CHAPTER VII
ANDRES DE FONSECA
Now I shall dwell but briefly on all the adventures which befell meduring the year or so that I remained in Spain, for were I to set outeverything at length, this history would have no end, or at least minewould find me before I came to it.
Many travellers have told of the glories of Seville, to whichancient Moorish city I journeyed with all speed, sailing there up theGuadalquiver, and I have to tell of lands from which no other wandererhas returned to England, and must press on to them. To be short then;foreseeing that it might be necessary for me to stop some time inSeville, and being desirous to escape notice and to be at the smallestexpense possible, I bethought me that it would be well if I could findmeans of continuing my studies of medicine, and to this end I obtainedcertain introductions from the firm of merchants to whose care I hadbeen recommended, addressed to doctors of medicine in Seville. Theseletters at my request were made out not in my own name but in thatof 'Diego d'Aila,' for I did not wish it to be known that I was anEnglishman. Nor, indeed, was this likely, except my speech should betrayme, for, as I have said, in appearance I was very Spanish, and thehindrance of the language was one that lessened every day, since havingalready learned it from my mother, and taking every opportunity to readand speak it, within six months I could talk Castilian except for someslight accent, like a native of the land. Also I have a gift for theacquiring of languages.
When I was come to Seville, and had placed my baggage in an inn, not oneof the most frequented, I set out to deliver a letter of recommendationto a famous physician of the town whose name I have long forgotten. Thisphysician had a fine house in the street of Las Palmas, a great avenueplanted with graceful trees, that has other little streets running intoit. Down one of these I came from my inn, a quiet narrow place havinghouses with patios or courtyards on either side of it. As I walkeddown this street I noticed a man sitting in the shade on a stool in thedoorway of his patio. He was small and withered, with keen black eyesand a wonderful air of wisdom, and he watched me as I went by. Now thehouse of the famous physician whom I sought was so placed that the mansitting at this doorway could command it with his eyes and take noteof all who went in and came out. When I had found the house I returnedagain into the quiet street and walked to and fro there for a while,thinking of what tale I should tell to the physician, and all the timethe little man watched me with his keen eyes. At last I had made up mystory and went to the house, only to find that the physician was fromhome. Having inquired when I might find him I left, and once more tookto the narrow street, walking slowly till I came to where the little mansat. As I passed him, his broad hat with which he was fanning himselfslipped to the ground before my feet. I stooped down, lifted it from thepavement, and restored it to him.
'A thousand thanks, young sir,' he said in a full and gentle voice. 'Youare courteous for a foreigner.'
'How do you know me to be a foreigner, senor?' I asked, surprised out ofmy caution.
'If I had not guessed it before, I should know it now,' he answered,smiling gravely. 'Your Castilian tells its own tale.'
I bowed, and was about to pass on, when he addressed me again.
'What is your hurry, young sir? Step in and take a cup of wine with me;it is good.'
I was about to say him nay, when it came into my mind that I had nothingto do, and that perhaps I might learn something from this gossip.
'The day is hot, senor, and I accept.'
He spoke no more, but rising, led me into a courtyard paved with marblein the centre of which was a basin of water, having vines trained aroundit. Here were chairs and a little table placed in the shade of thevines. When he had closed the door of the patio and we were seated,he rang a silver bell that stood upon the table, and a girl, young andfair, appeared from the house, dressed in a quaint Spanish dress.
'Bring wine,' said my host.
The wine was brought, white wine of Oporto such as I had never tastedbefore.
'Your health, senor?' And my host stopped, his glass in his hand, andlooked at me inquiringly.
'Diego d'Aila,' I answered.
'Humph,' he said. 'A Spanish name, or perhaps an imitation Spanish name,for I do not know it, and I have a good head for names.'
'That is my name, to take or to leave, senor?'--And I looked at him inturn.
