Turian And Floreta

There lived once in very ancient times in Spain a young prince, the
Infante Turian. He was a very beautiful youth, and the only child
of his parents, King Canamor and his consort Leonela: they were thus
tempted to indulge him very much, and, as we should say, to spoil him;
in fact, he was allowed to have every thing he asked for, and when any
present or novel article of merchandise was brought to the palace,
if it happened to take his fancy, he got into a way of expecting to
have it for his own, and no one thought of thwarting him.

One day there came a foreign merchant to the court, who, instead of
having a train of mules heavily laden with varieties of his wares
to suit all tastes and fancies, was quite alone and unattended, and
himself bore his whole stock. It consisted, indeed, of but one little
parcel easily stowed away in the folds of his cloak. The servants
were scandalized at such a mean apparatus, and would have driven
him away without letting him have a chance of addressing himself
to their masters, telling him if he had nothing more to show than
the contents of one little case, it was not worth while to trouble
them. It was in vain the merchant urged that what he had to show was
of priceless value, and in itself alone was worth all the mule-loads
of other merchants put together: they held it for idle raving, and
bid him begone.

It happened, however, that the Infante Turian was coming home at the
moment, and hearing the altercation, his curiosity was piqued to know
what it could be that could be counted so precious. He had horses,
and arms, and trappings, and gay clothes, and games, and baubles
of every sort, and he had wearied of them all. He had acquired them
without labour, and he consequently held them without esteem. Now there
appeared a chance of some quite fresh sensation; moreover, the merchant
himself had a strange air which fascinated him; again, his accent was
different from any he had heard before, and suggested that he brought
the productions of some climate which had not yet laid its stores at
his feet. Proud, too, to show his power in setting the man free from
the importunate scorn of the servants, he ordered them to stand back,
and then gave the strange merchant permission to open his store.

Assuming an air of mystery, which excited the young prince still more,
the merchant, however, now told him he must take him to some private
recess apart, as what he had to show must be seen only by royal
eyes. The prince accepted all conditions in his eagerness, and was
indeed rather flattered by this one. As soon as they were quite alone,
the strange merchant placed before him a portrait. Yes, nothing but a
portrait in a very simple frame! But it was such a portrait that it
quite turned poor Turian's head. He had never before dreamt of any
thing so beautiful; he went into ecstasies at first sight, kissed
it, gazed at it, paced up and down the hall with it, raved about it,
and grew almost frantic, when the strange merchant at last went up
to him and said it was time for him to go home, and he must have the
portrait to pack up again.

"Pack up again!" cried the prince: "why, I buy it of you at triple,
tenfold, an hundredfold its weight in gold."

The merchant assured him it could not be sold; he required, indeed,
a considerable price for suffering it to be seen, but part with it
he could not, on any conditions whatever.

The prince threw his purse to him, and ordered him in no measured
terms to depart while the way was clear, otherwise he would set on
him the myrmidons from whom he had but now released him.

The strange merchant quietly picked up the purse, counted out
conscientiously the sum he had named as the price for the sight of the
picture, and laid down the rest; deliberately stowed away his fee in
his belt, and at the same time took from it, unperceived by the prince,
a little box of powder; then suddenly turning round, he scattered its
contents over his face, producing instant insensibility. Prepared for
the effect, he caught him in his arms, and laid him gently on a bench,
and then, possessing himself of his picture, he stealthily left the
castle, unperceived by all.

When the Infante Turian came to himself, some hours afterwards, of
course pursuit was vain; nor could any trace be learnt of the way
the stranger had taken.

The prince was furious that, at least, he had not learnt some clue
as to the original of the portrait, but there had not been time for
a word of inquiry. And when he set himself to recall every detail,
all that would come back to his mind was, that on the blue embroidery
of the white drapery which veiled the matchless form, he had made out
in curious characters the name Floreta. Armed with this only guide,
he determined to roam the world till he discovered the real beauty
whose ideal had so absorbed him.

King Canamor and Queen Leonela were inconsolable at the idea of their
only son leaving them on so wild an errand; but they had never taught
him obedience and self-control, and they could not move him now. All
their persuasions could obtain was his consent to be accompanied by
the Conde Dirlos, an ancient counsellor of great wisdom and authority
in the kingdom, who would know how to procure him assistance by
land and sea, in whatever enterprise he might be minded to take in
hand. But it was stipulated that he was to control him in nothing:
simply watch over him, and further his designs, so as to save him
from fatigue and danger.

