Read Online Cervantes Street by Jaime Manrique - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jaime Manrique
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“He’s been much distracted lately.”
“Excuse my bad manners, but I’m in a hurry.” I bowed to Andrea and ran down the stairs, past Don Rodrigo, and into the street. I was choking for lack of breath.
Insane with jealousy and murderous rage, I left for Toledo later that morning. I had to find out the truth once and for all. I entered my grandparents’ home, our ancestral home, as a burglar: I jumped over the wall in the back of the orchard and then climbed to the balcony of Mercedes’s chambers. The door was open and the room was empty. As if I were a criminal, I hid behind a wall tapestry in her bedchamber and decided to wait for her. I had lost my mind, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t have long to wait.
Mercedes and Leonela entered the room followed by Miguel. I almost gasped. Leonela soon left the room and closed the door behind her. Miguel tried to grab Mercedes’s hand. My first impulse was to draw my sword and drive it through his heart, but I had been taught to value restraint.
“I am promised to another man,” she said emphatically. “Now please leave this room and never come to visit me again. You are not welcome in this house anymore. Leonela!” she called.
Her maid entered immediately, as if she had been standing guard just outside the door.
Mercedes said, “Miguel is leaving now.”
Standing at the door’s threshold, the wretch asked if there was any hope for him.
“No,” Mercedes said firmly. “None whatsoever.”
He persisted: “I will never give you up. I will wait for you the rest of my life, if necessary.”
Mercedes approached him, placed her palm on his chest, and pushed him, until he was on the other side of the door. Then she closed it in his face. Her admirable behavior appeased me. I felt ashamed of ever having doubted her. I didn’t have to stay hidden behind the tapestry—I had seen all I needed to see. Mercedes need not ever know what I had witnessed. She threw herself on the bed and started sobbing, burying her face in a cushion. I tiptoed to the balcony and climbed down to the garden below, then I rode back to Alcalá with a mortally wounded heart: I would never again believe in friendship.
Later, in Don Quixote Part I , Miguel gave a version of his betrayal in the novella The Curiosity of the Impertinent Man , one of those tedious stories he inserted without the least regard for artistry within the main novel. In that narrative he tried to absolve himself of his guilt by implying that I, like Anselmo, had encouraged him to woo Mercedes to test her purity.
As the days passed, my rage swelled and became a living entity that festered in my heart. I had to retaliate in some way, so my life would belong to me once more. I would punish Miguel Cervantes for his impudence and his unforgivable betrayal.
I left Alcalá and went to Madrid. My parents were surprised to see me. I said I had a school project that required my presence in Madrid for a few days. I wrote an anonymous sonnet exposing Andrea’s secret, made a dozen copies, and asked my personal servant to post them on the doors of churches and other important public buildings of Madrid. Then I went to see Aurelio, the man in charge of the stables and pigpen. “I want you to cut off the head of our biggest pig,” I said, “and deposit it in front of a house.” I gave him Miguel’s address. “Do it at dawn. Make sure that nobody sees you.” This was something that was commonly done when you wanted to expose publicly a family of conversos.
It would just be a matter of time before someone insulted Miguel by calling him a Jew, or the brother of a whore, and he would have to fight a duel to defend his honor.
A few days later, I sent word to Miguel with a servant, asking him to meet me at a tavern where poets and other rough types met. When Miguel arrived at the tavern that night, he was in a sullen mood and looked genuinely troubled. We started a game of cards. A man named Antonio de Sigura asked if he
“Excuse my bad manners, but I’m in a hurry.” I bowed to Andrea and ran down the stairs, past Don Rodrigo, and into the street. I was choking for lack of breath.
Insane with jealousy and murderous rage, I left for Toledo later that morning. I had to find out the truth once and for all. I entered my grandparents’ home, our ancestral home, as a burglar: I jumped over the wall in the back of the orchard and then climbed to the balcony of Mercedes’s chambers. The door was open and the room was empty. As if I were a criminal, I hid behind a wall tapestry in her bedchamber and decided to wait for her. I had lost my mind, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t have long to wait.
Mercedes and Leonela entered the room followed by Miguel. I almost gasped. Leonela soon left the room and closed the door behind her. Miguel tried to grab Mercedes’s hand. My first impulse was to draw my sword and drive it through his heart, but I had been taught to value restraint.
“I am promised to another man,” she said emphatically. “Now please leave this room and never come to visit me again. You are not welcome in this house anymore. Leonela!” she called.
Her maid entered immediately, as if she had been standing guard just outside the door.
Mercedes said, “Miguel is leaving now.”
Standing at the door’s threshold, the wretch asked if there was any hope for him.
“No,” Mercedes said firmly. “None whatsoever.”
He persisted: “I will never give you up. I will wait for you the rest of my life, if necessary.”
Mercedes approached him, placed her palm on his chest, and pushed him, until he was on the other side of the door. Then she closed it in his face. Her admirable behavior appeased me. I felt ashamed of ever having doubted her. I didn’t have to stay hidden behind the tapestry—I had seen all I needed to see. Mercedes need not ever know what I had witnessed. She threw herself on the bed and started sobbing, burying her face in a cushion. I tiptoed to the balcony and climbed down to the garden below, then I rode back to Alcalá with a mortally wounded heart: I would never again believe in friendship.
Later, in Don Quixote Part I , Miguel gave a version of his betrayal in the novella The Curiosity of the Impertinent Man , one of those tedious stories he inserted without the least regard for artistry within the main novel. In that narrative he tried to absolve himself of his guilt by implying that I, like Anselmo, had encouraged him to woo Mercedes to test her purity.
As the days passed, my rage swelled and became a living entity that festered in my heart. I had to retaliate in some way, so my life would belong to me once more. I would punish Miguel Cervantes for his impudence and his unforgivable betrayal.
I left Alcalá and went to Madrid. My parents were surprised to see me. I said I had a school project that required my presence in Madrid for a few days. I wrote an anonymous sonnet exposing Andrea’s secret, made a dozen copies, and asked my personal servant to post them on the doors of churches and other important public buildings of Madrid. Then I went to see Aurelio, the man in charge of the stables and pigpen. “I want you to cut off the head of our biggest pig,” I said, “and deposit it in front of a house.” I gave him Miguel’s address. “Do it at dawn. Make sure that nobody sees you.” This was something that was commonly done when you wanted to expose publicly a family of conversos.
It would just be a matter of time before someone insulted Miguel by calling him a Jew, or the brother of a whore, and he would have to fight a duel to defend his honor.
A few days later, I sent word to Miguel with a servant, asking him to meet me at a tavern where poets and other rough types met. When Miguel arrived at the tavern that night, he was in a sullen mood and looked genuinely troubled. We started a game of cards. A man named Antonio de Sigura asked if he
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