'Andres de Fonseca,' he replied bowing, 'a physician of this city, wellknown enough, especially among the fair. Well, Senor Diego, I take yourname, for names are nothing, and at times it is convenient to changethem, which is nobody's business except their owners'. I see that youare a stranger in this city--no need to look surprised, senor, one whois familiar with a town does not gaze and stare and ask the path ofpassers-by, nor does a native of Seville walk on the sunny side of thestreet in summer. And now, if you will not think me impertinent, I willask you what can be the business of so healthy a young man with my rivalyonder?' And he nodded towards the house of the famous physician.
'A man's business, like his name, is his own affair, senor,' I answered,setting my host down in my mind as one of those who disgrace our art byplying openly for patients that they may capture their fees. 'Still, Iwill tell you. I am also a physician, though not yet fully qualified,and I seek a place where I may help some doctor of repute in his dailypractice, and thus gain experience and my living with it.'
'Ah is it so? Well, senor, then you will look in vain yonder,' andagain he nodded towards the physician's house. 'Such as he will take noapprentice without the fee be large indeed; it is not the custom of thiscity.'
'Then I must seek a livelihood elsewhere, or otherwise.'
'I did not say so. Now, senor, let us see what you know of medicine, andwhat is more important, of human nature, for of the first none of us canever know much, but he who knows the latter will be a leader of men--orof women--who lead the men.'
And without more ado he put me many questions, each of them so shrewdand going so directly to the heart of the matter in hand, that Imarvelled at his sagacity. Some of these questions were medical, dealingchiefly with the ailments of women, others were general and dealt morewith their characters. At length he finished.
'You will do, senor,' he said; 'you are a young man of parts andpromise, though, as was to be expected from one of your years, you lackexperience. There is stuff in you, senor, and you have a heart, whichis a good thing, for the blunders of a man with a heart often carry himfurther than the cunning of the cynic; also you have a will and know howto direct it.'
I bowed, and did my best to hold back my satisfaction at his words fromshowing in my face.
'Still,' he went on, 'all this would not cause me to submit to you theoffer that I am about to make, for many a prettier fellow than yourselfis after all unlucky, or a fool at the bottom, or bad tempered anddestined to the dogs, as for aught I know you may be also. But I takemy chance of that because you suit me in another way. Perhaps you mayscarcely know it yourself, but you have beauty, senor, beauty of a veryrare and singular type, which half the ladies of Seville will praisewhen they come to know you.'
'I am much flattered,' I said, 'but might I ask what all thesecompliments may mean? To be brief, what is your offer?'
'To be brief then, it is this. I am in need of an assistant who mustpossess all the qualities that I see in you, but most of all one whichI can only guess you to possess--discretion. That assistant would notbe ill-paid; this house would be at his disposal, and he would haveopportunities of learning the world such as are given to few. What sayyou?'
'I say this, senor, that I should wish to know more of the business inwhich I am expected to assist. Your offers sound too liberal, and I fearthat I must earn your bounty by the doing of work that honest men mightshrink from.'
'A fair argument, but, as it happens, not quite a correct one. Listen:you have been told that yonder physician, to whose house you went butnow, and these'--here he repeated four or five names--'are the greatestof their tribe in Seville. It is not so. I am the greatest and theric
hest, and I do more business than any two of them. Do you knowwhat my earnings have been this day alone? I will tell you; just overtwenty-five gold pesos,* more than all the rest of the profession havetaken together, I will wager. You want to know how I earn so much; youwant to know also, why, if I have earned so much, I am not content torest from my labours. Good, I will tell you. I earn it by ministering tothe vanities of women and sheltering them from the results of their ownfolly. Has a lady a sore heart, she comes to me for comfort and advice.Has she pimples on her face, she flies to me to cure them. Has she asecret love affair, it is I who hide her indiscretion; I consult thefuture for her, I help her to atone the past, I doctor her for imaginaryailments, and often enough I cure her of real ones. Half the secrets ofSeville are in my hands; did I choose to speak I could set a score ofnoble houses to broil and bloodshed. But I do not speak, I am paid tokeep silent; and when I am not paid, still I keep silent for my credit'ssake. Hundreds of women think me their saviour, I know them for mydupes. But mark you, I do not push this game too far. A love philtre--ofcoloured water--I may give at a price, but not a poisoned rose. Thesethey must seek elsewhere. For the rest, in my way I am honest. I takethe world as it comes, that is all, and, as women will be fools, Iprofit by their folly and have grown rich upon it.