On they wandered for a year and a day, meeting many adventures and
incurring many perils; but no one knew the name of Floreta. Wherever
they went it was still a foreign name. At last--it was just the day
year that the strange merchant had brought the portrait--their travels
brought them to a steep mountain-path, which led down to the sea. At
a turn of the winding road, just below them, a tall figure appeared,
wrapped in a long cloak, and wearing a high-peaked cap. The prince
gave a bound of joy, and shouted to the figure to halt. It paid no
heed, however. "Stop! or you are dead!" shouted the prince, at the
same time pointing an arrow with unerring aim at a spot a little in
advance of the moving figure. As if conscious of what was going on,
though he never moved his head, the strange merchant--for it was
he, and the prince had instantly recognized him--stood still for an
instant, as the bolt rattled in the ground on which he would have
stood had he pursued his way three steps further, and then passed
on unheeding. The prince shouted more madly than before; but to no
purpose; and in another moment the wind of the road had taken him
out of sight.

Madly the prince spurred his horse in pursuit, and reached the turn;
but no living form was to be seen. The rocks now resounded with the
cries and imprecations with which he adjured the magician--for such he
now rightly deemed him--to stand forth. At last, when he was silent
from sheer exhaustion, a low but commanding voice from the depths
of a neighbouring cave bade him listen, but, as he valued his life,
advance not.

"Speak!" cried the prince; "nor torture me with longer suspense. What
must I do to find Floreta? I am prepared to go to the end of the world,
to undergo any hardship, any torture, to find her; but find her I
am determined: if you refuse your help, then by help of some other;
so you see it is idle to turn a deaf ear."

"By none other help but mine," answered the magician, "can you find
Floreta; so your threats are vain. But if I had not meant you to see
her, I should not have shown you the portrait at first, for I knew its
influence could not be other than that it has exercised. I am going to
instruct you how to reach her; but first you must give me my guerdon."

"Name it; ask what you will," interposed the impetuous prince;
"ask my kingdom if you like; but keep me not in suspense."

"I only ask what is reasonable," answered the magician; "the real
is worth a thousandfold the representation;" and he named a price
equivalent to a thousand times the sum he had originally received.

Without so much as waiting to reply, Turian turned to Conde Dirlos
and told him now was the time to fulfil his father's behest by
accomplishing this requirement, and begged him to raise the money
without an instant's loss of time.

The count remonstrated in vain, and in vain represented the miseries
he would be inflicting on the people by requiring, in so sudden a
manner, the levy of so large a sum. Turian, blinded by his passion,
bid him save his words, as nothing could change his purpose; and the
king's orders to obey him having been unconditional, Conde Dirlos
set out with a heavy heart to comply.

Ten days of anxious suspense during his absence were spent by the
prince in wandering over the rugged declivities of the coast: the
ardour of his excitement demanded to be fed with deeds of daring
and danger. When he was not so occupied, he was seated panting on
the topmost crags, scouring the whole country with his eager glance
to descry the first impression of the return of the count, with the
means of pursuing his desperate resolve.

The day came at last. And afar off, first only like so many black
specks, but gradually revealing themselves as Conde Dirlos on
his faithful steed, and a long file of heavily-laden mules, came
the anxiously expected train. And now he never left his point of
observation; but cursed the sluggish hours, as he watched the team now
steering over the sandy plain, which seemed interminable in expanse,
unmeasured by landmarks; now toiling backwards and forwards up the
zig-zagged steep, with provoking seeming of being further off one
hour than the last, as at each wind they turned upon their steps;
now detached-liked spectres against the sky, as they crossed from
one reach of the lofty sierra to the next.

All things have an end, even Turian's anxious suspense; and as the
count at last neared the magician's cave, he descended at break-neck
pace to meet him.

"There is the price," said the count, in sad and solemn accents;
"but before rendering it out of your hands, stop and consider it;" and
as he spoke he removed from the treasure the brilliant red and yellow
cloths, the royal colours of Spain, with which it was covered. "Here,
from each province of your father's dominions, is the due proportion
of the tribute you have demanded. See--will you spend it so?"

The prince darted forward to glance at the goodly sight of so much
gold, but drew back with horror.

What could he have seen to turn his flushed cheeks so deadly pale?

"Count!" he cried, choking with fury, "what have you brought to
mock me? This is not coin. You have brought me tears, burning tears,
instead of gold."

"It is all the same," replied the count; "I saw you were infatuated,
and I brought the money in this form, that the sight might warn you of
what you are doing, and by its sad horror arrest you. There is time to
return it back into the bosom of those from whom it has been wrung,
and no harm will have been done. But if you persist, you will find
the magician will take them for current coin."

"Quite so!" chimed in the voice from the cave; "it is the money I
like best. But I cannot stand dallying thus: if the treasure be not
handed over at once, the bargain is at an end, and you never hear of
me again."

