Pedro

“ Don Pedro is approach'd.
[Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Balthasar, and John the
Bastard.]
Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, are you come to meet your trouble? The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
Leon. Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of your Grace; for trouble being gone, comfort should remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. ”

“ Her pallor was sadly heightened, and the proud fire had gone from the dark eyes. Sorrow seemed indelibly impressed upon the gentle face; but with it a dignity strangely at variance with her youthfulness, and a refinement of beauty almost startling to the good Pedro, who whispered to himself, "Blessed saints! 't is the face of an angel." ”

“ The dreams of Pedro were rudely interrupted. The big door suddenly opened to admit a character very different from the weaklings who made his tavern their rendezvous. He was dark-skinned as the rest of the crew, red-faced as old Pedro (from the same faithful indulgence in vintages) , not younger than forty, yet aggressive, vibrating with physical power, elasticity, and an overweening insolence. ”

“ You will scarcely find in any historian a more animated and graphic narration than that which tells how Don Pedro, deserted by all, hated by all, proudly and sternly, and at last successfully, stood his ground against his numerous and triumphant foes. ”

“ Down the road Little Brother came running. Throwing himself into Pedro's arms, he cried, "Oh, Pedro, Pedro! The bells, the bells! I wish you could have heard them; and they rang when I laid your gift on the altar."
"I did hear them, Little Brother," said Pedro. "Their sound came to me over the snow,—the sweetest music I ever heard."
Long years after, when Pedro grew to be a man, he was a great musician. Many, many people came to hear him play.
Some one said to him one day, "How can you play so sweetly? I never heard such music before." ”

“ Had not he said to Pedro the night before, when the Señor Don Rafael had told them that the General Vicente Gonzales was in El Toro, that for a word he himself would go to him there; and doubtless Pedro had stolen away alone, like the surly fox that he was. But the saints be praised, the road was open to one man as well as another.
“Hush!” said one in a warning tone; “though Pedro may have a fancy for a cleft head or broken bones, must we all cry for the same? Go to thou Pepé! thou art scarce old enough to leave the shade of thy mother’s reboso. ”

“ There, withal, dwelt Pedro, beloved comrade of Cristoval, and his genial head was silvered for many a long year. And all the children of the valley, when, from Father Tendilla—who gathered his last flock in Xilcala—they had learned about the saints, fixed upon Pedro as the vicar of the Patron Saint of childhood. There, moreover, dwelt the señora, the guardian angel of Pedro. A somewhat surcharged and superheated guardian angel, perhaps, but gradually moderating, under the influence of the repose of the valley, to a mild and kindly warmth. ”

“ But before Pedro had entirely recovered from his illness, he realized the nature of his fondness for Apolinaria. Dismayed and perplexed, he knew not what to do, for, to tell his love for her seemed to his simple eyes an impertinence. That he should dare to love one so immeasurably above him one in whom earthly love was merged in her love for God and her fellowmen! No, he must go back to his old life at the presidio, just as soon as he was able, and leave her with his love unsaid. ”

“ Whether there was any occult sympathy in his reflections with the contemplation of their gnarled, twisted, gouty, and knotty limbs, still bearing gracious and goodly fruit, I know not, but it was his private retreat, and under one of the most rheumatic and misshapen trunks there was a rude seat. Here Father Pedro sank, his face toward the mountain wall between him and the invisible sea. The relentless, dry, practical Californian sunlight falling on his face grimly pointed out a night of vigil and suffering. ”

“ Pedro, cruel and ruthless as he was, was a man of great eloquence and insinuating manners, and giving his own version of affairs, he completely won over the prince, who felt himself, moreover, bound in some degree to support him, inasmuch as he, an ally of England, had been dethroned by an army composed partly of English. Pedro made the most magnificent promises to the prince in return for his aid, ceding him the whole of the province of Biscay, and agreeing to pay the British troops engaged in his service when he regained his throne, the Black Prince engaging to pay them in the mean time. ”

