to take his part." As the subject seemed displeasing to Alonso no one ever went farther than this, yet every one agreed in dis- trusting Lelli. On the day upon which our story opens, when the bell of the neighboring monastery had sounded noon, the pupils threw aside their brushes, and after indulging in a prolonged stretching of their limbs, they rose and formed into friendly groups, or went about looking at each other's work. Lelli, as usual, was the last to leave his 16 THE MONK'S PARDON. place. But when he had left it, he strolled over careless- ly to a picture just sketched by Pedro Castello, and rep- resenting Prometheus chained to the rock. Pedro had certainly put considerable power into the composition; the figure of the conquered one was at once pathetic and terrible. "Well," cried Castello to Lelli, "art thou about to sharpen thy wit on my Prometheus?" " Heaven forbid," answered the copyist; " thou knowest my contempt for insipid pictures; thine is glorious as a specimen of the terrible. Every one follows his own bent. It would be impossible for thee to create the lovely faces, which come quite naturally from the mas ter's pencil. Thou shouldst study at Naples, Pedro, and not at Madrid." " Wherefore?" " Because there is but one master who would under- stand thee." " What master dost thou mean?" " A man so pale, emaciated, and miserable looking, so unprepossessing altogether in appearance, that out of respect for Spain, the first nation of the world, they do not call him the Spaniard, but Lo Spagnoletto, the little Spaniard. I myself have seen him going about in his misery from place to place, scarcely earning bread to keep himself alive, and yet already dreaming of wonder- ful works, the realization of which was to make known to the world all the sufferings and the agony of Ribera, poor. Now that he is rich as a duke and powerful as a king, having about him his train of poets, flatterers, and train-bearers, he does not forget those evil days when he wandered about the streets of Naples. His painting is the reflex of his life. He lays bare his lacerated heart upon his canvases. Gall is mingled with the colors, which give so wonderful a life to his pictures; having THE STUDIO. 17 suffered in body and mind, and heart perhaps, he has made himself, and must remain, the painter of interior anguish and of physical torture. He reveals the secret of his character in his startling effects of darkness and sudden light. He can neither create a head of Christ nor paint a divine Madonna. He must needs astonish, strike, overcome, terrify, by a sanguinary spectacle of torn and palpitating flesh. He is only himself when he represents the struggles of Ixion upon the eternal wheel, Hunger preying upon the vitals of Tantalus, the Martyrdom of St. Lawrence on the gridiron, or of St. Bartholomew, where morsels of jagged flesh show that he was flayed alive. Thou art of his school; why dost thou stay with Alonso Cano ?" "Because I admire his genius." " Yes, but so did Lo Spagnoletto admire Correggio.* Canst comprehend that ? Correggio, the painter of An- gels and of Virgins. Ri'oera, however, understood the character and scope of his own genius too well to follow Correggio. He felt that such an influence must destroy * Josef de Ribera, surnamed " Lo Spagnoletto," the little Spaniard, was born at Hativa, near Valencia. He made his way to Rome, where he at first led a life of great poverty, though he afterwards be- came rich, honored, and independent. His first step in life was owing to the charity of a cardinal, who gave him the means of pursu- ing his art. His works, as intimated above, belong to the rude, savage, yet fiery and powerful school of Caravaggio. Led astray for a time by his admiration for Correggio, he attempted some imitations of his softness and delicacy, which did not, however, succeed. Ribera is purely Spanish in his style, despite his Italian training, and may be said to be among the first of realistic painters. He is noted for his exaggerated contrasts of light and shade, and for his frequent selec- tion of wild, terrible, or hideous subjects. His jealousy of others amounted to ferocity, and led him, together with his faction, to drive from Naples all artists not of hi& s"' 'tool, such asGuido, Carracci, and others. i8 THE MONK'S PARDON. him irrevocably, and he soon returned to the rude school ot Caravaggio."