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              The ADVENTURES of ALPHONSO and MARINA;

                 An Interesting Spanish Tale.


Marina, at seventeen, was the most admired beauty in Granada. She was an
orphan, and heiress to an immense fortune, under the guardianship of an
old and avaricious uncle, whose name was Alonzo, and who passed his days
in counting ducats, and his nights in silencing serenades, nocturnally
addressed to Marina. His design was to marry her, for the sake of her
great fortune, to his own son, Henriquez, who had studied ten years in
the university of Salamanca, and was now able to explain Cornelius Nepos
tolerably well.

Almost all the cavaliers of Granada were in love with Marina. As they
could obtain a sight of her only at mass, the church she frequented was
filled with great numbers of the handsomest and most accomplished youths
of the country.

One of the most distinguished among these, was Don Alphonso, a captain
of cavalry, about twenty, not very rich, but of a family of the first
distinction. Handsome, polite, and witty, he attracted the eyes of all
the ladies of Granada; though he himself paid attention to none but
Marina, who, not insensible to his attachment, began, on her part, to
take notice of her admirer.

Two months passed away without the lovers daring to speak; nevertheless,
they silently said much. At the end of that time Don Alphonso found
means to convey a letter to his mistress; which informed her of what she
knew before. The reserved Marina had no sooner read this letter than she
sent it back to Don Alphonso; but, as she possessed an excellent memory,
she retained every word, and was able to return a very punctual answer,
a week afterwards.

A correspondence was now settled between the two lovers; but Don
Alphonso was desirous to be still more intimate. He had long solicited
permission to converse with Marina through her lattices. Such is the
custom in Spain, where the windows are of much more use during the night
than in the day. They are the places of rendezvous. When the street is
vacant and still, the lover wraps himself up in his cloak, and, taking
his sword, invokes love and night to favour him, and proceeds to some
low lattice, grated on the side next the street, and secured on the
inside by shutters.

He waits not long before the window opens softly, and the charming maid
appears. She asks, in a tremulous voice, if any one is there. Her lover,
transported at her condescension, endeavours to dispel her fears. They
talk in a whisper, and repeat the same thing a hundred times. Day, at
length, approaches, and they must separate.

Marina's lattice was on the ground floor, and opened into a narrow
passage, where the houses were ill built, and only inhabited by the
lower class of people. Don Alphonso's old nurse happened to occupy a
tenement directly opposite the window of Marina. Don Alphonso, therefore
repaired to his nurse. 'My good woman,' said he, 'I have been much to
blame to suffer you to live so long in this miserable habitation; but I
am now determined to make you amends, by giving you an apartment in my
own house. Come, and reside in that, and leave me to dispose of this.'

The worthy woman could not refrain from tears, and, for a long time,
refused; but, at last, overcome by his solicitations, she consented to
the exchange, with every expression of gratitude to her benefactor.

Never did any monarch enter his palace with more satisfaction than Don
Alphonso did the hovel of his nurse.

Early in the evening Marina appeared at her lattice. She promised to
repair thither every other night, and she kept her word. These
delightful interviews served only to fan the flame of love; and, very
soon, the lovers nights were constantly passed in pleasing conversation,
and their days in writing passionate epistles.

Just at this time, Henriquez, the intended husband of Marina, arrived
from Salamanca; bringing with him a declaration of his passion in Latin,
which had been written for him by the head of his college.

The lovers consulted each other on this event at the lattice; but, in
the mean time, the old guardian had drawn up a contract of marriage, and
a day was fixed on for the celebration of the nuptials of Marina and
Henriquez.

In these circumstances, the only remedy was to fly into Portugal. This
was determined; and it was also settled that the two lovers, on arriving
at Lisbon, should first marry, and afterwards have recourse to the law,
against the guardian.

Marina was to carry with her a box of jewels, which had been left her by
her mother. These were very valuable, and sufficient to maintain the
happy pair till the decision of their law-suit. To effect this escape,
it was necessary to procure the key of the lattice, and in this Marina
succeeded.

It was resolved also, that the next night, at eleven, Don Alphonso,
after having appointed horses to wait without the city, should come and
fetch Marina; who should descend from the window, into the arms of her
lover, and immediately set off for Portugal.

