The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (59 page)

My mother did not let us go either to the theatre, or to the bullfight, or to the public gardens. She neither visited others nor received visitors. Having no other form of amusement, I spent nearly all my time at the window.

As I had a great natural inclination to courtesy, if anyone well dressed went by in the street, I would follow him with my eyes and look at him in such a way as to suggest that he inspired some interest in me. Passers-by were not indifferent to the attention I paid them. Some greeted me, some shot me approving glances, yet others walked up and down the street several times, their only motive being that of seeing me again. When my mother noticed what I was up to she would say, ‘Frasqueta, Frasqueta! What are you doing? Be modest and solemn, like your sister, or else you won't find a husband.'

My mother was wrong, for my sister is still a spinster and I have been married for a year.

Our street was very deserted and I rarely had the pleasure of seeing passers-by whose outward appearance prejudiced me in their favour. I was, however, helped by a particular circumstance. Very near our windows was a tall tree with a stone seat. Those who wanted to look at me at their leisure could sit there without appearing suspicious or drawing attention to themselves.

One day, a much better-dressed man than those I had seen till then sat down on the seat, drew out a book from his pocket and began to read. But as soon as he caught sight of me, he paid little attention to his book, and looked into my eyes. The young man came back the following days. Once he came close to my window and seemed to be looking for something; then he said, ‘Señora, haven't you dropped something?'

I said that I had not.

‘A pity,' he said, ‘for if, for example, you had dropped the little cross that you are wearing around your neck, I would have picked it up and taken it back to my house. By having in my possession
something which had belonged to you, I could flatter myself with the thought that you were not as indifferent to me as you are to other people who come and sit on this seat. The effect you have had on my heart perhaps earns me the right to be distinguished by you from the crowd.'

As my mother came in at that moment I was not able to reply to the young man. But I deftly undid my cross and let it fall.

That evening I saw two ladies arrive with a lackey in a fine livery. They sat down on the seat and lifted their mantillas. Then one drew a small piece of paper from her pocket, undid it and removed from it a small golden cross, after which she shot me a somewhat mocking glance. Convinced that the young man had sacrificed the first sign of my affection to the lady, I flew into a terrible rage and did not sleep all that night.

The next day the inconstant young man sat down again on the seat and I was very surprised to see him draw from his pocket a little piece of paper, unfold it, take out a little cross and kiss it fervently.

That evening two lackeys in the livery of the day before appeared. They carried a table with them, which they laid. Then they went away and came back with ices, chocolate, orangeade, biscuits and other such things. Then the two ladies of the day before appeared. They sat down on the seat and were served with the food which had been brought.

My mother and sister, who never sat at the window, could not remain indifferent to the sound of glasses and bottles. One of the two ladies, having caught sight of them, and finding them of an amenable disposition, invited them to share their repast, asking them only to bring some chairs.

My mother needed no persuasion. She had chairs carried into the street. We added a few ornaments to our attire and went to join the lady who had anticipated our wishes so obligingly. In greeting her, I noticed that she looked very like the young man. I supposed that she was his sister. From that I concluded that he had spoken to her about me, had given her my cross and that she had sat down on the seat the day before simply to observe me. It was soon discovered that there was a shortage of spoons and my sister went to fetch some. Immediately after it transpired that there were no napkins and so my mother
went for those. As soon as she had gone, I said to the lady, ‘Am I right in thinking, Señora, that you have a brother who looks much like you?'

‘No, Señora,' she replied. ‘The brother to whom you refer is myself. Listen carefully. I have another brother, whose name is the Duke of San Lugar. I am soon to be the Duke of Arcos, because I am marrying the heiress to that title. I cannot abide my future wife but if I refuse to enter into this marriage there will be lugubrious scenes in my family as a result, for which I have no taste. Since I cannot dispose of my hand as I would wish, I have decided to save my heart for someone more worthy of love than the young Señora de Arcos. I am far from wishing to suggest anything dishonourable to you, Señora, but you are not leaving Spain and nor am I. Chance could unite us and if it doesn't I shall be able myself to bring about opportunities for us to meet again. Your mother is about to come back. Here is a ring in which is set a valuable solitaire. I have chosen one of considerable value to convince you that I am not trying to impress you with my birth. I beg you to be so kind as to accept this token of my thoughts for you, which is intended to recall me to yours.'