* " God preserve me from being like Lo Spagnoletto," cried Castello, " even while I might well envy him his fame." "Art sure he has not been calumniated?" asked Lelli. " It is certain that he embittered the life of Domenichi- no," said Castello. "He did not prevent him from painting," said Lelli. " He caused an attempt to be made upon the life of Guido Reni," continued Pedro. Here Lelli visibly shuddered. "That accusation was never proved," he said hoarse- iy. " Was not Guido so terrified as to be obliged to leave Naples ?" questioned Pedro. " He might safely have remained there," said Lelli. "No, no," cried Pedro. "Never will I follow the school of such a master. He takes no pupils, for he will tolerate no rivals. Death and terror forever surround him. He can count more bravoes than friends, and all the admiration which he excites is not worth the least part of the esteem which our kings and our people give to our own great men. Ribera would have done well to have remained in his birthplace, Spain, which he renounced, as he did her school when he became a Neapolitan." " And yet," cried Lelli, " thy work is after the manner of Ribera. Oh, thou needst not turn pale with anger, thou hast the same elements of success, thou art fantas- tic, impetuous, violent, yet with an indisputable power *Correggio, mentioned in a former paragraph, whose real name was Antonio Allegri, was among the first of Italian painters. His works are remarkable for their wonderful chiaro-oscuro, for a n "ve. ment, variety, grace, and delicacy peculiar to himself. THE STUDIO. 19 in the greater effects of light and shadow. Thy figures cannot be very well distinguished from the darkness whence they emerge. There is something unreal and visionary mingling with reality upon thy canvases. Thy Prometheus is superb, and yet he is like one seen in a dream. This reproach in part at least is often addressed to Ribera himself; certain parts of the work are magnifi- cent, for thy power approaches the power of the scal- pel." " That is to say," cried Pedro, " that what I do is not original." "It is borrowed from Lo Spagnoletto, that is all. Thou needst not blush for the nature of thy talent, and God grant that thou attainest either the fortune or the reputation of that great master. He who, once half starved and ragged in the streets of Naples, has now lackeys in magnificent liveries, and the costliest equi- pages in the town. An ensign-bearer to hold his brushes and let him know the hour stands like a living clock forever at his side. His studio is the resort of painters, poets, and great lords. Consider my criticism therefore as the highest praise, and persevere in thine own way till thou hast given a second Ribera to Spain." Pedro sat down discontentedly before his easel. "The master will not be pleased," thought he. " Ho, ho !" cried Lelli, stopping before a nearl) finished picture of Bartholomeo Roman, "here we have, by our Lady del Pilar, a Saint Catherine dressed in bro- cade like an infanta. Were it not for the wheel peeping out from behind the folds of her dress, or the golden circlet which forms her aureola, one would have mistaken her for a great Spanish lady just putting the last touches to her toilette. God be praised, these are rare stuffs, heavy as Hungarian leather, and bravely loaded over with gold. Where didst find these Moorish-skinned J50 THE MONK S PARDON. angels, Bartholomeo, and with such haughty mien ? I could fancy them grandees from Paradise." "Always mocking, Lello," cried Bartholomeo. "Mocking? I? Where dost thou find any mockery in my words ? Has not the same been said of Zurbaran himself, and the Saint Cecilias, Saint Lucys, and Saint Ursulas which he exposes in our churches are as haughty as Castilian dames ?" " That does not prevent " " Does not prevent Philip IV. from calling Zurbaran 'the painter of kings and the king of painters.' I am of his opinion, but thou wilt permit me to prefer Zurba- ran's monks to his figures of martyrs." "Ah!" cried Pablo as Lelli approached him, "it is my turn now." " Not yet," said Lelli, with a sardonic smile, " it would be very hard to praise or blame what does not yet exist." " But the sketch ?" " Reminds me of the anecdote told of Herrera el Viejo." " What was that ?" asked Pablo. "To economize his time, which had become very precious, when orders were pouring in to his studio, he had his canvases prepared by his old servant. She covered the ground with colors, haphazard, rubbed them in with a tow-brush, and out of this horrible chaos Herrera brought forth figures and draperies."