Chapter IV: Part 4

Pero Gil did not wait to hear any more, and at one bound approached the statue, which was situated in what used to be the armoury of the fortress, and struck it a stout blow with his blade.

The statue fell down flat as if struck by lightning, and at once the dwarfs surrounded the captain and forced him down a flight of steps.

Hardly had he entered than the gap closed up and the captain found himself alone in a cave which was lighted by a lamp hanging from the ceiling. On the floor there were great heaps of gold and precious stones, but this was not the thing that claimed the captain's attention. He was looking for the bell which he had heard the dwarfs speak about.

For half an hour his search was fruitless. He turned over the yellow piles of money and the sacks of gems, but the desired object was not to be found.

Weary and perspiring he threw himself down on a pile of gold bars, and there rested before again returning to his task.

The mysterious bell had to be found.

Persuaded that it was not to be come across in a visible spot, he began to strike the walls, until at last one of them sounded hollow. With his sword he made a hole and from it drew out a leaden bell of a very rare shape, which in a good sale might be worth as much as four farthings.

"And now what must I do?" thought the captain. He carefully examined the object he had found, which bore the following inscription, "Do not ring me unless you know how." But the captain was not a man to hesitate, and rang the bell. Immediately the walls closed together, threatening to crush him by their enormous mass. Without being daunted he gave another ring, and then a thousand points of steel came forth from the walls as if they were going to pass through him. Then he gave a third ring, and immediately the vault returned to its original form.

At the fourth the dwarfs humbly presented themselves and said to him:

"What do you want of us? Command us as your slaves."

"In the first place, to dance the saraband in order to amuse me, as a compensation for the unpleasant time you have given me."

And the dwarfs danced like anything for a good while, until Pero Gil told them to stop.

"Now you will take the sacks of money and carry them to my house."

The dwarfs obeyed without making the slightest observation, loading up those precious things.

"Leave us the bell," they said, "since you take away the riches."

Pero Gil was going to leave it, when he suddenly had a presentiment and thought better of it.

"This talisman shall never leave me."

Then the dwarfs carried the riches to his house, singing on the way:

"Don't let us guard the treasure now,
For it is being taken away
By this fortunate mortal
Who knows the signal."

So Captain Pero Gil became master of immense riches, which he distributed among his soldiers, naturally keeping for himself the largest part.

And whenever he thought of that famous adventure, he rightly used to say, "After all, the true talisman to get what we want is cunning and bravery."

*THE TOPSY-TURVY WORLD*

I don't know why, but it is a fact that Providence one day decreed that everything should turn upside down. The picture that the world presented could not have been more extraordinary: the fishes flew through the air like swarms of butterflies; in place of linnets and nightingales, the sharks and whales sang. The birds swam on the bosom of the waters, like Pedro for his house; it was glorious to see the dives they made. A donkey in the porch of an Inn played on a clarinet the "No me matas, no me matas," while another who was apparently in a good position, came out of a restaurant picking his teeth with a Toledo sword.

It is related that a boy who lived at that time, and whose name was, if I remember right, Manolo, had, among other grave defects, that of ill-treating animals; his parents and masters reprimanded him in vain, and from time to time even gave him a flogging that would have set fire to tinder: but it did not make the boy any better. Whenever he saw an ass tied to a fence he untied it and rode it for a good while, hitting it a whack to make it trot. When he met a dog the least that he did was to fetch it a smack that made it go away at more than a walking pace with its tail between its legs. More than one cat he chased about after having tied a sardine tin to its tail; in short, he was a little demon.

But now it must be remembered that all things were changed, and that on waking up one morning he found, at the head of his bed, one of his dogs, which, giving him a punch, said:

"Little friend, on getting up you have got to clean my boots;" and as the boy hesitated, the dog hit him two punches which made him get up more than quickly. What was his surprise to notice that he could only go on four feet! He wished to speak, but a bark came from his lips; he tried to bite the dog, and the latter rained blows upon him.

He rushed out of the house, and found other boys as mischievous as himself punished in the same way. In Oriente Place, Carlos and Pepe were pulling a little carriage, and in it were riding the two goats that usually drew the vehicle. Several of those water-carriers who carry their water-skins on the loins of a donkey which they almost kill by blows, went about themselves bent down under the load, getting a blow each time they sucked their thumbs. Their former slaves went on two feet behind them, saying: "Gee up, donkey, you are more stupid than a post."

Manolo went on his way, on four feet of course, and even these seemed few enough to run with, when on crossing a street he met a friend and schoolmate, with whom he opened, by barks, the following dialogue:

"Bernardo, as I live! Have you seen what has happened to us?"

"Yes, of course I see it! For am I not changed into a poodle?"

"Here you see me in a fix; I don't know where to hide myself so that the old dogs won't be able to take their revenge for the tricks I used to play on them when I was a person."

At this moment a noise was heard, and on turning round they saw a tramcar drawn by some of those drovers who are always complaining, and on the platform was a mule coquettishly adorned with a cocked hat, driving the car, which was full of all kinds of animals.

"My boy," said Manolo to Bernardo, "do you know that instead of a tramcar that looks more like Noah's Ark!"

