按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Inquisitor was famous for his hatred of Moors； and indeed； of all
kinds of Infidels； Jews； and Heretics； and used to hunt them out
with fire and scourge。
〃However； Tio Nicolo felt himself safe； now that there was a
priest of such sanctity at hand。 So making the sign of the cross； he
called out for his benediction； when hombre！ he received a blow that
sent him and his old mule over the edge of a steep bank； down which
they rolled； head over heels； to the bottom！ Tio Nicolo did not come
to his senses until long after sunrise； when he found himself at the
bottom of a deep ravine； his mule grazing beside him； and his panniers
of snow completely melted。 He crawled back to Granada sorely bruised
and battered； but was glad to find the city looking as usual； with
Christian churches and crosses。
〃When he told the story of his night's adventure； every one
laughed at him； some said he had dreamed it all； as he dozed on his
mule； others thought it all a fabrication of his own… but what was
strange； senor； and made people afterwards think more seriously of the
matter； was； that the Grand Inquisitor died within the year。 I have
often heard my grandfather； the tailor； say that there was more
meant by that hobgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of the
priest； than folks dared to surmise。〃
〃Then you would insinuate； friend Mateo； that there is a kind of
Moorish limbo； or purgatory； in the bowels of these mountains； to
which the padre Inquisitor was borne off。〃
〃God forbid； senor！ I know nothing of the matter。 I only relate what
I heard from my grandfather。〃
By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have more succinctly
related； and which was interlarded with many comments； and spun out
with minute details； we reached the gate of the Alhambra。
The marvellous stories hinted at by Mateo； in the early part of
our ramble about the Tower of the Seven Floors； set me as usual upon
my goblin researches。 I found that the redoubtable phantom； the
Belludo； had been time out of mind a favorite theme of nursery tales
and popular traditions in Granada； and that honorable mention had even
been made of it by an ancient historian and topographer of the
place。 The scattered members of one of these popular traditions I have
gathered together； collated them with infinite pains； and digested
them into the following legend； which only wants a number of learned
notes and references at bottom to take its rank among those concrete
productions gravely passed upon the world for Historical Facts。
Legend of the Moor's Legacy。
JUST within the fortress of the Alhambra； in front of the royal
palace； is a broad open esplanade； called the Place or Square of the
Cisterns （la Plaza de los Algibes）； so called from being undermined by
reservoirs of water； hidden from sight； and which have existed from
the time of the Moors。 At one corner of this esplanade is a Moorish
well； cut through the living rock to a great depth； the water of which
is cold as ice and clear as crystal。 The wells made by the Moors are
always in repute； for it is well known what pains they took to
penetrate to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains。 The one of
which we now speak is famous throughout Granada； insomuch that
water…carriers； some bearing great water…jars on their shoulders；
others driving asses before them laden with earthen vessels； are
ascending and descending the steep woody avenues of the Alhambra； from
early dawn until a late hour of the night。
Fountains and wells； ever since the scriptural days； have been noted
gossiping places in hot climates； and at the well in question there is
a kind of perpetual club kept up during the livelong day； by the
invalids； old women； and other curious do…nothing folk of the
fortress； who sit here on the stone benches； under an awning spread
over the well to shelter the toll…gatherer from the sun； and dawdle
over the gossip of the fortress； and question every water…carrier that
arrives about the news of the city； and make long comments on every
thing they hear and see。 Not an hour of the day but loitering
housewives and idle maid…servants may be seen； lingering with
pitcher on head； or in hand； to hear the last of the endless tattle of
these worthies。
Among the water…carriers who once resorted to this well； there was a
sturdy； strong…backed； bandy…legged little fellow； named Pedro Gil；
but called Peregil for shortness。 Being a water…carrier； he was a
Gallego； or native of Galicia； of course。 Nature seems to have
formed races of men； as she has of animals； for different kinds of
drudgery。 In France the shoeblacks are all Savoyards； the porters of
hotels all Swiss； and in the days of hoops and hair…powder in England；
no man could give the regular swing to a sedan…chair but a
bog…trotting Irishman。 So in Spain； the carriers of water and
bearers of burdens are all sturdy little natives of Galicia。 No man
says； 〃Get me a porter；〃 but； 〃Call a Gallego。〃
To return from this digression； Peregil the Gallego had begun
business with merely a great earthen jar which he carried upon his
shoulder； by degrees he rose in the world； and was enabled to purchase
an assistant of a correspondent class of animals； being a stout
shaggy…haired donkey。 On each side of this his long…eared
aide…de…camp； in a kind of pannier； were slung his water…jars； covered
with fig…leaves to protect them from the sun。 There was not a more
industrious water…carrier in all Granada； nor one more merry withal。
The streets rang with his cheerful voice as he trudged after his
donkey； singing forth the usual summer note that resounds through
the Spanish towns： 〃Quien quiere agua… agua mas fria que la nieve？〃…
〃Who wants water… water colder than snow？ Who wants water from the
well of the Alhambra； cold as ice and clear as crystal？〃 When he
served a customer with a sparkling glass； it was always with a
pleasant word that caused a smile； and if； perchance； it was a
comely dame or dimpling damsel； it was always with a sly leer and a
compliment to her beauty that was irresistible。 Thus Peregil the
Gallego was noted throughout all Granada for being one of the
civilest； pleasantest； and happiest of mortals。
Yet it is not he who sings loudest and jokes most that has the
lightest heart。 Under all this air of merriment； honest Peregil had
his cares and troubles。 He had a large family of ragged children to
support； who were hungry and clamorous as a nest of young swallows；
and beset him with their outcries for food whenever he came home of an
evening。 He had a helpmate； too； who was any thing but a help to
him。 She had been a village beauty before marriage； noted for her
skill at dancing the bolero and rattling the castanets； and she
still retained her early propensities； spending the hard earnings of
honest Peregil in frippery； and laying the very donkey under
requisition for junketing parties into the country on Sundays； and
saints' days； and tho