* "What then?" asked Pablo. " Thou art still at the tow-brush stage of the work," said Lelli. Pablo bit his lips till the blood came. As the Neapolitan was about to approach a canvas representing an Ascension, the pupil who was working thereupon promptly threw a curtain over it. * Such an anecdote is really told of this great painter, Herrera. THE STUDIO. 21 "Ah," cried Lelli, " thou wilt not let me see it." "No," said Miguel, in a voice so cold that it was almost hard. " May I know why ?" " Because, even if,thy cfit'ic'ism is just, its effect is bad. Thy very praise leaves an involuntary discouragement behind it. There is something perfidious in thy counsel. Poor Roman is quite disturbed, and yet his composi- tion is good, well posed, and the heads superb. Pedro Castello, whom thou didst honor by comparing him to Ribera, is not charmed by the comparison. And I, who carry my devotion to art to the length of fanaticism, fear a word of severe blame or of exaggerated praise. Thou, who art content to copy the works of our master, canst never understand what quiet of mind, what inspira- tion, and what fervor it needs to create and invent. Let me have Alonso alone for my guide, and I will gladly give thee all the merit due thee of being a skilful critic." "Oh, thou never failest to taunt me with my medi- ocrity," cried Lelli bitterly, " and the little that I am, a copyist. Do ye not all among yourselves call me ' the beggar' ? What harm does that do me ? dost think that thy contempt humiliates me, Miguel? Thou art mis- taken; and I would rather know at once that thou hatest me." " I do not hate, I distrust thee," answered Miguel. " Did I ever do harm to any one here ?" asked Lelli. 'Yes," replied Miguel, "and what at first seemed to n<: unjust on my own part is yet as certain as the exist- ence of tne sun. Thou seemest to be surrounded by a fatal atmosphere and bringest misfortune whether thou wilt or no. One proof of this is that thou never excitest in us one elevated sentiment; discouragement is sure to follow from contact with thee, just as certain poisons flow from certain barks. Thou seemest to wither and dry 22 THE MONK'S PARDON. up all that approaches thee. But if them wert not what I have described, thou wouldst be an artist, and a true artist. It simply is, that God has refused thee the t\vo mainsprings of genius, faith and kindness. Thou must be sterile, because thou hast never loved anything in the world. Many people's punishment lies in their impo- tence to create, and this impotence is infectious. The manchineel tree kills all plants that grow in its shadow. Thou killest inspiration and faith in the souls of all who hear and are tempted to believe thee." " Proud and arrogant being that thou art," cried Lello." " Proud," cried Miguel, " I cannot be proud as yet of what I am, for I am nothing. I am proud perhaps of the possibilities within me, my pure and noble aims, proud of having Spain for my country, Heaven for my hope, and Philip IV. for my master; proud that I study under Alonso Cano; proud in the hope that my name may one day be associated with those, who are the glory of our country. If such pride and such hope seem paltry to thee thou alone art to be pitied, and the blame is not mine." " Miguel," said Lelli, in a tone of intense bitterness, "what thou now sayest aloud thou hast, I doubt me, long thought." "Perchance," said Miguel. "Why didst thou wait so long to let me know it?" "Because thou didst never before undertake to mock at me and my companions. Because I never so well understood the fatal influence that thou wieldst upon us." " It would have been more frank to speak out at once,*' said Lelli. " But more respectful to be silent," answered Miguel, " Why ?" asked Lelli. THE STUDIO. 23 "Because thou art under our master's protection," said Miguel. " Dost insinuate that I screen myself behind him ?" cried Lelli. " I state facts, I do not assign motives," said Miguel. "And if it depended upon thee ?" asked Lelli. " Thou wouldst not remain an hour longer in the studio," replied Miguel. " So at last thou hast thrown off the mask," cried Lelli. " To be silent is not hypocrisy," responded Miguel. " After what thou hast just said," cried Lelli, " friend- ship or communication of any sort is impossible between us. I am a restraint upon thee, and know once for all ,hat I hate thee." " What follows ?" said Miguel. v *' That both of us are too many here." Miguel turned pale. "Go on," he said, "what wouldst thou suggest?" " That thou givest place to me or that thou takest thy ihance of being killed." "A duel !" cried Miguel. "Yes, a duel here and at once," cried Lrllo. "After the Italian fashion?" said