It only wanted this to quench any little spark of pity and misgiving
which the old count's judicious stratagem might have awakened. So
without further loss of time the prince called to the magician to
come forth and take the spoil.

He was not slow to comply, and taking a handful of the weird currency
out of each mule-load, rang it on the rock, where it sounded like
the clanking of a captive's chains.

"That is good," he said in a satisfied tone, when he had concluded his
scrutiny. "Now for my part of the bargain. I am not of those who fail
because I am paid beforehand: you will find me as good as my word,
and even better; for I will supply an item of the bargain which you,
impetuous youth, never thought to stipulate for, though the most
important of all. I will not only instruct you how to see Floreta,
I will give you moreover the means whereby, if she pleases you,
you can take her captive and bear her away."

"Nay, interrupt me not," he continued, as Turian, nettled at the
exposure of his want of diplomacy, was about to declare that he had
never thought of any other means to captivate her being required but
his own smile and his own strong arm; "I must begin, and have but
time to complete my directions. You see yon castle on a rock out at
sea;" and as his long bony finger pointed westward, there seemed to be
traced against the sky the form of a royal castle at about three days'
journey, which Turian, who had for ten days been beating about the
coast, could have sworn was not to be seen there before. Nevertheless,
fascinated by the magician's commanding manner, he durst say nothing
but a murmur of assent.

"Then that is your haven; take ship and steer for it. When you reach
the land throw down this token," and he gave into his hand a fine coil
of silken chains; "follow its leadings till it take you to Floreta,
and if she please you, cast it round her, and she is yours."

As he spoke he disappeared from sight, with the mules and their burden.

Turian now once more reminded Conde Dirlos of his father's command,
and bid him provide him with the swiftest galley on all the coasts
of the kingdom, manned with the stoutest rowers, and that with the
utmost speed.

If the wise old count shrunk from the former mission, his horror was
but the greater at this one. He reminded the prince that when the king
had given his consent to the adventure, he had not contemplated any
other than a loyal undertaking, such as a noble prince might entertain:
he would never have trusted him on one of this nature.

Turian felt the force of the reproach, but lacked the strength of
character to command himself. Hurried on by his uncontrolled desire,
he bid the old man remember that the command to fulfil his orders
was quite unconditional, and there was no limit whatever named.

The count owned this was unfortunately true, and as he could prevail
nothing by argument, set himself to remedy the Infante's headstrong
wilfulness by making the journey as safe as possible. He not only
insisted on having the galley examined as to its seaworthiness by the
most experienced shipwrights, and selected the steadiest oarsmen to
man the banks, but appointed a consultation of all the astronomers of
the kingdom to name the day when they might be sure of safe passage,
free from winds. It was pronounced that a storm was just then impending
which would last ten days, and after that there would be ten days of
fair weather, so that if they allowed ten days for their preparations,
they would have time to make the journey and return in all security.

The delay seemed another age to the Infante; nevertheless he was
now so near the accomplishment of his object that it passed swiftly
enough in the enjoyment of the pleasure of anticipation. The count,
too, found some relief to his anxieties in the fact that the storm
came on at the predicted moment, giving him great confidence that
the halcyon days predicted to succeed might be surely counted on.

They came duly; and a shout of admiration rose from the people on
the shore as the gallant vessel moved out over the face of the blue,
sunlit waters, which glittered as if showered over with every precious
stone at each stroke of the countless oars. And those on board were
equally entranced with the gorgeous sight as they seemed to soar
along over the soft bosom of the crystal deep; and the noble outline
of their native mountains, peak above peak, from the verdant slopes
where the cattle browsed lazily, to the wild steeps where even the
mountain goats ceased to find a footing, receded with ever-varying
forms of beauty from their sight.

It was not on these that Turian's eye rested. His glance was bent on
the castle for which they were making, and his thoughts were bound
up in the beauteous treasure within. Such confidence had he in the
magician's word, that he had laid his arms aside and held only the
silken chain that was to be his guiding line to happiness; and toyed
with it, thinking how he would throw it round the prized form of the
portrait's original, and how he would gaze on her when she was his.

While he was still wrapt in these thoughts they drew near to the
mysterious shore, and every one was occupied in admiring the strength
and noble proportions of the castle. But Turian had no thought but for
the treasure it contained. Springing lightly on to the land, he lost
no time in fulfilling the magician's injunctions; and sure enough the
chain uncoiled itself, and, wriggling with a serpent's motion, went
straight before him to a gate in the castle wall. It was unlocked,
and Turian, pushing it aside, gained entrance to a sumptuous garden,
at one end of which was a shady arbour, and in a bank of perfumed roses
Floreta herself lay asleep. How his heart beat at the sight! Just as
she had seemed in the portrait; just as he had pictured her in his
sleeping and waking dreams. Riveted to the spot, he stood contemplating
her, as well he might, for her complexion was white as snow, or rather
as pure crystal, and tinted as the fresh rose yet on the rose-tree [8].

