CHAPTER III.
A RIVAL.
Calderon's eyes were fixed musingly on the door which closed on Fonseca's
martial and noble form.
"Great contrasts among men!" said he, half aloud. "All the classes into
which naturalists ever divided the animal world contained not the variety
that exists between man and man. And yet, we all agree in one object of
our being--all prey on each other! Glory, which is but the thirst of
blood, makes yon soldier the tiger of his kind; other passions have made
me the serpent: both fierce, relentless, unscrupulous--both! hero and
courtier, valour and craft! Hein! I will serve this young man--he has
served me. When all other affection was torn from me, he, then a boy,
smiled on me and bade me love him. Why has he been so long forgotten?
He is not of the race that I abhor; no Moorish blood flows in his veins;
neither is he of the great and powerful, whom I dread; nor of the
crouching and the servile, whom I despise: he is one whom I can aid
without a blush."
While Calderon thus soliloquised, the arras was lifted aside, and a
cavalier, on whose cheek was the first down of manhood, entered the
apartment.
"So, Roderigo, alone! welcome back to Madrid. Nay, seat thyself, man--
seat thyself."
Calderon bowed with the deepest reverence; and, placing a large fauteuil
before the stranger, seated himself on stool, at a little distance.
The new comer was of sallow complexion; his gorgeous dress sparkled with
prodigal jewels. Boy as he was, there was a yet a careless loftiness, a
haughty ease, in the gesture--the bend of the neck, the wave of the hand,
which, coupled with the almost servile homage of the arrogant favourite,
would have convinced the most superficial observer that he was born of
the highest rank. A second glance would have betrayed, in the full
Austrian lip--the high, but narrow forehead--the dark, voluptuous, but
crafty and sinister eye, the features of the descendant of Charles V. It
was the Infant of Spain that stood in the chamber of his ambitious
minion.
"This is convenient, this private entrance into thy penetralia, Roderigo.
It shelters me from the prying eyes of Uzeda, who ever seeks to cozen the
sire by spying on the Son. We will pay him off one of these days. He
loves you no less than he does his prince."
"I bear no malice to him for that, your highness. He covets the smiles
of the rising sun and rails at the humble object which, he thinks,
obstructs the beam."
"He might be easy on that score: I hate the man, and his cold
formalities. He is ever fancying that we princes are intent on the
affairs of state, and forgets that we are mortal and that youth is the
age for the bower, not the council. My precious Calderon, life would be
dull without thee: how I rejoice at thy return, thou best inventor of
pleasure that satiety ever prayed for! Nay, blush not: some men despise
thee for thy talents: I do thee homage. By my great grandsire's beard,
it will be a merry time at court when I am monarch, and thou minister!"
Calderon looked earnestly at the prince, but his scrutiny did not serve
to dispel a certain suspicion of the royal sincerity that ever and anon
came across the favourite's most sanguine dreams. With all Philip's
gaiety, there was something restrained and latent in his ambiguous smile,
and his calm, deep, brilliant eye. Calderon, immeasurably above his lord
in genius, was scarcely, perhaps, the equal of that beardless boy in
hypocrisy and craft, in selfish coldness, in matured depravity.
"Well," resumed the prince, "I pay you not these compliments without an
object. I have need of you--great need; never did I so require your
services as at this moment; never was there so great demand on your
invention, your courage, your skill. Know, Calderon, I love!"
"My prince," said the marquis, smiling, "it is certainly not first love.
How often has your highness--"
"No," interrupted the prince, hastily,--"no, I never loved till now. We
never can love what we can easily win; but this, Calderon, this heart
would be a conquest. Listen. I was at the convent chapel of St. Mary of
the White Sword yesterday with the queen. Thou knowest that the abbess
once was a lady of the chamber, and the queen loves her."
Both of us were moved and astonished by the voice of one of the choir--
it was that of a novice. After the ceremony the queen made inquiries
touching this new Santa Cecilia; and who dost thou think she is? No;
thou wilt never guess!--the once celebrated singer--the beautiful, the
inimitable Beatriz Coello! Ah! you may well look surprised; when
actresses turn nuns, it is well-nigh time for Calderon and Philip to turn
monks. Now, you must know, Roderigo, that I, unworthy though I be, am
the cause of this conversion. There is a certain Martin Fonseca, a
kinsman of Lerma's--thou knowest him well. I learned, some time since,
from the duke, that this young Orlando was most madly enamoured of a low-
born girl--nay, desired to wed her. The duke's story moved my curiosity.
