B0040702LQ EBOK by Margaret Jull Costa;Annella McDermott Read Free Book Online Page B

Zocodover, set off along the
road leading from that square to the monastery in which the
captain was lodged, inspired more by the hope of draining
a few bottles of champagne than by any desire to see the
marvellous statue.
    Night had closed in, dark and menacing. The sky was
covered with leaden clouds. The wind hummed, imprisoned
in the narrow, winding streets, making the dying light from
the torches flicker in their niches, and the weather vanes on
the towers creak as they spun round.
    No sooner had the officers caught sight of the square
where their new friend's lodgings were to be found, than the
man himself, who had been waiting impatiently, stepped forward to greet them and, after exchanging a few words in low
tones, they all went together into the church, where a feeble
light struggled fitfully against the deep, dark shadows.
    `Upon my word,' said one of the guests, gazing around him,
the place could hardly be less suited to a party.'
    `Quite true,' said another. `You brought us here to show us
your mistress, but we can hardly see our own hand in front of
our faces.'
    `And it's so cold you would think we were in Siberia,'
remarked a third, wrapping his cloak tightly around him.
    `Patience, gentlemen, please,' their host said. `Everything
will be taken care of. You, boy,' he called to one of his attendants, `fetch us some wood and light a nice fire in the main
chapel.'
    The boy, in obedience to this order, took an axe to the
choirstalls and once he had obtained a large pile of firewood, which he gradually piled up by the presbytery steps, he seized
the torch and set to work making a bonfire of those richlycarved fragments; amongst the scattered debris could be seen,
here, part of a twisted column, there, the portrait of a holy
abbot, the trunk of a woman or the monstrous head of a
griffin.

    A few minutes later, the whole church was filled with
sudden light, signalling to the officers that the festivities were
about to begin.
    The captain, who was doing the honours with quite as
much ceremony as he would have in his own home, addressed
his guests:
    `Whenever you wish, the buffet is served.'
    His companions, affecting the utmost gravity, replied to his
invitation with a comical bow and made their way to the
main chapel, preceded by the hero of the feast, who, on reaching the stairs, paused for an instant and, gesturing towards
the place where the tomb stood, said with the most refined
elegance:
    `I have the pleasure of introducing the lady who occupies
all my thoughts. I think you will agree that I have not
exaggerated her beauty.'
    The officers turned their gaze towards the spot their friend
was indicating, and an involuntary gasp of amazement arose
from every man.
    In the depths of a burial arch faced with black marble,
kneeling at a prie-dieu, with her hands joined and her face
turned towards the altar, they saw indeed the image of a
woman so beautiful that no sculptor could ever produce her
rival, nor could desire itself have painted a fantasy of greater
loveliness.
    `It's true, she's an angel,' murmured one.
    `What a pity she's made of marble,' added another.
    `Truly, though it is only an illusion, to be close to such a
woman is reason enough not to close your eyes all night.'
    `And you don't know who she is?' some of those contemplating the statue asked the captain, who was smiling in
pleasure at his triumph.

    `Recalling a little of the Latin I knew as a youth, I have
managed finally to decipher the inscription on the tomb,' the
latter replied, `and from what I gather, it is the tomb of a
Castilian nobleman, a famous warrior who fought against the
French in Italy with the Gran Capitan, Gonzalo Fernandez de
Cordoba. His name I have forgotten, but his wife, whom you
see here, is named Dona Elvira de Castaiieda, and by my faith,
if the copy resembles the original she must have been the
most beautiful woman of her century.'
    After this brief explanation, the guests, who