The cautious count, fearful of some ambush, had marshalled the crew of
the galley into a guard to track his steps noiselessly and be ready in
case of sudden attack. The play of light upon their arms passing in
sudden reflection over the scene woke the Infante from his reverie,
and roused him to action. The coiling silken links readily embraced
Floreta's limbs, and such was their hidden power that, though she
woke at the Infante's approach, she was powerless to resist or cry.

Thus he bore her to the galley, and the men having resumed their places
on the rowers' banks, in silent order they pushed off unperceived by
any one on the island, for it was the hour of the noontide rest.

But soon Floreta's maidens, coming to attend her rising, discovered
her loss. The king her father and all the people quickly gathered
their arms and ran wildly in every direction, till at last they saw
the strange vessel making fast away, and they doubted not it was
carrying off their princess, but they could only stand on the shore
throwing up their arms and crying in powerless despair.

Turian had in the mean time removed the chain from his prize;
and thus freed from the spell, Floreta, too, held out her arms
towards her parents and countrymen, and cried unavailingly on them
for help. Turian, incapable of contradicting her, yet incapable also
of giving her up, contented himself with admiring her at a distance,
and let her spend herself in lamentations at first; but when the good
galleon had put sufficient distance between itself and the castle
to destroy the freshness of the impression of parting, the Infante
commanded his people to cast anchor that he might try his power
of consoling her more at ease. And indeed, it was not long before
his sweet words of admiration and his protestations of affection and
devotion seemed to succeed in reconciling her to her situation; before
long they were very good friends and very happy, and the sun shone and
the sea sparkled, and nature smiled, and all seemed fair and bright.

Nevertheless the prudent old count had his misgivings. True, there were
yet several more days of the promised calm before them, but he felt
he should never be easy till he had his charge safe at home again;
so he urged the Infante to give orders to put under way once more,
and right glad was he to feel the bark moving towards the port and
in good time to reach home before the next storm.

Nevertheless,--


Quando Dios quiere
En sereno lluve [9],


says the proverb, and while they were singing and making merry,
and dancing to amuse Floreta, suddenly the sky became overcast
and the wind sprang up, and the waves dashed against the bulwarks,
and instead of being able to row the vessel into port the oarsmen
could hardly keep their seats. Then in the midst of their fright
and horror and piteous cries for help, an ancient seaman stood up,
and having commanded silence, harangued the crew, and told them that
they might be sure the tempest was sent them because they had the
strange damsel on board; that if they would save their lives they
must bid defiance to the Infante's wishes, and take him from her and
cast her into the sea. The danger to all was manifest and terrible;
any way out of it was preferable to succumbing, so the old man found
a willing audience. The dismayed count had but time to rush in to
the Infante and tell him of the mutiny before the angry mariners had
already burst into his presence. If they were for a moment staggered
by pity at sight of the exceeding beauty of Floreta, and by Turian's
agonized assurances that the fearful sacrifice would have no effect
upon the storm, the old mariner's voice overruled their hesitation
and rendered them pitiless as the blast.

Then at his command they tore the Infante from off Floreta, to whom
he clung declaring that they should not destroy her without him,
but that he would go down into the deep with her, and they bound him
fast hand and foot and took Floreta, too full of terror to resist or
cry, to throw her into the raging sea. But before they had completed
the sacrifice, the cries of the prince, seconded as he was by the
prudent old count, ever ready to second a middle course, prevailed,
and instead of committing her to the deep, they set her on an island
past which the bark was drifting, Turian thinking in his own mind
that as soon as the fury of the storm was spent he should be able to
induce them to put back and fetch her off.

The old seaman knew what was in his mind, and he knew that the work
was but half done. He inveighed that the half-measure was useless;
he predicted that the storm would not thereby be quenched. But it was
too late to listen to him now: they were carried past the land where
Floreta was; and it was beyond their efforts to go back to fulfil his
purpose now. Meanwhile, as he had predicted, the tempest raged higher
and higher; the oarsmen were powerless: but the bark drifted nearer
and nearer home; and at last, just as a great wave dashed against it
and broke it up, they were brought just so near to land that they
could swim to shore. One young and vigorous oarsman took charge of
the old count, who was rendered more unfit for the feat by dismay
at the ill-success of his mission even than by the weakness of his
age. But none looked after the Infante, for he was known to be the
expertest swimmer of all the country round.

It was not till the hull had heeled over and gone down that they
remembered they had bound him hand and foot, and he could not
escape. And so he, who was the cause of all, alone was lost.