M^I. i, with bitter irony. " Italian or Spanish," cried Lelli, furiously, " provided that it end in the death of one of us." "Miguel! Miguel!" cried Bartholomeo Roman, "what -wouldst thou do ?" " Rid you of this man, who has been too great a friend of Ribera not to have used his sword in his service." Lelli in a fury snatched the stiletto from his belt " When I cry ready!" said Miguel. Pedro Castello threw himself between them. "Away!" cried Lelli, " I must kill him." 24 THE MONK'S PARDON. " Fairly, at least," cried Bartholomeo. He took down, as he spoke, two swords from the pan- oply which decorated one of the panels of the studio, and offered one to each of the adversaries. Miguel rested his hand upon the hilt of one, the while Lelli tried the metal of the other, making the fine blade hiss like a snake. "On guard!" cried Miguel. Lelli threw himself on the defensive, the swords clashed. Just then the door of the studio opened. " The master!" cried Bartholomeo in a stiffled voice. Alonso Cano stood upon the threshold!* * Alonso Cano is usually termed the Spanish Michael Angelo, part- ly because he practised the three arts of painting, sculpture, and ar- chitecture. He was even more of a sculptor than painter. As an ar- chitect he principally devoted himself to retablos, for which he made all the ornaments himself. The principal character of his works is softness and gentleness. He was remarkable for his execution of hands and feet, and distinguished in that way above all the painters of his country. His style is correct, elegant, and full of grace, and he undoubtedly ranks with Velasquez and Murillo among the first of Spanish artists. Of these latter we shall give ap account farther on. THE MASTER. 2 5 CHAPTER II. THE MASTER. AT sight of Alonso Cano the combatants hastily sepa rated. Miguel looked at his master with an expression of sorrowful respect, whilst Lello muttered an imprecation. Alonso advanced towards them, as pale as a corpse. " Unhappy that ye are," cried he, " what could have led you to attempt each other's life ? Is not human existence a sacred thing? How dare ye fora word or gesture spill the blood of a fellow being like miserable assassins? Yes, I repeat the word, assassins! Every skilful duelist is a murderer, and believe me sooner or later the curse of Heaven must fall upon his head." Miguel bowed his head, but Lello stood looking the artist straight in the face with a mocking intensity. " Who began the quarrel ?" asked Alonso, abruptly. All the pupils at once cried: "Lello, Lello!" The Italian started as if stung by a viper. " No," cried he, " ye lie, all of you! I never insulted any one. Ye hate me here in this studio, and ye rejoice in the thought that the severity of the master will rid you forever of a disagreeable companion." "Silence," said Alonso, sternly. "I have pardoned thee a great deal, Lello, and my indulgence has often, I fear, been misplaced. This time I will be deaf to thy entreaties, I will hear no excuse, for nothing can lessen my horror of what thou hast done. I will have no brawl- ers in my house. Thou, Miguel, must find another Studio wherein to study art. I shall regret thee, for thou 26 THE MONK'S PARDON. hast been as dear to me as my own son. And thou, Lello, must leave here in three days." Miguel, approaching Alonso, said in a supplicating tone: " Do not drive me hence, master, do not drive me hence. Thou knowest my respect for thy character, and my ad- miration for thy genius. Who will make me such an artist as I hope to become if I am deprived of thy les- sons? I know I was in the wrong, and that is why I humble myself now before thee. But could I hear my companions, my brothers, scoffed at so cruelly? My Spanish pride revolted under the constant sneers of this cursed Italian, who seemed to take a special pleasure in disparaging all that we hold as our greatest glories, and whose perfidious counsels discouraged my comrades. Master, thou must make some allowance for the ardor and impetuosity of youth. This severe lesson will, I swear to thee, be of service to me. So, forgive me, master." " Yes, yes!" cried all the young men, " forgive Miguel." "If it were a personal offence merely I should indeed forgive it, but I have, as you know, so terrible a horror of bloodshed that I cannot tolerate a readiness to quarrel which makes men mere bullies. No, Miguel, I cannot take back what I have said; but, while refusing to keep thee as a pupil, I confess that I will regret thee sin- cerely." " I ask no pardon nor forgiveness," cried Lello, fiercely. " I know too well why Alonso Cano has this secret horror of dueling." The artist changed color and leaned heavily upon the back of a chair. The Neapolitan regarded him fixedly. "A singular incident occurred," said he, "in Granada somewhere about 1637, I believe." At the mention of this date Alonso grew still palef and unable to stand sank into a chair. His pupils sur THE MASTER. 