“ Pedro is a great man now! He is no longer a humble trooper, to pipe-clay his belts and hold his captain's bridle. By his sword he has carved out a fair name for himself, and a fair fortune likewise. He led three assaults against Pampeluna, like a very valiant fool as he is, and was three times shot through the body for his trouble. Don Carlos de España, a right noble cavalier, embraced him before the whole line of the Spanish army, and appointed him a cornet in Don Alvaro's troop of lancers. ”

“ The appearance of the monstrous Pedro with his news drew Ricardo out of a feeling of dreaminess wrapped up in a sense of impending trouble. A woman? Yes, there was one; and it made all the difference. After driving away Pedro, and watching the white helmets of Heyst and Lena vanishing among the bushes he stood lost in meditation. ”

“ Pedro sprang up, and took his fiddle; but the gentleman stopped him as he was going out, and asked if that pile of shavings was all the bed he had. He spoke so kindly, that Pedro told him his story.
The gentleman felt so sorry for him, and was so pleased with his sweet, sad face, that he took him to his own home, and gave him a nice warm breakfast; and, being in want of an errand-boy, he concluded to let Pedro have the place.
Pedro has lived happily in his new home ever since; and, though he still likes to play on his fiddle, he has no wish to return to his old wandering mode of life. ”

“ Pedro filled his big basket with the lovely red and yellow and pink and white roses which grew in the garden in such rich abundance. Then he ran into the house with them. As the light from the candles fell upon them, to his amazement he saw that they were no longer roses. The basket was full of wood.
"Where did you get this wood?" cried the woman angrily. "There are only roses in the garden. Where have you been?"
She seized Pedro roughly by the collar of his new coat and shook him until his teeth chattered. He looked up into the saint's eyes. St. Anthony's face was stern. ”

“ Meanwhile Pedro, unable to make the grooms comprehend his meaning, advanced to the head of the stubborn charger, looked in his face, muttered in his ear, led him a few paces by the rein, then turned his head from the sun, jabbering to the grooms as he did so what to them was unintelligible. ”

“ I must discontinue your company: your brother, the bastard, is fled from Messina: you have, among you killed a sweet and innocent lady: For my Lord Lack-beard there, he and I shall meet; and till then peace be with him.
[Exit Benedick.]
D. Pedro.
He is in earnest.
Claud. In most profound earnest; and I'll warrant you for the love of Beatrice.
D. Pedro.
And hath challenged thee?
Claud.
Most sincerely.
D. Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit!
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but then is an ape a doctor to such a man. ”

“ We drink. Presently Pedro sleepeth. What more simple, then, than to bind his arms, unstrap his poor wooden leg, strap it to one of thy good ones,—first cutting away the back of the leather socket to admit thy bent knee,—don his cloak, sombrero, and sword, and sally forth when the door is opened to thy knocking? The cloak hitched up by thy rapier will conceal thy bent leg. Thine intoxication will account for thine awkward gait on the unaccustomed peg, will excuse thy tilted sombrero to hide thy face, and thy silence if addressed. ”

“ Pedro turned away with a gesture as if to wave him off. He faced about. "Do I know her! Warily and charily, señor—as a pup knoweth the family cat! Ah, Madre! Lieutenant Cristoval, she hath a tongue like a flail—like a red-hot rapier. Thou shouldst hear her storm—at some other man—when she is roused! Nay, smile not! I once heard her berating her servants, and they wilted, withered, shrivelled like spiders on a hot skillet. Ah, stew me! Bolio!"
"Thou dost stir mine interest, Pedro," said Cristoval. "Who is the lady?" ”

“ When he beholds Don Pedro in royal robes, standing on the threshold of his gorgeous portal, surrounded by such of the brilliant Castilians who as yet are true to him, the dusky emir is moved to smile, and as he dismounts to kiss Don Pedro’s hand, the Balax gleaming like fire on his head, his steely blue eyes fix on it greedily, and it is clear to Don Juan who stands behind, that strong passion of some kind moves him.
Long he contemplates in silence the turban of the Moor; then, turning abruptly to Don Juan, he whispers: “What right has the Infidel to wear such gems? ”