I had been brought up by a mother whose principles were of the most austere, and I knew well enough that honour required me to refuse this gift. But I was persuaded to accept it by considerations that I then had and which I cannot now recall. My mother came back with napkins and my sister with spoons. The unknown lady was very friendly throughout the evening and we separated on the best of terms. But the pleasant young man did not reappear under my window. He had probably married the Arcos heiress.

Next Sunday it occurred to me that the ring would sooner or later be found in my room. Consequently, as I was in church at the time, I pretended to have found it under my seat and showed it to my mother. She told me that it was probably a piece of glass that had been set in the ring but that I should none the less put it in my pocket. A jeweller lived nearby. He was shown the ring and valued it at eight thousand pistoles. This high valuation delighted my mother. She told me that it would be fitting to present it to St Anthony of Padua, who was the protector of our family, but that if we sold it, it could produce two good dowries: enough to marry both of us.

‘Forgive me, dear mother,' I replied. ‘It seems to me that we should first make it known that we have found the ring, without specifying its value. If the rightful owner comes forward we will give the ring back. Otherwise my sister has no right to it any more than St Anthony of Padua. As I found the ring it will indubitably belong to me.'

My mother had no answer to this. It was made known in Salamanca that a ring had been found but the value was kept secret and, as you may well imagine, no one came forward.

The young man to whom I owed so precious a gift had left a deep impression on my heart and for a week I was not seen at the window. But eventually I would sit there again as before, from force of habit, and would spend nearly all my time there.

The stone seat on which the young duke used to place himself to see me was then filled by a large man of what seemed to be an imperturbably calm and tranquil humour. He caught sight of me at the window and my presence there seemed to displease him. He turned his back on me. But even when he could not see me, I troubled him, for he would turn round uneasily from time to time. Soon he went away, indicating by his looks that he felt some indignation. But he returned the next day and played out the same scene. In the end he turned away and returned so often that when two months had passed he asked for my hand in marriage.

My mother told me that one did not find such parties every day of the week and ordered me to accept his offer. I obeyed and changed my name from Frasqueta Salero to Doña Francisca Cornádez and came to live in the house in which you met me yesterday.

Once I became the wife of Señor Cornádez I devoted all my time to making him happy. I succeeded rather too well. At the end of three months I found him to be happier than I hoped, and what was worse, he believed that he made me perfectly happy. His smug expression did not suit his face. Moreover, it displeased and annoyed me. Happily, however, this state of beatitude did not last long.

One day Cornádez, on his way out of the house, met a boy with a letter in his hand, looking bewildered. He decided to help him and discovered that the letter was addressed to ‘Adorable Frasqueta'. Cornádez made a face that put the errand boy to flight. Then he took the precious document home and read the following:

Cornádez meanwhile did not dare mention his suffering to me, for he did not know how I stood with the Conde de Peña Flor, nor even whether I knew of his love. In the meanwhile a thousand circumstances increased his anxiety. On one occasion he found a ladder propped up against the garden wall, on another a stranger seemed to be hidden somewhere in the house. On others frequent serenades were heard, and that is a kind of music which jealous husbands detest. Eventually the Conde de Peña Flor's boldness knew no bounds. One day I went to the Prado with my devout neighbour. We stayed late, and were almost by ourselves at the end of a long walk. The count accosted us, formally declared his love for me and said that he was determined to possess me or to die. Then he took my hand by force and I don't know what that man would have done if we had not cried out.

We returned home in a terrible state. Our devout neighbour told my husband that she refused to go out with me again and that it was all very regrettable. Who would call Peña Flor to account since I had a husband who was so little capable of making others respect me? Although it was true that religion forbade us to avenge ourselves, the honour of a loving and faithful wife was worthy of being better protected; and she finally said that the Conde de Peña Flor only acted as he did because someone had probably told him of Señor Cornádez's indulgent temperament.

My husband was coming back the following night by a narrow street which he frequently took on his way home, when he found it barred by two men, one of whom was practising lunges against the wall with a disproportionately long sword. The other was saying to him, ‘Bravo, Señor Don Ramiro. If you go the same way about it with the famous Conde de Peña Flor, he won't be the terror of brothers and husbands much longer!' The hated name of Peña Flor caught Cornádez's attention and he hid himself in a dark alley-way.