2/ rounded him anxiously, but the artist waving them aside said gently: " Thou art right, Lello, it was in 1637." "About that time," resumed the Italian, "a young man, Sebastian de Llano y Valdez, was studying paint- ing with the first artist of the town, whilst the master executed wonderful retablos, such as we see here now. Sebastian was gentle, modest, and good yet, one day, in a fit of rage he fought with swords, and was left for dead by his adversary." Grasping the arm of the chair with one hand, and ex- tending the other towards Lello, Alonso arose: "I killed him!" cried he, "I killed him.' but none will ever know the tears that his death has cost me. Yes, thou art right, Lello, and thy malice, in which I have hitherto refused to believe, has found its aim in the most vulnerable point in my heart. Well, it is because I have suffered such anguish, the remorse which follows upon such a crime, that makes me now so anxious to spare you. I wish that your hands be not like mine stained with human blood. I would not that your young lives be darkened by a calamity such as has overshadowed mine. Thou hast made known the crime and the sorrow of my past life, Lello, I accept the punishment; but I wish you all to know that since the hour when Sebastian fell pierced by my sword I have scarcely known sleep. Ye often see me oppressed with sadness, weighed down by an unconquerable dejection. It is because I am thinking of a young life gone out in darkness. I shudder at a recollection, at a chance resemblance, the sound of a voice disturbs me, the sight of a knife turns me pale, and I avert my head from a spot of blood. The phantom of death pursues me; forever before my eyes is that red gaping wound; among the voices of my friends, through the music of court orchestras, comes the cry which Se- 28 THE MONK'S PARDON. bastian gave in falling. I hear it even in the joyous laughter of youth. Ye have often, no doubt, wondered why I seemed weighed down by the burden of some sorrow when everything was smiling around me. Ye know why now. Lello has told you. I fought a duel and killed my adversary." The artist stopped, a sob aris- ing in his throat choked his utterance. " Pardon, master, pardon," said Miguel, softly. Bartholomeo Roman advanced to Lello. "Shame upon thee," cried he, "to awaken such painful memories. If thou hadst an atom of feeling thou wouldst not stay here three days, but would depart to- morrow, now, on the instant, for henceforth thou canst inspire only horror and disgust." " I said three days," exclaimed Alonso; " till then he is free to continue his work and to keep the room which he occupies in my house." " I would rather go at once." c^id Lello. As he spoke he returned his stiletto to its place in his belt, then, looking slowly round at those who had so lately been his fellow-students, he said: "Farewell! pray Heaven that I never cross your path again. I will now rejoin Lo Spagnoletto." Not a single hand was outstretched to him, as pale and trembling with rage Lelli quitted the studio which he was nevermore to re-enter. When the door closed with a loud bang after him Alonso looked sadly at Miguel. " I will regret thee! " he said, " for I loved thee very much ! but do not fear, I will take care of thee. Thank God, there is more than one master in Spain, and to- morrow I shall recommend thee to the King." "To the King?" cried Miguel. " Yes," said Alonso, speaking with effort, " to Philip himself. I returned here full of jov and natural pride. THE MASTER. 29 This morning, when the Infante Balthazar was taking his drawing lesson, his Majesty came. to inquire about the progress of my royal pupil. He seemed much pleased thereat, and promised to pay me a visit to-mor- row." " The King coming to the studio ?" cried Bartholo- meo. " Will he have his portrait taken ?" asked Pedro. " I hope so," answered Alonso. " Ah, thou hast well deserved such an honor," said Miguel, " and severe though thou art to me now, I re- joice, master, in whatever good befalls thee. Hitherto, thy kindness to me has been more than paternal, and if ever, which Heaven prevent, thou hast need of young Miguel's aid, be assured that he will gladly die for thee." The artist held out his hand to him. 