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CARMEN 
 
ROUTLEDGE’S POCKET LIBRARY 
 
 IN MONTHLY VOLUMES. 
 
 “A series of beautiful little books, tastefully hounds."— Times. 
 
 “ Beautifully printed and tastefully honnd."— Saturday Review. 
 “ Deserves warm praise for the taste shown in its production. “ 
 —Atheneetim. 
 
 “ Routledge’s Perfect Pocket Library." — Punch, 
 
 Bret Harte’s Poems. 
 
 Thackeray’s Paris Sketch 
 Book. 
 
 Hood’s Comic Poems. 
 
 Dickens’s Christmas Carol. 
 
 Poems by Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes. 
 
 Washington Irving’s Sketch 
 Book. 
 
 Macaulay’s Lays of Ancient 
 Rome. 
 
 Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wake- 
 field. 
 
 Hood’s Serious Poems. 
 
 Lord Lytton’s Coming Race. 
 
 The Biglow Papers. 
 
 Manon Lescaut. 
 
 Longfellow’s Song of Hia- 
 watha. 
 
 Sterne’s Sentimental Jour- 
 ney. 
 
 Dickens’s Chimes. 
 
 Moore’s Irish Melodies and 
 Songs. 
 
 Fifty ‘Bab’ Ballads. 
 
 Poems by E. B. Browning. 
 
 Bret Harte’s Luck of Roar- 
 ing Camp. 
 
 Poems by Edgar Allan Poe. 
 
 Milton’s Paradise Lost. 
 
 Scott’s Lady of the Lake. 
 
 Campbell’s Poetical Works. 
 
 Lord Byron’s Werner. 
 
 Book of Humour, Wit, and 
 Wisdom. 
 
 Longfellow’s Hyperion. 
 
 Dickens’s Cricket on the 
 Hearth. 
 
 Gray’s Poetical Works. 
 
 Willis’s Poetical Works. 
 
 Thackeray’s Cornhill to 
 Grand Cairo. 
 
 Mrs. Shelley’s Frankenstein. 
 
 Tales from Pickwick. 
 
 Artemus Ward — His Book. 
 
 Rejected Addresses. 
 
 Lord Byron’s Childe Harold. 
 
 Dickens’s Pictures from 
 Italy. 
 
 Clement Scott’s Lays and 
 Lyrics. 
 
 Shelley’s Early Poems. 
 
 Merimee’s Carmen. 
 
CARMEN 
 
 LONDON 
 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 
 Broadway, Ludgate Hill 
 GLASGOW AND NEW YORK 
 1888 
 
s. 
 
 24 ^ 
 
 Oca. 
 
 ^ - Uaaa yvvq ;;(oXos‘ iarlv' e)(et 6* dya66s Sto wpas' 
 
 ' Tt)z^ jiiav iv OaXdfxco, t^v fjLLav ev Oavarco. 
 
 Palladas. 
 
 s I- 
 
 ' I HAVE always suspected geographers of 
 '' not knowing what they were talking about 
 ^ ^ when they place the battle-field of Munda in 
 the country of the Bastuli-Poeni, near the 
 modern Monda, some leagues to the north of 
 ^ Marbella. According to my own interpreta- 
 
 O 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 tion of the text of the anonymous author of 
 Bellum Hispaniensis, and after some infor- 
 mation collected in the excellent library of 
 the Duke of Osuena, I considered it neces- 
 sary to seek in the environs of Montilla for 
 the memorable spot where for the last time 
 Csesar played double or quits against the 
 champions of the Eepublic. Finding myself 
 in Andalusia about the beginning of the 
 autumn of 1830, I made a rather lengthened 
 excursion with a view to clear up the 
 doubts which still remained in my mind on 
 this question. A pamphlet which I shall 
 shortly publish will, I trust, leave no 
 uncertainty in the minds of all honest 
 archaeologists. Pending the time when my 
 dissertation shall resolve once for all this 
 geographical problem which keeps all 
 scientific Europe in suspense, I wish to 
 relate a little story, which will in no degree 
 prejudice the interesting question of the site 
 of Munda. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 3 
 
 I had engaged a guide and two horses at 
 Cordova, and set out with Caesar’s Commen- 
 taries and a few shirts as my only baggage. 
 One day, while wandering in the elevated 
 part of the plain of Cachena, tired out, dying 
 of thirst, broiled by a vertical sun, I was just 
 consigning Caesar and the sons of Pompey to 
 the devil, when I perceived at some distance 
 from the path which I was following a little 
 green space dotted with rushes and reeds. 
 These announced the vicinity of a spring. 
 In fact, as I approached I perceived that the 
 seeming greensward was a marsh in which a 
 streamlet, emerging, as it seemed, from a 
 narrow gorge between two lofty buttresses of 
 the Sierra di Calva, lost itself. I concluded 
 that if I ascended a little farther I should 
 find clearer and fresher water, and fewer 
 leeches and frogs, with perhaps a little shade 
 between the boulders. At the entrance of the 
 gorge my horse neighed, and another horse, 
 which I could not see, immediately replied. 
 
4 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 I had scarcely advanced a hundred paces 
 when the gorge suddenly opened out and 
 displayed to my view a kind of natural 
 amphitheatre, entirely shaded by the lofty 
 cliffs which enclosed it. It was impossible 
 to meet with any spot which promised a 
 traveller a more agreeable resting-place. At 
 the base of the perpendicular cliffs the stream 
 rushed out and fell bubbling into a little 
 basin lined with sand white as snow. Five 
 or six beautiful and verdant oaks, always 
 sheltered from the wind here, and watered by 
 the stream, rose beside its source, and covered 
 it with their leafy shade ; lastly, around the 
 basin grew a rich fine grass which offered a 
 better bed than one could find in any inn for 
 ten leagues round. 
 
 But the honour of discovering this 
 charming retreat did not rest with me. A 
 man was already reposing there, and was 
 no doubt asleep when I penetrated thither. 
 Awakened by the neighing of the horses. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 5 
 
 he arose and approached his steed, which 
 had taken advantage of his master’s sleep- 
 ing to make a good meal of the luxuriant 
 grass around him. His owner was a young 
 fellow of medium height, but of robust build, 
 and with a gloomy and proud look on his 
 face. His complexion, which may have 
 been good, had by exposure become even 
 darker than his hair. In one hand he 
 grasped the halter of his steed, in the other 
 he held a brass blunderbuss. I must confess 
 that at first the sight of the blunderbuss and 
 the fierce aspect of the man surprised me ; but 
 I no longer believed in brigands, having 
 only heard of them, but never having met 
 any of them. Besides, I had seen so many 
 honest farmers armed to the teeth to proceed 
 to market, that the mere sight of fire-arms was 
 not sufficient evidence upon which to base 
 the dishonesty of the unknown. And then I 
 thought, what would he want with my shirts 
 and my volume of Elzevir Commentaries ? 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 So I saluted tlie man of the blunderbuss 
 with an easy bow, and inquired with a smile 
 whether I bad disturbed him from bis siesta. 
 Without answering, be measured me with bis 
 eyes from bead to foot ; then, as if satisfied 
 with bis scrutiny, be paid the same attention 
 to my guide, who was approaching. I per- 
 ceived the latter turn pale, and pull up with 
 every symptom of terror. An unlucky 
 meeting, I thought ; but prudence imme- 
 diately counselled me not to display any 
 uneasiness. I dismounted, told the guide to 
 unbridle the horses, and kneeling down 
 beside the spring, I plunged my bead and 
 bands into it ; then lying flat on the ground 
 like the wicked soldiers of Gideon, I took a 
 deep draught. 
 
 Nevertheless, I managed to keep an eye 
 on the guide and the unknown. The former 
 approached with manifest hesitation ; the 
 latter did not appear to harbour any evil 
 intentions against us, for he bad released bis 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 9 
 
 the district. He did not know the name of 
 the charming valley in which we were 
 resting. He could not name any village in 
 the neighbourhood ; and at length, in reply 
 to my question as to whether he had not 
 noticed in the environs some ruined walls 
 and carved stones, he confessed that he never 
 paid any attention to such things. On the 
 other hand, he showed himself a connoisseur 
 in horseflesh. He criticised my steed — which 
 was not difflcult ; then he told me the pedi- 
 gree of his own, which came from the famous 
 Cordova stud : a noble animal indeed, and 
 so insensible to fatigue that, as his master 
 said, he had on one occasion made ninety ^ 
 miles in the day at speed. In the midst of 
 this tirade the unknown suddenly checked 
 himself, as if surprised and sorry that he had 
 said so much. 
 
 ‘‘It was when I was in a great hurry to 
 reach Cordova,” he continued with some em- 
 barrassment, “ I had to prosecute a lawsuit.” 
 
10 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 As he was speaking he looked at my guide 
 Antonio, who lowered his eyes. 
 
 The shade and the spring charmed me so 
 that I recollected some slices of an excellent 
 ham which my friends in Montilla had put 
 in my guide’ s haversack. I made him fetch 
 them, and invited the stranger to join me 
 in my impromptu picnic. If he had not 
 smoked for a long while, it seemed to me 
 that he must have fasted for forty-eight hours 
 at least. He ate like a famished wolf. I 
 thought my appearance had been quite pro- 
 vidential for the poor devil. My guide, 
 however, ate little, drank less, and spoke not 
 at all, although at the beginning of our jour- 
 ney he had been a tremendous chatterer. 
 The presence of our guest seemed to be a 
 restraint upon him, and a kind of mutual 
 distrust kept them apart ; the cause of this I 
 could not determine. 
 
 The last morsels of bread and ham had 
 been eaten ; we had each smoked a second 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 11 
 
 cigar ; I ordered the guide to bridle the horses, 
 and I was about to take leave of my new 
 acquaintance, when he asked me where I 
 intended to pass the night. 
 
 Before I could attend to a sign from my 
 guide, I had replied that I was making for 
 the Venta del Cuervo. 
 
 “A bad lodging for such a person as you, sir. 
 I am going thither, and if you will permit 
 me to accompany you we will go together.” 
 
 “Very willingly,” I replied as I mounted 
 my horse. My guide, who was holding the 
 stirrup, made me another sign. I replied to 
 it by shrugging my shoulders, as if to assure 
 him that I was quite easy in my mind ; and 
 then we started. 
 
 The mysterious signs of Antonio, his un- 
 easiness, the few words that escaped the 
 unknown, particularly the account of the 
 thirty-league ride, and the by no means 
 plausible explanation which he had offered, 
 had already formed my opinion concerning 
 
12 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 my travelling companion. I had no doubt 
 whatever that I had to do with a contra- 
 bandlsta^ perhaps with a brigand. What 
 matter? I knew enough of the Spanish 
 character to be certain that I had nothing to 
 fear from a man who had eaten and smoked 
 with me. His very presence was a protection 
 against all untoward adventures. Moreover, 
 I was rather glad to know what a brigand 
 was like. One does not meet them every 
 day, and there is a certain charm in finding 
 oneself in company with a dangerous person, 
 particularly when one finds him gentle and 
 subdued. 
 
 I hoped to lead the unknown to confide in 
 me by degrees, and notwithstanding the winks 
 of my guide, I led the conversation to the 
 bandits. Of course I spoke of them with all 
 respect. There was at that time a famous 
 bandit in Andalusia named Jose-Maria, whose 
 exploits were in everyone’s mouth. “ Suppose 
 l am in the company of Jose-Maria ! ” I said 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 13 
 
 to myself. I told all the anecdotes of this 
 hero that I knew — all those in his praise, of 
 course, and I loudly expressed my admiration 
 of his bravery and generosity. 
 
 “ Jose-Maria is only a scamp,” replied the 
 stranger coldly. 
 
 ‘‘ Is he doing himself justice, or is it only 
 modesty on his part ? ” I asked myself ; for, 
 after considering my companion carefully, I 
 began to apply to him the description of Jose- 
 Maria which I had read posted up on the 
 gates of many towns of Andalusia. Yes, it 
 is he, certainly. Fair hair, blue eyes, large 
 mouth, good teeth, small hands, a fine shirt, 
 a velvet vest with silver buttons, gaiters of 
 white skin, a bay horse. No doubt about it. 
 But let us respect his incognito ! 
 
 W e arrived at the Y enta. It was j ust what 
 he had described it — that is to say, one of the 
 most miserable inns that I had ever seen. 
 One large room served for kitchen, parlour, 
 and bedroom. A fire was burning on a flat 
 # B 
 
14 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 stone in the middle of the room, and the 
 smoke went out through a hole in the roof, 
 or rather it stopped there, and hung in a 
 cloud some feet above the ground. Beside 
 the wall, on the floor, were extended five or 
 six horse-cloths, which were the beds for 
 travellers. About twenty paces from the 
 house — or rather from the single room which 
 I have described — was a kind of shed, which 
 did duty for a stable. In this delightful 
 retreat there was for the time being no other 
 individual besides an old woman and a little 
 girl of ten or twelve years old, both as black 
 as soot, and in rags. 
 
 Here,” thought I, “ are all that remain 
 of the population of the ancient Munda 
 Baetica. 0 Caesar, 0 Sextus Pompey, how 
 astonished you would be if you were to return 
 to this mundane sphere ! ” 
 
 When she perceived my companion the old 
 woman uttered an exclamation of surprise. 
 “ Ah ! Sehor don Jose ! ” she cried. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 15 
 
 Don Jose frowned and raised his hand 
 with a gesture of command which made the 
 old woman pause. I turned to my guide, 
 and with a sign imperceptible to Jose made 
 Antonio understand that I needed no infor- 
 mation respecting the man with whom I had 
 to pass the night. The supper was better 
 than I had anticipated. They served up 
 upon a small table about a foot high an old 
 cock fricassied with rice and pimentos, then 
 pimentos in oil, and lastly, gaspacTio^ a kind 
 of pimento salad. Three such highly 
 seasoned dishes obliged us often to have 
 recourse to the flask of Montilla, which we 
 found delicious. 
 
 Having supped, and perceiving a mandolin 
 hanging against the wall — there are mando- 
 lins everywhere in Spain — I asked the little 
 girl who waited on us if she knew how to 
 play it. 
 
 “ No,^^ she replied ; but Don Jose plays 
 it very well.” 
 
16 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 Will you be so good as to sing something V’ 
 1 said to him. “ I passionately love your 
 national music.” 
 
 I can refuse nothing to so polite a gentle- 
 man who gives me such excellent cigars,” 
 replied Don Jose good-humouredly, and 
 being handed the mandolin, he sang to his 
 own accompaniment. His voice was harsh, 
 but rather agreeable ; the air was sad and 
 wild ; as for the words, I did not understand 
 one of them. 
 
 “If I am not mistaken,” I said, “ that is 
 not a Spanish air which you have just sung. 
 It strikes me as resembling the zorzicos which 
 I have heard in the ‘ Provinces,’ * and the 
 words seem to be in the Basque tongue.” 
 “Yes,” replied Jose with a sombre air. 
 He placed the mandolin on the ground, and 
 sat contemplating the dying embers with a 
 singularly sad expression. Illumined by the 
 
 * The privileged provinces enjoying special fueros — 
 that is to say, Alava, Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and a portion of 
 Navarre. Basque is the language of the district. 
 
CARMEN 
 
 17 
 
 lamp placed on the little table, his face, at 
 once noble and ferocious, recalled Milton^s 
 Satan. Like him, perhaps, my companion 
 was thinking of a heaven he had quitted — of 
 the exile to which his sin had condemned 
 him. I endeavoured to engage him in con- 
 versation, but he did not reply, so absorbed 
 was he in his sad reflections. 
 
 By this time the old woman had retired to 
 rest in a corner of the room behind a primi- 
 tive screen formed of a rug suspended from 
 a cord. The little girl had followed her into 
 this retreat reserved for the fair sex. Then 
 my guide, rising, invited me to follow him 
 to the stable, but at this Jose, as if waking 
 up with a start, demanded in a rough tone 
 whither he was going. 
 
 ‘‘ To the stable,” replied the guide. 
 
 “ What for ? The horses have plenty to 
 eat. Lie down here ; the gentleman will 
 permit it.” 
 
 “ I am afraid the Senor’s horse may be ill. 
 
