the
GENIUS.
CHAP. I.
I am descended from an ancient Spanish family, that traces its ancestors among the first Christians, and produced several heroes in the earliest ages of our monarchy. Don Juan de Grandez, my father, was a grandee of the first class, and the whole lineage of my mother always boasted of an equal share of wealth and respectability. Alcantara is my native place; I was bred for the honourable profession of arms, and served as a volunteer under the Duc De Crillon at the famous siege of Gibraltar, when the gallant Veteran Elliot defeated the combined forces of France and Spain, and gathered immortal laurels by forcing us to make a sudden and disgraceful retreat. I was then in my twenty-third year, and so disgusted at the pursuit of martial glory, that I bade adieu to the army for ever.
Though inglorious in point of martial fame, still the eventful course of my past career has certain trophies to show, which, gathered as they are in the myrtle-groves of love, or in the wild mazes of romantic adventure, will appear full as memorable and interesting to some, as the gigantic feats of many a huge cut-throat, champion, or conqueror. The whole of my education seems to have been purposely planned to render me conspicuous in the sphere of gallantry; and my quitting the banners of Mars at the age of twenty-three, may justly be considered as the effect of that system of juvenile breeding.
The amiable qualities and accomplishments of my mother had a striking influence on my own improvement, and on the manner of acquiring the agreeable talents of a young man of fashion. Her beauty stood confessed the transcendent inheritance of her offspring. I was indeed remarkable, for a pair of full cheeks, flushed with rosy health, a delicate and significant mouth, two large blue eyes, sparkling with sentimental fire, and overshaded by copious and symmetrical black brows. A vivacity of action, a smooth and flattering tongue, an invariable evenness of temper, and a lofty deportment which I occasionally assumed, contributed to procure me notice, indulgence, and favor.
At the eve of manhood, I felt myself gifted with such a store of warmth and sensibility, as seldom fails of making an impression, especially on the fair sex.
I was excessively fond of caressing the ladies; but merely prompted by caprice, and still more by the fashionable levities of the day, I generally reserved my homage for her that was the most admired. But soon the hour came, when I was to expiate whole years for the petulance and wantonness of youth.
Elmira, Countess Dacosta, had spent the first fifteen years of her life, with a relation in an old castle, too remote from the gay cities to attract the crowds of my gallant contemporaries. Shortly after my return from the fruitless expedition against Gibraltar, she came to Alcantara, decked out with all the charms of novelty, but at the same time with such fascinating endowments, as soon raised her above the splendor, and even the jealousy of every other female competitor. Beauty blended with kindness, wit heightened by the most endearing sprightliness, a heart glowing with sympathy, and challenging an eternal love—such were Elmira's enviable qualities. Nature seemed to have formed her at the most auspicious epoch, for each expression of her sentiments, the flightest motion of her body, bore the stamp of unrivalled gracefulness and matchless perfection. She received my addresses with that flattering candor, which doubles every pace, but keeps a lover confined, as it were, within the boundary from which he first started.
One evening I found her alone, fitting on a sopha, with a guitar on her lap one hand supported her head, the other was negligently hanging down over her handkerchief. Having entered the apartment unperceived, and her back being turned towards me, I heard her sob, and saw some tears trickle down upon the music-book before her. I drew nearer, and was not heard. I knelt at her feet, laid hold of the unoccupied hand, kissed it, but she seemed as motionless as a statue. At last she startled, and seeing me by her side, attempted to rise in haste, but I kept her, still silent, on her seat.
"Ah, Carlos," cried she, "what have your seen?—Why, this arietta is so moving, so inexpressibly moving—have you never heard it? I'll play it again if you chuse."
She now turned over the leaves of the notes; but I soon saw, the arietta was nowhere to be found. She endeavoured, at least, to recover her usual sprightliness; but this was as inattainable as the moving song.
"Madam," began I, "we cannot always find what we look for—my own experience for that. I came hither quite depressed, and thought to find you in high spirits; but I meet only tears and reserve!"
"Reserve, Don Carlos? How can that be?"
"Exactly as I told you. I am young in years, Elmira, but I have ceased to be young in love. If adoring you, does not entitle me to your confidence, will you deny it to my friendship?—You are mute? You weep? O speak to me—Carlos is wholly yours!"
"Do you fancy, Sir," replied she somewhat offended, "that I have secrets to discover to you? I assure you, I am not at all prepared for it."
"Elmira, you misunderstand me—I did not mean to offend you."
"I believe you—all you wanted was a little more ingenuity to mask your curiosity."
"I confess my intrusion, and crave your pardon. Let us drop the subject—pray what master made this guitar?"
At these words she stared wildly—tears again bedewed her lovely cheeks—and her swelling bosom heaved a long alas!
"I plainly see," continued I, "my presence is too much for you. Your forgiveness, Madonna-adieu!"
"Stay, Carlos," exclaimed she; "abide with me."
"Since I cannot be the object of your pity," concluded I, "let me avoid being that of your indignation."
Thus saying, I retired in a pet, but it was only the pet of a lover, that deems himself slighted. I fretted myself into an indisposition, which had already obliged me two days to keep my room. In the evening of the third, I was surprised with the following billet:
"WE have exchanged parts. I am on the eve of becoming the object of your pity. You love all women; and I—alas!—but one man. Tomorrow morning I go to confess in the convent of the Capachins at St. Jago."