I found that it was the young Beatriz Coello, whom I had already admired
on the stage. Ah, Calderon, she blazed and set during thy dull mission
to Lisbon! I sought an opportunity to visit her. I was astonished at
her beauty, that seemed more dazzling in the chamber than on the stage.
I pressed my suit-in vain. Calderon, hear you that?--in vain! Why wert
thou not by? Thy arts never fail, my friend! She was living with an old
relation, or governante. The old relation died suddenly--I took
advantage of her loneliness--I entered her house at night. By St. Jago,
her virtue baffled and defeated me. The next morning she was gone; nor
could my researches discover her, until, at the convent of St. Mary, I
recognised the lost actress in the young novice. She has fled to the
convent to be true to Fonseca; she must fly from the convent to bless the
prince. This is my tale: I want thy aid."
"Prince," said Calderon, gravely, "thou knowest the laws of Spain; the
rigour of the Church. I dare not--"
"Pshaw. No scruples--my rank will bear thee harmless. Nay, look not so
demure; why, even thou, see, hast thy Armida. This billet in a female
hand--Heaven and earth Calderon! What name is this? Beatriz Coello!
Darest thou have crossed my path? Speak, sir!--speak!"
"Your highness," said Calderon, with a mixture of respect and dignity in
his manner--"your highness, hear me. My first benefactor, my beloved
pupil, my earliest patron, was the same Don Martin Fonseca who seeks this
girl with an honest love. This morning he has visited me, to implore my
intercession on his behalf. Oh, prince! turn not away: thou knowest not
half his merit. Thou knowest not the value of such subjects--men of the
old iron race of Spain. Thou hast a noble and royal heart: be not the
rival to the defender of thy crown. Bless this brave soldier--spare this
poor orphan--and one generous act of self-denial shall give thee
absolution for a thousand pleasures."
"This from Roderigo Calderon!" said the prince, with bitter sneer. "Man,
know thy station and thy profession. When I want homilies, I seek my
confessor; when I have resolved on a vice, I come to thee. A truce with
this bombast. For Fonseca, he shall be consoled; and when he shall learn
who is his rival, he is a traitor if he remain discontented with his lot.
Thou shalt aid me, Calderon!"
"Your highness will pardon me--no!"
"Do I hear right? No! Art thou not my minion--my instrument? Can I not
destroy as I have helped to raise thee? Thy fortunes have turned thy
brain. The king already suspects and dislikes thee; thy foe, Uzeda, has
his ear. The people execrate thee. If I abandon thee, thou art lost.
Look to it!"
Calderon remained mute and erect, with his arms folded on his breast, and
his cheek flushed with suppressed passions. Philip gazed at him
earnestly, and then, muttering to himself, approached the favourite with
an altered air.
"Come, Calderon--I have been hasty-you maddened me; I meant not to wound
you. Thou art honest, I think thou lovest me; and I will own, that in
ordinary circumstances thy advice would be good, and thy scruples
laudable. But I tell thee that I adore this girl; that I have set all my
hopes upon her; that, at whatever cost, whatever risks, she must be mine.
Wilt thou desert me? Wilt thou on whose faith I have ever leaned so
trustingly, forsake thy friend and thy prince for this brawling soldier?
No; I wrong thee."
"Oh!" said Calderon, with much semblance of emotion, "I would lay down my
life in your service, and I have often surrendered my conscience to your
lightest will. But this would be so base a perfidy in me! He has
confided his life of life to my hands. How canst even thou count on my
faith if thou knowest me false to another?"
"False! art thou not false to me? Have I not confided to thee, and dost
thou not desert me--nay, perhaps, betray? How wouldst thou serve this
Fonseca? How liberate the novice?"
"By an order of the court. Your royal mother--"
"Enough!" said the prince, fiercely; "do so. Thou shalt have leisure
for repentance."
As he spoke, Philip strode to the door. Calderon, alarmed and anxious,
sought to detain him; but the prince broke disdainfully away, and
Calderon was again alone.