18 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 I want tlie Senor to see it ; perhaps he will 
 know what to do.*’ 
 
 It was evident that Antonio wished to 
 speak to me in - private, hut I did not care to 
 arouse Don Jose’s suspicions, and under the 
 circumstances it appeared to me that the best 
 line to take would be to display the greatest 
 confidence. So I informed Antonio that I 
 knew nothing about horses, and that I was 
 very sleepy. Don Jose followed the man to 
 the stable, and soon returned alone. He 
 told me that the horse had nothing the 
 matter with him, but that the guide valued 
 the steed so highly that he was rubbing him 
 with his vest to make him perspire, and 
 intended to continue this occupation during 
 the night. However, I was soon extended 
 beneath the rugs, carefully wrapped in my 
 cloak so as to avoid contact with them. 
 After begging pardon for the liberty wdiich 
 he was taking in lying close to me, Don 
 Jose lay down before the door, first having 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 19 
 
 renewed the priming of his blunderbuss, 
 which he took care to place beneath the 
 haversack which served him for a pillow. 
 Five minutes after we had wished each other 
 good-night we were both buried in profound 
 slumber. 
 
 I had believed that I was sufficiently tired 
 to sleep in such a place as that, but after an 
 hour a very disagreeable itching aroused me 
 from my first nap. As soon as I understood 
 the nature of the disturbing cause I rose, 
 firmly convinced that it would be better to 
 pass the night in the open air than under 
 such an inhospitable roof. I gained the 
 door on tiptoe, and stepping over Don Jose 
 who was sleeping the sleep of the just, I 
 managed to quit the house without arousing 
 him. Near the door was a large wooden 
 bench, on this I lay down and settled my- 
 self for the night as well as I could. 1 was 
 about to shut my eyes for the second time, 
 when I fancied I perceived the shadows of a 
 
20 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 man and a horse passing in front of me 
 and not making the slightest noise. I 
 jumped np, and thought I recognised 
 Antonio. Surprised to see him out of the 
 stable at such an hour I advanced to meet 
 him. He stopped when he perceived me 
 approaching. 
 
 ‘‘Where is he?” asked Antonio in a low 
 voice. 
 
 “ In the venta ; he is asleep, he has no fear 
 of fleas. Why have you brought the horse 
 out 1 ” 
 
 Then I remarked that Antonio — so as not 
 to make any noise in quitting the shed, had 
 carefully enveloped the horse’s feet in the 
 fragments of an old cloth. 
 
 “ Speak lower, in the name of God,” he 
 said. “You do not know who that man is. 
 He is Jose Navarro, the most famous bandit 
 in Andalusia. I have been making signs to 
 you all day which you would not under- 
 stand.” 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 21 
 
 “Bandit or not, what does it matter to 
 me?^’ I replied. “He lias not robbed ns, 
 and I will wager that he has no intention to 
 do so.” 
 
 “All very well, but there is a price of two 
 hundred ducats on his head. I know where 
 there is a detachment of lancers about a 
 league and a half distant ; and before day- 
 break I will bring some stout fellows here. 
 I would have taken his horse, but he is so 
 vicious that no one save Navarro can go 
 near him.” 
 
 “ What the devil are you about V' 1 said. 
 “ What harm has the poor man done to you 
 that you should betray him? Besides, are 
 you certain that he is the brigand you say 
 he is ? ” 
 
 “ Perfectly certain. Just now he followed 
 me into the stable and said, ‘You seem to 
 know me. If you tell this good gentleman 
 who I am, I will wring your neck !’ Kemain 
 with him, sir, you have nothing to fear. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 
 So long as you are there he will have no 
 suspicions.’’ 
 
 While we were speaking we had got some 
 distance from the venta, and no one in it 
 would hear the sound of the horse’s hoofs. In 
 the twinkling of an eye Antonio took off 
 the wrappings and prepared to mount. I 
 endeavoured to detain him by prayers, and 
 even by threats. 
 
 “I am a poor devil, sir,” he replied, 
 “and I cannot afford to lose two hundred 
 ducats ; particularly when I can also rid the 
 country of such vermin as is yonder. But 
 take care ! If Navarro wakes he will rush 
 for his blunderbuss, so mind yourself. I 
 have gone too far to retreat. You can suit 
 yourself.” 
 
 The scoundrel was already in the saddle. 
 He spurred his horse, and was soon hidden 
 from my view in the darkness. 
 
 I was very much annoyed with my guide, 
 and not a little uneasy. After a moment’s 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 23 
 
 reflection I made np my mind what course 
 to pursue, and re-entered the venta. Don 
 Jose was still asleep, repairing, no doubt, the 
 fatigues and watches of many days preceding. 
 I was obliged to shake him roughly before I 
 could arouse him. Never shall I forget his 
 fierce look and the action with which he 
 sought to grasp his blunderbuss which I had 
 removed as a matter of precaution. 
 
 “Sir,” said I, “I ask your pardon for 
 disturbing you, but I have a simple question 
 to ask. Would you be pleased to see half 
 a dozen lancers come here 1 ” 
 
 He leaped to his feet, and in a terrible 
 tone, said, “ Who has told you that ? ” 
 
 “No matter whence comes the advice so 
 that it is good.” 
 
 “Your guide has betrayed me, but he 
 shall answer for it. Where is he ? ” 
 
 “ I do not know. In the stable I tliink — 
 
 but some one has told me ” 
 
 “ Who told you ? The old woman, perhaps 1 ” 
 
24 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 Some one whom I do not know. With- 
 out more words, have you — yes or no — any 
 reasons which render it advisable for you to 
 avoid the soldiers 1 If you have, do not lose 
 time — if not, then good-night ; and I beg 
 your pardon for awakening you.^^ 
 
 ‘^Ah, your guide — your guide ! I sus- 
 pected him at first ; but his account will be 
 settled ! Adieu, sir ; God reward you for 
 the service I owe you. I am not so bad as 
 you believe me to be ; yes, there is still in 
 me something which deserves the sympathy 
 of a brave man. Adieu, sir, I have only 
 one regret, and that is my inability to pay 
 my debt to you.” 
 
 “For the service which I render you, 
 Don Jose, promise me to suspect no one — do 
 not think of vengeance. Hold — here are 
 some cigars for you. Bon voyage I ” — and I 
 extended my hand to him. 
 
 He shook mine without replying ; seized 
 his blunderbuss and his sack, and after 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 25 
 
 saying a few words to the old woman in a 
 slang I did not understand, he hurried to 
 the shed. A few minutes afterwards I heard 
 him gallop away into the open country. 
 
 As for me, I retired to my bench but I 
 could not sleep. I interrogated myself as to 
 whether I had any right to save a robber — 
 perhaps a murderer — from the gallows, and 
 that only because I had eaten with him some 
 ham and rice. Had I not betrayed my 
 guide, who was upholding the laws ? had I 
 not exposed myself to the revenge of a 
 villain ? But the duties of hospitality 1 
 ‘‘A prejudice of savagery,” I said to myself ; 
 “I shall have to be responsible for all the 
 crimes that the bandit hereafter may commit.” 
 However, is it a prejudice — this instinct of 
 conscience which defies all reasoning ] Per- 
 haps in the delicate situation in which I was 
 placed, I might be able to escape without 
 remorse ? I was balanced in the greatest 
 uncertainty respecting the morality of my 
 
26 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 action when I saw half a dozen horse-soldiers 
 returning with Antonio, who kept prudently in 
 the rear. I met them half-way, and informed 
 them that the bandit had escaped two hours 
 previously. The old woman, when ques- 
 tioned by the corporal, replied that she 
 knew ISTavarro, but that, living alone, she did 
 not dare to risk her life by denouncing him. 
 She added that he was always in the habit of 
 departing in the middle of the night when 
 he came to her house. As for me, I was 
 compelled to proceed a distance of some 
 leagues to show my passport, and sign a 
 declaration before the alcalde, after which I 
 was permitted to resume my archaeological 
 researches. Antonio nursed a grudge against 
 me — for he suspected that it was I who had 
 prevented him from gaining the reward of 
 two hundred ducats. Nevertheless we parted 
 good friends at Cordova, where I presented 
 him with a gratuity as large as the condition 
 of my finances permitted me to give. 
 
II. 
 
 I SPENT some days in Cordova. Some MS. 
 in the Dominican library had been indicated 
 to me and in this I expected to find some 
 interesting information concerning the ancient 
 Munda. Being very well received by the 
 good monks I passed the days in their monas- 
 tery ; and in the evenings I walked about 
 the town. At Cordova at sunset there are 
 
28 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 always a number of idlers about the quay 
 wbicb borders the right bank of the Guadal- 
 quiver. There one breathes the odours of a 
 tannery which still preserves the old repu- 
 tation of the country for the preparation of 
 leather ; but on the other hand one enjoys a 
 sight which is well worth seeing. Some 
 minutes before the Angelus is rung a number 
 of women assemble on the bank of the river at 
 the end of the quay, which is raised con- 
 siderably. Not a man dares to mingle with 
 this troop. Immediately the Angelus sounds 
 night is supposed to have set in. At the 
 last stroke of the bell all the women undress 
 and plunge into the water. Then arise cries, 
 laughter, and an infernal din. From the 
 top of the quay the men contemplate the 
 bathers, staring at them with open eyes, but 
 seeing little. Nevertheless these white and 
 undefined forms, which are perceptible in the 
 deep azure waters of the river, cause poetic 
 minds to conceive, and with a little imagination 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 29 
 
 it is not difficult to represent to oneself 
 Diana and her nymphs in the bath, without 
 fear of sharing the fate of Actaeon. I was 
 informed that on one occasion some scape- 
 graces, by bribing the bell-ringer of the 
 cathedral, induced him to ring the Angelus 
 twenty minutes in advance of the usual 
 hour. Although it was broad daylight, the 
 nymphs of the Guadalquiver did not hesitate, 
 and trusting more to the Angelus than the 
 sun, they made innocence their bathing-dress 
 — which is always of the simplest fashion. 
 I was not there. In my time the bell-ringer 
 was incorruptible, the twilight not very 
 clear, and only a cat would have been able 
 to distinguish the oldest orange-seller from 
 the prettiest grisette in Cordova. 
 
 One evening at the hour when there is 
 nothing to be seen, I was smoking, leaning 
 upon the parapet of the quay, when a 
 woman ascended the steps which led down 
 to the river, and seated herself close to me. 
 
 C 
 
■30 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 She had in her hair a large bunch of jessa- 
 mine, which emitted a strong perfume. She 
 was simply, perhaps poorly, clad, in black, 
 as most of the girls are in the evening. The 
 fashionable ladies only wear black in the 
 morning, in the evening they dress a la 
 Francesca. As she approached me the 
 bather let fall on her shoulders the mantilla 
 with which she had covered her head, and 
 in the starlight I could perceive that she was 
 joretty, young, well made, and that she had 
 very large eyes. I quickly threw away my 
 'cigar. She at once appreciated this atten- 
 tion — a politeness entirely French — and 
 hastened to inform me that she liked the 
 smell of tobacco-smoke very much, and that 
 even she herself smoked when she could get 
 very mild cigarettes. Fortunately I had 
 some such in my case, and hastened to offer 
 them to her. She condescended to take one, 
 and lighted it at the burning end of a cork 
 which a child brought us for a halfpenny. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 31 
 
 Smoking together we conversed so long — the 
 pretty bather and I— that we found ourselves 
 alone upon the quay. I did not consider 
 that there was anything indiscreet in sug- 
 gesting that we should go and have some 
 ices at a neveria.^ After some modest hesi- 
 tation she consented, but before deciding she 
 wished to know what time it was. I made 
 my repeater strike the hour, and this 
 astonished her very much. What inven- 
 tions they have in your country I What 
 countryman are jmu ? English, no doubt.’' f 
 
 “A Frenchman, and your humble servant, 
 mademoiselle, or madame. You are probably 
 of Cordova ? ” 
 
 No.” 
 
 “ You are at least Andalusian ? I fancy I 
 can detect so much in your soft accent.” 
 
 * A cafe furnished with an ice-house, or rather with a 
 depot of snow. In Spain there is scarcely a village 
 without its neveria. 
 
 t In Spain every traveller who does not carry samples 
 ot cottons or silks passes for an Englishman — Inglosito. 
 It is the same in the East. At Chalcis 1 have had the 
 honour of being announced as a yuXophoQ 4>pavT$t<rog. 
 
32 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 ‘‘ If you remark people’s accents so closely 
 you ouglit to be able to divine who I am.” 
 
 “ I believe you are of the Holy Land — a 
 few steps from Paradise.” 
 
 I had learnt this metaphor, which refers to 
 Andalusia, from my friend Francisco Sevilla, 
 the well-known picador. 
 
 “Bah! — Paradise ! People here say it is 
 not for such as we.” 
 
 “Then you must be Moorish, or — ” I 
 stopped, not liking to say “a Jewess.” 
 
 “ Go along ! go along ! You see quite 
 well that I am a gipsy. Do you wish me to 
 tell you la haji (good-fortune) ? Have you 
 ever heard of La Carmencita? I am she ! ” 
 
 I was such an infidel at that time— it is 
 fifteen years ago, remember ! — that 1 did not 
 recoil with horror at finding myself in com- 
 pany with a sorceress. “ All right,” I said to 
 myself. “ Last week I supped with a bandit — 
 a highway robber ; to-day I am eating ices 
 with a handmaiden of the devil ! When 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 33 
 
 travelling it is as well to see everything ! I 
 had besides another reason for cultivating 
 her acquaintance. When I quitted the Uni- 
 versity I confess to shame that 1 had lost 
 some time in studying the occult sciences, 
 and many times I had attempted to summon 
 up the spirits of darkness. Although long 
 before cured of my passion for such researches, 
 I nevertheless still retained a certain curiosity 
 regarding all superstitions, and it was a treat 
 to me to ascertain to what pitch the arts of 
 magic had attained amongst the gipsies. 
 
 As we chatted we had entered the neveria, 
 and seated ourselves at a small table lighted 
 by a wax candle placed within a glass shade. 
 I had then plenty of opportunity to observe 
 the gitana^ while respectable people eating 
 their ices were astounded to see me in such 
 society. 
 
 I very much doubt whether Mademoiselle 
 Carmen was of the true blood — at any rate, 
 she was the prettiest of all the women of her 
 
34 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 race whom I ever met. To be beautiful, a 
 woman, say the Spaniards, must unite in 
 herself thirty points ; or, if you please, you 
 may define her by ten adjectives, each applic- 
 able to three parts of her person. For 
 instance, she should have three black points — 
 the eyes, the eyelids, and the eyebrows ; three 
 delicate, fine — the fingers, the lips, and the 
 hair, &c. See Brantome for the others. My 
 Bohemian could not pretend to the necessary 
 perfection. Her skin, though quite smooth, 
 approached somewhat to the coppery tinge. 
 Her eyes W’ere obliquely set, but large and 
 full ; her lips rather thick, but well cut, 
 and permitted the teeth — w^hite as blanched 
 almonds — to be seen. Her hair was perhaps 
 a trifle coarse, but had a blue sheen running 
 through it, like that one sees in a raven's 
 wings, and was long and luxuriant. Not to 
 weary you with a detailed description, I will 
 merely say that with each fault she united a 
 good point, which came out perhaps more by 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 35 
 
 virtue of the contrast. She was of a strange 
 and savage beauty — a face which at first 
 surprised you, but it was one you could 
 never forget. Her eyes especially had an 
 expression at once voluptuous and fierce, 
 which I have never since noticed in any 
 human eyes. “ Eye of gipsy, eye of wolf’' ' 
 is a Spanish saying which denotes quick 
 observation. If you have not time to go to 
 the Zoological Gardens to study the expres- 
 sion of the wolfs eyes, look at your cat when 
 he is watching a sparrow ! 
 
 One felt that it would be ridiculous to 
 have one’s fortune told in a cq/e, so I begged’ 
 the pretty sorceress to permit me to accom- 
 pany her home. She agreed without difiiculty, 
 but again she was anxious to know how time 
 sped, and begged me to strike my repeater 
 once more. 
 
 Is it really gold ?” she asked, as she gazed 
 at the watch attentively. 
 
 When we resumed our way it was dark 
 
36 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 night, the majority of the shops were shut, 
 and the streets were almost deserted. We 
 passed the bridge over the Guadal quiver, and 
 at the end of the suburb we reached a house 
 with nothing of the palatial about it. A 
 child opened the door to us. The gipsy said 
 something to her in a language unknown to 
 me, which I have since discovered was the 
 Eomany, or chepe-calli^ the idiom of the 
 gitanos. The child immediately disappeared, 
 leaving us in a room of considerable dimen- 
 sions, furnished with a small table, two stools, 
 and a chest. I must not forget a jar of water, 
 a pile of oranges, and a hank of onions. 
 
