Patrañas; or, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional

by Rachel Harriette Busk

  JUANITA THE BALD; OR, A DAUGHTER'S LOVE.

  There lived once upon a time on the banks of the Tagus a poor shepherdnamed Juan; and he was as honest as he was poor, and as contented ashe was honest. He had just enough wages to buy the coarse meal whichsupported him and his hard-working wife, Consolacion. A zamarra, orsuit of rough sheepskin, which served to keep out the cold for severalyears together, was afforded him from the flock, and with weavingand knitting Consolacion provided the rest of their scanty wardrobe.

  Now Juan had a large flock confided to his care, and his masterreposed entire trust in him; but if he never had the provocation ofbeing looked after, neither had he ever the satisfaction of beingpraised. Yet, notwithstanding this lack of all earthly stimulus,Juan was always faithful to his trust: no sheep ever strayed that hedid not seek out over the barren waste and the steep mountain-side;no little lamb was ever left by any sad accident without its dam,but he brought it home to Consolacion, and the honest pair reared itas tenderly as if it had been their own infant.

  But if Juan's master neglected to commend his integrity, therewas One who did not forget him, but kept a just account of all hisactions. Thus it chanced one day, when after a long drought the herbagewas dried up, and he had had endless trouble in keeping his flocktogether, as the poor things would wander hither and thither whileseeking pasture, that at last he got led away far from home, alonga wild path he had never trodden before, and the country all aroundhim looked strange, and yet there was the track of his runaway sheepbefore him, and on and on he went. The way was sandy, and the sun wasfierce, and at last his strength failed him; footsore and dispiritedhe sank down at the foot of a tree, whose shelter he vainly sought,as its foliage had long been burnt up by the parching sun, and onlythe bleached trunk and thirsty branches remained. Half maddened withthirst and heat, he fell into a sort of trance, and he thought hesaw an ancient hermit of severe aspect standing before him, who chidhim that he lay there taking his rest while his master's sheep wereastray, calling him only a zagal (or shepherd's helper).

  Juan did not lose his temper at the reprimand, but meekly beggedforgiveness, and endeavoured to rise that he might get him upon hisway again. His strength failed him, however, and he sank once moreupon the ground. Then, in the place of the hermit, he saw before hima beautiful child with a shepherd's crook in his hand, and carrying alamb in his bosom, who told him to be comforted, for he had found hissheep, and fed them, and led them safely home to the fold. He commendedtoo his faithful service, and told him that he was come to offer him areward, and gave him the choice of three. The first was a large sumof money, with which he could go down to one of the rich seaportsof Spain and trade. The second was a grand castle in the mountains,where he would have ease and luxury and plenty of retainers to dohis bidding. The third was to retain his present humble condition,while to his hearth was added the presence of a gentle daughter.

  Then honest Juan did not hesitate which to choose. "Give me not money,"said he, "for money begets covetousness, and codicia rompe el saco[23]. Give me not power, for I was not born to it, and the proverbof our forefathers says, A fallen rich man may make a good master,but not an enriched poor man (Sierve a un rico empobrecido y noa un pobre enriquecido). But give me--oh, give me a child to loveme in my old age! I am but a poor, worthless servant to ask thisthing--nevertheless, it is the bounty of God."

  When Juan woke to consciousness, the great heat of the day hadpassed away, and his shaggy dog was licking his face, as if to warnhim that he had but little time to get home before dark. Trustingto the animal's sagacity for guidance, he soon found his way home,where the sheep were safely folded, as the beautiful shepherd-childhad promised, and Consolacion was waiting on the threshold of the hut,to welcome him home to supper.

  To his other virtues Juan added humility, and, indeed, without it theywould have been of little value; and it seemed so much like vanityto talk of his vision that he never mentioned a word of it, till itslipped off his tongue unawares years after. Nevertheless, before atwelvemonth was out, a dear little baby was found in Consolacion'sarms, completing their simple happiness.