Don Alphonso spent the whole day in preparations for his departure.
Marina, on her part, was equally busy, in getting ready the little box
she was to take with her. She was very careful to secret in it a very
fine emerald, which had been given her by her lover.

Marina and her box were ready by eight in the evening; and, before ten,
Don Alphonso, who had already provided carriages on the road to
Andalusia, arrived at the appointed spot: his heart beating with
perturbation and hope.

As he approached the place, he heard persons calling for assistance, and
perceived two men attacked by five armed assassins. The brave and humane
Alphonso forgot his own affairs to defend the lives of the assaulted. He
wounded two, and put the other three to flight.

What was his surprise, on more attentively viewing the persons he had
delivered, to perceive they were no other than Henriquez, and Alonzo,
the guardian of Marina. Some desperate young cavalier of the city, who
was in love with Marina, knowing it was intended that Henriquez should
espouse her, had hired bravoes, to assassinate them; and, had it not
been for the valour of Don Alphonso, the young scholar and the old miser
would have found it no easy matter to escape.

Alphonso did his utmost to avoid their grateful acknowledgments, but
Henriquez, who piqued himself on having learned politeness at Salamanca,
swore he should not leave them that night. Alphonso, in despair, had
already heard the clock strike eleven. Alas! he knew not the misfortune
that had happened.

One of the bravoes, whom he had put to flight, had passed muffled up in
his cloak, near the lattice of Marina. The night was extremely dark, and
the unfortunate beauty, having opened the window, imagined him to be Don
Alphonso, and presented him the box with joyful impatience: 'Take our
diamonds,' said she, 'while I descend.'

At the word diamonds, the bravo suddenly stopped, took the box, without
speaking a word, and, while Marina was getting out of the window, fled
with the utmost precipitation.

Imagine the surprise of Marina, when she found herself alone in the
street, and saw nothing of him whom she had taken for Don Alphonso. She
thought, at first, he had left her, to avoid raising suspicion or alarm.
She, therefore, hastily walked to a little distance, looked round on
every side, and called in a low voice. But no Alphonso could she see; no
lover could she hear.

She was now seized with the most alarming apprehensions. She knew not
whether it were most adviseable to return home, or endeavour to find the
horses and attendants of Don Alphonso, that were waiting without the
city. She continued to walk forwards, in the utmost uncertainty and
distress, till she had lost herself in the streets; while her fears were
augmented by the darkness and silence of the night.

At length she met a person, whom she asked if she were far from the gate
of the city. The stranger conducted her thither; but she found nobody
waiting as she expected.

She dared not yet accuse her lover of deceiving her: still she hoped he
was at no great distance. She proceeded, therefore, along the road,
fearful of every bush, and calling Don Alphonso at every step; but the
farther she walked the more she was bewildered; for she had come out of
the city on the side opposite to the Portugal road.

In the mean time Don Alphonso found himself unable to get away from the
grateful Henriquez and his father. They would not suffer him to leave
them for a moment, but obliged him to enter the house with them; to
which Alphonso, fearful of betraying his intent, and frustrating his
dearest hopes; and imagining too that Marina might be soon acquainted
with the reason of his delay, most reluctantly consented.

Alonzo hastens to the chamber of his ward, to inform her of the danger
he had escaped. He calls, but receives no answer; he enters her
apartment, and finds the lattice open; his cries collect the servants,
and the alarm is immediately given, that Marina is missing.

Alphonso, in despair, immediately offered to go in quest of her.
Henriquez, thanking him for the concern he expressed, declared his
resolution to accompany him. Alphonso suggested, that the probability of
finding her would be greater, if they took different roads. Accordingly,
he hastened to rejoin his domestics: and not doubting but Marina had
taken the road to Portugal, put his horses at full speed. But their
swiftness only removed him farther from the object of his love; while
Henriquez galloped towards the Alpuxarian mountains, the way which
Marina had actually taken.

In the mean time, Marina continued to wander, disconsolate, along the
road that led to the Alpuxares. Presently she heard the clattering noise
of approaching horses; and at first, imagined it might be her beloved
Alphonso: but, afterward, fearful of discovery, or apprehensive of
robbers, she concealed herself, trembling, behind some bushes.

Here she presently saw Henriquez pass by, followed by a number of
servants. Shuddering at the danger of being again in the power of
Alonzo, if she continued in the high road, she turned aside, and took
refuge in a thick wood.