 As soon as we were alone the gipsy took 
 from the chest a pack of cards, which appeared 
 to have seen much service, a loadstone, a 
 dried chameleon, and some other objects 
 necessary for the practice of her art. Then 
 she bade me cross my left hand with a piece 
 of silver, and the magic ceremonies began. 
 It is useless to repeat her predictions, but by 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 37 
 
 her manner of operating it was evident that 
 she was a practised sorceress. 
 
 Unfortunately it was not long ere we were 
 disturbed. The door was suddenly and 
 violently thrown open ; a man wrapped up 
 to the eyes in a brown cloak entered the 
 room, and apostrophised the gipsy in a by 
 no means gentle fashion. I did not under- 
 stand what he was saying, but the tone of 
 his voice indicated that he was in a very bad 
 temper. The gitana exhibited neither sur- 
 prise nor anger at his appearance, but she 
 hastened to meet him, and with extraordinary 
 volubility addressed some words to him in the 
 mysterious language which she had already 
 made use of in my presence. The word payllo^ 
 frequently repeated, was the only one I un- 
 derstood. I was aware that by this term the 
 gipsies designate any stranger. Supposing 
 that it referred to me, I anticipated a rather 
 delicate explanation ; already I had grasped 
 one of the legs of the stool, and was com- 
 
38 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 muning with myself as to the precise moment 
 when I should hurl it at the head of the in- 
 truder, when the latter, pushing the girl 
 rudely aside, advanced towards me, and then 
 recoiling, exclaimed — 
 
 Ah, sir, it is you then ! ” 
 
 I looked at him in my turn, and recognised 
 my acquaintance Don J ose. At that moment 
 a feeling of regret that I had not let him be 
 hanged came over me. 
 
 ‘‘ Ah, it is you, my brave fellow ! ” I ex- 
 claimed, laughing with as little bitterness as 
 I could manage. “ You have interrupted 
 mademoiselle and me at the very moment 
 when she was revealing to me some very 
 interesting things.^^ 
 
 “ Always the same — this shall finish it ! 
 he muttered between his teeth, and darting a 
 furious look at her. 
 
 • The gipsy nevertheless continued to 
 address him in her language. She got more 
 excited by degrees. Her eyes flashed, became 
 
CARMEN, 
 
 39 
 
 suffused with blood, and terrible in their 
 aspect ; her features contracted ; she stamped 
 her foot ; it seemed to me that she was in- 
 citing him to do something which he had 
 some hesitation in doing. What it was I 
 understood only too well when I saw her 
 pass and repass her little hand rapidly across 
 her neck. I was constrained to believe that 
 it was a question of cutting somebody’s 
 throat, and I had some suspicion that this 
 throat was my own ! 
 
 To all this torrent of eloquence Don Jose 
 only replied sharply in a few words. Then 
 the gipsy darted at him a glance of profound 
 contempt, and seating herself a la turque in 
 a corner of the room, she selected an orange 
 from the heap, peeled it, and began to eat it. 
 
 Don Jose took me by the arm, opened the 
 door, and led me into the street. We pro- 
 ceeded about two hundred paces in silence. 
 Then extending his hand he said, “ Keep 
 straight on and you will come to the bridge ! ” 
 
40 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 He immediately turned his back upon me, 
 and hurried away. I reached my inn feeling 
 somewhat sheepish and in bad temper. The 
 worst of it was that when I undressed, I 
 perceived my watch was missing ! 
 
 Several considerations prevented me from 
 seeking to recover it in the morning, or to 
 solicit the aid of the law in seeking it. I 
 finished my work on the manuscript in the 
 convent, and started for Seville. After 
 several months’ wandering in Andalusia I 
 returned to Madrid, and I was obliged to 
 pass Cordova. I had no intention of making 
 a long stay there, for I had taken a dislike to 
 this fine city and its bathers. However, 
 there were some friends to he visited, some 
 commissions to he executed, which would 
 detain me in the ancient capital of the 
 Mussulman princes for three or four days. 
 
 As soon as I made my appearance at the 
 convent of the Dominicans one of the fathers, 
 who had always displayed the keenest interest 
 
CARMEN, 
 
 41 
 
 in my researches concerning the site of 
 Munda, welcomed me with open arms. 
 
 “God be praised,” he said. “Welcome 
 indeed, my dear friend. We believed you 
 dead, and I myself have paters and aves 
 — which I do not regret — for the repose of 
 your soul ! So you have not been assassi- 
 nated ; we knew you had been robbed ! ” 
 
 “ How so 1 ” I inquired in surprise. 
 
 “ Well, you remember you used to strike 
 that beautiful watch of yours when we 
 wanted to know the time in the library. It 
 has been found, and will be returned to 
 you ” 
 
 “ That is to say,” interrupted I, somewhat 
 put out of countenance, supposing I have 
 lost it.” 
 
 “ The scoundrel is in custody,” continued 
 the friar ; “ and as we knew he was the kind 
 of fellow to shoot a man in order to take a 
 piecette, we were all terribly afraid he had 
 killed you. I will go with you to the 
 
42 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 corregidor, and we will recover your beautiful 
 watcli. And then don’t say that justice is 
 not done in Spain ! ” 
 
 ‘‘ I confess,” I replied, that I would 
 rather lose iny watch than he instrumental 
 in hanging a poor devil, particularly because 
 — because — ” 
 
 “ Oh, do not be in the least alarmed ; he is 
 well certified to, and they cannot hang him 
 twice. When I say hang him, I mean 
 garotte him. This robber of yours is a 
 hidalgo^ and so he will be garotted the day 
 after to-morrow without fail.* You per- 
 ceive that a robbery more or less can make 
 no difference in his case. I would to Heaven 
 it were only robbery, but he has committed 
 many murders, each one more horrible than 
 that which preceded it.” 
 
 W'hat is his name ? ” 
 
 * In 1830 the nobility still enjoyed this privilefre. In 
 t’le present day, under constitutional government, tlie 
 common criminals have gained the right to be garotted. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 43 
 
 “He is known in this country as Jose 
 Navarro, but he has another Basque name 
 which neither you nor I shall ever succeed 
 in pronouncing. He is a man to see, and 
 you who love to study the curious character- 
 istics of the country ought not to neglect the 
 opportunity of learning how in Spain these 
 scoundrels are sent out of the world. He is 
 in the chapel, and Fra Martinez will conduct 
 you thither.’^ 
 
 My friend the Dominican insisted so 
 strongly upon my seeing the apparatus for 
 the petit pendement pien choli, that I was 
 unable to resist him. I went to see the 
 prisoner, furnished with a bundle of cigars, 
 which I trusted would atone for my in- 
 trusion. 
 
 They admitted me to see Don Jose just as 
 he was finishing a meal. He bowed coldly 
 to me and thanked me politely for the cigars 
 which I had brought him. After counting 
 them he selected a few and returned the 
 
44 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 remainder, observing that be should not 
 want any more than those he then had I 
 
 I inquired whether by money or some 
 little influence I could not in some measure 
 ameliorate his condition. At first he shrugged 
 his shoulders, smiling sadly ; but after a 
 while changing his mind he begged that I 
 would cause a mass to be said for his soul. 
 
 “Would you,’^ he added, timidly, “would 
 you have another said for a woman who 
 injured you ? ” 
 
 “Assuredly,’’ I replied, “but I do not 
 think that any woman has injured me in 
 this country.” 
 
 He took my hand and shook it gravely. 
 After a momentary silence, he resumed — 
 
 “Dare I venture to ask you a favour? 
 When you return to your own land perhaps 
 you will pass through Navarre, at least you 
 will pass by Yittoria, which is not very far 
 from it.” 
 
 “Yes,” I replied, “I shall certainly pass 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 45 
 
 hy Vittoria, but it is not unlikely that I 
 shall turn aside to Pampeluna and on your 
 account I will willingly make the detour,^^ 
 “Well, if you go to Pampeluna you will 
 find more than one object of interest to 
 detain you. It is a beautiful city. I will 
 give you this medal (he showed me a silver 
 medal which he wore round his neck), you 
 will wrap it in paper — ” he paused for an 
 instant to master his emotion — “and you 
 will send it or cause it to be sent to a good 
 woman, whose address I will give you. 
 You will say that I am dead, but do not tell 
 her in what manner I died.’’ 
 
 I promised to carry out his wishes. I 
 saw him again on the following morning, 
 and I passed a portion of the day with him. 
 It was from his own lips that I learned the 
 sad story which follows : — 
 
 D 
 
III. 
 
 I WAS born, said he, at Elizondo, in 
 the valley of Batzan. My name is Don 
 Jos4 Lizarabengoa, and you know Spain 
 well enough, sir, to understand that I am 
 of the Basque country, and of ancient 
 Christian lineage. If I take the title of 
 Don it is because I have a right to it, and if 
 I were at Elizondo I would show you my 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 47 
 
 genealogy on parclinient. I was destined 
 for the Church, and compelled to study for 
 it ; but I did not profit by it. I was too 
 fond of playing tennis and that was the ruin 
 of me. When we Navarros play tennis we 
 forget all else. One day when I had won a 
 match a youth of Alava picked a quarrel 
 with me. We fought with maquilas^^ and 
 still I had the advantage, but I was obliged 
 to fly the country. I fell in with some 
 dragoons and enlisted in the Almanza regi- 
 ment of cavalry. People from our parts 
 soon pick up the trade of a soldier. I 
 quickly became a corporal, and was in a fair 
 w^ay to become quarter-master when to my 
 misfortune I was put on guard at the tobacco 
 manufactory of Seville. If you have ever 
 been to Seville you have noticed that great 
 building outside the ramparts near the 
 Guadal quiver. It seems as if I can still see 
 the door and the guard-house beside it. 
 
 Iron- shod sticks. 
 
48 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 When they are off duty the Spaniards play 
 cards or sleep, but I, a free Navarro, was 
 always accustomed to employ myself. I 
 made a chain of brass wire to sustain my 
 priming-needle. One day my comrades ex- 
 claimed, ‘‘The clock is striking, the girls 
 are going to work !” You know there are 
 about four hundred or five hundred women 
 employed in the cigar-making. They roll 
 the cigars in the large room into which no 
 man is permitted to enter without permission 
 from the municipal magistrate, because the 
 girls work in undress, the young ones par- 
 ticularly, when the weather is warm. When 
 the young women return to work after 
 dinner, many young fellows go to see them 
 pass, and they are some of all sorts. There 
 are few of these ladies who would refuse a silk 
 mantilla, and the inexperienced ones at this 
 fishing have only to stoop to catch a fish. 
 While the other men were looking on I 
 remained on my bench near the door. I 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 49 
 
 ^vas young then and home-sick, and did not 
 believe that there were anywhere pretty girls 
 without the blue skirts, and the plaits of hair 
 falling over their shoulders.* Besides, these 
 Andalusians frightened me ; I had not yet 
 grown accustomed to their manners. They 
 were always full of raillery, never serious or 
 speaking a sensible word. I was working 
 away at my chain when I heard some towns- 
 people say, “ Look at the gitanella ! ” I 
 looked up and saw her. It was on- a 
 
 Friday, and I shall never forget it. I 
 saw that Carmen, whom you know of, 
 at whose house I found you some months 
 ago. 
 
 She wore a red skirt, very short, which 
 exposed to view her white silk stockings, 
 with many a hole in them, and tiny shoes of 
 morocco leather, tied with scarlet ribbons. 
 She had thrown back her mantilla so as to 
 
 * The ordinary costume of the jieasant girls of Navarre 
 and the Basque provinces. 
 
60 
 
 C A R M K N. 
 
 display lier shoulders, and an immense bunch 
 of acacia blossom, which was stuck in her 
 chemise. She also carried a flower in her 
 mouth, and she walked with a movement of 
 a thoroughbred filly from the Cordova stud. 
 In my country a woman in such a costume 
 would have made people cross themselves. 
 At Seville every one paid some gay compli- 
 ment to the girl on her appearance. She 
 replied to them all, looking sideways as she 
 went along, with her hand on her hip, as 
 bold as the true gipsy she was. At first she 
 did not take my fancy, and 1 continued my 
 occupation, but she — after the nature of 
 women and cats, which will not come when 
 they are called and which come when they 
 are not called — stopped in front of me and 
 said, in the Andalusian form — 
 
 “ Gossip, will you give me your chain to 
 hang the key of my strong box on 
 
 “ It is to hang my priming-needle on,” I 
 replied. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 51 
 
 “ Your priming-needle ! Ah, the sehor 
 makes lace, then ; he requires needles.” 
 Every one began to laugh at me. I felt 
 myself growing red, and could make na 
 reply. 
 
 Well, my hearty,” she continued, “ make 
 me seven ells of black lace for a mantilla, 
 thou primer of my soul.” 
 
 Then, taking the flower from between her 
 lips, she flipped it at me with a movement 
 of her thumb, and struck me between the 
 eyes. Sir, I felt as if I had received a 
 bullet in the forehead. I did not know 
 what to do with myself ; I stood as stiff as 
 a board. When she had entered the factory 
 I perceived the flower, which had fallen at 
 my feet. I do not know wEat possessed me, 
 but I picked it up when my comrades were 
 not looking, and put it carefully in my vest. 
 That was the first act of folly. 
 
 Two or three hours after, while 1 was still 
 thinking of the incident, a porter arrived at 
 
 OF 
 
 ^^IVERsiTY 
 
 ILLINOIS 
 
52 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 the guard-house, out of breath and greatly 
 discomposed. He told us that a woman had 
 been assassinated in the great room of the 
 factory, and that it was necessary to have the 
 guard in. The sergeant ordered me to take 
 two men and go and see what was the matter. 
 I took the men and went up. Picture to 
 yourself, sir, the sight that met my view 
 when I entered — about three hundred women 
 en chemise, or with as little as possible on 
 them — screaming, crying, gesticulating, and 
 making such a row that you couldn’t have 
 heard thunder. At one side a female was 
 sprawling on the floor drenched in blood, 
 with a cross — an X — cut on her face with a 
 knife. Opposite the wounded woman, who 
 was being tended by the best of the females, 
 I perceived Carmen, restrained by five or six 
 of her associates. The wounded woman kept 
 crying out that she was dying and wanted a 
 priest. Carmen said nothing ; she clenched her 
 teeth, and rolled her eyes like a chameleon. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 53 
 
 AYhat is all this about ? ” I inquired. I 
 had considerable difficulty in ascertaining^ 
 what had passed, for all the women talked 
 at onco. 
 
 It would appear that the injured woman 
 had boasted of having sufficient money in 
 her pocket to buy a donkey at the market of 
 Triona. 
 
 “ Shut up ! ” exclaimed Carmen, who had 
 a tongue of her own, why you haven^t 
 enough to purchase a brush.” 
 
 The other, stung by the reproach, perhaps 
 because she felt there were some suspicions 
 concen>ing the article, replied that she did 
 not know anything about brushes, not having 
 the honour to be a gipsy or a daughter of 
 Satan, but that Mademoiselle Carmencita 
 would soon make the donkey’s acquaintance 
 when the corr^gidor led it out for a walk 
 with two lacqueys behind to beat the flies off. 
 
 “ Well, then, for my part,” replied Carmen, 
 “ I will make places for the flies to settle on 
 
54 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 your cheeks, for I will make a draught-board 
 of them.’^* 
 
 On that, criss-cross, she began, with the 
 knife she used for cutting the cigars, to slash 
 a St. Andrew’s cross on the woman’s face. 
 
 The case was perfectly clear. I seized 
 Carmen by the arm. 
 
 “ Sister,” I said politely, “ you must come 
 with me.” 
 
 She darted a look of recognition at me, 
 but she said resignedly — 
 
 “ Let us go then. Where is my mantilla 1 ” 
 She put it over her head in such a fashion 
 as only to permit her fine eyes to be seen, 
 and followed my two men as quiet as a 
 lamb. When we reached the guard-house 
 the quarter-master said the case was a serious 
 one, and that he must send the culprit to 
 prison. I w^as told off to conduct her. I 
 
 * Pinter un janeque — to paint or chequer. The Spanish 
 draught-boards are, for the most part, in red and white 
 squares. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 55 
 
 placed lier between two dragoons, and I 
 marched behind as a corporal should do. 
 AVe started for the city. At first the gipsy 
 maintained a strict silence, but in Serpent 
 Street — you know it, it well deserves its 
 name with all its windings — in Serpent Street 
 she began her manoeuvres by letting her 
 mantilla fall upon her shoulders so as to 
 enable me to see her winning face, and, turn- 
 ing towards me as far as she could, she 
 said — 
 
 “ My officer, whither are you taking me ? ” 
 
 “ To prison, my poor child,'^ I replied, as 
 gently as I could — just as a true soldier 
 ought to talk to his prisoner, particularly 
 when the prisoner is a woman. 
 
