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Updated: May 24, 2025
And then there stood between them, under an oak, a priest whose aspect in the morning sun was so commanding that the foes at his bidding heard Mass as he performed it under the oak, and at the words of the Gospel they made friends." The oak is still shown in the forest of Faye. This poem, immeasurably superior to Paquita la Sevillane, was far less admired.
Paquita responded to that passion which is felt by all really great men for the infinite that mysterious passion so dramatically expressed in Faust, so poetically translated in Manfred, and which urged Don Juan to search the heart of women, in his hope to find there that limitless thought in pursuit of which so many hunters after spectres have started, which wise men think to discover in science, and which mystics find in God alone.
Oh, I have fully recognized Monsieur de la Baudraye's similarity to a Parisian bill-discounter; their nature is identical. At eight-and-twenty, handsome, well conducted, and childless I assure you, madame, I never saw the problem of virtue more admirably expressed. The author of Paquita la Sevillane must have dreamed many dreams!
Paquita seemed to have been created for love by a particular effort of nature. In a night her feminine genius had made the most rapid progress.
Had it not been for the thought of Paquita waiting for me over there in Montevideo, I could have said, "O good friend Sweet Potato, and good friends all, let me remain for ever with you under this roof, sharing your simple pleasures, and, wishing for nothing better, forget that great crowded world where all men are striving to conquer Nature and death and to win fortune; until, having wasted their miserable lives in their vain endeavours, they drop down and the earth is shovelled over them!"
His fury waxed at this impediment, but he recovered his tranquillity, went and found his cravat, and advanced towards her with an air of such ferocious meaning that, without knowing of what crime she had been guilty, Paquita understood, none the less, that her life was in question.
When the two lovers glanced at one another, Paquita seemed ashamed, she dropped her eyes lest she should meet the eyes of Henri, but her gaze sank lower to fasten on the feet and form of him whom women, before the Revolution, called their conqueror. "I am determined to make this girl my mistress," said Henri to himself.
For all answer Ruth Harvey only nestled closer to her sister and clung to her for courage and support. Paquita, however, became Amazonian at once. "Is there nothing I can do, Ned? I can't bear to lie here listening and taking no part. Surely I could shoot a pistol well enough." "You can help us best and most by lying flat and showing not so much as a finger at the door. We can tend to them, Fan.
Then, by a highly philosophical revulsion, after describing the house of ill-fame where the Andalusian ended her days, the writer came back to the ballad at the opening: Paquita now is faded, shrunk, and old, But she it was who sang: "If you but knew the fragrant plain, The air, the sky, of golden Spain," etc.
While she fully enjoyed the intoxicating delights of success, Dinah dreaded the malignity of provincial society, where more than one woman, if the secret should slip out, would certainly find points of resemblance between the writer and Paquita. Reflection came too late; Dinah shuddered with shame at having made "copy" of some of her woes. "Write no more," said the Abbe Duret.
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