The Alpuxares are a chain of mountains, which extend from Granada to the
Mediterranean. They are inhabited only by a few peasants. To these, fear
and terror conducted the unfortunate maid. A dry and stony soil, with a
few oak trees, thinly scattered: some torrents and echoing cataracts,
and a number of wild goats, leaping from precipice to precipice; are the
only objects which present themselves at day-break to the eyes of
Marina. Exhausted, at length, by fatigue and vexation, she sat down in
the cavity of a rock, through the clefts of which a limpid water gently
oozed.

The silence of this grotto, the wildness of the landscape around, the
hoarse and distant murmur of several cascades, and the noise of the
water near her, falling drop by drop into the bason it had hollowed
beneath, all conspired to excite in Marina the most melancholy
sensations. Now she thought herself cruelly abandoned by her lover; and
now she persuaded herself that some mistake had happened: 'It certainly
could not be Alphonso,' said she, 'to whom I gave my diamonds. I must
have been mistaken. No doubt he is now far hence, seeking me with
anxiety and distraction; while I, as far distant from him, am perishing
here.'

While thus mournfully ruminating, Marina, on a sudden, heard the sound
of a rustic flute. Attentively listening, she soon heard an harmonious
voice, deploring, in plaintive strains, the infidelity of his mistress,
and the miseries of disappointed love.

'And who can be more sensible of this than myself?' said Marina, leaving
the grotto, in search of this unfortunate lover.

She found a young goatherd, sitting at the foot of a willow, his eyes
bedewed with tears, and intent on the water as it issued from its rocky
source. In his hand he held a flagalet, and by his side lay a staff and
a little parcel.

'Shepherd,' said Marina, 'you are no doubt forsaken by your Mistress:
have pity on one abandoned, like yourself, and conduct me to some
habitation, where I may procure sustenance, at least, though not
repose!'

'Alas! Madam,' answered the goatherd, 'I wish it were in my power to
conduct you to the village of Gadara, behind these rocks: but you will
not ask me to return thither, when you are informed that my mistress is
this day to be married to my rival. I am going to leave these mountains,
never to behold them more; and I carry nothing with me but my flute, a
change of dress, which I have in this parcel, and the memory of the
happiness which I have lost.'

This short account suggested a new project to Marina.

'My friend,' said she to the goatherd 'you have no money, which you will
certainly want, when you have left this country. I have a few ducats,
which I will divide with you, if you let me have the dress in your
parcel.'

The goatherd accepted the offer. Marina gave him a dozen ducats, and,
having learned the road to Gadara, took her leave of the despairing
lover, and returned into the grotto to put on her disguise.

She came out habited in a vest of chamois skin, with a shepherd's wallet
hanging by her side, and, on her head, a hat ornamented with ribbands.
In this attire she appeared yet more beautiful than when adorned with
brocades and jewels. She took the road to the village, and, stopping in
the market-place, enquired of the peasants, if they knew of any farmer
who wanted a servant.

The inhabitants surround her, and survey the stranger with admiration.
The girls express their surprise at the beauty of her flowing ringlets.
Her elegant form, her graceful manner, the brilliancy of her eyes, even
though dejected, their superior intelligence and mild benignity,
astonish and delight all beholders. No one could conceive from whence
came this beautiful youth. One imagines him a person of high distinction
in disguise; another, a prince in love with some shepherdess; while the
schoolmaster, who was at the same time the poet of the village,
declared it must be Apollo, sent down, a second time, to keep sheep
among mortals!

Marina, who assumed the name of Marcello, was not long in want of a
master. She was hired by an aged alcaid, or judge of the village,
esteemed one of the worthiest men in the whole province.

This honest countryman soon contracted the warmest friendship for
Marina. He scarcely suffered her to tend his flock for a month before he
gave her an employment within his house, in which the pretended Marcello
behaved with so much propriety and fidelity, that he was equally beloved
by his master, and the servants.

Before he had lived here six months, the alcaid, who was more than
eighty, left the management of all his affairs to Marcello: he even
asked his opinion in all the causes that came before him, and never had
any alcaid decided with so much justice as he, from the time he
permitted himself to be guided by the advice of Marcello, who was
proposed as an example to all the village: his affability, his pleasing
manner, and his good sense, gained every heart. 'See the excellent
Marcello,' cried the mothers to their sons, 'he is perpetually employed
in rendering his old master's age happy, and never neglects his duty, to
run after the shepherdesses!'