He had hardly uttered these words when he felt himself seized and secured, and his shirt was pulled out at the back, and to the tail of it was tied a petrol can. He turned his head, and then saw all the dogs gathered together which formerly he used to hurt, and who now were celebrating with great laughter the happy event of making Manolo run with the can tied to his tail. Two kicks well given rid him of all doubt and made him start running as fast as he could.

On passing close to a tank he saw some fishes which, with a rod under their fins, were angling for boys who were swimming about. At last he stopped half dead from fatigue, being taken up by an old, blind horse, which sported eye-protectors, and which, in exchange for some crusts, made him learn some exercises with which to amuse the appreciative audience of bears, monkeys, dogs, cats, and other distinguished people.

The horse, seated on the ground, with a silk hat which resembled a concertina, played on a little drum "The Paraguay Polka," while Manolo danced to it. So much dancing made him tired, and one day he gave the old horse the slip, leaving him alone with the drum. Naturally the loss was announced in the _Gazette_, and a reward was even offered to any one who found him, but all was useless, because the latter hid himself in order not to get caught.

One afternoon he saw many people--if we can call cats, dogs, mules, etc., people--gather together and enter a large building.

"Dear me!" said Manolo, "this is the bull-ring! All right, as a dog I can go in and see the fight free."

And slipping between two animals who acted as porters, he went into the ring and took a seat.

Divine Power! What a spectacle! A fat donkey, which acted as master of ceremonies, had at his side in the box another as asinine as himself, and it was the latter who told him when it was necessary to change the programme.

A number of peacocks adorned with airy mantles filled the boxes, and with opera-glasses and lorgnettes looked at each other, criticising and ridiculing each other disparagingly. How many animals there were in all parts of the ring! Round the arena barrier it was crowded with bears carrying leather bottles filled with wine, which they delicately raised. There was great confusion, until a band, or rather an orchestra, of ostriches played a gay double step, the toreadors appearing immediately after. What a fight it was! Twelve bulls from the most celebrated breeding studs came out on two feet with the red cloth airily placed between their horns. Those which acted as spearmen rode on the boys who clean up the ring, and carried very long spears. The trumpet sounded, and the first animal appeared in the arena; it was a German, who attacked the spearmen, overthrowing two boys. The master of ceremonies made a sign that it was now time to use the darts. The audience protested, shouting: "Donkey, donkey! you don't understand!" The donkey M.C. took off his hat, and the audience asked that the darts should be stuck in the toreadors. Cuernosgrandes, who was the first killer, tried to fix his pair, as badly, more or less, as the old toreadors, when a horrible shouting arose in the arena, and such formidable fighting took place that two monkeys, who had been beautiful English girls, seated at Manolo's side, fainted, and the audience rushed to the doors of the bull-ring: the German had jumped over the barrier. Manolo felt two kicks behind, and without even turning his head to see who gave them, rushed into the street like a mad animal.

Then came the worst. Some geese with Roman helmets on their heads, riding upon sardine tins, were pretending to maintain order with their sabres, and playing a number of foolish tricks upon the authorities. They soon knocked down poor little Manolo, who was obliged to seek refuge in a doorway, when a camel stopped him by laying a hand on him, saying:

"Thank goodness, I have a little dog."

The wretched camel put on a lady's veil, took Manolo in its arms as if he were a wee baby, and taking up its place in a corner, began to sing in a falsetto voice:

"I was born in a wood of cocoanut trees
One morning in the month of April."

"Gentlemen," it added, "alms for this poor mother who has a child to support." But Manolo, who did not wish to play the part of an infant in arms, gave the camel a bite in the arm and ran away to the outskirts of the town. In a cottage he found two doves, which, on seeing him so thin and hollow-cheeked, offered him their assistance and gave him something to eat. A sympathetic swallow gently looked after him, and the lullaby of its song made the poor boy sleep soundly. A feeling of sweet well-being pervaded his little body, he saw in his dreams a cloud of rose and gold, and in it the white figure of an angel which, gently moving its wings, arrived at his side and in a melodious voice said to him:

"Manuel, your sufferings have ended; let what you have seen be a warning to you, and try to be good to everybody, including animals."

The boy woke up, looked around him and found himself in his own bed, and soon the servant came in to tell him that it was now time to go to school. Manolo, who had not got over his astonishment, dressed himself quickly, noticing, full of surprise, that he went on two legs--as if he had gone all his life on four.

He never ill-treated an animal again, for this was what he said:

"Besides it being cowardly to ill-treat defenceless beings, is it not dangerous to expose oneself to the risk of the tables being turned and finding oneself in the same disagreeable position?"

*DON SUERO THE PROUD*

Once there was, in very remote times, a knight named Don Suero de las Navas, feudal lord of a number of Spanish villages, with a quantity of titles sufficient to fill one of the biggest pages, so many and so long were they.

Now, this knight was so proud that he thought it was a great dishonour to learn how to read and write things which he considered not only useless for a man of his accomplishments, but even shameful for a noble so rich as he was, who could indulge in the luxury of a secretary. And so it was indeed, that a poor man, who on account of his humble condition was obliged to learn those trifling necessities, went, like a vagabond, behind his master, pen and ink in satchel, ready to put into good Castilian the thousand and one mistakes that Don Suero frequently made.