 ‘‘ Alas ! what will become of me ! Sehor 
 officer, have pity on me ! You are so young, 
 so kind.” Then, in a lower tone, she con- 
 tinued, ‘‘ Let me escape. I will give you a 
 piece of har laclii, which will make you 
 beloved by all the women.” 
 
56 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 (The har lachl^ sir, is a loadstone, with 
 Avhich the gipsies say one may work charms 
 when one knoAvs how to make use of it. 
 Give a woman a pinch of it, grated, in a 
 glass of water, and she will not be able to 
 resist you.) 
 
 I replied, as seriously as I could — 
 
 “We are not here to talk nonsense, Ave 
 must proceed to the prison ; such is the 
 order, and there is no help for it.” 
 
 We Basque people haA^e a dialect Avhich 
 the Spaniards can readily recognise, but 
 there is scarcely one of them Avho can even 
 say vai jaoni (yes, sir). Carmen, then, had 
 no difficulty in discovering that I came from 
 the Provinces. You know, sir, that the 
 gipsies, haAung no definite country of their 
 own, are always Avandering hither and 
 thither, speaking all languages, and the 
 majority of them are as much at home in 
 Portugal as in France, or in the Provinces, 
 or Catalonia ; CA^en amongst the Moors and 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 the English they can make themselves under- 
 stood. Carmen, then, knew the Basque dialect 
 pretty well. 
 
 Laguna ene hihotsarena, friend of my 
 soul,” she said suddenly. “ Are you from 
 the country ? ” 
 
 (Our language, sir, is so beautiful that 
 when we hear it spoken in a strange place 
 it thrills us. I wish I had a confessor from 
 the Provinces, he muttered. Then, after a 
 pause, he resumed : — ) 
 
 I am from Elizondo,” I replied in Basque, 
 very much moved at hearing my native 
 tongue. 
 
 ‘‘And I am from Etchalar,” she said. 
 (That is a district some four hours^ journey 
 from us.) I was brought to Seville by the 
 gipsies. I have been working in the factory 
 so as to make money sufficient to take me 
 back to Navarre again to my dear mother, 
 whose only support I am, and the little 
 barretcea (garden), with its twenty cider 
 
58 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 apple-trees. Ah, if I were only there again, 
 near the white mountains ! They have in- 
 sulted me because I do not belong to this 
 country of pick-pockets, merchants of rotten 
 oranges ; and these low women are all against 
 me because I declared that all their ‘jacks’ 
 of Seville, with their knives, would not 
 frighten one fellow from our part of the 
 country, with only his blue beret and his 
 maquillay 
 
 She was lying, sir ; she has always 
 lied. Indeed I doubt whether in all her 
 life that girl ever spoke a word of truth. 
 But when she spoke I believed her. She 
 was stronger than I. She talked broken 
 Basque, and I believed she came from 
 Navarre. Her eyes, mouth and complexion 
 stamped her a gipsy. I was befooled — mad 
 — and no longer paid attention to anything. 
 I thought that if the two Spaniards wdth 
 me had said anything in disparagement of 
 the country I would have slashed them 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 59 
 
 across the face just as she had treated her 
 comrade. In fact I was like a man intoxi- 
 cated. I began to talk nonsense, and was 
 ready to commit any folly. 
 
 “If I were to give yon a push, country- 
 man, and you were to fall down, I should 
 have only those two Castilian conscripts to 
 detain me,” she said. 
 
 Faith, I quite forget my orders, and I re- 
 plied : “Well, my friend, my country- 
 
 woman, try it ; and may Our Lady of the 
 Mountain aid you.” At that moment we 
 were passing by one of those narrow alleys 
 of which there are so many in Seville. 
 Suddenly Carmen turned round and gave 
 me a blow with her clenched hand on the 
 chest. I fell head over heels purposely. 
 With one bound she jumped over me and 
 ran away, exhibiting a pair of legs such as 
 — well: They talk of “Basque legs” — hers 
 outshone them all. They were as quick as 
 they were well turned ! I got up imme- 
 
60 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 cliately, but I managed to get my lance bar- 
 wise across the alley, so my companions 
 were prevented from starting in pursuit for 
 a while. Then I set off running myself 
 and my men after me, but there was no 
 chance of our overtaking her, accoutred as 
 we were with our spurs, our sabres, and 
 lances ! In less time than I take to tell 
 you the incident, the prisoner had disap- 
 peared. Besides, all the gossips of the 
 quarter assisted her flight and laughed at 
 us, putting us also on the wrong scent. 
 After much marching and counter-marching 
 it became necessary for us to return to the 
 guard-house without the receipt from the 
 governor of the prison ! 
 
 My men, to escape punishment, said tliat 
 Carmen and I had conversed in the Basque 
 dialect, and that it did not seem quite 
 natural, to tell the truth, that a blow from 
 such a little girl would knock over a man 
 of my weight. All this looked very sus- 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 61 
 
 picioiis for me — rather too clear, in fact. 
 When I went down stairs again I was de- 
 graded and sent to prison for a month. 
 This was my first punishment since I had 
 enlisted. Farewell then to the stripes of 
 quarter-master which I had already made 
 sure of. 
 
 My first days in prison passed very sadly. 
 When I became a soldier I had pictured to 
 myself that I should at least reach the grade 
 of officer. Longa, Mina, my compatriots, 
 are even “ captains-general Chapalangarra, 
 who is a negro and a refugee like Mina in your 
 country, 'Chapalangarra was a colonel, and I 
 have played tennis twenty times with his 
 brother, who was a poor devil, like myself. 
 Then, I said to myself, “All that time you 
 served without punishment is now so much 
 time lost. You have a black mark against 
 you ; to re-instate yourself in the opinion 
 of your superiors you v/ill have to work ten 
 times harder than when you were a con- 
 
 E 
 
^62 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 script. And for wliat have I been punished? 
 For a chit of a gipsy who laughs at me, and 
 w'ho at this moment is at large in some 
 corner of the town.’’ Nevertheless I could 
 not help thinking of her. Will you believe 
 it, sir, those stockings full of holes, which 
 -she so liberally displayed when she made 
 her escape, w^ere always before my eyes. I 
 looked out between the bars of my prison 
 window, and amongst all the women who 
 passed in the street I did not see one who 
 was worth that little devil. And then, in 
 -spite of myself, I would clasp the flower 
 w'hich she had thrown at me, and which, 
 dried though it was, still preserved its per- 
 fume. If there are witches this girl was one 
 of them. 
 
 One day the gaoler entered and gave me 
 n loaf of Alcala bread. 
 
 * Alcala de los Panacleros : a small town two leagues 
 from Seville, where delicious bread is made. It is said 
 that the water of Alcala is the cause of this excellence, 
 ■and a quantity of it is carried to Seville every day. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 63 
 
 “Look here/’ he said, “see what your 
 cousin has sent you.” 
 
 I took the bread — very much surprised — 
 for I had no cousin in Seville. It is a mis- 
 take perhaps, I thought, as I looked at the 
 loaf, but it was so appetising — it felt so fresh 
 and good, that without troubling myself to 
 find out whence it had come, or for whom it 
 W’as intended, I determined to eat it. As I 
 was cutting it my knife struck against some- 
 thing hard. I looked carefully and found a 
 small English file, which had been slipped 
 into the oven before the bread was baked. 
 There was also in the loaf a piece of gold 
 (two piastres). There was no longer room 
 for doubt. The present came from Carmen. 
 Liberty is everything with people of her race, 
 and they would set fire to a town to avoid a 
 day in prison. Besides the girl was shrewd, 
 and with that loaf had befooled the gaolers. 
 In an hour the thickest bar could be cut with 
 the little file, and with the assistance of tho 
 
64 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 two piastre piece I could exchange my uni- 
 form for a oivilian dress at the next clothes- 
 shop. You can imagine that a man who had 
 many times gone hirds-nesting for young 
 eaglets over our cliffs would not he much 
 put out to descend into the street from a 
 window less than thirty feet from the ground. 
 But I did not want to escape. I still pre- 
 served my honour as a soldier, and desertion 
 seemed to me a great crime. But I was 
 touched by this token of remembrance. 
 When one is in prison one loves to think 
 that one has a friend outside who is inter- 
 ested in one. The gold piece rather offended 
 me. I would have liked very much to have 
 sent it back, but where could I find my cre- 
 ditor ? That did not appear a very easy task. 
 
 After having been degraded I did not 
 think I had anything more to suffer, but 
 there was a humiliation in store for me. 
 That was when, on my release from prison, 
 I was sent to duty and put on sentry, like a 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 C5 
 
 common soldier. You can scarcely imagine 
 what a sensitive man feels on such an oc- 
 casion as this. I believe I would rather 
 have been shot. Then, at least, one marclies 
 alone in front of the platoon ; one feels of 
 importance, every one is looking at you. 
 
 I was posted as sentry at the door of the 
 colonel’s house. He was a young man, rich, 
 a “ good fellow,” who lived to amuse himself. 
 All the young officers came thither and many 
 citizens, women, and actresses — so it was said. 
 For my own part, I felt as if every one in the 
 city had agreed to meet there to stare at me. 
 The colonel’s carriage arrived, with his valet 
 on the box. Whom did I see descend from 
 it ? La Giiamlla ! She was decked out “ as 
 fine as fivepence,” dressed up and bedizened, 
 all gold and ribbons. A spangled dress, blue 
 spangled shoes ; flowers and trimmings all 
 over her. She had a Basque tambourine 
 in her hand. With her were two other 
 gipsy women, one young and the other old. 
 
GO 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 There is always an old woman to lead them. 
 Then an old man with a guitar, also a gipsy, 
 to play and make them dance. You know 
 that people often amuse themselves by in- 
 viting gipsies to their parties and making 
 them dance the romalis^ their characteristic 
 dance ; and often for other purposes. 
 
 Carmen recognised me, and we exchanged 
 glances. I don’t know why, but at that 
 moment I wished myself a hundred feet 
 underground. 
 
 A gur laguna (good day, comrade). My 
 officer, you are mounting guard like a raw 
 recruit.” 
 
 And ere I could find words to reply, she 
 had entered the house. 
 
 All the guests were assembled in patio^ 
 and, notwithstanding the crowd, I could see 
 almost all that was passing through the 
 railings.* I could hear the castanets, the 
 
 * The majority of the houses in Seville have an interior 
 court surrounded by porticoes. People live there in 
 summer. This court is covered with an awning which 
 
carmen. 
 
 67 ' 
 
 tambourine, the laughter and applause 
 sometimes I could perceive her head when 
 she sprang up with her tambourine. Them 
 I heard the officers address to her remarks 
 which made the blood mount to my face, but' 
 what she said in reply I do not know. On 
 that day, I think, I began to love her in 
 earnest, for three or four times came into- 
 my head the notion to rush into the patio 
 and stab those coxcombs who were flirting 
 with her. My purgatory lasted a good hour ; 
 then the gipsies came out, and the carriage- 
 rolled up to fetch them. Carmen, in passing,, 
 looked at me with those eyes of hers — you 
 know them — and said to me, in a low voice — 
 “ Countryman, when one likes good fritters 
 one goes to Triana, to Lilias Pastia^s.’^ 
 
 Lightly as a kid she sprang into the car- 
 riage, the coachman whipped his mules, and 
 
 is watered by day and removed at night. The street- 
 door is almost always open, and the passage leading to 
 the court, zaguan, is closed by an iron grating very 
 elegantly worked. 
 
60 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 the joyous band drove off ; I knew not 
 whither. 
 
 You will guess that when I came off duty 
 I went to Triana ; but first I got shaved and 
 brushed up, as if for a parade. She was at 
 Lilias Pastia’s. He was an old fruit-seller, a 
 gipsy, as swarthy as a Moor, at whose estab- 
 lishment many of the townspeople came to 
 eat fried fish, more particularly, I believe, 
 since Carmen had taken up her quarters 
 there. 
 
 “ Lilias,’’ she said, when she caught sight 
 of me, “ I will do nothing more to-day. 
 To-morrow it will be day again.* Come 
 along, pays ; let us have a stroll together.” 
 
 She threw her mantilla over her face, and 
 we were in the street before I knew where I 
 was going. 
 
 “ Sehorita,” I said, I believe I have to 
 thank you for a present that you sent me 
 when I was in prison. I have eaten the 
 * Manana sera otro dia ’* — Spanish proverb. 
 
CARMEN 
 
 CD 
 
 bread ; the file served to sharpen my lance- 
 point, and I keep it in remembrance of you ; 
 but the money, here it is.” 
 
 “Why, he has kept the money ! ” she ex- 
 claimed, with a burst of laughter. “Well, 
 so much the better, for at present I am not 
 well in funds. But what matter 1 A wan- 
 dering dog will not die of hunger.* Come 
 along, let us eat it all ; you shall treat me.” 
 
 We had taken the road to Seville. At the 
 entrance of Serpent Street she purchased a 
 dozen oranges, which she made me carry in 
 my pocket-handkerchief. A little farther on 
 she purchased some bread, sausage, and a 
 bottle of Manzanilla. At length she entered 
 a confectioner^s shop. There she threw upon 
 the counter the piece of gold which I had 
 returned to her and another which she had 
 in her own pocket, with some silver. At 
 last she asked me for all I had too. I had 
 
 * Chuquel sos pirela cocal terela. ‘'A wandering do^j 
 finds a bone.” — Bohemian proverb. 
 
70 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 only some small change, whicli I handed to 
 her, feeling very much ashamed that I had 
 no more. I believe she would have carried 
 off all the stock if she could. She chose the 
 best and the dearest articles — yemas (yokes 
 of eggs, sugared), turm (a kind of nougat), 
 crystallized fruits — so long as the money 
 lasted. I had to carry all these in paper 
 bags. Perhaps you know Candilejo Street, 
 where is a head of Don Pedro the Jus- 
 ticiary.* 
 
 * King Pedro, whom we call the Cruel, and whom 
 Queen Isabella the Catholic called the “ Guardian of 
 Justice,” was fond of walking about the streets of Seville, 
 seeking adventure, as the Caliph Haroun al Rascliid used 
 to do. One evening he got into a dispute in a narrow 
 street with a man who was serenading. A duel ensued, 
 and the' king killed the amorous cavalier. Hearing the 
 clashing ot the swords, an old woman looked out of a 
 window holding a small lamp (candilejo) in her hand. It 
 should be stated that the king Don Pedro, although 
 lusty and strong, was afflicted with a curious malforma- 
 tion. When he walked his knee-pans “ cracked ” loudly. 
 The old woman had therefore no difflculty in recognising 
 the king. Next day the magistrate in charge came to 
 make his report to the sovereign ; “ Sire, a duel was 
 fought last night in such a street — one of the combatants 
 was slain.” “Have you discovered the murderer?” 
 “Yes, sire.” “Why has he not been punished?” “ Sire, 
 I await your orders.” “Let the law take its course !” 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 71 
 
 It ought to have “given me pause.^’ We 
 
 halted before an old house in this street. 
 
 She entered the walk and rapped at the 
 
 ground-floor. A gipsy, a true servant of 
 
 Satan, opened the door to us. Carmen said 
 
 something to her in Eomany. The old 
 
 woman grumbled at first, but to appease her 
 
 I Carmen gave her two oranges and a handful 
 
 I of bonbons ; she also permitted her to taste 
 
 I the wine. Then she put her cloak on her, and 
 
 I led her to the door, which she secured with 
 
 I a bar of wood. As soon as we were alone 
 
 I Carmen began to dance as if she were pos- 
 
 ^ Now the king had promulgated a decree that all duellists 
 ' should be beheaded. The magistrate entered into the 
 I business like a man of spirit. He caused the head of a 
 
 I statue of the king to be sawn off and exposed it in a 
 
 I niche in the midst of the street in which the duel had 
 
 I been fought. The king and all the citizens considered 
 
 this a very happy thought. The street was named after 
 I the lamp held by the old woman, the sole witness of the 
 j, encounter. This is the popular version. Jumga relates 
 ji the _ adventure somewhat differently (see the Annals of 
 Seville, vol. ii., p. 136). However this may be, Candilejo 
 Street still exists in Seville, and in that street there is a 
 I bust in stone which they say is a likeness of Don Pedro. 
 