'Thou wilt be here for the King's visit," he said. The young man raised Alonso's hand to his lips; then he turned away to hide the tears which gathered in his eyes. But the scene which had just occurred did not pass out of the young men's minds; the thought of the great honor which Philip IV. was conferring upon their master did not suffice to obliterate the painful impression pro- duced by Miguel's dismissal and Alonso's confidence. Hitherto his pupils had supposed that his constant de- pression arose from too close application to his art; now they knew the cause thereof, and felt so much the more affection for him because he was really unhappy. How often they had envied him. And now, which of them would have been willing to exchange his youth and pov- erty and uncertain prospects for Alonso's princely for- tune, high renown, and hopes of royal favor? Perhaps they had too lightly regarded the regret en- 30 THE MONK'S PARDON. gendered by past faults, and the remorse which makes a crime in some sort everlasting. To teach them this bit- ter lesson, remorse itself had taken a voice, a bodily form, and appeared before them living and palpable, and the story of Alonso's suffering was so much the more salutary and impressive because they respected him so highly. Sorrow had then its share in a life apparently so cloudless. The triumphs of Alonso were, after all, ex- piated by secret tears. When the artist saw the impres- sion which his sad recital had made upon his pupils he endeavored to dispel it somewhat by speaking some words of encouragement to each. It was not hard to stimulate their zeal; each of them hoped one day to hold a place in the history of art. They listened to their master's lessons with deference, and painted with enthu- siasm. The moral influence which Alonso exercised upon them was only equalled by their devotion to him. Alonso made his teachings wonderfully clear, illustrat- ing them by demonstrations of which he had the proofs at hand. He made sculpture for them the complement of drawing; like himself, he accustomed them to give their attention to various branches of art, so that their artistic education was as universal as their talents per- mitted. A calm and recollected silence was the ordinary atmosphere of the studio. If the silence was broken from time to time, it was usually by the voice of one of the students reciting strophes from Lopez de Vega or Calderon. Occasionally the regular routine was broken in upon by the visit of some important personage. Sometimes it was a rich merchant, desirous of bringing some costly pictures with him to the East Indies, or again it was monks, attracted by Cano's double reputation, who came to ask him to undertake the decoration of their chapel. His wonderful facility enabled him to fulfil all the de- THE MASTER. 3 1 mands of )u admirers. He labored indefatigably, joms said for fame, others for money, and others again to gratify the whims of Mercedes, his wife. The truth was that Alonso worked in order to forget. Whilst he painted his exquisite Madonnas he lost sight for the time being of the blood-stained corpse of Sebastian Llano y Valdez. The young men resumed their various tasks, and it was only when nightfall darkened the studio that they put aside their brushes, and left one by one. When Alonso found himself alone he passed his hand wearily over his face. " My God!" cried he, "have I not wept enough, have I not bitterly expiated my fault ? I hoped that Thou hadst accepted favorably and as the ransom for my crime, not only my secret tears, and my sleepless nights, but that long succession of pictures and statues which men call masterpieces, and upon which I have tried to imprint ardent sentiments of faith and love, so that the prayers which are said before these creations of my hands may rise to Thee, and perpetually plead my cause. I sought to calm the agitation of my heart and the anguish of my mind, that a divine peace might shine upon the faces of my Virgins and martyrs. I thought that each would become my advocate, and im- plore of Thee some quiet for my soul delivered unto torments of unrest. I deceived myself. The expiation Ivas not sufficient, and the rod with which Thou hast chastised me grows more terrible than ever. Ah, how the memory of my crime was recalled to me just now. Another moment, and I should have found a corpse here in my studio." Shuddering Alonso Cano hid his face in his hands. The door of the studio opened