About five leagues
from Madrid, Balseiro had a cave in a wild unfrequented spot
between the Escurial and a village called Torre Lodones: to this
cave the children were conducted, where they remained in durance
under the custody of the two accomplices; Balseiro in the meantime
remaining in Madrid for the purpose of conducting negotiations with
the father. The father, however, was a man of considerable energy,
and instead of acceding to the terms of the ruffian, communicated
in a letter, instantly took the most vigorous measures for the
recovery of his children. Horse and foot were sent out to scour
the country, and in less than a week the children were found near
the cave, having been abandoned by their keepers, who had taken
fright on hearing of the decided measures which had been resorted
to; they were, however, speedily arrested and identified by the
boys as their ravishers. Balseiro perceiving that Madrid was
becoming too hot to hold him, attempted to escape, but whether to
the camp of Gibraltar or to the land of the Moor, I know not; he
was recognized, however, at a village in the neighbourhood of
Madrid, and being apprehended, was forthwith conducted to the
capital, where he shortly after terminated his existence on the
scaffold, with his two associates; Gabiria and his children being
present at the ghastly scene, which they surveyed from a chariot at
their ease.
Such was the end of Balseiro, of whom I should certainly not have
said so much, but for the affair of the crabbed Gitano. Poor
wretch! he acquired that species of immortality which is the object
of the aspirations of many a Spanish thief, whilst vapouring about
in the patio, dressed in the snowy linen; the rape of the children
of Gabiria made him at once the pet of the fraternity. A
celebrated robber, with whom I was subsequently imprisoned at
Seville, spoke his eulogy in the following manner. -
"Balseiro was a very good subject, and an honest man. He was the
head of our family, Don Jorge; we shall never see his like again;
pity that he did not sack the parne (money), and escape to the camp
of the Moor, Don Jorge."
CHAPTER XLI
Maria Diaz - Priestly Vituperation - Antonio's Visit - Antonio at
Service - A Scene - Benedict Mol - Wandering in Spain - The Four
Evangiles.
"Well," said I to Maria Diaz on the third morning after my
imprisonment, "what do the people of Madrid say to this affair of
mine?"
"I do not know what the people of Madrid in general say about it,
probably they do not take much interest in it; indeed,
imprisonments at the present time are such common matters that
people seem to be quite indifferent to them; the priests, however,
are in no slight commotion, and confess that they have committed an
imprudent thing in causing you to be arrested by their friend the
corregidor of Madrid."
"How is that?" I inquired. "Are they afraid that their friend will
be punished?"
"Not so, Senor," replied Maria; "slight grief indeed would it cause
them, however great the trouble in which he had involved himself on
their account; for this description of people have no affection,
and would not care if all their friends were hanged, provided they
themselves escaped. But they say that they have acted imprudently
in sending you to prison, inasmuch as by so doing they have given
you an opportunity of carrying a plan of yours into execution.
'This fellow is a bribon,' say they, 'and has commenced tampering
with the prisoners; they have taught him their language, which he
already speaks as well as if he were a son of the prison. As soon
as he comes out he will publish a thieves' gospel, which will still
be a more dangerous affair than the Gypsy one, for the Gypsies are
few, but the thieves! woe is us; we shall all be Lutheranized.
What infamy, what rascality! It was a trick of his own. He was
always eager to get into prison, and now in evil hour we have sent
him there, el bribonazo; there will be no safety for Spain until he
is hanged; he ought to be sent to the four hells, where at his
leisure he might translate his fatal gospels into the language of
the demons.' "
"I but said three words to the alcayde of the prison," said I,
"relative to the jargon used by the children of the prison."
"Three words! Don Jorge; and what may not be made out of three
words? You have lived amongst us to little purpose if you think we
require more than three words to build a system with: those three
words about the thieves and their tongue were quite sufficient to
cause it to be reported throughout Madrid that you had tampered
with the thieves, had learnt their language, and had written a book
which was to overturn Spain, open to the English the gates of
Cadiz, give Mendizabal all the church plate and jewels, and to Don
Martin Luther the archiepiscopal palace of Toledo."
Late in the afternoon of a rather gloomy day, as I was sitting in
the apartment which the alcayde had allotted me, I heard a rap at
the door. "Who is that?" I exclaimed. "C'est moi, mon maitre,"
cried a well-known voice, and presently in walked Antonio Buchini,
dressed in the same style as when I first introduced him to the
reader, namely, in a handsome but rather faded French surtout, vest
and pantaloons, with a diminutive hat in one hand, and holding in
the other a long and slender cane.
"Bon jour, mon maitre," said the Greek; then glancing around the
apartment, he continued, "I am glad to find you so well lodged.
