the birthday of the infanta- 第1部分

THE　BIRTHDAY　OF　THE　INFANTA



＇TO　MRS。　WILLIAM　H。　GRENFELL　OF　TAPLOW　COURT　…　LADY　DESBOROUGH＇





It　was　the　birthday　of　the　Infanta。　　She　was　just　twelve　years　of

age；　and　the　sun　was　shining　brightly　in　the　gardens　of　the　palace。



Although　she　was　a　real　Princess　and　the　Infanta　of　Spain；　she　had

only　one　birthday　every　year；　just　like　the　children　of　quite　poor

people；　so　it　was　naturally　a　matter　of　great　importance　to　the

whole　country　that　she　should　have　a　really　fine　day　for　the

occasion。　　And　a　really　fine　day　it　certainly　was。　　The　tall

striped　tulips　stood　straight　up　upon　their　stalks；　like　long　rows

of　soldiers；　and　looked　defiantly　across　the　grass　at　the　roses；

and　said：　　'We　are　quite　as　splendid　as　you　are　now。'　　The　purple

butterflies　fluttered　about　with　gold　dust　on　their　wings；　visiting

each　flower　in　turn；　the　little　lizards　crept　out　of　the　crevices

of　the　wall；　and　lay　basking　in　the　white　glare；　and　the

pomegranates　split　and　cracked　with　the　heat；　and　showed　their

bleeding　red　hearts。　　Even　the　pale　yellow　lemons；　that　hung　in

such　profusion　from　the　mouldering　trellis　and　along　the　dim

arcades；　seemed　to　have　caught　a　richer　colour　from　the　wonderful

sunlight；　and　the　magnolia　trees　opened　their　great　globe…like

blossoms　of　folded　ivory；　and　filled　the　air　with　a　sweet　heavy

perfume。



The　little　Princess　herself　walked　up　and　down　the　terrace　with　her

companions；　and　played　at　hide　and　seek　round　the　stone　vases　and

the　old　moss…grown　statues。　　On　ordinary　days　she　was　only　allowed

to　play　with　children　of　her　own　rank；　so　she　had　always　to　play

alone；　but　her　birthday　was　an　exception；　and　the　King　had　given

orders　that　she　was　to　invite　any　of　her　young　friends　whom　she

liked　to　come　and　amuse　themselves　with　her。　　There　was　a　stately

grace　about　these　slim　Spanish　children　as　they　glided　about；　the

boys　with　their　large…plumed　hats　and　short　fluttering　cloaks；　the

girls　holding　up　the　trains　of　their　long　brocaded　gowns；　and

shielding　the　sun　from　their　eyes　with　huge　fans　of　black　and

silver。　　But　the　Infanta　was　the　most　graceful　of　all；　and　the　most

tastefully　attired；　after　the　somewhat　cumbrous　fashion　of　the　day。

Her　robe　was　of　grey　satin；　the　skirt　and　the　wide　puffed　sleeves

heavily　embroidered　with　silver；　and　the　stiff　corset　studded　with

rows　of　fine　pearls。　　Two　tiny　slippers　with　big　pink　rosettes

peeped　out　beneath　her　dress　as　she　walked。　　Pink　and　pearl　was　her

great　gauze　fan；　and　in　her　hair；　which　like　an　aureole　of　faded

gold　stood　out　stiffly　round　her　pale　little　face；　she　had　a

beautiful　white　rose。



From　a　window　in　the　palace　the　sad　melancholy　King　watched　them。

Behind　him　stood　his　brother；　Don　Pedro　of　Aragon；　whom　he　hated；

and　his　confessor；　the　Grand　Inquisitor　of　Granada；　sat　by　his

side。　　Sadder　even　than　usual　was　the　King；　for　as　he　looked　at　the

Infanta　bowing　with　childish　gravity　to　the　assembling　counters；　or

laughing　behind　her　fan　at　the　grim　Duchess　of　Albuquerque　who

always　accompanied　her；　he　thought　of　the　young　Queen；　her　mother；

who　but　a　short　time　before　…　so　it　seemed　to　him　…　had　come　from

the　gay　country　of　France；　and　had　withered　away　in　the　sombre

splendour　of　the　Spanish　court；　dying　just　six　months　after　the

birth　of　her　child；　and　before　she　had　seen　the　almonds　blossom

twice　in　the　orchard；　or　plucked　the　second　year's　fruit　from　the

old　gnarled　fig…tree　that　stood　in　the　centre　of　the　now　grass…

grown　courtyard。　　So　great　had　been　his　love　for　her　that　he　had

not　suffered　even　the　grave　to　hide　her　from　him。　　She　had　been

embalmed　by　a　Moorish　physician；　who　in　return　for　this　service　had

been　granted　his　life；　which　for　heresy　and　suspicion　of　magical

practices　had　been　already　forfeited；　men　said；　to　the　Holy　Office；

and　her　body　was　still　lying　on　its　tapestried　bier　in　the　black

marble　chapel　of　the　Palace；　just　as　the　monks　had　borne　her　in　on

that　windy　March　day　nearly　twelve　years　before。　　Once　every　month

the　King；　wrapped　in　a　dark　cloak　and　with　a　muffled　lantern　in　his

hand；　went　in　and　knelt　by　her　side　calling　out；　'MI　REINA！　　MI

REINA！'　and　sometimes　breaking　through　the　formal　etiquette　that　in

Spain　governs　every　separate　action　of　life；　and　sets　limits　even

to　the　sorrow　of　a　King；　he　would　clutch　at　the　pale　jewelled　hands

in　a　wild　agony　of　grief；　and　try　to　wake　by　his　mad　kisses　the

cold　painted　face。