‘My dear friend,' said the man with the long sword, ‘I am not at all bothered about bringing the Conde de Peña Flor's good fortunes to an end. I have decided not to kill him but just to leave him in a state in which he will not take up his old tricks again. It's not for nothing that Ramiro Caramanza is said to be the best swordsman in Spain. But what bothers me are the consequences of my duel. If only I had a hundred doubloons I would spend some time away in the islands.'
³

The two friends spoke to each other for some time in the same vein and were about to go away when my husband emerged from his hiding-place, accosted them and said, ‘Señores, I am one of those husbands whose peace of mind has been disturbed by the Conde de Peña Flor. If your intention had been to kill him I would not have interrupted your conversation. But since you just want to teach him a lesson, it is my pleasure to offer the hundred doubloons necessary for the journey to the islands. Stay here. I'll go and fetch the money.'

So he went home and came back with the hundred doubloons, which he gave to the terrible Caramanza.

Two evenings later we heard a peremptory knock on our door. We opened it and saw there an officer of the law with two
alguaziles
. The officer of the law said to my husband, ‘Señor, we have come at night out of consideration for you so that our appearance here would not do your reputation any harm or alarm the neighbourhood. It's about the Conde de Peña Flor, who was murdered yesterday. A letter which, it is alleged, fell from the pocket of one of the murderers may lead people to believe that you gave them a hundred doubloons, to incite them to commit this crime and to assist their escape.'

My husband answered with a presence of mind of which I wouldn't have thought him capable. ‘I have never met the Conde de Peña Flor. Two men with whom I was not acquainted gave me yesterday a bill of exchange for a hundred doubloons which I issued a year ago in Madrid. I paid them the sum. If you like, I'll go and fetch the bill of exchange.'

The officer of the law drew a letter from his pocket and said, ‘It says here, “We are off to San Domingo with the hundred doubloons of good old Cornádez.”'

‘Well,' said my husband, ‘those are the hundred doubloons of the bill of exchange. It was an open bill and I did not have the right to defer payment or ask for the name of the bearers.'

‘Criminal justice is my business,' said the officer of the law, ‘and I am not competent in commercial affairs. Farewell, Señor Cornádez. Please forgive us for having troubled you.'

As I said to you, the presence of mind which my husband showed on this occasion surprised me. But I had already noticed at other times that he could be brilliant when his self-interest or personal safety was in question.

When all these alarms were over I asked my dear Cornádez if he had really had the Conde de Peña Flor murdered. At first he refused to admit anything, but in the end he admitted that he had given a hundred doubloons to Caramanza the swordsman, not to kill the count, but only to punish him for his impudence; the idea of having been an accessory to his murder nevertheless weighed on his conscience and he wondered whether he might not go on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, or even further afield, to procure still more indulgences.

This confession by my husband heralded, as it were, the most extraordinary and supernatural events. For nearly every night was marked by some terrifying apparition of a kind to disturb an already tortured conscience. They were nearly always about the hundred doubloons. Sometimes in the darkness a voice was heard to say, ‘I am going to give you back the hundred doubloons.' At others one could hear money being counted out. Once a servant girl found a pot full of doubloons in a corner. She tried to get her hands on them but only picked up dried leaves, which she brought to us with the pot.

The next evening my husband, passing through a bedroom dimly lit by the light of the moon, thought he saw in a corner a man's head in a pot. He came out terrified and told me what had caused his terror. I went in and found only the dummy head for keeping his wig in shape, which by chance had been placed on his shaving-dish. As I didn't want to contradict him, and even wanted to keep him in a state of terror, I screamed horribly and assured him that I had seen the same head covered in blood and full of menace.

Since then the same head has appeared to nearly all the members of the household and my husband was so distressed by it that we began to fear for his reason. I do not, however, need to tell you that all these apparitions are my invention. The Conde de Peña Flor was, as I said, a hypothetical being, only thought up to worry Cornádez and to make him lose his smug air. The officer of justice as well as the swordsman were members of the household of the Duke of Arcos, who had returned to Salamanca immediately after his marriage.

Last night I planned on giving my husband a great fright, because I was sure that he would leave his bedroom and go into his study, where he has a prayer-stool. Then I intended to bolt the door and the duke was to come in through the window. I was not afraid that my husband would see him enter or find the ladder, for the house is scrupulously locked every night and I keep the key at my bedside. Suddenly your head appeared at the window and my husband took it to be that of Peña Flor, who had come to reproach him about the hundred doubloons.

Finally, it only remains for me to tell you about my devout and quite exemplary neighbour, in whom my husband had so much confidence. Alas, this neighbour was the duke himself, and here he is with us in women's clothing, which really suits him very well. I am still a faithful wife but I cannot bring myself to send away my dear Arcos, for I am not sure that I may not one day abandon my virtue, and if I decided to take a step down that road, I would like to have Arcos by me.