* About sixty-three pounds sterling.
'Yes, I have grown rich, and yet I cannot stop. I love the money that ispower; but more than all, I love the way of life. Talk of romances andadventure! What romance or adventure is half so wonderful as those thatcome daily to my notice? And I play a part in every one of them, andnone the less a leading part because I do not shout and strut upon theboards.'
'If all this is so, why do you seek the help of an unknown lad, astranger of whom you know nothing?' I asked bluntly.
'Truly, you lack experience,' the old man answered with a laugh. 'Do youthen suppose that I should choose one who was NOT a stranger--one whomight have ties within this city with which I was unacquainted. And asfor knowing nothing of you, young man, do you think that I have followedthis strange trade of mine for forty years without learning to judge atsight? Perhaps I know you better than you know yourself. By the way, thefact that you are deeply enamoured of that maid whom you have left inEngland is a recommendation to me, for whatever follies you may commit,you will scarcely embarrass me and yourself by suffering your affectionsto be seriously entangled. Ah! have I astonished you?'
'How do you know?' I began--then ceased.
'How do I know? Why, easily enough. Those boots you wear were made inEngland. I have seen many such when I travelled there; your accent alsothough faint is English, and twice you have spoken English words whenyour Castilian failed you. Then for the maid, is not that a betrothalring upon your hand? And when I spoke to you of the ladies of thiscountry, my talk did not interest you overmuch as at your age it haddone were you heart-whole. Surely also the lady is fair and tall? Ah!I thought so. I have noticed that men and women love their opposite incolour, no invariable rule indeed, but good for a guess.'
'You are very clever, senor.'
'No, not clever, but trained, as you will be when you have been a yearin my hands, though perchance you do not intend to stop so long inSeville. Perhaps you came here with an object, and wish to pass the timeprofitably till it is fulfilled. A good guess again, I think. Well, sobe it, I will risk that; object and attainment are often far apart. Doyou take my offer?'
'I incline to do so.'
'Then you will take it. Now I have something more to say before we cometo terms. I do not want you to play the part of an apothecary's drudge.You will figure before the world as my nephew, come from abroad to learnmy trade. You will help me in it indeed, but that is not all your duty.Your part will be to mix in the life of Seville, and to watch those whomI bid you watch, to drop a word here and a hint there, and in a hundredways that I shall show you to draw grist to my mill--and to your own.You must be brilliant and witty, or sad and learned, as I wish; you mustmake the most of your person and your talents, for these go far with mycustomers. To the hidalgo you must talk of arms, to the lady, of love;but you must never commit yourself beyond redemption. And above all,young man'--and here his manner changed and his face grew stern andalmost fierce--'you must never violate my confidence or the confidenceof my clients. On this point I will be quite open within you, and Ipray you for your own sake to believe what I say, however much you maymistrust the rest. If you break faith with me, YOU DIE. You die, not bymy hand, but you die. That is my price; take it or leave it. Should youleave it and go hence to tell what you have heard this day, even thenmisfortune may overtake you suddenly. Do you understand?'
'I understand. For my own sake I will respect your confidence.'
'Young sir, I like you better than ever. Had you said that you wouldrespect it because it was a confidence, I should have mistrusted you,for doubtless you feel that secrets communicated so readily haveno claim to be held sacred. Nor have they, but when their violationinvolves the sad and accidental end of the violator, it is anothermatter. Well now, do you accept?'
'I accept.'
'Good. Your baggage I suppose is at the inn. I will send porters todischarge your score and bring it here. No need for you to go, nephew,let us stop and drink another glass of wine; the sooner we grow intimatethe better, nephew.'