  Juanita (little Janey)--so they called her--was beautiful as a childof promise should be, but her chief glory was the rich profusion ofwaving hair which covered her like a veil, and rested gracefully onthe ground as she knelt in prayer. She grew up the joy of her parents,and being very docile soon learnt all the domestic arts of her mother,and was never so happy as when she was relieving her of her householdcares. If they had any thing to complain of with her it was that shehad quite a passion for admiring her beautiful hair; and when shewas sent to the fountain she would sometimes waste hours looking atherself, and arranging it according to various fancies. But when hermother looked grave on her return, it was quite sufficient to keepher from offending so again for many days.

  Thus many years of tranquil, homely joy passed away. Peace andgladness is not of long continuance in this world for the good, andJuan's time of trouble was at hand. First, it pleased Providence totake Consolacion to Himself; then, as a result of much weeping overher, and his great privations and long exposure to sun and weather,his eyes grew dim, and then his sight failed him entirely. Then theold dog, by whose help he still managed to keep the sheep together,in spite of his blindness, died too; and he was of no use any longeras a shepherd, and he had nothing left to him but Juanita. Juanita,it is true, fulfilled all a daughter's part, and by her industrysupported him above actual want.

  But her little head was always running on how his sightcould be regained; and one day she revealed the result of hercogitations. "Father dear, do not all the wise people live in greatcities? Let us now get us down to prosperous Segovia, or noble Toledo,or beautiful Sevilla, and let us find some of the cunning men to healof whom we have heard, and get you back your sight."

  But Juan lacked the courage to undertake so great a journey andexpose his little daughter to all the attendant risks by the way;and he was a man of great patience to endure what the Lord sent; andso they remained in the mountain-hut for five years more. By thattime Juanita was fifteen, and quite a little woman, and her advicebegan to have the weight of a woman's authority with her father,and at last she got him to consent to her often-urged prayer thatthey should journey to seek a doctor.

  Juanita's ears had been ever open to learn every story of healing fromevery traveller who chanced to pass their cot, and in this way shehad learnt the fame of a certain Jew mediciner, who dwelt at Toledo,and to Toledo therefore she was bent on directing their steps.

  A beautiful sight it was to see the venerable old man leaning his hand,withered with honest labour, on the silken tresses of his courageouschild. The way was long, but there was no lack of hospitality; theadmiration of the peasants they passed was every where kindled byJuan's patience and Juanita's devotion, and a bite and a sup neverfailed them. At last they came to Toledo; and in a great city it wasnot so easy to find shelter, but God warmed to them the heart of anold woman who had herself suffered and learnt compassion by suffering;she gave them a bed, and Juanita's busy fingers, before long, providedmeans of subsistence.

  Her next care was to make out the Hebrew doctor, which was not of theeasiest, as those of his race were scarcely tolerated, and did not careto make themselves ostensible. However, a daughter's love overcomesall obstacles, and at last she found the means to bring her fatherbefore the wise man. Imagine her joy, when after all her labours, hepronounces with confidence that he can restore her father's sight! Fora moment of joy, a twelve-month of anxiety, however. In another minuteshe has learnt that he demands 500 maravedis for the cure!

  "Abate something for charity? What! charity to a dog of aChristian! Why, it was enough that he soiled his fingers with healinghim, but to forego his pitiful fee too,--never! by the Holy City,never!"

  Juanita could speak no word more for tears. In silence she placed herfather's hand on her glittering hair, and in sadness guided his weakfootsteps back to their poor shelter.

  Hard work it had b
een to provide subsistence for them both, and tomake a little extra to have something to offer to the lone widow,who had taken them in--but how hope ever to make up 500 maravedis? Ifin the first days of their arrival she had wasted some precious hoursover her old favourite pastime of arranging her luxuriant tresses,and had taken pleasure when people called out in admiration--all thatwas gone by now. She sat at her little loom, work, work, work!--shenever took her hands off, never lifted her eyes, never even saw thatthe barber who lived opposite was constantly gazing upon her. The onlything to cheer her was the placid voice of Juan, who would continuallybid her be of good comfort and put her trust in God.

  One day, in the midst of her toil, there came a messenger from theCorregidor of the city. His aunt had died that day, and as she diedunmarried, a procession of girls equal in number to the years of herlife must follow her to the grave, draped in white. She numberedeighty years, and Juanita was required to make up the eightiethattendant. Juanita could not say "Nay," even though it cost her suchprecious hours.

