<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
<h3>DRIVEN TO THE SLAUGHTER.</h3>
<div class="drop">
<ANTIMG src="images/d.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="102" alt="D" class="cap" />
<p class="cap_2">During the reign of Queen Isabella there was no church in Seville in
which Protestants could assemble for worship.<SPAN name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</SPAN> Deprived thus of
outward means of grace, Lucius had formed a habit of walking on
Sundays as far as he could into the country, and there, under the
shade of some cork-tree, or clump of stone-pines, reading his Spanish
Testament, and, in perfect solitude, lifting up his heart in prayer
and in praise. On this Sunday he started on his walk rather more early
than usual, glad to leave behind him the jarring sounds of the city.
Already, however, Seville was all astir. Groups of people were passing
to the different churches, but these groups consisted almost entirely
of priests or women; by far the larger portion of the male population
of Seville were drawn<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</SPAN></span> towards a centre of stronger attraction,—that
centre was, as Lucius well knew, the Plaza de Toros. Thither, in an
hour or two, gay carriages would be bearing their smiling occupants to
gaze on scenes at which the bravest Briton might shudder. Already
little streams of people were flowing forth from winding street and
narrow lane, clad in holiday attire, eager to secure good places. Many
a ragged beggar, many a barefooted urchin, who could not hope to be
admitted into El Coliseo (as the Spaniards proudly name their circus),
went to swell the crowd round the entrance. They would at least enjoy
a sight of the gay procession of picadors, matadors, and chulos; they
would be able to join in the shout when a slaughtered bull should be
dragged out by a team of gaudily caparisoned mules.</p>
</div>
<p>At almost every street corner Lucius saw flaming placards from which
glared on his view the name of his hapless friend. When he reached the
bridge which spans the Guadalquivir, Lucius found the river dotted
with boats bringing gaily-dressed sight-seers from villages and
hamlets situated near its banks. Well pleased was the Englishman to
turn his back upon the city, and pursue his walk along the wild
Dehesa, as that tract of broken country is called which intervenes
between the towns of Seville and Xeres. The mind of Lucius on this
Sabbath-day<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</SPAN></span> was not attuned to enjoy the beauties of nature. He
noticed not the glades carpeted with yellow lotus, or fragrant with
the alhuçena, the purple lavender of Andalusia. Unobserved by him,
brilliant butterflies fluttered over the blossoms of the gum-cistus,
or lizards of green and gold basked in the glowing sunshine. The
spirit of Lucius was not only oppressed by anxiety, but saddened by
self-reproach.</p>
<p>"Had Aguilera known the Word of Truth," was the young man's
reflection, "he might have learned from its pages that his life is not
his own, to be hazarded like the stake of a gambler on the cast of the
dice! He might have learned that a nobler object is offered for the
aspirations of the soul than the plaudits of a Seville mob, or even
the favour of a woman! I have feared to offend the prejudices and lose
the friendship of Aguilera,—and all opportunity of doing him good may
now be passed away. Buried talent—buried talent—taken from me for
ever!"</p>
<p>Lucius had not proceeded far on his way, when he was roused from his
bitter reflections by the loud voice of some one in front of him
warning him to stand aside. Raising his eyes, which had been fixed on
the ground, the Englishman observed a cloud of dust before him, and
heard the trampling of hoofs.<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</SPAN></span> The road in this place had been a
cutting through a hill, and was somewhat narrow in breadth; high rough
banks rose on either side. Advancing along this road were now seen two
Spaniards on horse-back, armed with long spears. Behind them came a
troop of Andalusian bulls, driven by men on foot, who were clad in
sheep-skin, and armed with slings. Warned as he had been to get out of
the way, Lucius took a few steps up the right bank of the cutting,
less to place himself beyond reach of possible danger, than to obtain
a better view of the troop. Formidable animals appeared the bulls,
with their thick, powerful necks and large horns, as they moved
onwards towards the city, snorting and pawing the ground in the pride
of their mighty strength. As they passed the spot where Lucius stood,
the largest of the herd raised his dilated nostrils in the air, and
gave a bellow of defiance, which from that deep chest sounded terrible
as the roar of an angry lion.</p>
<p>The savage beasts passed on, but one of their drivers lingered for a
few minutes behind them, in order to repair his sandal, of which one
of the fastenings had given way on the road. Lucius descended from his
higher position, and joined the herdsman, who had seated himself on a
small projecting knoll, to effect his work with more ease. Lucius
courteously wished the man good-morning, and the roughly-clad peasant
returned the stranger's greeting with Spanish politeness.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image5a.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="324" alt="BEFORE THE FIGHT." title="" /> <span class="caption">BEFORE THE FIGHT.</span></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image5b.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="276" alt="AFTER THE FIGHT. Page 66" title="" /> <span class="caption">AFTER THE FIGHT.<br/>
Page 66</span></div>
<p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Are these bulls bound for the circus?" inquired the Englishman with
interest.</p>
<p>The driver nodded his head. "Ay, not one of them will be alive this
evening," observed the peasant. "The poor brutes would not go on so
proudly towards Seville if they knew what is before them."</p>
<p>"Danger awaits others besides them," muttered Lucius Lepine.</p>
<p>"Ay, señor," observed the herdsman, misunderstanding the drift of the
words; "other folk may go as blindfold as these bulls to their death,
strong and gay in the morning, dragged in the dust before night.
There's my own brother, for instance, he who lives in our village
under the sierra yonder. Poor Carlos was dancing the fandango one day
at a bridal, the merriest of the company there; on his way home he but
slipped his foot on a steep, rocky path, and down falls the strong,
active man, to be picked up with a broken back, and carried to our
cottage to lie, as he has done for months, groaning with pain, and
helpless as a child."</p>
<p>It occurred to Lucius that here might be an opportunity given to him
of introducing into an abode<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</SPAN></span> of suffering the comfort of God's holy
Word. "Can your brother read?" he inquired.</p>
<p>"Read!—ay, almost as well as the priest. Carlos always took to the
learning, whilst most of our folk know no more of letters than one of
the beasts that they drive." The man rose from his seat as he spoke,
for he had finished repairing his sandal with a morsel of string.</p>
<p>"Will you give your brother this from me?" said the Englishman, taking
from his breast-pocket the Spanish Testament, and offering it to the
hind with an effort to overcome the shyness which had hitherto
prevented his attempting to spread gospel-knowledge in Spain.</p>
<p>The man took the little volume with a blank stare of surprise at the
stranger who had made so extraordinary a present. The peasant then
opened and glanced at the contents of the book, and the expression on
his face changed to that of fanatical fierceness.</p>
<p>"Bad book—heretical—<i>muera a los Protestantes</i>!" (death to the
Protestants!) exclaimed the peasant, tearing out several pages from
the sacred volume, and then flinging it back at the face of the giver.
The fanatic would probably have added insults and imprecations, had
not the necessity of making up for lost time, by rejoining the herd
with<span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</SPAN></span> all speed, obliged the driver to run on quickly in the direction
of Seville.</p>
<p>Lucius with a sigh—for failure in an attempt to do good is always
painful—picked up first the Testament, and then the scattered
leaves,—all save one which escaped his notice, for a light wind had
whirled it away.</p>
<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
<div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></SPAN> I have been informed, since writing the above, that
there was an English chaplain; but we may suppose him to have been
absent at this time.</p>
</div>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</SPAN></span></p>
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