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Legend Of The Three Beautiful PrincessesPart II
Part II
As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she kindly pressed the
rough hand of the renegado, and left within it another piece of gold.
Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the three cavaliers
were put to work in the ravine. During the noontide heat, when their
fellow-laborers were sleeping in the shade, and the guard nodding drowsily at
his post, they seated themselves among the herbage at the foot of the tower,
and sang a Spanish roundelay to the accompaniment of the guitar.
The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices rose distinctly
in the stillness of the summer noon. The princesses listened from their
balcony, they had been taught the Spanish language by their duenna, and were
moved by the tenderness of the song. The discreet Kadiga, on the contrary, was
terribly shocked. "Allah preserve us!" cried she, "they are singing a
love-ditty, addressed to yourselves. Did ever mortal hear of such audacity? I
will run to the slave-master, and have them soundly bastinadoed."
"What! bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for singing so charmingly!"
The three beautiful princesses were filled with horror at the idea. With all
her virtuous indignation, the good old woman was of a placable nature, and
easily appeased. Besides, the music seemed to have a beneficial effect upon
her young mistresses. A rosy bloom had already come to their cheeks, and their
eyes began to sparkle. She made no further objection, therefore, to the
amorous ditty of the cavaliers.
When it was finished, the princesses remained silent for a time; at
length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a sweet, though faint and trembling
voice, warbled a little Arabian air, the burden of which was, "The rose is
concealed among her leaves, but she listens with delight to the song of the
nightingale."
From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost daily in the ravine.
The considerate Hussein Baba became more and more indulgent, and daily more
prone to sleep at his post. For some time a vague intercourse was kept up by
popular songs and romances, which, in some measure, responded to each other,
and breathed the feelings of the parties. By degrees the princesses showed
themselves at the balcony, when they could do so without being perceived by
the guards. They conversed with the cavaliers also, by means of flowers, with
the symbolical language of which they were mutually acquainted. The
difficulties of their intercourse added to its charms, and strengthened the
passion they had so singularly conceived; for love delights to struggle with
difficulties, and thrives the most hardily on the scantiest soil.
The change effected in the looks and spirits of the princesses by this
secret intercourse, surprised and gratified the left-handed king; but no one
was more elated than the discreet Kadiga, who considered it all owing to her
able management.
At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic correspondence;
for several days the cavaliers cased to make their appearance in the glen.
The princesses looked out from the tower in vain. In vain they stretched their
swan-like necks from the balcony; in vain they sang like captive nightingales
in their cage: nothing was to be seen of their Christian lovers; not a note
responded from the groves. The discreet Kadiga sallied forth in quest of
intelligence, and soon returned with a face full of trouble. "Ah, my
children!" cried she, "I saw what all this would come to, but you would have
your way; you may now hang up your lutes on the willows. The Spanish
cavaliers are ransomed by their families; they are down in Granada, and
preparing to return to their native country."
The three beautiful princesses were in despair at the tidings. Zayda was
indignant at the slight put upon them, in thus being deserted without a
parting word. Zorayda wrung her hands and cried, and looked in the glass, and
wiped away her tears, and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda leaned over
the balcony and wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop among the
flowers of the bank where the faithless cavaliers had so often been
seated.
The discreet Kadiga did all in her power to soothe their sorrow. "Take
comfort, my children," said she, "this is nothing when you are used to it.
This is the way of the world. Ah! when you are as old as I am, you will know
how to value these men. I`ll warrant these cavaliers have their loves among
the Spanish beauties of Cordova and Seville, and will soon be serenading
under their balconies, and thinking no more of the Moorish beauties in the
Alhambra. Take comfort, therefore, my children, and drive them from your
hearts."
The comforting words of the discreet Kadiga only redoubled the distress
of the three princesses, and for two days they continued inconsolable. On the
morning of the third, the good old woman entered their apartment, all ruffling
with indignation.
"Who would have believed such insolence in mortal man!" exclaimed she,
as soon as she could find words to express herself; "but I am rightly served
for having connived at this deception of your worthy father. Never talk more
to me of your Spanish cavaliers."
"Why, what has happened, good Kadiga?" exclaimed the princesses in
breathless anxiety.
"What has happened?-treason has happened! or what is almost as bad,
treason has been proposed; and to me, the most faithful of subjects, the
trustiest of duennas! Yes, my children, the Spanish cavaliers have dared to
tamper with me, that I should persuade you to fly with them to Cordova, and
become their wives!"
Here the excellent old woman covered her face with her hands, and gave
way to a violent burst of grief and indignation. The three beautiful
princesses turned pale and red, pale and red, and trembled, and looked down,
and cast shy looks at each other, but said nothing. Meantime, the old woman
sat rocking backward and forward in violent agitation, and now and then
breaking out into exclamations, "That ever I should live to be so insulted?-I,
the most faithful of servants!"
At length, the eldest princess, who had most spirit and always took the
lead, approached her, and laying her hand upon her shoulder, "Well, mother,"
said she, "supposing we were willing to fly with these Christian
cavaliers-is such a thing possible?"