  When she came into the hall where the mourners were assembledshe found to her no slight disgust that the dress she had to wearconsisted in part of a great white hood. It was hard, on the only dayshe suffered herself to part from her work, to have to cover up herglorious hair! At all events, till the procession began to move shewould throw it back. She did so, and it made her look the pictureof an angel, as it fell in rich curls over the white dress. At thesame moment the Corregidor's wife passed through the hall. Thoughyounger than her defunct sister-in-law she had arrived at that agewhen nature sometimes thinks it right to withdraw her gift of hair,and sorely did she lament the loss. For a long time past she had leftan order with a clever barber of the city to manufacture her a wigwhich should make good the defect, and he was to swear it was no deadperson's hair. She had a superstition that in wearing the hair of adead person, you assumed the responsibility of all their sins, and,the good lady being sufficiently satisfied with her own position in thescale of grace, had no desire to run the risk of getting a worse one,even for the sake of the coveted wig. But a wig made of the hair ofa living person was not an order easy to execute. The moment her eyesfell on Juanita's magnificent cabellera (head of hair) she determinedthat it should not be long before it should decorate her own head.

  Accordingly, she hastened to call the Corregidor aside and assure himhe must procure it for her. The Corregidor knowing the attachmenta maiden was likely to have for such an adornment, endeavoured toconvince her of the impossibility of the task. All was of no use,save to render her more resolute. The Corregidor knew that in disputeswith his wife he always had to give in at last, and so, to pacify her,promised he would do his best, and to satisfy her that he did so theinterview was arranged to take place in her presence.

  The funeral was no sooner over than the Corregidor beckoned Juanitato follow him into his wife's room.

  Poor little Juanita never thought of resisting an order from so greata functionary, but tripped along lightly behind him.

  What was her surprise to find herself severely chid for wastingthe time she might spend in working for her father in the vanity ofdecking out her hair! Juanita did not grow angry, or deny her fault,but could not forbear asking, with great simplicity, "Was it herfault if God had given her a great mass of hair to comb out?"

  "Not your fault at all, my dear child," said the Corregidor, muchrelieved to find she took his admonitions so meekly. "Not your faultat all, so long as you keep it on your head; but you might cut itall off."

  "Cut it off!" repeated poor Juanita, mechanically; "what would bethe use of that?"

  "Why, you might sell it, child. I myself would give you fifty maravedisfor it."

  "Give me fifty maravedis for it!" exclaimed the child, wondering whathe could possibly want it for.

  The Corregidor, fancying her surprise was dictated by indignation atthe smallness of his offer, and incited by a gesture from his wife,impatient lest she should lose the prize, hastened to reply, "Well,if that does not content you, I'll give you 100 maravedis."

  But Juanita's astonishment only increased; so she stared at himinstead of answering.

  "I'd even say 150," continued the Corregidor.

  But Juanita only looked the more surprised. And so they went on, hisanxiety bidding against her bewilderment, till at last he got up to500 maravedis!

  "500 maravedis!" echoed the child, as if waking from a trance at thewords which brought back to memory the fee required to restore herfather's sight. "Oh, yes! give me 500 maravedis, it is all yoursat that!" And then the thought of her great loss made her burstinto a flood of tears. It was a thought which for a moment almostoverpowered her strong sense of filial piety, and in the depth ofher little heart she half wished the Corregidor would repent of hisbargain. But no such luck; at her first sign of yielding the lady hadrun off to fetch her largest scissors, and in a trice she had begunshearing at the glittering spoil. Down the bright silken masses fellon the snowy drapery, and beside them fell the child's pearly tearsover her lost treasure. At last the sacrifice was complete; and poorJuanita stood in the midst of the ruin more dead than alive.

  Then the Corregidor counted into her lap the promised sum, and thereckoning once more woke a sensation of joy. Wrapping her hood closeround her, Juanita lost not a moment in flying to conduct her fatherto the house of the Jew.

  Her thoughts were now entirely fixed on the moment of his restoration,but even this thought was embittered by the reflection that his onereason for desiring to have his sight back was to look on her--andshe was no longer what she had been!

