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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:33 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:37:33 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11674-0.txt b/11674-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1284cc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/11674-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9355 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11674 *** + +THE TORRENT + +(ENTRE NARANJOS) + + +By VICENTE BLASCO IBAÑEZ + + +TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY + +ISAAC GOLDBERG + +AND + +ARTHUR LIVINGSTON + +1921 + + + + +THE TORRENT + + + + +PART ONE + +I + + +"Your friends are waiting for you at the Club. They saw you for a moment +only, this morning; they'll be wanting to hear all your stories about +life in Madrid." + +Doña Bernarda fixed upon the young deputy a pair of deep, scrutinizing, +severely maternal eyes that recalled to Rafael all the roguish anxieties +of his childhood. + +"Are you going directly to the Club?..." she added. "Andrés will be +starting too, right away." + +Rafael, in reply, wished a blunt "good-afternoon" to his mother and don +Andrés, who were still at table sipping their coffee, and strode out of +the dining-room. + +Finding himself on the broad, red-marble staircase in the silence of +that ancient mansion, of such princely magnificence, he experienced the +sudden sense of comfort and wellbeing that a traveler feels on plunging +into a bath after a tedious journey. + +Ever since he had arrived, with the noisy reception at the station, the +hurrahs, the deafening music, handshakes here, crowding there, the +pushing and elbowing of more than a thousand people who had thronged +the streets of Alcira to get a close look at him, this was the first +moment he had found himself alone, his own master, able to do exactly as +he pleased, without needing to smile automatically in all directions and +welcome with demonstrations of affection persons whose faces he could +scarcely recall. + +What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted +staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the +_patio_ was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains +flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of +his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding +behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the +powerful don Ramón Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard +workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving +their arms, and shouting _vivas_ for their deputy--Alcira's "favorite +son." + +This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, +though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his +mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his +noisy reception, not to mention don Andrés, and numerous other friends, +ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, +_caciques_--political bosses--and leading citizens of the district. + +To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding +himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for +some time motionless in the _patio_, looking up at the balconies of the +first story, then at the attic windows--from which in mischievous years +gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his +mother's scolding voice--and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue +above--a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the +oranges to clusters of flaming gold. + +He thought he could still see his father--the imposing, solemn don +Ramón--sauntering about the _patio_, his hands behind his back, +answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his +party adherents, who followed him about with idolatrous eyes. If the old +man could only have come back to life that morning to see how his son +had been acclaimed by the entire city!... + +A barely perceptible sound like the buzzing of two flies broke the deep +silence of the mansion. The deputy looked toward the only balcony window +that was open, though but slightly. His mother and don Andrés were still +talking in the dining-room--and of him, as usual, without a doubt! And, +lest they should call him, and suddenly deprive him of his keen +enjoyment at being alone, he left the _patio_ and went out into the +street. + +It was only the month of March; but at two in the afternoon the air was +almost uncomfortably hot. Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to +the winter rains, Rafael inhaled, with a sense of voluptuous pleasure, +the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards +through the narrow lanes of the ancient town. + +Once, years before, he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage, +entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia, who would +not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos. A +memory of a Venetian _calle_ now came back to Rafael's mind as he +traversed the streets of old Alcira--shadowy, cramped, sunk deep as +wells between rows of high houses. With all the economy of a city built +on an island, Alcira rears its edifices higher and higher as its +population grows, leaving just enough space free for the bare needs of +traffic. + +The streets were deserted. The noisy, orchard workers who had welcomed +Rafael had gone back to the fields again. All the idlers had fled to the +cafés, and as the deputy walked smartly by in front of these, warm waves +of air came out upon him through the windows, with the clatter of poker +chips, the noise of billiard balls, and the uproar of heated argument. + +Rafael reached the Suburban Bridge, one of the two means of egress from +the Old City. The Júcar was combing its muddy, reddish waters on the +piles of the ancient structure. A number of row-boats, made fast to the +houses on the shore, were tugging at their moorings. Rafael recognized +among them the fine craft that he had once used for lonely trips on the +river. It lay there quite forgotten, gradually shedding its coat of +white paint out in the weather. + +Then he looked at the bridge itself; the Gothic-arched gate, a relic of +the old