The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and looking up,
"Possible," echoed she; "to be sure, it is possible. Have not the cavaliers
already bribed Hussein Baba, the renegado captain of the guard, and,
arranged the whole plan? But, then, to think of deceiving your father? your
father, who has placed such confidence in me!" Here the worthy woman gave way
to a fresh burst of grief, and began to rock backward and forward, and to
wring her hands.
"But our father has never placed any confidence in us," said the eldest
princess, "but has turned trusted to bolts and bars, and treated us as
captives."
"Why, that is true enough," replied the old woman, again pausing in her
grief; "he has indeed treated you most unreasonably, keeping you shut up
here, to waste your bloom in a moping old tower, like roses left to wither in
a flower-jar. But, then, to fly from your native land!"
"And is not the land we fly to, the native land of our mother, where we
shall live in freedom? And shall we not each have a youthful husband in
exchange for a severe old father?"
"Why, that again is all very true; and your father, I must confess, is
rather tyrannical: but what then," relapsing into her grief, "would you leave
me behind to bear the brunt of his vengeance?"
"By no means, my good Kadiga; cannot you fly with us?"
"Very true, my child; and, to tell the truth, when I talked the
matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to take care of me, if I would
accompany you in your flight: but then, bethink you, my children, are you
willing to renounce the faith of your father?"
"The Christian faith was the original faith of our mother," said the
eldest princess; "I am ready to embrace it, and so, I am sure, are my
sisters."
"Right again," exclaimed the old woman, brightening up; "it was the
original faith of your mother, and bitterly did she lament, on her death-bed,
that she had renounced it. I promised her then to take care of your souls, and
I rejoice to see that they are now in a fair way to be saved. Yes, my
children, I, too, was born a Christian, and have remained a Christian in my
heart, and am resolved to return to the faith. I have talked on the subject
with Hussein Baba, who is a Spaniard by birth, and comes from a place not far
from my native town. He is equally anxious to see his own country, and to be
reconciled to the church; and the cavaliers have promised, that, if we are
disposed to become man and wife, on returning to our native land, they will
provide for us handsomely."
In a word, it appeared that this extremely discreet and provident old
woman had consulted with the cavaliers and the renegado, and had concerted
the whole plan of escape. The eldest princess immediately assented to it; and
her example, as usual, determined the conduct of her sisters. It is true,
the youngest hesitated, for she was gentle and timid of soul, and there was a
struggle in her bosom between filial feeling and youthful passion: the latter,
however, as usual, gained the victory, and with silent tears, and stifled
sighs, she prepared herself for flight.
The rugged hill on which the Alhambra is built was, in old times,
perforated with subterranean passages, cut through the rock, and leading
from the fortress to various parts of the city, and to distant sally-ports
on the banks of the Darro and the Xenil. They had been constructed at
different times by the Moorish kings, as means of escape from sudden
insurrections, or of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of
them are now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked with rubbish,
and partly walled up; monuments of the jealous precautions and warlike
stratagems of the Moorish government. By one of these passages, Hussein Baba
had undertaken to conduct the princesses to a sally-port beyond the walls of
the city, where the cavaliers were to be ready with fleet steeds, to bear the
whole party over the borders.
The appointed night arrived: the tower of the princesses had been locked
up as usual, and the Alhambra was buried in deep sleep. Towards midnight, the
discreet Kadiga listened from the balcony of a window that looked into the
garden. Hussein Baba, the renegado, was already below, and gave the appointed
signal. The duenna fastened the end of a ladder of ropes to the balcony,
lowered it into the garden and descended. The two eldest princesses followed
her with beating hearts; but when it came to the turn of the youngest
princess, Zorahayda, she hesitated, and trembled. Several times she ventured a
delicate little foot upon the ladder, and as often drew it back, while her
poor little heart fluttered more and more the longer she delayed. She cast a
wistful look back into the silken chamber; she had lived in it, to be sure,
like a bird in a cage; but within it she was secure; who could tell what
dangers might beset her, should she flutter forth into the wide world! Now she
be thought her of the gallant Christian lover, and her little foot was
instantly upon the ladder; and anon she thought of her father, and shrank
back. But fruitless is the attempt to describe the conflict in the bosom of
one so young and tender and loving, but so timid, and so ignorant of the
world.
In vain her sisters implored, the duenna scolded, and the renegado
blasphemed beneath the balcony; the gentle little Moorish maid stood doubting
and wavering on the verge of elopement, tempted by the sweetness of the sin,
but terrified at its perils.
Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A distant tramp was
heard. "The patrols are walking their rounds," cried the renegado; "if we
linger, we perish. Princess, descend instantly, or we leave you."
Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation; then loosening the
ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution, she flung it from the balcony.
"It is decided!" cried she; "flight is now out of my power! Allah guide
and bless ye, my dear sisters!"
The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts of leaving her
behind, and would fain have lingered, but the patrol was advancing; the
renegado was furious, and they were hurried away to the subterraneous passage.