 Unfortunately this bust is modern. The old one was 
 I very much worn away, and in the seventeenth century it 
 was replaced by that now in existence. 
 
72 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 sessed, singing “You are my rom and I am 
 your romi. ” * 
 
 I was standing in tlie middle of the room 
 burthened with all the packages, not knowing 
 where to put them. She threw them all 
 upon the floor and clasping me round the 
 neck, exclaimed “ I pay my debts ; I pay my 
 debts — it is the law of the Gales.” f 
 ^ Ah sir —that day ! that day ! when I 
 recall it I forget to-morrow I 
 
 (The brigand was silent for a while, then 
 after he had relighted his cigar he con- 
 tinued : — ) 
 
 We remained together the whole of tho 
 day, eating, drinking, and — and all the rest 
 of it. When she had devoured the sweets, 
 like a child of six years old, she thrust her 
 hands into the old woman’s water-jar. “Now 
 to make a sorbet^’ she said. She broke the 
 yemas by dashing them against the wall — 
 
 * Rom — husband ; Romi — wife. 
 
 t Dark people — a name the gipsies give themselves. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 73 
 
 ‘•SO that the flies may leave us in peace, 
 she remarked. There was no trick or folly 
 that she did not perpetrate. I expressed a 
 wish to see her dance, hut where could we find 
 castanets ? She without hesitation took the 
 old woman’s only plate, smashed it in pieces, 
 and then she danced the romalis^ clattering 
 the pieces of the plate as if they had been 
 castanets of ebony or ivory. One would 
 never feel bored with a girl like her — I can 
 answer for that ! Evening closed in, and I 
 could hear the drums heating the “ retreat.” 
 
 “ I must return to barracks,” I said, “ for 
 roll-call.” 
 
 “ To barracks ! ” she echoed in a con- 
 temptuous tone. “ So you are a negro-slave 
 and permit yourself to be driven with the 
 whip ! You are a regular canary in appear- 
 ance and disposition.* Go along with you ! 
 You have a chicken’s heart I ” 
 
 I stayed, resigned in advance to the police- 
 * The Spanish dragoons wear yellow uniforms. 
 
74 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 cell. In the morning it was she who first 
 spoke of our separation. 
 
 “ Listen to me, Joseita,” she said, I have 
 paid you — haven’t 1 1 According to our law 
 I owed you nothing, since you are a payllo j 
 but you are a good fellow, and you have 
 pleased me. We are quits ! Good-day.” 
 
 I asked when I should see her again. 
 
 “When you are a little less stupid,” she 
 replied, laughing. Then in a more serious 
 tone she continued, “ Do you know, my 
 friend, that I believe I love you a little bit? 
 But that cannot last. Dog and wolf cannot 
 keep house together long. Perhaps if you 
 were to subscribe to the Egyptian law I 
 should love to be your romi. But this is all 
 nonsense — that cannot be. Bah ! my lad, 
 take my word for it, you have had the best 
 of the bargain. You have foregathered with 
 the devil ; yes — with the devil ! He is not 
 always black, and he has not twisted your 
 neck. I am dressed in wool, but I am not 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 75 
 
 a slieep.* * * § Go and put a taper before your 
 majari.'\ She has well deserved it. Come ; 
 good-bye once again. Think no more of 
 Carmencita or she may make you marry 
 a widow with wooden legs.’’ J 
 
 As she ceased speaking she unfastened the 
 bar which closed the door ; and once in the 
 street she wrapped herself in her mantilla, 
 and showed me her heels. 
 
 She had said what was true. I would 
 have been wise to have thought no more 
 about her, but after that day in Candilejo 
 Street I could not think of anything else. 
 I walked about all day long in the hope of 
 meeting her again. I inquired about her 
 from the old woman and from the seller of 
 fried fish. Both declared she had gone to 
 Laloro,§ as they call Portugal. Probably it 
 
 * Medicas viardd de jorpoy Ims ne sino hraco '* — - 
 G:psy proverb. 
 
 t The Virgin Mary. 
 
 I The gallovi^s — widow of the last man hanged. 
 
 § The red land. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 was in accordance with Carmen’s instructions 
 that they said so, but it was not long before 
 I discovered that they were lying. Some 
 weeks after my long day in Candilejo Street 
 I was put on sentry at one of the city gates. 
 Some little distance from this gate a breach 
 had been made in the wall whereat people 
 used to walk during the day, and where a 
 sentry was posted at night to guard against 
 smugglers. During the day I perceived 
 Lilias Pastia lingering around the guard- 
 house chatting with my comrades, all of 
 whom were acquainted with him, his fish, 
 and his fritters which were better still. He 
 approached me and inquired whether I had 
 had any news of Carmen. 
 
 “ No,” I replied. 
 
 “Well then, you soon will, comrade.” 
 
 He was right. At night I was posted at 
 the breach in the wall. As soon as the cor- 
 poral had disappeared I perceived a woman 
 approaching my post. My heart told me it 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 was Carmen ; nevertheless I said, Be oil', 
 you cannot pass here ! ” 
 
 “Come, don’t be obstreperous,” she re- 
 plied, as she made herself known to me. 
 “What ! are you there. Carmen 
 “Yes, I, countryman ; let us have a little 
 conversation together. Do you want to earn 
 a duoro ? Some people with packs are com- 
 ing this way — let them pass.” 
 
 “ No,” I replied, “ I must oppose their 
 passage. Such are my orders.” 
 
 “ Orders, orders ! You did not think of 
 them in Candilejo Street.” 
 
 “ Ah ! ” I replied, quite upset by the very 
 remembrance, “ that was worth the danger of 
 forgetting my duty ; but I do not want any 
 money from smugglers.” 
 
 “ Let me see, then. If you do not want 
 any money from smugglers what do you say to 
 going to dine at old Dorothea’s house again 1 ” 
 “No,” I replied, half-suffocated by the 
 effort I was making, “ I cannot.” 
 
 F 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 “ Yery well ; if you are so hard to move 
 I know to whom to apply. I will make your 
 officer the offer to go to Dorothea’s house. 
 He seems to he a good fellow, and he will 
 put on guard a lad who will not see more 
 than is necessary. Good-bye, canary. I 
 shall laugh when the order is issued for your 
 hanging ! 
 
 I was weak enough to call her back, and I 
 promised to permit all the gipsies to pass, if 
 it must be so, provided I obtained the recom- 
 pense I wished for. She swore to meet me 
 on the following day, and ran off to apprise 
 her friends, who were close by. There were 
 five of them, one being Pastia, and all heavily 
 laden with English goods. Carmen kept 
 watch. She agreed to give the alarm with 
 her castanets whenever she should perceive 
 the rounds, but she had no need to do so. 
 The smugglers very quickly accomplished 
 their business. 
 
 Next day I went to Candilejo Street. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 79 
 
 Carmen was waiting for me, but in a by no 
 means good humour. 
 
 “ I do not care for people who require to 
 be begged of,” she said. “ You rendered me 
 a great service the first time without any 
 idea that you would gain anything by it. 
 To-day you are bartering with me. I do 
 not know why I have come, for I don’t care 
 for you any longer. So go away ; there is a 
 duoro for your trouble I ” 
 
 I was within an ace of throwing the money 
 at her head, and was obliged to exercise a 
 violent control over myself to avoid striking 
 her. After we had argued for an hour I went 
 away in a furious rage. 1 wandered for a 
 long time about the city, hither and thither, 
 like a man demented. At length I entered 
 a church, and seating myself in the darkest 
 corner I could find I gave way to tears. 
 Suddenly I heard a voice say — 
 
 “ A dragoon’s tears ! I should like to make 
 a philtre of them ! ” 
 
80 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 I looked up. There was Carmen standing 
 before me ! 
 
 •‘‘Well, countryman, are you still wishing 
 for me ? I really think I must love you 
 still, for since you left me I have not known 
 what to do with myself. There now, you 
 see I am the supplicant, and want you to 
 come to Candilejo Street.” 
 
 We made it up then ; but Carmen’s 
 humour was as variable as our climate. 
 The storm is most likely to break when the 
 sun is shining most brilliantly. She had 
 promised to meet me once again at Dorothea’s 
 house and she did not come, and Dorothea 
 told me, in the calmest manner, that Carmen 
 had gone to Laloro “ on Egyptian affairs I ” 
 Guided by experience, I sought for Car- 
 men in every place where I fancied she 
 might be found, and I passed up and down 
 Candilejo Street twenty times a day. One 
 evening I was at Dorothea’s house, for I had 
 almost tamed the old woman by means of 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 81 
 
 repeated glasses of anisette^ wlien Carmen 
 entered, followed by a young man, a lieu- 
 tenant in my regiment. 
 
 ‘‘ Get away at once,” sbe said to me in the 
 Basque tongue. I remained stupefied, rage 
 boiling in my heart. 
 
 “ What is that fellow doing here 1 ’’ said 
 the lieutenant. “ Be off ; get out of this I ” 
 
 I could not move. I felt as if I had quite 
 lost the use of my limbs. The officer seeing 
 that I did not budge, and that I had not 
 even removed my cap, took me by the collar 
 and shook me violently. I do not know 
 what I said. He drew his sword and I drew 
 mine. The old woman seized my arm, and 
 the lieutenant gave me a cut in the forehead, 
 the scar of which remains to this day. I 
 stepped back and with a shove sent old 
 Dorothea sprawling on the floor. Then, as 
 the lieutenant followed me up, I gave him 
 my point, and he spitted himself on my 
 sword. Then Carmen extinguished the 
 
82 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 lamp and bade Dorothea to fly. As for my- 
 self, I rushed into the street and ran I knew 
 not whither. It seemed to me that some one 
 was following me. When I came to myself 
 I found Carmen beside me. She had not 
 left me. 
 
 “You great stupid canary,’’ she said, “ you 
 are only good at committing follies. You 
 see I was right when I told you I would only 
 bring trouble upon you. Well, there is a 
 remedy for every ill when one has a ‘ Flem- 
 ing of Eome ’ ^ for his friend. You must 
 begin by tying this handkerchief over }mur 
 head, and giving me your sword belt. Wait 
 for me in this alley, I will be back again in 
 two minutes.” 
 
 She disappeared and quickly returned, 
 carrying a striped cloak for me ; how she 
 obtained it I can’t tell. She made me doff 
 
 * Flamenco de Roma — a slang term for gipsies. Roma 
 in tliis sense does not refer to the Eternal City, but to 
 the Romi (or married people), as the Bohemians call 
 them. The first seen in Spain came probably from the 
 Netherlands— hence the name Fleming. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 83 
 
 my uniform, and put the cloak on over my 
 shirt. Thus accoutred, with the handker- 
 chief hound over the cut on my head, I had 
 something the appearance of a peasant of 
 Valencia, of whom many come to Seville to 
 sell their cliufas — orangeade. Then she took 
 me to a house, which bore a striking re- 
 semblance to Dorothea’s, at the end of a 
 narrow court. She and another gipsy woman 
 washed me, doctored me better than the 
 surgeon-major would have done, and gave 
 me something — I know not what — to drink. 
 At length they laid me on a mattress, and I 
 fell fast asleep. 
 
 The women probably had put some so- 
 porific in my drink, for I did not awake 
 until very late next day. I had a fearful 
 headache, and was rather feverish. It was 
 some time before I could recall the incidents 
 of the terrible drama in which I had taken 
 part on the previous day. 
 
 After having dressed my wound, Carmen 
 
84 
 
 C A R M E N. 
 
 and lier friend both crouched down beside 
 my mattress, and exchanged a few words in 
 chipe calli^ which seemed to be a medical 
 consultation. They both assured me that I 
 would be cured before long ; but, mean- 
 while, it was absolutely necessary to leave 
 Seville, and as quickly as possible, for if I 
 were arrested I would be shot, to a certainty. 
 
 “My lad,^’ said Carmen, “you must do 
 something ; now that the king will give 
 you neither rice nor salt cod,* you must find 
 some means of existence. You are too stupid 
 to rob a pastesas ;f but you are lithe and 
 strong. If you have courage enough, go to 
 the coast and be a contrabandist. Have I 
 not promised to get you hanged ? That is 
 better than being shot. Besides, if you 
 know how to look after yourself, you may 
 live like a prince so long as the minow<% and 
 the coast-guard do not catch you.” 
 
 * The ordinary rations of a Spanish soldier. 
 
 t Ustilar d pastesas, to rob skilfully, without violence. 
 
 X A species of free-corps. 
 
C A R M E N. 
 
 85 
 
 It was in this pleasing way that that devil 
 of a girl indicated to me the new career for 
 which she destined me — and to tell the truth, 
 it was the only one which lay open to me, 
 now that I had rendered myself liable to the 
 punishment of death. Need I confess to you, 
 sir, that she brought me to the decision 
 without much trouble ! It seemed to me 
 that we should be thrown into closer contact 
 by this existence so full of risks, and so un- 
 lawful. Thenceforth, I believed myself sure 
 of her affection. I had often heard of the con- 
 trabandists who traversed Andalusia well- 
 mounted, blunderbuss in hand, and with their 
 mistresses seated behind them. I already 
 pictured myself trotting over hills and vales 
 with this handsome gipsy behind me. When 
 I mentioned this to her, she laughed until 
 she was obliged to hold her sides, and told 
 me there was nothing so pleasant as a night 
 passed in the camp when each rom retired 
 with his romx beneath the shelter of the 
 
86 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 little tent formed of three hoops with a 
 blanket thrown over them. 
 
 ‘df I keep with you in the mountains, I shall 
 always be sure of you,'^ I said. “ There there 
 will be no lieutenants to share with nie.^^ 
 
 ‘‘Ah, you are jealous,” she replied ; “so 
 much the worse for you. How can you be 
 such a fool ! Don’t you see that I love 
 you, since I have never asked you for any 
 money ] ” 
 
 When she talked in this fashion I felt in- 
 clined to strangle her. 
 
 To cut the story short, sir, Carmen 
 procured me a civilian dress, in which I 
 escaped from Seville unrecognised. I pro- 
 ceeded to Jerez with a letter from Pastia to 
 a seller of anisette^ at whose house the 
 smugglers used to assemble. I was presented 
 to these gentry, whose chief, named Dancaire, 
 received me into the company. We pro- 
 ceeded to Gaucin, where I again found 
 Carmen, who had appointed to meet me 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 87 
 
 there. In the expedition, she acted as a spy 
 for ns, and no one could have been a better 
 one. She had returned from Gibraltar, and 
 had arranged with the captain of a vessel 
 concerning the disembarkation of the English 
 merchandise which we expected to arrive at 
 the coast. We went to await its arrival near 
 Estepona ; then we hid a portion of it in 
 the mountains, and laden with the remainder 
 proceeded to Eonda, whither Carmen had 
 nreceded us. Then she once more gave us 
 the hint when to enter the town. This first 
 expedition and some others, were fortunate. 
 The life of a smuggler pleased me more than 
 that of a soldier. I made Carmen presents. 
 I had money and a mistress. I suffered 
 scarcely any remorse, for as the gipsies say — 
 an itching of pleasure is no itch at all."^ 
 We were well received everywhere ; my 
 associates treated me well, and even evinced 
 some consideration for me. This was 
 
 * Sarapia sat pesquital ne punzava. 
 
88 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 because I had killed a man, and amongst 
 them there was no one who had not a simi- 
 lar exploit to boast of. But what influenc- 
 ed me more than all else in my new life was 
 the frequent presence of Carmen. She dis- 
 played more friendship for me than formerly 
 — nevertheless, before her comrades she did 
 not pretend that she was my mistress, and 
 had even made me swear with all kinds of 
 oaths not to say a word to them on the 
 subject. I was so utterly weak before this 
 creature that I obeyed all her caprices. 
 Besides, this was the first occasion on which 
 she displayed any of the reserve of an “ honest 
 woman,” and I was foolish enough to believe 
 that she had abandoned all her former 
 practices. 
 
 Our troop, which was composed of eight or 
 ten men only, assembled together in important 
 junctures, but were usually scattered in pairs 
 or threes in the towns and villages. Each 
 one of us assumed a calling or trade ; one 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 89 
 
 was a tinker, another a horse dealer. I was a 
 pedlar ; hut I very seldom showed myself in 
 large towns, because of that little affair in 
 Seville. One day, or rather one night, our 
 rendezvous was below Vega. Dancaire and 
 I found ourselves there before the others. 
 He seemed in excellent spirits. 
 