It was thus that first I became acquainted with Senor Andres de Fonseca,my benefactor, the strangest man whom I have ever known. Doubtless anyperson reading this history would think that I, the narrator, was sowinga plentiful crop of troubles for myself in having to deal with him,setting him down as a rogue of the deepest, such as sometimes, for theirown wicked purposes, decoy young men to crime and ruin. But it was notso, and this is the strangest part of the strange story. All that Andresde Fonseca told me was true to the very letter.
He was a gentleman of great talent who had been rendered a little madby misfortunes in his early life. As a physician I have never met hismaster, if indeed he has one in these times, and as a man versed in theworld and more especially in the world of women, I have known none tocompare with him. He had travelled far, and seen much, and he forgotnothing. In part he was a quack, but his quackery always had a meaningin it. He fleeced the foolish, indeed, and even juggled with astronomy,making money out of their superstition; but on the other hand he didmany a kind act without reward. He would make a rich lady pay ten goldpesos for the dyeing of her hair, but often he would nurse some poorgirl through her trouble and ask no charge; yes, and find her honestemployment after it. He who knew all the secrets of Seville never mademoney out of them by threat of exposure, as he said because it wouldnot pay to do so, but really because though he affected to be a selfishknave, at bottom his heart was honest.
For my own part I found life with him both easy and happy, so far asmine could be quite happy. Soon I learned my role and played it well. Itwas given out that I was the nephew of the rich old physician Fonseca,whom he was training to take his place; and this, together with myown appearance and manners, ensured me a welcome in the best houses ofSeville. Here I took that share of our business which my master couldnot take, for now he never mixed among the fashion of the city. Money Iwas supplied with in abundance so that I could ruffle it with thebest, but soon it became known that I looked to business as well as topleasure. Often and often during some gay ball or carnival, a lady wouldglide up to me and ask beneath her breath if Don Andres de Fonseca wouldconsent to see her privately on a matter of some importance, and I wouldfix an hour then and there. Had it not been for me such patients wouldhave been lost to us, since, for the most part, their timidity had keptthem away.
In the same fashion when the festival was ended and I prepared to wendhomewards, now and again a gallant would slip his arm in mine and askmy master's help in some affair of love or honour, or even of the purse.Then I would lead him straight to the old Moorish house where Don Andressat writing in his velvet robe like some spider in his web, for the mostof our business was done at night; and straight-
way the matter wouldbe attended to, to my master's profit and the satisfaction of all. Bydegrees it became known that though I was so young yet I had discretion,and that nothing which went in at my ears came out of my lips; that Ineither brawled nor drank nor gambled to any length, and that though Iwas friendly with many fair ladies, there were none who were entitled toknow my secrets. Also it became known that I had some skill in my art ofhealing, and it was said among the ladies of Seville that there lived noman in that city so deft at clearing the skin of blemishes or changingthe colour of the hair as old Fonseca's nephew, and as any one may knowthis reputation alone was worth a fortune. Thus it came about that I wasmore and more consulted on my own account. In short, things went so wellwith us that in the first six months of my service I added by one thirdto the receipts of my master's practice, large as they had been before,besides lightening his labours not a little.
It was a strange life, and of the things that I saw and learned, couldthey be written, I might make a tale indeed, but they have no part inthis history. For it was as though the smiles and silence with which menand women hide their thoughts were done away, and their hearts spoke tous in the accents of truth. Now some fair young maid or wife would cometo us with confessions of wickedness that would be thought impossible,did not her story prove itself; the secret murder perchance of a spouse,or a lover, or a rival; now some aged dame who would win a husband inhis teens, now some wealthy low-born man or woman, who desired to buy analliance with one lacking money, but of noble blood. Such I did not careto help indeed, but to the love-sick or the love-deluded I listened witha ready ear, for I had a fellow-feeling with them. Indeed so deep andearnest was my sympathy that more than once I found the unhappy fairready to transfer their affections to my unworthy self, and in fact oncethings came about so that, had I willed it, I could have married one ofthe loveliest and wealthiest noble ladies of Seville.
But I would none of it, who thought of my English Lily by day and night.