Two years passed away in this manner. Marina, whose thoughts were
continually employed on her lover, had sent a shepherd, in whom she
could confide, to Granada, to procure information concerning Don
Alphonso, Alonzo, and Henriquez. The shepherd brought word back, that
Alonzo was dead, Henriquez married; and that Alphonso had not been seen
or heard of for two years.

Marina now lost all hope of again beholding her lover, and, happy in
being able to pass her days in that village, in the bosom of peace and
friendship, had resolved to bid an eternal adieu to love, when the old
alcaid, her master, fell dangerously ill. Marcello attended his last
moments with all the affection of a son, and the good old man behaved to
him like a grateful father: he died and left all he possessed to the
faithful Marcello. But his will was far from being a consolation to his
heir.

The whole village lamented the alcaid, and, after his funeral rites were
celebrated, the inhabitants assembled to choose a successor. In Spain
certain villages have the right of nominating their own alcaid, whose
office it is to decide their differences, and take cognizance of greater
crimes by arresting and examining the offenders, and delivering them
over to the superior judges, who generally confirm the sentence of those
rustic magistrates; for good laws are always perfectly consonant to
simple reason.

The assembled villagers unanimously agreed, that no one could be so
proper to succeed the late alcaid as the youth whom he seemed to have
designed for his successor. The old men, therefore, followed by their
sons, came with the usual ceremonies to offer Marina the wand, the
ensign of the office. Marina accepted, and sensibly touched by such a
proof of esteem and affection from these good people, resolved to
consecrate to their happiness a life which she had formerly intended to
dedicate to love.

While the new alcaid is engaged with the duties of her office, let us
return to the unfortunate Don Alphonso, whom we left galloping towards
Portugal, and continually removing farther from the beloved object of
his pursuit.

Don Alphonso arrived at Lisbon, without obtaining any intelligence of
Marina, and immediately returned, by the same road, to search every
place he had before in vain examined; again he returned to Lisbon, but
without success.

After six months ineffectual enquiry, being convinced that Marina had
never returned to Granada, he imagined she might perhaps be at Seville,
where, he knew, she had relations. He immediately hastened to Seville,
and there found that Marina's relations had just embarked for Mexico.

Don Alphonso no longer doubted that his mistress was gone with them, and
directly went on board the last ship which remained to sail. He arrived
at Mexico, where he found the relations, but alas! no Marina: they had
heard nothing of her: he, therefore, returned to Spain. And now the ship
is attacked by a violent storm, and cast away on the coast of Granada;
he, and a few of the passengers, save themselves by swimming; they land,
and make their way to the mountains, to procure assistance, and, by
accident or love, are conducted to Gadara.

Don Alphonso and his unfortunate companions, took refuge in the first
inn, congratulating each other on the danger they had escaped. While
they were discoursing on their adventures, one of the passengers began
to quarrel with a soldier, concerning a box, which the passenger
asserted belonged to him.

Don Alphonso desirous to put an end to the contention, obliged the
passenger to declare what it contained, opening it, at the same time, to
discover whether he spoke truth.

How great was his surprise to find in it the jewels of Marina, and,
among them the very emerald he had given her. For a moment he stood
motionless, examining attentively the casket, and fixing his eyes,
sparkling with rage, on the claimant, 'how came you by these jewels?'
said he, with a terrible voice.

'What does it signify,' replied the passenger, haughtily, 'how I came by
them? It is sufficient that they are mine.'

He then endeavoured to snatch the casket from Don Alphonso; but the
latter, pushing him back, instantly drew his sword, and exclaiming,
'Wretch, confess your crime, or you die this moment,' attacked him with
great fury: his antagonist defended himself desperately, but presently
received a mortal wound, and fell.

Don Alphonso was immediately surrounded by the people of the house. They
take him to prison, and the master of the inn sends his wife to fetch
the clergyman of the parish, that he may administer spiritual comfort to
the dying man, while he runs himself, to the alcaid to carry the casket,
and inform him of the whole adventure.

How great was the surprise, the joy, and the anxiety of Marina on
perceiving her diamonds, and hearing the behaviour of the noble
stranger!