“ Another Tagalog version, called “Pedro’s Fortunes” and narrated by Facundo Esquivel of Nueva Ecija, represents the hero as inheriting the inexhaustible purse from his father.
Pedro, with his wealth, soon attracts the notice of the princess, who slyly wheedles his purse away from him. Bent on revenge, he sets out travelling. Hunger soon drives him to eat some beautiful blossoms he finds on a strange tree in the mountains. No sooner has he eaten, however, than horns grow out of his forehead. At first in despair, but later becoming philosophical, he eats some of the leaves of the tree. ”

“ The disappointed claimant now left Pedro in disgust; but was speedily recalled to Bilbao, where the king repaired, by the promise that his ambition should be gratified. The infante hastened to that town, and proceeded to the house occupied by the court. As he approached the royal apartments, some of the tyrant’s creatures, as if in jest, deprived him of his poniard—the only weapon which he had about him, and, at the same moment he was struck on the head by a mace; another blow brought him lifeless to the ground. ”

“ All this Pedro saw in a moment and he knelt down beside her and tried to rouse her, even tugging at her arm a little, as though he would have tried to carry her away. He turned her face toward him, so that he could rub some of the snow on it, and when he had looked at her silently a moment he stood up again, and said:
"It's no use, Little Brother. You will have to go on alone."
"Alone?" cried Little Brother. "And you not see the Christmas festival?"
"No," said Pedro, and he could not keep back a bit of a choking sound in his throat. "See this poor woman. ”

“ Pedro promised to do as he was told, and [147] the princess having retired into the palace, Pedro amused himself by walking under the lofty balconies, watching the fire-flies grow brighter as night came on.
Just about midnight the magician was seen watering the pinks, and as soon as he perceived Pedro he said—
“There were once seven pigeons who said, ‘Seven pigeons are we, and with other seven pigeons we might all be mated; but, as it is, we must remain seven pigeons.’”
“Quite so,” put in Pedro. ”

“ She knoweth not her fate, poor girl."
"Kill him, Pedro!"
"I will—if thou dost not."
"I, Pedro! How in the fiend's name could I kill even a rat?" demanded the cavalier, with impatience. "Look at me! Look about thee! Is this a paper house, imbecile? Am I tied with pack-threads? Another day—perhaps two—perhaps three—and I shall share the Inca's fate. Be sure of it, friend."
Pedro shrugged and glanced about. "Keep thy courage, Cristoval. Stone walls do not always make a prison. I've learned some tricks in my career besides those of the kitchen. Thou knowest I was not always a cook." ”

“ He was a rather imposing-looking but not a formidable old man. His cloak or mantle of brown stuff was worn and ragged, his turban was quite as dingy, but the long white beard that fell upon his breast made his swarthy face look even fiercer than it really was, and the stout staff, with which he helped himself over the uneven road, seemed to the little crusaders some terrible weapon of torture and of martyrdom.
But Pedro was a valiant little fellow after all. The fighting spirit of his father the Don burned within him, and few little folks of seven know what caution is. ”

“ Those varlets below deserve their flaying, but it groweth wearisome."
Pedro shook his head. "I doubt if she could be estopped by anything short of strangulation. However, I'll cast about." But he muttered as he moved away: "Now the saints lend me their protection! This is what cometh of being a cook."
Thereafter, when the lady broke out, Pedro, with marvellous patience, would go to the patio, approach her with all deference, and oppose her torrent with an equal flood of apologies, assurances, entreaties, compliments, and cajoleries, with splendid versatility. ”

“ Besides, it appears to my humble judgment that a sovereign rejected by the whole nation cannot have an altogether clean chronicle to show. Report, at least, is not favourable to Don Pedro, who has gained the nickname of El Cruel.”
“Tut, tut,” answers the prince impatiently, “subjects must obey their masters. I myself have no patience with these Castilian nobles who call in a bastard in place of their lawful king. Until I see cause to change, my sympathies are all with Don Pedro.” ”