 “We shall soon have another comrade,” 
 he said. “ Carmen has executed one of her 
 best moves. She has managed the escape of 
 her rom from the presidio at Tarifa.” 
 
 I was just beginning to understand the 
 gipsy dialect, which nearly all my associates 
 made use of, and the word rom gave me a 
 chill. 
 
 “ What, her husband ! Is she married ? ” 
 I asked. 
 
 “Yes,” replied the captain, “to Garcia, the 
 one-eyed, a gipsy as ‘ deep ’ as she is. The 
 poor fellow was in penal servitude. Car- 
 men got round the surgeon so cleverly that 
 she obtained her rom^s liberty. Ah ! that 
 
90 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 girl is worth her weight in gold. It is twc 
 years since she first began to plan his escape. 
 Nothing had succeeded until the officer was 
 changed. With the latter it seems she q uichly 
 found the means to make herself understood. 
 
 You can imagine with what pleasure I 
 listened to this news. I soon met Garcia the 
 one-eyed ; he was one of the most repulsive 
 villains whom Bohemia ever reared, a dark 
 skin and a still blacker soul. He was the 
 most unmitigated ruffian that ever I met in 
 my life. Carmen came with him, and when 
 she called him her rom in my presence you 
 should have seen the “ eyes she made to me, 
 and the grimaces at him when his back was 
 turned. I was very angry, and would not 
 speak to her all the evening. In the morn- 
 ing we had made up our bales and were 
 already on our way when we perceived that 
 a dozen horsemen were after us. The An- 
 dalusian boasters, who always talk in the 
 most bloodthirsty manner, showed a very 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 91 
 
 firm front. There was a general stampede. 
 Dancaire, Garcia, a fine young fellow from 
 Edja, called Kemendado, and Carmen did 
 not lose their presence of mind. The others 
 abandoned the mules and threw themselves 
 into the ravines, where the dragoons could 
 not follow them. We could not save our 
 mules and we hastened to loose the most 
 valuable portion of our booty and to take 
 it on our shoulders. We then endeavoured 
 to escape over the rocks, and by the steepest 
 and roughest slopes. We cast our bales 
 before us, and followed them as well as 
 we could, sliding down on our heels. All 
 this time the enemy was firing at us. It was 
 the first time that I had heard the whistling 
 of bullets, and it did not make me feel quite 
 at ease. When one has a wife in prospect 
 there is no merit in risking death. We 
 all escaped except poor Eemendado, who 
 got a bullet in his loins. I threw away my 
 X^ack and endeavoured to assist him. 
 
02 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 ‘‘Fool!” exclaimed Garcia, “wliat have 
 we to do with that carrion ? Pick up your 
 load, and don’t lose the cotton stockings.” 
 
 “ Let him go,” said Carmen to me. 
 
 Fatigue obliged me to lay the lad for a 
 moment beneath the shelter of a rock. 
 Garcia advanced and discharged his blunder- 
 buss at his head. 
 
 “ He will be a clever fellow who will re- 
 cognise him now,” he remarked, as he gazed 
 at the features which a dozen bullets had 
 shattered. 
 
 Such, sir, was the delightful kind of life 
 I had embraced. In the evening we found 
 ourselves in a thicket, and worn out with 
 fatigue, having nothing to eat, and ruined by 
 the loss of our mules. What did that in- 
 fernal Garcia do ? He took a pack of cards 
 from his pocket and began to play with 
 Dancaire by the light of the fire which had 
 been kindled. Meanwhile I lay down and was 
 watching the stars, thinking of Eemendado 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 9.5 
 
 and wishing I were in his place. Carmen 
 was crouched near me, and from time to 
 time she rattled her castanets and hummed 
 a tune. Then, approaching me, as if with the 
 intention of whispering to me, she kissed me, 
 almost against my will, two or three times. 
 
 You are the devil, I said to her. 
 
 “ Yes,” she answered. 
 
 After some hours’ rest she departed for 
 Gaucin, and next morning a little goatherd 
 brought us some bread. We remained all 
 day in the same place, and at night we 
 moved towards Gaucin. We waited for news 
 of Carmen : none came. At daybreak we 
 perceived a muleteer who was guiding a well- 
 dressed woman holding a parasol, and ac- 
 companied by a little girl, who seemed to be 
 her servant. Garcia said to us — 
 
 “ There are two mules and two women 
 which St. Nicholas has sent us. I would 
 rather have had four mules. Never mind. 
 This is my business ” 
 
 G 
 
94 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 He seized his blunderbuss and descended 
 towards the path ; hiding in the brushwood. 
 Dancaire and I followed him at a little 
 distance. When we w^ere wdthin range, we 
 showed ourselves, and called to the muleteer 
 to halt. The woman instead of being 
 frightened — and our dress was sufficient for 
 that — burst out laughing. 
 
 ‘‘Ah, the lillipendi^ they take me for an 
 erani!’''^ It was Carmen, but so well 
 disguised, that I would not have recognised 
 her, had she spoken in any other language. 
 
 She sprang from the mule and spoke for 
 a wdiile in a low tone with Garcia and Dan- 
 caire. Then she said to me : 
 
 “ Canary, we shall meet again before you 
 are hanged. I am going to Gibraltar on 
 ‘affairs of Egypt.’ You ■will soon hear me 
 talked about.” 
 
 We parted after rhe had indicated to us 
 a place where we could find shelter fcr 
 * All, the fools ! do they take me for a lady ? 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 95 
 
 some days. This girl was the saving of our 
 troop. We soon received some money 
 which she sent, and a hint, which was worth 
 more to us, namely, that two British noble- 
 men were about to proceed from Gibraltar 
 to Granada by such a route. A word to the 
 wise ! They liad plenty of money. Garcia 
 wanted to kill them, but Dancaire and I 
 w^ere opposed to such a measure. We would 
 relieve them of their money, their watches, 
 and their shirts, of which last articles we 
 had great need. 
 
 Sir, one may become a rogue without 
 thinking about it. A pretty girl causes you 
 to lose your head ; you fight for her : a mis- 
 fortune happens, it becomes necessary to 
 dwell amid the mountains, and from a 
 smuggler you become a robber before you 
 are aware of the change. We concluded 
 that it would not be well for us to remain 
 in the environs of Gibraltar after that little 
 business with the Englishmen, and we 
 
concealed ourselves in tlie Sierra de Eonda. 
 You have mentioned Jose-Maria ; well, it 
 was there that I made his acquaintance. 
 He brought his mistress with him on these 
 expeditions. She was a pretty girl, well- 
 behaved and modest, with good manners, 
 never uttering an unbecoming word, and of 
 a devotedness — I By way of compensation, 
 he treated her very badly. He was always 
 running after other girls, he “bullied^’ her, 
 then sometimes he took it into his head to 
 he jealous. Once he struck her with his 
 knife. Well, she only loved him the more 
 for that. That is the way women, par- 
 ticularly Andalusians, are constituted ! 
 She was quite proud of the scar on her 
 arm, and exhibited it as one of the most 
 beautiful things in the world. And then 
 Jose-Maria was the very worst comrade you 
 could possibly meet. On one expedition 
 which we undertook he managed so well, 
 that all the profit fell to him, and all the 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 97 
 
 blows fell on ns. But I must resume my 
 story. As we beard nothing more of Car- 
 men, Dancaire said : 
 
 One of us must proceed to Gibraltar to 
 get news of her ; she ought to have prepared 
 something. I would go willingly, but I am 
 too well known there. 
 
 The one-eyed fellow said : 
 
 ‘^So am I. I have played too many 
 tricks upon the lobsters,* and as I have 
 only one eye, it is not easy to escape 
 detection.^’ 
 
 ‘‘ Then I must go,’’ I said in my turn, de- 
 lighted at the very idea of seeing Carmen 
 again. “ Let us see ; what must be done 
 
 The others replied ; 
 
 You can go to St. Boque whichever way 
 you please, and when you have got to Gib- 
 raltar, ask where a person, named Eollona, 
 a seller of chocolate, lives ; when you have 
 
 * A term applied to the English, because of the coloir' 
 of their uniforms. 
 
98 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 found her out, you will find out w^hat has 
 happened yonder.” 
 
 It was arranged that we three should start 
 for the Sierra de Gaucin, that I should leave 
 my companions there, and proceed to Gib- 
 raltar as a fruit merchant. At Eonda one-^ 
 of our fraternity procured me a passport, at 
 Gaucin I was given a donkey ; I loaded 
 him wdth oranges and melons, and w^ent on 
 my way. When I reached Gibraltar I 
 found that Eollona was well known, but 
 that she had either died or had been sent to 
 the galleys, and in my opinion her absence 
 explained how our means of correspondence 
 with Carmen had failed. I put my donkey 
 up in a stable, and with my oranges wan- 
 dered about the town as if to sell them ; but, 
 in fact, to endeavour to find some face I 
 knew. There are plenty of vagrants in 
 “ Gib,” people from all parts of the globe, £tnd 
 it is like the Tower of Babel, for one cannot 
 go ten paces along a street without hearing 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 99 
 
 as many different languages. I met many 
 gipsies, but I scarcely dared to trust them. 
 I recognised them and they recognised me. 
 We ascertained that we were of the same 
 class. After two days spent in useless 
 search, I had learned nothing concerning 
 either Koilona or Carmen, and I was con- 
 sidering whether I should not return to my 
 comrades after making some purchases, when 
 as I was walking down a street at sunset, I 
 heard a woman’s voice from a window say, 
 “Here, you orange-seller!” I looked up, 
 and on a balcony I perceived Carmen, leauing 
 over the rail beside an officer in scarlet, with 
 gold epaulets, curled hair, and the appear- 
 ance generally of a grandee. As for her, she 
 was dressed splendidly : a shawl over her 
 shoulders, a gold comb in her hair, attired 
 in silk, and as cunning as ever — ^just the 
 same, laughing immoderately. The English- 
 man, in barbarous Spanish, hailed me, and 
 bade me come up, as madanie wanted some 
 
100 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 oranges ; and Carmen said to me in Basque, 
 “Come up, and be astonished at nothing.” 
 Nothing could astonish me where she was 
 concerned. I cannot tell whether I was the 
 more glad or disappointed to see her again. 
 A tall, powdered servant let me in, and 
 ushered me into a splendid apartment. 
 Carmen at once addressed me in Basque. 
 
 “ Mind, you do not understand a word of 
 Spanish, and you do not know me.” 
 
 Then, turning to the Englishman, she said, 
 “ I told you all along he was a Basque — you 
 will hear a curious dialect. What a silly 
 look he has, hasiiT he? You would take 
 him for a cat surprised in the larder ! ” 
 
 “ And you,” I replied in my own tongue, 
 “ have the air of a brazen-faced quean, and 
 I am greatly disposed to gash your face 
 before your lover.” 
 
 “ My lover ! ” she exclaimed. “ So you 
 have found out that all by yourself. And 
 you are jealous of that fool ? Why you are 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 101 
 
 a greater simpleton than you were before our 
 evenings in Candilejo Street. Don’t you 
 see — fool that you are — that I am engaged 
 upon affairs of Egypt, and in the most 
 brilliant fashion ? This house is mine ; the 
 lobster’s guineas will be mine. I shall lead 
 him by the nose, and bring him whence 
 he shall never escape.” 
 
 “ And as for me,” I replied, “ if you con- 
 duct the affairs of Egypt any more in this 
 manner, I will do something which will 
 effectually prevent your beginning again.” 
 Ah, indeed ! Are you my rom that you 
 give me orders] The One-Eyed is satisfied. 
 What have you seen here ] Ought not you 
 to be content to be the only one who can 
 call himself my minchorroV''^ 
 
 ‘‘ What does he say,” asked the English- 
 man. 
 
 “He says that he is thirsty, and could 
 manage a good drink, replied Carmen. Then 
 
 * Lover — or rather, “fancy-man.” 
 
102 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 she fell back upon a sofa, screaming with 
 laughter at the translation. 
 
 Sir, when that girl laughed there was 
 no use in trying to talk sense. Every one 
 laughed with her. The great Englishman 
 laughed also, like the idiot he was, and bade 
 his people bring me something to drink. 
 While I was drinking. Carmen said — 
 
 “ Do you see that ring on his finger ? If 
 you like, I will give it to you.” 
 
 But I answered — 
 
 ‘‘ I would give a finger to have my lord on 
 the mountain, each of us with a maqiiila in 
 our hands.’' 
 
 “ Maquila f What does he mean 1 ” asked 
 the Englishman. 
 
 Maquila replied Carmen, still laugh- 
 ing. Maquila is an orange. Is it not a 
 queer term for an orange ? He says he 
 would like to make you eat an orange.” 
 ‘‘Yes?” replied the Englishman. “Very 
 well, bring more maquilas to-morrow.” 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 103 
 
 As we were conversing, the servant an- 
 nounced dinner. Then the Englishman 
 offered his arm to Carmen — as if she could 
 not go in by herself, and threw me a pistole. 
 Carmen, laughing all the time, said to me — 
 
 “ My lad, I cannot invite you to dinner ; 
 but to-morrow, as soon as you hear the drums 
 beating for parade, come here with your 
 oranges. You will find a room better 
 furnished than that in Candilejo Street, and 
 you will see that I am always your Car- 
 mencita ; and then we can chat over Egyptian 
 affairs.’^ 
 
 I made no reply, and I was in the street 
 when the Englishman called out, Bring the 
 maquilas to-morrow.” Then I heard Car- 
 men’s laughter once more. 
 
 I went away, not knowing whither or 
 what I was doing. I scarcely slept and the 
 morning found me so incensed against the 
 traitress that I resolved to quit Gibraltar 
 without seeing her again. But at the fir^t 
 
104 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 roll of tlie drums all my fortitude deserted 
 me. I took my straw basket of oranges 
 and liurried to Carmen. Her jealousy was 
 aroused, and I saw lier great eyes watcliing 
 me. The powdered servant let me in. Car- 
 men sent him on an errand, and as soon as 
 we were alone she burst into one of her peals 
 of crocodile laughter and threw herself on 
 my neck. I had never seen her so lovely. 
 Dressed like a bride, perfumed, surrounded 
 with costly furniture and silken hangings— 
 Ah ! and I like the robber that I was ! 
 
 “ Minchorroy' said Carmen, “ I have a 
 great mind to smash everything here, to 
 set fire to the house and be off to the Sierra !” 
 Then her caresses, and her laughter ! She 
 danced and tore her dress ; never did ape 
 perform more gambols, make more grimaces, 
 or play more tricks. When she had regained 
 her composure she said — 
 
 ‘‘ Listen ; it is a question of Egypt. I 
 want him to take me to Konda, where I have 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 105 
 
 a sister — a nun. (More laughter. ) We will 
 pass by a place which I will tell you of. 
 You can fall upon him and rob him. The 
 better way will be to murder him ; but,” she 
 added, with a diabolical smile which she 
 displayed at certain times, and no one would 
 ever be inclined to imitate it — ‘‘ do you know 
 what you must do ? Let the One-Eyed appear 
 first. Keep a little in the rear yourself. 
 The Lobster is brave and skilful ; he has 
 good pistols. Do you understand 
 
 Slie interrupted herself with another peal 
 of laughter, which made me shiver. 
 
 ‘‘No,” I replied, “I detest Garcia, but he 
 is my comrade. One day perhaps I will re- 
 lieve you of him, but we will settle our 
 accounts after the fashion of our country. 
 I am only an Egyptian by chance, and in 
 certain ways I shall always remain a pure 
 Navarro^ as the proverb says” {Navarro jino). 
 
 She replied, “ You are a fool — an idiot — a 
 regular ^;a?/ZZc>. You are like the dwarf who 
 
106 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 believed himself big because he could spit a 
 long distance.* You do not love me — Go 
 along with you !” 
 