On a certain occasion the king summoned the powerful Don Suero to go with his soldiers to the war, and as it could not be otherwise, the poor secretary, carrying a pen instead of a sword and a horn inkstand instead of an arrow, was obliged to place himself at the side of his lord and to march to the war.

At the beginning all went well. The orders and the letters acquainting the king with the results of the struggle were written by the hand of the unfortunate secretary, who earned each month, if my particulars are not wrong, the enormous sum of two silver threepenny pieces. Enough to have a carriage and to build good castles--in the air!

But an arrow shot at hazard in the fury of the fight against the Moors put Don Lesmes, for so the secretary was called, out of action, and Don Suero was under the necessity of seeking a new dependant who knew how to read and write--not an easy matter at that time.

He could not find one, to his great unhappiness; and if he had not had that quantity of pride in his body, he would surely have felt his lack of education, which might place him in an awkward situation, which happened soon afterwards.

He was engaged in a campaign against the Moors, who occupied a great part of Spain, when he received a packet from the king. And here the difficulty began. What did he say in those pot-hooks written on an enclosed parchment? To advance? To retreat? It was difficult to guess. The messenger had confined himself to delivering the packet and, putting spurs to his horse, disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Don Suero, perplexed, found himself with the parchment in his hand, turning it round and round, without knowing what it said. He made a man of a neighbouring village come to him, a man who was an enemy of his because of a certain thrashing which he had ordered him to be given some days before, and said:

"I have been told that you know how to read and write, and as nobody else here knows how to, you will read to me what this document from the king says, and if you do not tell me the truth I will have you skinned alive. Moreover, I require from you absolute secrecy. What is said here only you and I must know."

The offended peasant promised him all, but with the idea of taking complete vengeance. And indeed hardly had he cast a glance at the document than he exclaimed in accents of the greatest surprise:

"The king orders you to give up the command of the troops and to go immediately to the court, where you have been accused of treason."

"I a traitor! Ah, what scoundrels are those who have said that of me! I will cut off their ears with my own hand."

No sooner said than done; he at once left the command of his troops and started on his march to the court.

The journey was long and wearisome, and our Don Suero was obliged to halt in an uninhabited place, to dismount from his horse and to sleep on the blessed ground, neither more nor less than if he had been the poorest of peasants.

So he passed the night, until dawn surprised him. On collecting himself he saw a large board close to a ditch situated at the side of the road. What might that say? It ought to be something important when it was written in such large letters. He went as near as he could to see if any sign, which was not in writing, might indicate something to him of what the board said; but, alas! on going nearer he slipped and fell headlong into the ditch.

The notice said, "Take care in approaching!"

It cost him no little work to get out of it, and still the shock left him so weak that he could hardly move.

As well as he could, he approached the nearest village and got into bed. The first person whom he met was the cunning peasant who had so badly translated his majesty's letter. He was flying from Don Suero and had come face to face with him where he least expected to.

On seeing his good-natured gesture, he knew that his deceit had not been discovered, and, without trembling, he approached the noble knight.

"You can be useful to me," said the latter. "I do not feel disposed to go to the court. Write to the king what has happened to me and tell him that as soon as I am a little better I will come and confound those who have calumniated me."

But the peasant wrote what he liked and sent off the letter.

In it he heaped insults on the king, with the object of causing the latter to have the knight's head cut off.

The effect that the insulting letter produced was so great that the king rose in his anger and commanded Don Suero to be brought dead or alive, and that if he resisted he was to be tied to the tail of a horse.

The knight was imprisoned, but as he was so proud he would not give the king any explanations, and the latter commanded him to be tortured.

Not even the severest tortures could succeed in taming that will of iron. He was innocent, and would not ask grace of the king, who condemned him without any further motive. At length they were going to sentence him to death for his insults to the king, when one of the judges mentioned to the king the possibility of Don Suero having put his seal at the foot of a document he had not signed.

"Because," he said, "it is stated he does not know how to read and write."

"What!" angrily exclaimed the king. "Did I pass five long years in learning how to spell, and that silly Don Suero does not know how to do it? I do not believe it. If you cannot prove to me that the letter in which he calls me a weak and stupid king is unknown to him, I will have him killed to-morrow."

The judge did not neglect to see. He wrote out the sentence of death and took it to the prison, saying to the knight:

"Sign this and you are free!"

"What is this?"

"A writing in which you say to the king that you are innocent of what you are accused."

"If that is so, bring it and I will sign it."

And he put a cross and his seal at the foot of it.

The judge bore to the king that sentence that the prisoner had signed, believing it to be his salvation, and then the king, convinced of his innocence, commanded him to be set free and returned all his honours to him.

After that the knight dedicated himself to learning reading and writing, and made such progress that, after eight years of lessons, he already knew which was the letter O, both capital and small, which indeed showed a progress not too rapid.

And the peasant? He was sought for, being a wicked man, and as soon as he was caught he was put into prison, where he finished his life.

Ignorance is bad, but the wicked are worse than the ignorant.

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