To…day　he　seemed　to　see　her　again；　as　he　had　seen　her　first　at　the

Castle　of　Fontainebleau；　when　he　was　but　fifteen　years　of　age；　and

she　still　younger。　　They　had　been　formally　betrothed　on　that

occasion　by　the　Papal　Nuncio　in　the　presence　of　the　French　King　and

all　the　Court；　and　he　had　returned　to　the　Escurial　bearing　with　him

a　little　ringlet　of　yellow　hair；　and　the　memory　of　two　childish

lips　bending　down　to　kiss　his　hand　as　he　stepped　into　his　carriage。

Later　on　had　followed　the　marriage；　hastily　performed　at　Burgos；　a

small　town　on　the　frontier　between　the　two　countries；　and　the　grand

public　entry　into　Madrid　with　the　customary　celebration　of　high

mass　at　the　Church　of　La　Atocha；　and　a　more　than　usually　solemn

AUTO…DA…FE；　in　which　nearly　three　hundred　heretics；　amongst　whom

were　many　Englishmen；　had　been　delivered　over　to　the　secular　arm　to

be　burned。



Certainly　he　had　loved　her　madly；　and　to　the　ruin；　many　thought；　of

his　country；　then　at　war　with　England　for　the　possession　of　the

empire　of　the　New　World。　　He　had　hardly　ever　permitted　her　to　be

out　of　his　sight；　for　her；　he　had　forgotten；　or　seemed　to　have

forgotten；　all　grave　affairs　of　State；　and；　with　that　terrible

blindness　that　passion　brings　upon　its　servants；　he　had　failed　to

notice　that　the　elaborate　ceremonies　by　which　he　sought　to　please

her　did　but　aggravate　the　strange　malady　from　which　she　suffered。

When　she　died　he　was；　for　a　time；　like　one　bereft　of　reason。

Indeed；　there　is　no　doubt　but　that　he　would　have　formally　abdicated

and　retired　to　the　great　Trappist　monastery　at　Granada；　of　which　he

was　already　titular　Prior；　had　he　not　been　afraid　to　leave　the

little　Infanta　at　the　mercy　of　his　brother；　whose　cruelty；　even　in

Spain；　was　notorious；　and　who　was　suspected　by　many　of　having

caused　the　Queen's　death　by　means　of　a　pair　of　poisoned　gloves　that

he　had　presented　to　her　on　the　occasion　of　her　visiting　his　castle

in　Aragon。　　Even　after　the　expiration　of　the　three　years　of　public

mourning　that　he　had　ordained　throughout　his　whole　dominions　by

royal　edict；　he　would　never　suffer　his　ministers　to　speak　about　any

new　alliance；　and　when　the　Emperor　himself　sent　to　him；　and　offered

him　the　hand　of　the　lovely　Archduchess　of　Bohemia；　his　niece；　in

marriage；　he　bade　the　ambassadors　tell　their　master　that　the　King

of　Spain　was　already　wedded　to　Sorrow；　and　that　though　she　was　but

a　barren　bride　he　loved　her　better　than　Beauty；　an　answer　that　cost

his　crown　the　rich　provinces　of　the　Netherlands；　which　soon　after；

at　the　Emperor's　instigation；　revolted　against　him　under　the

leadership　of　some　fanatics　of　the　Reformed　Church。



His　whole　married　life；　with　its　fierce；　fiery…coloured　joys　and

the　terrible　agony　of　its　sudden　ending；　seemed　to　come　back　to　him

to…day　as　he　watched　the　Infanta　playing　on　the　terrace。　　She　had

all　the　Queen's　pretty　petulance　of　manner；　the　same　wilful　way　of

tossing　her　head；　the　same　proud　curved　beautiful　mouth；　the　same

wonderful　smile　…　VRAI　SOURIRE　DE　FRANCE　indeed　…　as　she　glanced　up

now　and　then　at　the　window；　or　stretched　out　her　little　hand　for

the　stately　Spanish　gentlemen　to　kiss。　　But　the　shrill　laughter　of

the　children　grated　on　his　ears；　and　the　bright　pitiless　sunlight

mocked　his　sorrow；　and　a　dull　odour　of　strange　spices；　spices　such

as　embalmers　use；　seemed　to　taint　…　or　was　it　fancy？　…　the　clear

morning　air。　　He　buried　his　face　in　his　hands；　and　when　the　Infanta

looked　up　again　the　curtains　had　been　drawn；　and　the　King　had

retired。



She　made　a　little　MOUE　of　disappointment；　and　shrugged　her

shoulders。　　Surely　he　might　have　stayed　with　her　on　her　birthday。

What　did　the　stupid　State…affairs　matter？　　Or　had　he　gone　to　that

gloomy　chapel；　where　the　candles　were　always　burning；　and　where　she

was　never　allowed　to　enter？　　How　silly　of　him；　when　the　sun　was

shining　so　brightly；　and　everybody　was　so　happy！　　Besides；　he　would

miss　the　sham　bull…fight　for　which　the　trumpet　was　already

sounding；　to　say　nothing　of　the　puppet…show　and　the　other　wonderful

things。　　Her　uncle　and　the　Grand　Inquisitor　were　much　more

sensible。　　They　had　come　out　on　the　terrace；　and　paid　her　nice

compliments。　　So　she　tossed　her　pretty　head；　and　taking　Don　Pedro

by　the　hand；　she　walked　slowly　down　the　steps　towards　a　long

pavilion　of　purple　silk　that　had　been　erected　at　the　end　of　the

garden；　the　other　children　following　in　strict　order　of　precedence；

those　who　had　the　longest　names　going　first。





A　procession　o