 When she said “Go along !” I could not 
 go. I promised to leave, to return with my 
 comrades and lie in wait for the Englishman. 
 On her side she promised to be indisposed 
 until the time came for leaving Gibraltar 
 for Eonda. I remained two days longer at 
 Gibraltar. She had the audacity to come in 
 disguise to see me at my inn. I quitted the 
 town, for I also had my own project. I re- 
 turned to our rendezvous, knowing the place 
 and the hour at which the Englishman and 
 Carmen would pass by. I found Dancaire 
 and Garcia awaiting me. We passed the 
 night in a wood by a fire of pine-cones, 
 which burned splendidly. I proposed to 
 Garcia to have a game of cards. He agreed. 
 At the second game I declared he was 
 
 * “ Or esorjie de or narsichisle sin chismar lacliingueV* 
 
 ' — Gipsy proverb. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 107 
 
 clieating. He laiiglied. I threw the cards in 
 Ills face. He went for his blunderbuss, but 
 I put rny foot upon it and said — 
 
 “ They tell me you can brandish a knife 
 with any Jack of Malaga. Will you try a 
 bout with me 1 ’’ 
 
 Dancaire wanted to separate us. I had 
 given Garcia a few blows with my fist. 
 Eage had made him courageous. He had 
 drawn his knife and I mine. We told Dan- 
 caire to stand aside and see fair play. He 
 saw that it was no use attempting to stop us 
 and he stood back. Garcia was already 
 crouching like a cat about to spring upon a 
 mouse. He held his hat in his left hand, as 
 a guard, his knife advanced in his right. 
 That is the Andalusian method. I stood 
 like the Navarros, right in front of him, 
 the left arm raised, the left leg advanced, the 
 knife held down by the right thigh. I felt 
 stronger than a giant. He threw himself 
 upon me like a flash, I turned on my left 
 
108 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 foot and lie found nothing before him, hut I 
 caught him in the throat and the knife en- 
 tered so far that my hand came chock under his 
 chin. I drew back the blade so forcibly that 
 it broke. All was over ! The blade was ex- 
 pelled from the wound in a rush of blood as 
 big as my arm. He fell on his face like a log. 
 
 What have you done ? said Dancaire. 
 
 Listen,^’ I said. We could not have 
 lived together. I love Carmen and I want 
 to be the only one ! Besides Garcia was a 
 brute, and I remember how he served poor 
 Eemendado. We are only two now, but we 
 are good fellows. Look here ; will you 
 have me for a comrade — for life or death ? ’’ 
 Dancaire held out his hand. He was a 
 man fifty years old. 
 
 “ To the devil with your love affairs,” he 
 exclaimed. ‘‘ If you had asked for Carmen he 
 would have sold her to you for a piastre. 
 We are only two now — what shall we do 
 to-morrow ! 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 109 
 
 “ Let me manage it,” I replied. Now I 
 can snap my fingers at the whole world ! ” 
 We buried Garcia and pitched our camp 
 two hundred paces farther on. Next day 
 Carmen and her Englishman passed with 
 two muleteers and a servant. I said to Dan- 
 caire — 
 
 “I will account for the Englishman. You 
 can frighten the others ; they are not armed.” 
 The Englishman was a brave fellow. If 
 Carmen had not jogged his arm he would 
 have shot me. To be brief, I re-conquered 
 Carmen that day, and my first words were to 
 tell her that she was a widow. When she 
 understood how it had come to pass, she said — 
 ‘‘ You will always be a lillipendi. Garcia 
 ought to have killed you. Your Navarre 
 guard is all nonsense, and he has conquered 
 better men than you. His time had come 
 no doubt ! Yours will come too ! ” 
 
 “ And yours,” I replied, “ if you are not a 
 true ronii to me ! ” 
 
 H 
 
110 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 ‘‘Well and good ! she replied. “I have 
 seen in the coffee-grounds many a time that 
 our destinies lie together. But he who sows 
 reaps ! And she rattled her castanets as 
 she was in the habit of doing when she 
 wished to get rid of any unpleasant thoughts. 
 
 One is apt to forget others when speaking 
 of oneself ; all these details bore you no 
 doubt, but I shall soon finish now. The 
 life we lead will last long enough ! Dancaire 
 and I associated ourselves with some com- 
 rades more trustworthy than the former ; we 
 practised smuggling, and sometimes it must 
 be confessed we stopped people on the high- 
 ways, but only as a last resource and when 
 we had no other means of livelihood. 
 Besides we never ill-treated travellers and 
 we confined ourselves strictly to taking their 
 money. 
 
 For many months I was happy with 
 Carmen ; she continued to be useful to us in 
 our operations and gave us notice of the 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 good things we could bring off.” She 
 stayed sometimes at Malaga, sometimes at 
 Cordova, sometimes at Granada ; hut at a 
 word from me she would leave any place 
 and come to meet me in an isolated inn, or 
 even in the camp. Once only, it was at 
 Malaga, did she give me any uneasiness. I 
 knew that she had thrown a glamour over a 
 very rich merchant, with whom probably 
 she proposed to repeat the little arrange- 
 ment carried out at Gibraltar. Notwith- 
 standing all Dancaire could say to me I 
 went after her and got to Malaga in full 
 daylight. I looked for Carmen, and brought 
 her away immediately. We had some sharp 
 words. 
 
 “ Do you know,” she said, “ that since you 
 have really become my rom^ I care less for 
 you than when you were my fancy man, 
 I don’t want to be worried and ordered 
 about; what I wish is to be free and to do as 
 I please. Take care — do not push me too 
 
112 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 far. If yon trouble me too mncli I will 
 find some fellow wlio will serve you as you 
 served Garcia.” 
 
 Dancaire reconciled us, but we said things 
 to each other which rankled in our hearts 
 and we were not on such good terms as 
 formerly. A short time afterwards evil befel 
 us. The troops surprised us. Dancaire was 
 killed with two others of our band, two 
 more were made prisoners. I was badly 
 wounded, and without the aid of my trusty 
 steed would have been left in the hands of 
 the soldiers. Worn out by fatigue, with a 
 bullet in my body, I hid myself with only 
 one companion in the forest. I fainted when 
 I dismounted, and I thought I was going to 
 die like a wounded hare in the brushwood. 
 My comrade carried me to a grotto which 
 we knew and then went to seek Carmen. 
 She was at Granada and she came back at 
 once. For fifteen days she never quitted 
 me for a moment. She did not close her 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 113 
 
 eyes ; she nursed me with a skill and atten- 
 tion which no woman ever before displayed 
 for a man she loved best. As soon as I 
 could stand up again she carried me off to 
 Granada in secrecy. The gipsies everywhere 
 found us safe lodging and I passed more 
 than six weeks in a house two doors from 
 the official who was searching for me. More 
 than once from behind a shutter I saw him 
 pass by. At length my health was restored, 
 but I had thought a great deal while on my 
 bed of sickness and I made up my mind to 
 amend my life. I spoke to Carmen about 
 leaving Spain and endeavouring to live 
 honestly in America. She laughed at me. 
 
 We are not fitted for cabbage growing,” 
 she replied ; “ our destiny is to live at the 
 expense of the payllos. Look here, I have 
 just arranged a little business with Nathan- 
 ben- Joseph, of Gibraltar. He has a cargo 
 of cotton stuffs which only want your assist- 
 ance in passing through. He knows you 
 
114 
 
 C A R Til E N. 
 
 are alive still. He reckons upon you. What 
 shall we say to our correspondents in 
 Gibraltar if you break your word to them 1 ” 
 
 I permitted myself to be persuaded and 
 resumed my villainous career. 
 
 While I was in hiding at Granada there 
 was a bull-fight there to which Carmen 
 went. When she came back she spoke of a 
 very adroit picador named Lucas. She 
 knew the name of his horse and how much 
 his embroidered vest had cost. Inanito, the 
 comrade who had remained with me, said 
 some days afterwards that he had seen 
 Carmen and Lucas at the house of a trades- 
 man of Zacatin. That alarmed me. I 
 asked Carmen how and why she had made 
 the acquaintance of the picador. 
 
 “ He is a man,” she said, “ with whom we 
 can do some business. The river that makes 
 a noise has either water or pebbles.* He 
 
 * hen SOS sonsi abela, Pani o rehiendani terela. Gix)sy 
 proverb. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 115 
 
 has won 1,200 reals at the bull-ring. One 
 of two things must happen — we must have 
 this money — or, as he is a good rider and a 
 brave fellow, we must enrol him in our 
 band. So-and-so are dead ; you must replace 
 them. Take him with you.^^ 
 
 “ I don’t want either his money or him- 
 self,’^ I replied, “ and I forbid you to speak 
 to him.” 
 
 “ Take care,” she replied. “ When people 
 defy me to do a thing it is very soon done.” 
 
 Fortunately the picador left for Malaga, 
 and I set about smuggling in the Jew’s 
 cottons. I had a great deal to do in this 
 expedition, and so had Carmen. I forgot 
 Lucas ; perhaps she also forgot him, for the 
 time at any rate. It was about that time, 
 sir, that I met with you first, near Mon- 
 tilla, then afterwards at Cordova. I will 
 not say anything about our last interview. 
 You perhaps know more about it than I. 
 Carmen robbed you of your watch ; she also 
 
116 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 wanted your money, and particularly tlie 
 ring you wear on your finger, which she said 
 is a magic ring, which she was very anxious 
 to possess. We had a violent quarrel ; I 
 struck her. She turned pale and cried. This 
 was the first time I had ever seen her weep, 
 and her tears had a great effect upon me. I 
 begged her pardon, but she sulked all day ; 
 and when I departed for Montilla she did 
 not want to kiss me. I was heavy-hearted 
 when, three days afterwards, she same to see 
 me, as gay as a lark. All was forgotten, and 
 we passed two days in lover-like fashion. 
 As we were again about to part she said — 
 
 “ There is s^festa at Cordova ; I am going 
 to see it. Then I shall find out w^ho has 
 money, and will tell you.” 
 
 I let her go. When alone I thought of 
 the ^and this change of humour in 
 
 Carmen. She must have revenged herself 
 already, I thought, since she had yielded first. 
 A peasant told me that there was a bull-fight 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 117 
 
 in Cordova. How my blood boiled, and, like 
 a fool, I went there. He pointed out Lucas 
 to me, and, in a seat near the barrier, I 
 recognised Carmen. I had only to look at 
 her for a moment to be fully assured of the 
 fact I had suspected. Lucas played the bull 
 “ with a light heart,” as I had anticipated. He 
 snatched the cockade from the animal and 
 carried it to Carmen, who placed it in her 
 hair immediately. The bull tried to avenge 
 me ! Lucas was overthrown with his horse, 
 and the bull fell upon both of them. I 
 looked at Carmen ; she was no longer in her 
 place. It was quite impossible for me to get 
 out, and I was compelled to wait until the 
 courses were run. Then I went to the house 
 which you know of, and there I remained 
 quite quiet all the evening and a part of the 
 night. Towards two o’clock in the morning 
 Carmen returned, and was somewhat as- 
 tonished to see me. 
 
 “ Come with me,” I said. 
 
118 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 “Very well,” she replied, let ns go.” 
 
 I went to fetch my horse, and I put her en 
 croupe. We rode all the remainder of the 
 night without saying a single word to each 
 other. We halted at daybreak at a solitary 
 inn, near a small hermitage. Then I said 
 to Carmen — 
 
 ‘‘ Listen ! I forget everything ; I will 
 speak of nothing that has passed. Only 
 swear to me that you will follow me to 
 America, and that you will remain quietly 
 there.” 
 
 “No,” she replied in a sulky tone, “I 
 won’t go to America. I like being here best.” 
 
 “ Because you are near Lucas,” I said, 
 “ But do not imagine, even if he recover, 
 that he will ever make old bones. Yet after 
 all, why should I trouble about him ? I am 
 tired of killing all your lovers ; it is you 
 whom I shall kill.” 
 
 She gazed at me steadily with her wild 
 eyes, and said — 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 119 
 
 “ I have always imagined that yon would 
 kill me. The first time I saw you I met a 
 priest at the door of my house, and did you 
 see nothing to-night as we quitted Cordova ? 
 A hare crossed the road between your horse’s 
 feet. It is written ! ” 
 
 “ Carmencita ? ” I asked, “ is it true that 
 you no longer love me ? ” 
 
 She made no reply ; she was seated cross- 
 legged on a mat, tracing patterns with her 
 finger on the floor. 
 
 “ Let us change our mode of life, Carmen,” 
 I pleaded. “ Let us go and live in some place 
 where we shall never be separated. You 
 know that we have a hundred and twenty 
 onzas buried beneath a tree not far from 
 here. Besides, we still have money in ben- 
 Joseph’s hands.” 
 
 She smiled and replied — 
 
 “ I first, you afterwards. I knew that it 
 would come to this.” 
 
 “ Beflect,” I continued. “ I have lost all 
 
120 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 patience witli you ; I am at the end of my 
 tether ! Make up your mind, and I will 
 make up mine.’' 
 
 I left her and walked towards the her- 
 mitage. I found the hermit at prayer. I 
 waited until his devotions were concluded. 
 I wanted to pray too, but I could not. 
 When he rose I went up to him. 
 
 “ Father,” I said, ‘‘will you pray for one 
 who is in great danger ? ” 
 
 “ I pray for all the afflicted, my son.” 
 
 “ Can you pray for a soul which is about 
 to appear before its Creator ? ” 
 
 “Yes,” he replied, looking at me fixedly, 
 and as there was something strange in my 
 manner he wanted to make me speak out. 
 
 “It seems to me that I have seen you 
 before,” he remarked. 
 
 I put a piastre on the bench. “When 
 will you say mass 1 ” I asked. 
 
 “In half an hour. The son of the inn- 
 keeper, yonder, comes to serve it. Tell me. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 121 
 
 young man, have not you something on your 
 conscience which is tormenting you ? WiL 
 you hearken to the counsel of a Christian ? ” 
 
 I felt ready to cry. I said I would return, 
 and then I got away. I lay down on the 
 grass till I heard the bell. Then I rose and 
 went near, but remained outside the chapel. 
 When mass was said I returned to the inn. 
 I almost hoped that Carmen had run away ; 
 she might have taken my horse and escaped. 
 But I found her. She would never have it 
 said that she was afraid of me. During my 
 absence she had unpicked the hem of her 
 dress, and taken out the lead. She was then 
 sitting at the table, gazing into a bowl of 
 water at the lead which had sunk to the 
 bottom, and which she continued to throw 
 in. She was so immersed in her occupation 
 that she did not at first perceive me. Then 
 she took a piece of the lead and turned it in 
 all directions, with a sad expression in her 
 face; sometimes she hummed one of the 
 
122 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 mystic songs in wliicli gipsies invoke Marie 
 Padilla, the mistress of Don Pedro, who was, 
 they say, the Bari Crallisa, or great Queen 
 of the Gipsies.* 
 
 “Carmen,” I said, “will you come with 
 me 1 ” 
 
 She rose, threw away her bowl, and put 
 on her mantilla as if ready to go. They 
 brought me my horse, she mounted behind 
 me, and we departed. 
 
 “So, my Carmen,” I said, after a while, 
 “ you really wish to follow me, is it not so ? ” 
 
 “ I will follow you to death, yes ; but I 
 will not live with you any longer ! ” 
 
 We were in a solitary gorge ; I pulled up. 
 
 “Is it here r’ she said, as she sprang to 
 the ground. She took off her mantilla, 
 threw it at her feet and stood motionless, 
 
 * Marie Padella is accused of bewitching Don Pedro 
 the king. A popular tradition states that she had pre- 
 sented the queen Blanche of Bourbon wil;h a golden zone, 
 which appeared in the king’s ej^es like a living serpent. 
 That was the cause of the disgust he always evinced for 
 the unfortunate princess. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 12S 
 
 her hand upon her hip, looking straight at 
 me. 
 
 “ You are going to kill me, I see that quite 
 well,” she said. “ It is fated ; but you will 
 never make me yield.” 
 
 “I implore you, be reasonable,” I said. 
 ‘‘ Listen to me ; all the past is forgotten. 
 Nevertheless, you know it, it is I who have 
 lost myself ; it was for your sake that I 
 became a brigand and a murderer ! Car- 
 men, my Carmen, let me save you, and 
 myself with you ! ” 
 
 ‘‘Jose,” she replied, “ you ask me to do what 
 is impossible. I no longer love you ; you 
 love me still, and for that reason you want 
 to kill me. I could very easily lie to you, but 
 do not care to take the trouble. All is over 
 between us. As my rom you have the 
 right to kill your rom%^ but Carmen will 
 always be free, Calli she was born, and 
 Calli she will die ! ” 
 
 “ So you love Lucas ? ” I said. 
 
124 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 ^‘Yes, I liave loved liim, like you, for a 
 while ; perhaps less than you. At present, 
 I love no one, and I hate myself for having 
 loved you.” 
 