They groped their way through a fearful labyrinth, cut through the heart of
the mountain, and succeeded in reaching, undiscovered, an iron gate that
opened outside of the walls. The Spanish cavaliers were waiting to receive
them, disguised as Moorish soldiers of the guard, commanded by the renegado.
The lover of Zorahayda was frantic, when he learned that she had refused
to leave the tower; but there was no time to waste in lamentations. The two
princesses were placed behind their lovers, the discreet Kadiga mounted behind
the renegado, and they all set off at a round pace in the direction of the
Pass of Lope, which leads through the mountains towards Cordova.
They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of drums and
trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra.
"Our flight is discovered!" said the renegado.
"We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and we may distance all
pursuit," replied the cavaliers.
They put spurs to their horses, and scoured across the Vega. They
attained the foot of the mountain of Elvira, which stretches like a promontory
into the plain. The renegado paused and listened. "As yet," said he, "there is
no one on our traces, we shall make good our escape to the mountains."
While he spoke, a light blaze sprang up on the top of the watchtower of
the Alhambra.
"Confusion!" cried the renegado, "that bale fire will put all the guards
of the passes on the alert. Away! away! Spur like mad - there is no time to be
lost."
Away they dashed - the clattering of their horses` hoofs echoed from rock
to rock, as they swept along the road that skirts the rocky mountain of
Elvira. As they galloped on, the bale fire of the Alhambra was answered in
every direction; light after light blazed on the alalayas, or watchtowers of
the mountains.
"Forward! forward!" cried the renegado, with many an oath, "to the
bridge-to the bridge, before the alarm has reached there!"
They doubled the promontory of the mountains, and arrived in sight of the
famous Bridge of Pinos, that crosses a rushing stream often dyed with
Christian and Moslem blood. To their confusion, the tower on the bridge
blazed with lights and glittered with armed men. The renegado pulled up his
steed, rose in his stirrups and looked about him for a moment; then beckoning
to the cavaliers, he struck off from the road, skirted the river for some
distance, and dashed into its waters. The cavaliers called upon the princesses
to cling to them, and did the same. They were borne for some distance down the
rapid current, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful princesses
clung to their Christian knights, and never uttered a complaint. The cavaliers
attained the opposite bank in safety, and were conducted by the renegado, by
rude and unfrequented paths, and wild barrancos, through the heart of the
mountains, so as to avoid all the regular passes. In a word, they succeeded in
reaching the ancient city of Cordova; where their restoration to their country
and friends was celebrated with great rejoicings, for they were of the noblest
families. The beautiful princesses were forthwith received into the bosom of
the Church, and, after being in all due form made regular Christians, were
rendered happy wives.
In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses across the river,
and up the mountains, we forgot to mention the fate of the discreet Kadiga.
She had clung like a cat to Hussein Baba in the scamper across the Vega,
screaming at every bound, and drawing many an oath from the whiskered
renegado; but when he prepared to plunge his steed into the river, her terror
knew no bounds. "Grasp me not so tightly," cried Hussein Baba; "hold on by
my belt and fear nothing." She held firmly with both hands by the leathern
belt that girded the broad-backed renegado; but when he halted with the
cavaliers to take breath on the mountain summit, the duenna was no longer to
be seen.
"What has become of Kadiga?" cried the princesses in alarm.
"Allah alone knows!" replied the renegado; "my belt came loose when in
the midst of the river, and Kadiga was swept with it down the stream. The
will of Allah be done! but it was an embroidered belt, and of great price."
There was no time to waste in idle regrets; yet bitterly did the
princesses bewail the loss of their discreet counsellor. That excellent old
woman, however, did not lose more than half of her nine lives in the water: a
fisherman, who was drawing his nets some distance down the stream, brought her
to land, and was not a little astonished at his miraculous draught. What
further became of the discreet Kadiga, the legend does not mention; certain it
is that she evinced her discretion in never venturing within the reach of
Mohamed the Left-handed.
Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious monarch when
he discovered the escape of his daughters, and the deceit practised upon him
by the most faithful of servants. It was the only instance in which he had
called in the aid of counsel, and he was never afterwards known to be
guilty of a similar weakness. He took good care, however, to guard his
remaining daughter, who had no disposition to elope: it is thought, indeed,
that she secretly repented having remained behind: now and then she was
seen leaning on the battlements of the tower, and looking mournfully towards
the mountains in the direction of Cordova, and sometimes the notes of her
lute were heard accompanying plaintive ditties, in which she was said to
lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and to bewail her solitary life.
She died young, and, according to popular rumor, was buried in a vault beneath
the tower, and her untimely fate has given rise to more than one traditionary
fable.
The following legend, which seems in some measure to spring out of the
foregoing story, is too closely connected with high historic names to be
entirely doubted. The Count`s daughter, and some of her young companions, to
whom it was read in one of the evening tertulias, thought certain parts of it
had much appearance of reality; and Dolores, who was much more versed than
they in the improbable truths of the Alhambra, believed every word of it.
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