  The strange alteration in her appearance soon got whispered about amongthe neighbours; and she got so much stared at that she never venturedinto the street but when forced by sheer necessity, and then she ranalong, looking neither to the right hand nor the left, and not evenperceiving how considerately her opposite neighbour the barber followedher steps, and defended her from the rudeness of the street boys.

  At last her father's tedious cure was completed, and she was admittedto see him. Some one had, unperceived by her, followed her respectfullyall the way, ready to protect her at all hazards. In the zaguan (sortof vestibule) of the Jew's house this faithful follower confrontedher, and she recognized the gallant barber at once. Gently pushingback her hood he substituted another covering for her head. Juanitaput up her hand, and, to her surprise, found it tangled in the massesof her own rich hair! She stroked it with both hands, and found it allthere, just as if by enchantment. Finding her dumb with astonishment,the barber hastened to explain that the wife of the Corregidor havingsent the hair to him to make up, he had resolved no one should wearit but herself, and for the Corregidora he had put together the bestmatch he could from the store he kept by him for such purposes. Theywere now interrupted by a summons from the Jew, who was ready to removeJuan's bandages. They no sooner reached the room where he was, thanhe ran and clasped Juanita in his arms, exclaiming, "God be praisedthat I can see you, my child--a few years' blindness are well repaidwhen it is reserved to one to see such a daughter as you!" Then,perceiving the barber, he embraced him too, and said, "God be praisedfor my sight! since I can now work for my living again, and repay you,my benefactor, for well I know, though I would never tell Juanitato increase her burden, that it is you who have paid the rent of ourlodging all this time! My son, my dear son, what can I do for you?"

  "There is one thing, father, you can do for me--one only thing,but it is too great to ask!"

  "Nothing is too great to-day--ask away, boy, never fear!" Thebarber looked towards Juanita to gain courage, and, seeing herapproving smile, fell on his knees and begged Juan to let him marryher. "With all my heart, if the wench so will," replied the old man;"I cannot see her wedded to an honester fellow!" Juan was not slow toread in her eyes what her sentiments were, and so, without more ado,he took the hand of each to place them in one another. But both drewback. The barber, with all his charity and delicacy and taste, wasvery ugly, and he could not believe in his good fortune
; and Juanitahad one condition to lay down first. "How now! what's this?" saidthe father. "Come, friend barber, explain yourself."

  "Well, sir, I think it is but fair to give Juanita time to consider itall. I know I'm not so good-looking as her husband ought to be. Longago should I have told her how I loved her but for this--but I darednot! I longed to offer the 500 maravedis over and over again, but Idared not speak to her; and now the joy is all so strange I feel Imust not hurry her."

  "Well spoken, young man! but, Juanita, what do you hang back for?"

  "I--I have one little condition to make;" and she turned to thebarber. "I have been thinking that we have not acted quite honestlywith the Corregidora. She has a superstition against wearing deadpeople's hair, and she has paid honourably for that of a livingperson--so what she has bought must be taken back to her. Moreover,I recognize that all my life this hair has been a snare to me, andwhenever I have been led from the path of duty it has been by itsmeans--so I am resolved never to wear it again, and to be known infuture by no other name but that of Juanita the Bald! What say you,are you content to marry me now?" The honest barber--perhaps on thewhole not very sorry for a stipulation which put them somewhat neareron a condition of equality in regard to personal appearance--onlyanswered by clasping her in his embrace.

  "What! what is all this," fell in the old man, "about hair and theCorregidora, and Juanita the--the Bald!--eh?" Then the barber wasobliged to explain to him the sacrifice Juanita had made, first toobtain his cure, and again to her sense of honour, and her delicacy ofconscience. The old man was quite unnerved by the recital. At firsthe was determined to resist her resolution; but his own mind was toowell regulated not to acknowledge on reflection that she had chosenthe good part.

  Then, after blessing solemnly, both her and her betrothed, heexclaimed, "Did I not choose rightly from among the three gifts?" (inhis humility he would not say rewards). "If I had chosen riches, theywould have burst the bag and run away. And if I had chosen power,my retainers would have mocked my want of knowledge, and forsakenme. But a daughter's love--what can compare with it?"