The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-09-29
SELECTED STORY.
The Miller Of B0larque.

eyes, SIR" the miller was saying
"tis fine place, the convent OF Bo-
larque. Few strangers come to see it;
but the rare ones who do have told me
that, of all the monasteries in Spain, il
is the best preserved. You saw the
chapter house this morning and the
friars' cells and the church. Not q
stick has been moved, not stone
pulled away, not even nail from the
doors, since the friars went. It's a
long story, sir; but my father and my
grandfather before me were born and
bred in this old mill, as l was, too.
The mill belonged to the convent, and
my grandfather was the convent miller.
When the friars left, my grandfather
swore solemnly that he would guard it
for them, and on his deathbed my
father swore the same, and was not
going TO disgrace my blood by doing
anything different. Yes, 1 have been
often sore put to it-many time on
the cold December nights have thought
of the old rafters rotting and moulder-
ing there, when it would have only
taken few strokes with an axe to get
enough wood to keep an honest man
warm for the whole winter. But mol
I said to Maria CHATS my wife) 1
would rather chop off my right hand
than chop that woodl Be sure it would
bring us harmI Many time have
wanted few nails or iron to repair the
mill; and it's many weary league to
a sin to have all that iron rusting and
useless up there; but would have let
the mill rot into the Tagus before l
would have taken it'll That is why, sir,
the convent is still convent as you
see to-day, and not ruin. And my
son, the lad you saw just now-yesl
fine, handsome boy enough-when he
takes the mill in his turn, will do the
same. The convent of Bolarque was
entrusted to my grandfather. The last
words the prior said to him were to
preserve and keep it for the friars' COM
ing, and 80 we have done, and 80 we
shall do, as long as one of our name is
left"
The miller was silent, thinking, per-
haps, of old forgotten things-to the
tapping of the water beneath, for the
kitchen was built on piles, and jutted
out far into the river-to the tapping Of
the water which, like human beings, is
ever flowing to oblivion.
1, too, held my peace. saw the
convent again as l had seen it in the
morning, as l still see it if | shut my
eyes, whitening in the sun amidst the
almond trees on the terraced slopes
which, rising to the sky above in tan
gled underground of corkwood, died
into the shore of the broad and boiling
Tagus at the bottom.
"What strange things it would tell
us if stones could speak," 1 said, with
out intention, in that strange listless-
ness of mood which makes a man say
to break silence.
eyes, sirl" said the miller, " strange
things. Even the old mill, too, if it
could speak, would tell some secrets.
But my grandfather was the one who
could have told you all the stories. He
had been about the convent from boy,
and the friars trusted him as one of
themselves. Even to this day, 1, Ra-
mon Buendia, as you see me here, am
the only living man who knows where
the convent jewels and sacred vessels
lie hidden, still waiting for their right
full owners to claim them. He was
good man (muy hombre de blen) my
grandfather, and he would have bit his
tongue in two and spit it out rather
than break his faith, and that the friars
knew right WELL"
How was that?" said. 81 thought
the decree of expulsion had no time to
move or change anything"
eyes; but in this case they had ~;
said the miller, and his eyes twinkled,
d." and it was all my grandfather's doing,
The very day before they were turned
Quit was not often that he did So
he went into town-it was market day
to sell some olives for the friars.
When he got into the plaza he noticed
that there was some stir about the Casa
Consistorial, and he also noticed fit
ting in and out certain strangers whom
he had never seen before. 1t was not
like as it is now when, if one goes into
the town, most of the people one sees
are unknown to one. In those days
my grandfather knew every face in the
town, and could pick out a stranger at
once. Now some rumors of what was
about to happen had got to my grand
fathers ears, as it had to those of 9TH
ers. Everybody laughed at them, and
paid but little heed; but the look of
these strangers and the unusual stir
about the Casa Consistorial set him
a.thinking. So what does he do but
leaves his olives and goes straight to
the Alcalde, who was, l may tell you, a
great friend of my grandfather's, and a
great friend of the prior's, for never a
summer went by but he came to b.
larque to hunt and shoot in the sierras
and the cork woods above the convent,
those same as you saw this morning.
They weren't struggling scrub in those
days, sir, but great oak forests, and
worth mint of money. The ministers
in Madrid cut them down and sold for
en- old song. Ali there were plenty
lined their pockets in those days, sir
Well! as 1 was saying, he found the
Alcalde busy signing one paper after
another, and as he signed, he handed
them to q strange man whom my grand.