 I threw myself at her feet ; I took her 
 hands in mine ; I bedewed them with my 
 tears ; I recalled to her mind all the happy 
 times we had had together. I offered to 
 remain a brigand all my life to please her. 
 I did everything, sir, everything. I offered 
 her all, provided that she would still love 
 me. But she said : 
 
 ‘‘It is impossible to love you any longer, 
 and I do not want to live with you ! ” 
 
 Fury took possession of me — I drew my 
 knife ; I wished she had displayed some 
 fear and pleaded for mercy, but the woman 
 was a demon. 
 
 “For the last time,” I exclaimed, “will 
 you remain with me ? ” 
 
 “No, no, no !” she replied, stamping her 
 foot. Then she drew from her huger a ring 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 125 
 
 that I had given her, and threw it amongst 
 the hushes. 
 
 I stabbed her twice. It was Garcia’s 
 knife, which I had appropriated after break- 
 ing my own She fell at the second thrust 
 without a cry. I can still fancy I see her 
 splendid black eyes regarding me steadily ; 
 then they became troubled, and closed. 1 
 remained insensible beside the body for a 
 good hour. Then I remembered that Car- 
 men had often said that she would like to 
 be buried in a wood. I excavated a grave 
 with my knife, and placed her in it. For 
 a long time I searched for the ring, and at 
 length found it. I placed it in the grave 
 with her and also a small cross. Perhaps I 
 was wrong ! Then I mounted my horse, 
 galloped to Cordova, and at the first guard- 
 house I made myself known. I said I had 
 killed Carmen, but I did not wish to divulge 
 where I had buried her. The hermit is a 
 holy man. He has prayed for her. He 
 
 I 
 
126 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 has said a mass for her soul. Poor girl ! It 
 is the Calli who are to blame for having 
 made her what she was. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Spain is a country in whicli one still finds 
 — and even in greater numbers than formerly 
 — tliose nomads wlio are dispersed throughout 
 Europe, and are known under the names of 
 Bohemians, Gipsies, Gitanos, Zingari, &c. 
 The majority live in, or rather wander 
 through the southern and eastern provinces, 
 in Andalusia, Estramadura, in the kingdom 
 of Mercia ; there are numbers in Catalonia. 
 The last-mentioned frequently pass into 
 France. We meet them at all our Southern 
 
128 
 
 C A R M E Nc 
 
 fairs. Generally tlie men act as jockeys or 
 as veterinary surgeons and mule-clippers ; to 
 these occupations they unite the calling of 
 tinkers, not to mention smuggling and other 
 unlawful pursuits. The women tell fortunes, 
 beg, and sell all kinds of drugs, innocuous 
 and otherwise. 
 
 The physical characteristics of the Gipsies 
 are more easy to distinguish than to describe, 
 and when we have seen one, we can recognise 
 one of the race amongst a thousand strangers. 
 The features and their expression, above 
 everything else distinguish them from peoples 
 of other nations. Their complexion is very 
 swarthy and always of a deeper colour than 
 that of those amongst whom they dwell. 
 From this characteristic they have gained 
 the name of CalU, the hlach people^ a title 
 by which they are frequently designated.* 
 
 * It seems to me that tlie German Gipsies, although 
 they perfectly well understand the word Cnlli, do not 
 like to be so designated. They call each other Eomane 
 ichave. 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 129 
 
 Their eyes are set obliquely, very deeply, 
 are very black and shaded by long and close 
 lashes. One can only compare their ex- 
 pression with that of wild animals. Fierce- 
 ness and timidity are apparent therein at 
 the same time ; and in this respect their eyes 
 coincide very well with the character of the 
 nation ; subtle, bold, but as much afraid of 
 blows as Panurge. The men are for the 
 most part strong -limbed, lithe, agile ; I do 
 not think I have ever seen one inclining to 
 stoutness. In Germany the Gipsy women 
 are often very handsome ; beauty is ex- 
 ceptional amongst the Gitanas of Spain. 
 When very young they may pass for en- 
 gaging girls but once they have become 
 mothers they become absolutely repulsive. 
 The dirty habits of both sexes are incredible, 
 and to any one who has not seen the locks of 
 a Gipsy matron, it would be difficult to give 
 an idea of it, even when representing the 
 coarsest, the most greasy, the most dusty hair 
 
130 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 in creation. In some of the large towns of 
 Andalusia some of the young girls, more 
 respectable than the others, take some care 
 of their persons. These are they who per- 
 form, for money, dances that resemble very 
 closely those interdicted amongst us at 
 carnival balls. Mr. Borrow, an English 
 missionary, author of two very interesting 
 works upon the Gipsies of Spain, whom he 
 had attempted to convert at the expense of the 
 Bible Society, assures us that it is unpre- 
 cedented for a Ghana to yield to any weakness 
 for a man not of her race. It seems to me 
 that their chastity has been much exaggerat- 
 ed. In the first place, the majority are in the 
 case of the ugly woman in Ovid, Casta quam 
 nemo rogavit. As for the pretty ones they 
 are, like all Spanish women, difiicult to 
 please in the choice of a lover. He must 
 please them, he must deserve them. Mr. 
 Borrow quotes as a proof of their virtue a 
 trait which does honour to his own, and 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 131 
 
 particularly to liis simplicity of mind. A 
 dissolute man of his acquaintance, he says, 
 vainly offered many onzas to a pretty Gitana. 
 An Andalusian to whom I related this 
 anecdote declared that the man would have 
 had much better success if he had shown 
 the girl a few piastres, and to offer gold 
 onzas to a Gipsy girl was as bad a means to 
 persuade her as to promise a million or 
 two to a waitress at an inn. However that 
 may he, it is certain that the Gitanas display 
 extraordinary devotion towards their hus- 
 bands. There is no limit to the danger and 
 misery they will brave to assist them in their 
 needs. One of the Bohemian titles, rom% 
 or spouse, seems to me to bear witness to the 
 respect of the race for the matrimonial state. 
 Asa rule, we may say that their principal 
 virtue is patriotism — if one can so designate 
 the fidelity which they display in their 
 relations with individuals of the same race 
 as themselves ; their anxiety to assist them ; 
 
132 
 
 C A R M E NT. 
 
 the inviolable secrecy which they maintain 
 respecting compromising incidents. As for 
 that matter, in all secret associations and 
 lawless combinations we may observe a 
 similar fidelity. 
 
 Several months ago I paid a visit to a tribe 
 of Gipsies established in the Yosges. In the 
 hut of an old woman, the ‘‘ ancient ’’ of the 
 tribe, there was a stranger — a Bohemian — 
 who had been attacked with mortal sickness. 
 This man had left a hospital where he was 
 being well cared for, to die amongst his com- 
 patriots. For thirteen weeks he had been 
 living in the old woman’s tent ; much better 
 treated than were the children and relatives 
 in the same shelter. He had a good bed of 
 straw and moss, with fairly white sheets, 
 while the family, to the number of eleven 
 persons, lay on planks three feet long. So 
 much for their hospitality. The same 
 woman, so humane towards her guest, said 
 to me in the presence of the invalid, “ Singo, 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 133 
 
 Singo, hornte hi muloP “ In a sliort time lie 
 must die I After all, the existence of these 
 people is so miserable that to them the 
 approach of death has nothing alarming in it. 
 
 A remarkable characteristic of the Gipsies 
 is their indifference to religious observances 
 — not that they are free-thinkers or sceptics ; 
 they have never made any profession of 
 atheism. On the contrary, the religion of 
 the country they inhabit is adopted, hut 
 they change it with the locality. To the 
 superstitions which amongst uneducated 
 people replace the religious sentiment they 
 are equally strangers. The means, in fact, 
 by which superstitions exist amongst people 
 who live most often upon the incredulity of 
 others, are absent ; nevertheless I have re- 
 marked that the Spanish Gipsies have a 
 curious fear of contact with a dead body. 
 There are few of them who, for money, can 
 be persuaded to carry a corpse to the 
 cemetery. 
 
134 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 I have said that a great number of the 
 female Gipsies lay themselves out to tell 
 fortunes. They acquit themselves very well. 
 But the sale of charms and love philtres is a 
 great source of profit to them. Not only do 
 they recommend frogs’ paddles ” to recover 
 wandering hearts, or powdered loadstone to 
 cause those insensible to fascination to love, 
 but they practice, at need, incantations which 
 oblige the devil to come to their assist- 
 ance. Last year a Spanish lady told me the 
 following tale. She was passing through 
 Alcala Street one day, feeling very sad and 
 greatly pre-occupied : a Gipsy woman, who 
 was squatting on the pavement, said, as she 
 was passing — 
 
 “ My pretty lady, your lover is false to 
 3mu.’^ This was the fact. 
 
 ‘‘ Do you wish me to make him return to 
 you You can understand with what de- 
 light the offer was accepted and what would 
 be the confidence inspired by a person who 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 135 
 
 could thus divine at a glance the innermost 
 secrets of the heart. As it was impossible to 
 proceed with the rites in one of the most 
 frequented streets of Madrid, a meeting was 
 appointed for the following day. 
 
 There is nothing easier than to bring the 
 faithless one to your feet again/^ said the 
 Gitana. “ Do you happen to have a handker- 
 chief, a scarf, or a mantilla that he has given 
 you ? ” 
 
 A silken yic/zw was produced. 
 
 “ Now sew with crimson silk a piastre in 
 one corner of the fichu. In another corner 
 sew a demi-piastre : here a small coin, and 
 there a piece of two reals. Then you must 
 sew in the centre a piece of gold. A doub- 
 loon would be best ! ” 
 
 The doubloon and the other coins were all 
 sewn up as requested. 
 
 Now give me the kerchief. I will carry 
 it to the Campo Santo at midnight. Come 
 with me if you would like to see a fine bit of 
 
136 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 devilry. I promise you that to-morrow you 
 shall again behold him you love.” 
 
 The Gipsy woman went off to the Campo 
 Santo by herself, for the lady was too greatly 
 
 afraid of the devils to accompany her 
 
 I leave you to guess whether the unfortunate 
 lover ever saw fichu or her faithless swain 
 again ! 
 
 Notwithstanding their wretchedness and 
 the aversion they inspire, the Gipsies enjoy 
 a certain consideration amongst uneducated 
 people, and they are very proud of this. 
 They fancy themselves a race superior in 
 intelligence, and heartily despise the people 
 who have afforded them hospitality. 
 
 The Gentiles are so foolish,” said a Gipsy 
 woman of the Yosges to me one day, “that 
 there is no credit in taking them in. The 
 other day a peasant woman called to me in 
 the street. I entered her house, her stove 
 was smoking, and she asked me for a charm 
 to cure it. I first made her give me a good 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 137 
 
 sized piece of lard, then I began to mntter 
 some words in Bomany. ‘ You are a fool/ I 
 said ; ‘ you were born a fool, and a fool you 
 will die.’ When I got near tbe door, I said 
 to ber in good German, ‘ An infallible 
 method of preventing your stove from smok- 
 ing is never to put fire into it,’ and I made 
 my escape.” 
 
 The history of the Gipsies is still a problem. 
 We know, as a matter of fact, that the first 
 detachments in very small numbers appeared 
 in the east of Europe, towards the com- 
 mencement of the fifteenth century ; but one 
 cannot say either whence they came nor why 
 they have come into Europe. What is 
 more extraordinary still, we are completely 
 ignorant how they have increased and mul- 
 tiplied in so short a time, in such a wonderful 
 manner, in countries at such distances apart. 
 The Gipsies themselves have preserved no 
 tradition concerning their origin, and if the 
 majority of them speak of Egypt as the 
 
133 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 country of their origin, it is because they 
 have adopted an old and largely circulated 
 fable. 
 
 The greater number of Oriental scholars 
 who have studied the language of the Gipsies 
 assert that they came originally from India. 
 In fact, it would appear that a great number 
 of the grammatical roots and forms of the 
 Eomany are to be traced in idioms derived 
 from the Sanscrit. 
 
 It is believed that in their long journey- 
 ings the Gipsies have adopted many foreign 
 words. In all the dialects of the Komany we 
 find many Greek terms. For instance, cocal^ 
 bone, from kokkclKou. Petalli, horse-shoe from 
 TTerdkov : caji^ nail, from Acapt, &c. At the 
 present time the Gipsies have almost as many 
 dialects as there are tribes. They always 
 speak the language of tlm country in which 
 they live more easily than their own tongue, 
 wliich they scarcely use except when they 
 wish to converse freely before strangers. If 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 139 
 
 vre compare the dialects of the German and 
 Spanish Gipsies, who have been without 
 communication for centuries, we may recog- 
 nise a number of words common to both ; 
 but the original language everywhere, 
 although in different degrees, is considerably 
 altered by fusion with more cultivated 
 tongues which the nomads have been com- 
 pelled to make use of. German on the one 
 side and Spanish on the other have so 
 modified the original Komany that it would 
 be impossible for a Gipsy of the Black Forest 
 to converse with one of his Andalusian 
 brethren, although it would be possible for 
 them to exchange words sufficient to under- 
 stand that both were speaking a language 
 derived from the same source. Some words 
 in very frequent use are common, I believe, 
 in all dialects ; thus in all the vocabularies 
 that I have been able to consult, pani means 
 water, manro bread, mas meat. Ion salt. 
 
 The expressions for numbers are almost 
 
140 
 
 C A R M K N. 
 
 always the same. The German dialect seems 
 to be very much purer than the Spanish, for 
 it has preserved a number of primitive gram- 
 matical forms, while the Gitanos have adopted 
 those of the Castilian. Nevertheless, some 
 words are exceptions as bearing witness to 
 the ancient community of language. The 
 preterites of the German dialect are formed 
 by adding ium to the imperative, which is 
 always the root of the verb. The verbs in 
 Spanish Eomany are all conjugated in the 
 same way as the Castilian verbs of the first 
 conjugation. From the infinitive jamar^ to 
 eat, we can clearly derive jar/zc, I have eaten. 
 From to take, we get VilU^ I have 
 
 taken. Nevertheless, some old Gipsies use 
 exceptionally lillon. I do not know 
 
 of other verbs which have retained this 
 ancient form. 
 
 While I am thus displaying my limited 
 knowledge of the Eomany language I ought 
 to mention some French slang words which 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 141 
 
 our criminal classes have borrowed from the 
 Gipsies. The Mysteries of Paris have taught 
 us that chourin means knife. This is pure 
 Komany ; tcJiouri is one of those words 
 common to all its dialects. M. Vidocq 
 calls a horse gres ; this is again another 
 bohemianism, gras^ gre^ graste^ gres. To 
 these add the word romanichel, which in 
 Parisian slang means Gipsies. It is the cor- 
 ruption of rommane tcliave^ Bohemian boys. 
 But an etymology of which I am proud is 
 that oi frimousse^ appearance, face, a word 
 which all scholars employ or have employed 
 in my time. Notice first that Gudin, in his 
 curious dictionary, WTote in 1640 firlimousse. 
 Now firla^ jila, in Eomany means face, mui 
 has the same signification ; it is exactly the 
 os of the Latins. The combination 
 was immediately understood by a pure Gipsy, 
 and I believe it conforms to the spirit of 
 his language. 
 
 This is quite enough to give the readers of 
 
 K 
 
142 
 
 CARMEN. 
 
 Carmen a general idea of my studies of the 
 Eomany. I will now conclude with a pro- 
 verb which comes a iiropos : En retudijpanda 
 nasti ahela macha, “No fly can enter a 
 closed mouth.” * 
 
 * Or, iu Spanisli, En boca cerrada no entra mosca.'* 
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THE POCKET-YOLUME EDITION 
 
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 1 PELHAM. 
 
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 3 EUGENE ARAM. 
 
 4 ERNEST MALTRAVERS. 
 
 5 ALICE. 
 
 13 
 
LORD LYTTON's NOVELS— POCKET-VOLUME ' 
 EDITION — [coniinued . ) 
 
 6 EIENZL 
 
 7 NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 8 PAUL CLIFFORD. 
 
 9 THE DISOWNED. 
 
 10 A STRANGE STORY. 
 
 1 1 HAROLD. 
 
 12 LUCRETIA. 
 
 13 THE CAXTONS. 
 
 14 DEVEREUX. 
 
 { GODOLPHIN. 
 
 (CALDERON THE COURTIER. 
 
 16 KENELM CHILLINGLY. 
 
 17 ZANONI. 
 
 ( FALKLAND. 
 
 THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE. 
 PAUSANIAS. 
 
 19 THE COMING RACE. 
 
 20 MY NOVEL. Vol. I. 
 
 21 Vol. II. 
 
 22 Vol. III. 
 
 14 
 
i. 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
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 I . 
 
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UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 000584240