She immediately hastened to the inn: the minister was already there; and
the dying man, induced by his exhortations, declared, in presence of the
alcaid, that, two years before, as he was one night passing through a
street in Granada, a lady had given him that box, through a lattice,
desiring him to hold it till she came down, but that he immediately made
off with the jewels; for which theft he asked pardon of God, and of the
unknown lady he had injured. He immediately expired, and Marina hastened
to the prison.

Imagine the palpitations of her heart: she could no longer doubt but she
should again see Don Alphonso, but she was apprehensive of being known
by him: she therefore pulled her hat over her eyes, wrapped herself up
in her cloak, and, preceded by her clerk and the gaoler, entered the
dungeon.

No sooner had she come to the bottom of the stairs than she perceived
Don Alphonso. Her joy almost deprived her of speech; she leaned against
the wall, her head sunk on her shoulder, and the tears bedewed her
cheeks. She wiped them away, stopped a moment to take breath, and,
endeavouring to speak with firmness, approached the prisoner.

'Stranger,' said she, disguising her voice, 'you have killed your
companion. What could induce you to commit such a horrid crime?'

'Alcaid,' answered Don Alphonso, 'I have committed no crime; it was an
act of justice; but I am desirous to die. Death alone can end the
miseries, of which the wretch I have sacrificed was the first cause.
Condemn me. I wish not to make a defence. Deliver me from a life which
is hateful to me, since I have lost what alone could render it
delightful; since I can no longer hope ever to find'----

He was scarce able to conclude, and his voice faintly expressed the name
of Marina.

Marina trembled on hearing him pronounce her name. She could scarcely
conceal her transports, but was ready to throw herself into the arms of
her lover. The presence, however, of so many witnesses restrained her.
She, therefore, turned away her eyes, and faintly requested to be left
alone with the prisoner. She was obeyed.

Giving a free course to her tears she advanced towards Don Alphonso, and
offering him her hand, said to him, in a most affectionate tone, 'Do you
then still love her who lives for you alone?'

At these words, at this voice, Alphonso lifts his head, unable to
believe his eyes. 'Oh Heavens! Is it--is it my Marina! Or is it some
angelic being assuming her form? Yes, it is my Marina herself, I can no
longer doubt it,' cried he, clamping her in his arms, and bathing her
with his tears. 'It is my love, my life, and all my woes are ended.'

'No,' said Marina, as soon as she could recover speech, 'you are guilty
of bloodshed, and I cannot free you from your fetters; but I will repair
to-morrow to the superior judge, will inform him of the secret of my
birth, relate to him our misfortunes, and, if he refuses me your
liberty, will return and end my days with you in this prison.'

Marcello immediately gave orders for the removal of Alphonso from the
dungeon into a less hideous place of security. He took care that he
should want for nothing, and returned home to prepare for his journey,
the next day, when a most alarming event prevented his departure, and
hastened the delivery of Don Alphonso.

Some Algerine galleys, which had for several days pursued the ship on
board which Don Alphonso was, had arrived on the coast, some time after
the shipwreck; and willing to repay themselves for the trouble they had
taken, had determined to land, during the night. Two renegadoes, who
knew the country, undertook to conduct the barbarians to the village of
Gadara, and fulfilled their promise but too well.

About one in the morning, when labour enjoys repose, and villainy wakes
to remorse, the dreadful cry _to arms! to arms!_ was heard.

The Corsairs had landed, and were burning and slaughtering all before
them. The darkness of the night, the groans of the dying, and the
shrieks of the inhabitants, filled every heart with consternation. The
trembling wives caught their husbands in their arms; and the old men
sought succour from their sons. In a moment the village was in flames,
the light of which discovered the gory scymitars and white turbans of
the Moors.

Those barbarians, the flambeau in one hand, and the hatchet in the
other, were breaking and burning the doors of the houses; making their
way through the smoaking ruins, to seek for victims or for plunder, and
returning covered with blood, and loaded with booty.

Here they rush into the chamber, to which two lovers, the bride and
bridegroom of the day, had been conducted by their mother. Each on their
knees, side by side, was pouring forth thanks to heaven, for having
crowned their faithful wishes. An unfeeling wretch, remorseless, seizes
the terrified bride; loads her unhappy lover, whom in cruelty he spares,
with chains; and snatches before his face, in spite of his distraction,
his tears, prayers, and exclamations, that prize which was due to him
alone.