softly, a light step crossed the floor, and Mercedes bent over the armchair in which her husband sat. She was a charming young ja THE MONK'S PARDON. creature, but nervous and delicate looking; her mobile face reflected with rare vivacity the impressions of an ardent but fickle nature. There was a good deal of the child about her still. Perhaps this was partly Cano's fault, for finding her charming and attractive, he asked nothing more of her than her beauty and her high spirits. Mercedes was, in fact, frivolous, and her vanity, besides a strong tinge of levity made her character peculiarly unstable. As she did not occupy her mind with serious things it naturally became filled with frivolous ones. Heart and head were alike inconsiderate. Her young ill-regulated mind was ever on the alert for excitement. She loved her husband, but her affection did not inspire that security which is the charm of tenderness. A thousand things diverted her mind from her duties, which she skimmed over without fully comprehending them. In carrying out her caprices she displayed the temper and stubbornness of a child. Alonso usually yielded to her desires, at first through love for her, and at last for the sake of peace; for if he refused her any- thing, she always declared that the daughter of Frances- co Pacheco, Alonso's old master, and the wife of Diego Velasquez, was far more beloved than she, because her husband always gave her magnificent toilets. Mercedes' great fault was that she narrowed her husband's life by constantly keeping before him the frivolous side of existence, and tormented him by her never-ending whims, as if his only occupation were to order belts of gold, pendants, or agrafes for her. She would calculate as closely as a Jew the value of a picture, and spend the price of it for a bauble which delighted her for an hour, and was forgotten next day. Certainly, she was far from reaching the high level of the husband whom Heaven had given her; her levity and coquetry sometimes Annoyed Alonso, but she rallied him so prettily upon his THE MASTER. 33 jealousy and soothed him with so much grace, that he always ended by acknowledging himself in the wrong, and promising her whatever she asked. If it chanced that Alonso refused her anything, she made great parade of her grief, and throwing herself into the arms of her eld nurse, cried out that she was the most unhappy of women. The servants were of course not altogether of this opinion; but Alonso's melancholy contrasted so strongly with his wife's gayety, his frequent absences at the court, whither his duties called him, probably served as a basis for lying accusations. Hence, in her own household it was not generally believed that Mercedes was happy with Alonso. Yet the artist was a model husband to her, and his only fault lay in that he was too indulgent and lacked the necessary firmness to deny her anything she asked. However, such scenes were not of daily occurrence. Sometimes a whole week would pass without a single unreasonable demand from Mercedes. At such times, this light, capricious, ardent nature was really attractive to Alonso. Mercedes could always bring a smile to his lips; and her light, harmonious singing often chased away his gloomy thoughts. He forgave her childishness for the sake of her beauty, her grace, and her inno- cent prattle. If she were wanting in the dignity of a companion, she had all the charm of a child. When his dejection bordered upon despair, Alonso could console himself by the companionship of this young heart so full of illusions and so powerful in dispelling his dark visions. At the moment when she entered the studio Alonso had great need indeed of her smile. Seeing that he was not aware of her presence, Mercedes laid her little hand upon his shoulder. Alonso shud- dered, then looking up cried: " Thou ! it is thou !" 34 THE MONK'S PARDON. " It would seem I am not overwelcome," she said. "Thou art ever welcome," answered Alonso. " Oh, ever is an exaggeration," said Mercedes. " No, I swear to thee," he cried, " only thou must re- member my anxieties and cares, and sometimes " " Sometimes," said Mercedes, softly, " I do thee the injustice of dividing thy life into two parts." " How ?" " I leave thee the bad, Alonso, and I take the good. Oh, I know it is wicked and selfish. I know there are no words strong enough to condemn such conduct. But what is to be done ? It is not in my nature to suffer. I am weak, light, and so childish. Tears would dim my eyes, and I want to keep them for a long, long time t