The Exemplary Novels of CervantesCervantes Saavedra, Miguel de
General
The Exemplary Novels of Cervantes
Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de
Spanish fiction -- Translations into English
There was in that city a young cavalier, about two-and-twenty years of
age, whom wealth, high birth, a wayward disposition, inordinate
indulgence, and profligate companions impelled to do things which
disgraced his rank. This young cavalier--whose real name we shall, for
good reasons, conceal under that of Rodolfo--was abroad that night with
four of his companions, insolent young roisterers like himself, and
happened to be coming down a hill as the old hidalgo and his family were
ascending it. The two parties, the sheep and the wolves, met each other.
Rodolfo and his companions, with their faces muffled in their cloaks,
stared rudely and insolently at the mother, the daughter, and the
servant-maid. The old hidalgo indignantly remonstrated; they answered
him with mocks and jeers, and passed on. But Rodolfo had been struck by
the great beauty of Leocadia, the hidalgo's daughter, and presently he
began to entertain the idea of enjoying it at all hazards. In a moment
he communicated his thoughts to his companions, and in the next moment
they resolved to turn back and carry her off to please Rodolfo; for the
rich who are open-handed always find parasites ready to encourage their
bad propensities; and thus to conceive this wicked design, to
communicate it, approve it, resolve on ravishing Leocadia, and to carry
that design into effect was the work of a moment.
They drew their swords, hid their faces in the flaps of their cloaks,
turned back, and soon came in front of the little party, who had not yet
done giving thanks to God for their escape from those audacious men.
Rodolfo laid hold on Leocadia, caught her up in his arms, and ran off
with her, whilst she was so overcome with surprise and terror, that far
from being able to defend herself or cry out, she had not even sense or
sight left to see her ravisher, or know whither he was carrying her. Her
father shouted, her mother shrieked, her little brother cried, the
servant-maid tore her own face and hair; but the shouts and shrieks were
disregarded, the wailings moved no pity, the clawing and scratching was
of no avail; for all was lost upon the loneliness of the spot, the
silence of the night, and the cruel hearts of the ravishers. Finally,
the one party went off exulting, and the other was left in desolation
and woe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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