There they take the sleeping infant from its cradle. The mother,
frantic, defends it, singly, against an host. Nothing can repel, nothing
can terrify her. Death she braves and provokes. For her child she
supplicates, threatens, and combats; while the tender infant, already
seized by these tigers, starts, wakes, stares, with the wild agony of
terror, on the grim visage of its murderer, and sinks into convulsive
horror and sleep, from which it wakes no more.

Nothing is held sacred by these monsters. They force their way into the
temples of the Most High, break the shrines, strip off the gold, and
trample the holy relics under foot. Alas! of what avail to the priests
is their sacred character? to the aged their grey hairs? to youth its
graces, or to infancy its innocence? Slavery, fire, devastation, and
death are every where, and compassion is fled.

On the first alarm the Alcaid made all haste to the prison to inform Don
Alphonso of the danger. The brave Alphonso demanded a sword for himself
and a buckler for the Alcaid. He takes Marina by the hand, and making
his way to the market-place, thus accosts the fugitives: 'My friends,
are ye Spaniards, and do ye abandon your wives and children to the fury
of the infidels?'

He stops, he rallies them, inspires them with his own valor, and, more
than human, (for he is a lover, and a hero) rushes, sabre in hand, on a
party of the Moors, whom he instantly disperses. The inhabitants recover
their recollection and their courage; enraged, behold their slaughtered
friends; and hasten in crowds to join their leader.

Alphonso, without quitting Marina, and ever solicitous to expose his
life in her defence, attacks the barbarians at the head of his brave
Spaniards, and dealing destruction to all who make resistance, drives
the fugitives before him, retakes the plunder and the prisoners, and
only quits the pursuit of the enemy to return and extinguish the flames.

The day began to break, when a body of troops, who had received
information of the descent of the infidels, arrived from a neighbouring
town. The governor had put himself at their head and found Don Alphonso
surrounded by women, children, and old men; who, weeping, kissed his
hands, with unfeigned gratitude, for having preserved their husbands,
their fathers, or their sons.

The governor, informed of the exploits of Don Alphonso, loaded him with
praises and caresses; but Marina, requesting to be heard, declared to
the governor in presence of the whole village, her sex; giving, at the
same time, a relation of her adventures, the death of the bravo by Don
Alphonso, and the circumstances which rendered him excusable.

All the inhabitants, greatly affected with her story, fell at the feet
of the governor, intreating pardon for the man to whom they were
indebted for their preservation. Their request was granted, and the
happy Alphonso, thus restored to his dear Marina, embraced the governor,
and blessed the good inhabitants. One of the old men then advanced:
'Brave stranger,' said he, 'you are our deliverer, but you take from us
our Alcaid; this loss perhaps outweighs your benefit. Double our
blessings; instead of depriving us of our greatest, remain in this
village; condescend to become our Alcaid, our master, our friend. Honour
us so far, as to permit nothing to abate our love for you. In a great
city, the cowardly and the wicked, who maintain the same rank with
yourself, will think themselves your equals; while, here, every virtuous
inhabitant will look on you as his father; next to the Deity himself,
you will receive, from us, the highest honour; and, while life remains,
on the anniversary of this day, the fathers of our families will present
their children before you, saying, 'behold the man who preserved the
lives of your mothers.'

Alphonso was enchanted while he listened to the old man. 'Yes,' cried
he, 'my children, yes, my brethren, I will remain here. My life shall be
devoted to Marina and to you. But my wife has considerable possessions
in Granada. Our excellent governor will add his interest to ours that we
may recover them, and they shall be employed to rebuild the houses which
the Infidels have burnt. On this condition alone, will I accept the
office of Alcaid; and though I should expend in your service, both my
riches and my life, I should still be your debtor; for it is you who
have restored to me my Marina!'

Imagine the transports of the villagers while Alphonso spoke. The
governor was a person of power, and undertook to arrange every thing to
his wish; and, two days afterwards, the marriage was celebrated between
Marina and her lover.

Notwithstanding their late misfortunes, nothing could exceed the joy of
the inhabitants. The two lovers long lived in unexampled felicity; and
made the whole district as virtuous and happy as themselves.