fortifications; the battlements of yellowish, chipped rock, +which looked as if all the rats of the river had come at night to nibble +at them; then two niches with a collection of mutilated, dust-laden +images--San Bernardo, patron Saint of Alcira, and his estimable sisters. +Dear old San Bernardo, _alias_ Prince Hamete, son of the Moorish king +of Carlet, converted to Christ by the mystic poesy of the Christian +cult,--and still wearing in his mangled forehead the nail of martyrdom! + +As Rafael walked past the rude, disfigured statue he thought of all the +stories his mother, an uncompromising clerical and a woman of credulous +faith, had told him of the patron of Alcira, particularly the legend of +the enmity and struggle between San Vicente and San Bernardo, an +ingenuous fancy of popular superstition. + +Saint Vincent, who was an eloquent preacher arrived at Alcira on one of +his tours, and stopped at a blacksmith's shop near the bridge to get his +donkey shod. When the work was done the horseshoer asked for the usual +price for his labor; but San Vicente, accustomed to living on the bounty +of the faithful, waxed indignant, and looking at the Júcar, exclaimed, +vindictively: + +"Some day folks will say: 'This is where Alcira used to be'." + +"Not while Bernardo is here!" the statue of San Bernardo remarked from +its pedestal. + +And there the statue of the saint still stood, like an eternal sentinel, +watching over the Júcar to exorcise the curse of the rancorous Saint +Vincent! To be sure the river would rise and overflow its banks every +year, reaching to the very feet of San Bernardo sometimes, and coming +within an ace of pulling the wily saint down from his perch. It is also +true that every five or six years the flood would shake houses loose +from their foundations, destroy good farm land, drown people, and commit +other horrible depredations--all in obedience to the curse of Valencia's +patron; but the saint of Alcira was the better man of the two for all +of that! And, if you didn't believe it, there the city was, still +planted firmly on its feet and quite unscathed, except for a scratch +here and there from times when the rains were exceptionally heavy and +the waters came down from Cuenca in a great roaring torrent! + +With a smile and a nod to the powerful saint, as to an old friend of +childhood, Rafael crossed the bridge and entered the _arrabal_, the "New +City," ample, roomy, unobstructed, as if the close-packed houses of the +island, to get elbow-room and a breath of air, had stampeded in a flock +to the other bank of the river, scattering hither and thither in the +hilarious disorder of children let loose from school. + +The deputy paused at the head of the street on which his club was +located. Even from there he could hear the talking and laughing of the +many members, who had gathered in much greater number than usual because +of his arrival. What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! +A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the +orange crop, or cock-fighting. He would be expected to tell them what +kind of a man the Premier was--and then spend the afternoon analyzing +the character of every minister! Then don Andrés would be there, that +boresome Mentor who, at the instance of Rafael's mother, would never let +him out of sight for a moment. Bah! The Club could wait! He would have +plenty of time later in the day to stifle in that smoke-filled parlor +where, the moment he showed his face, everybody would be upon him and +pester the life out of him with questions and wire-pulling! + +And more and more yielding to the lure of the southern sunshine and to +those perfumes of May floating about him in wintertime, he turned off +into a lane that led to the fields. + +As he emerged from the ancient Ghetto and found himself in the open +country, he drew a deep breath, as if to imprison in his lungs all the +life, bloom and color of his native soil. + +The orange orchards lined both banks of the stream with straight rows of +green, round tree-tops. The sun glistened off the varnished leaves; the +wheels of irrigating machines sounded from the distance like humming +insects. The moisture rising from the canals, joined the clouds from the +chimneys of the motors, to form a thin veil of mist over the +countryside, that gave a pearly transparency to the golden light of the +afternoon. + +To one side rose the hill of San Salvador, its crest topped with the +Hermitage, and the pines, the cypresses, and the prickly pears around +that rough testimonial of popular piety. The sanctuary seemed to be +talking to him like an indiscreet friend, betraying the real motive that +had caused him to evade his appointment with his political friends and +disobey his mother into the bargain. + +Something more than the beauty of the fields had enticed him from the +city. When the rays of the rising sun had awakened him that morning on +the train, the first thing he had seen, before opening his eyes even, +was an orange orchard, the bank of the Júcar, and a house painted +blue,--the very one that was now in sight away off there, among the +round tree-tops along the river. + +How many times in past months his thoughts had lingered on the memory of +that same scene! + +Afternoons, in the Congress, while the Premier on the Blue Bench would +be answering the interpellations of the Opposition in sharp incisive +tones, Rafael's brain would begin to doze, reduced to jelly, as it were, +by the incessant hammering of words, words, words! Before his closed +eyes a dark veil would begin to unroll as if the moist, cellar-like +gloom in which the Chamber is always plunged, had thickened suddenly, +and against this curtain, like a cinema dream, rows of orange-trees +would come into view, and a blue house with open windows; and pouring +through the windows a stream of notes from a soft voice, ever so sweet, +singing _lieder_ and ballads as an accompaniment to the hard, sonorous +paragraphs snapping from the Premier's teeth. Then applause and +disorder! The moment for voting had arrived, and the fading outlines of +the Blue House still hovering before his dreamy eyes, the member for +Alcira would ask his neighbor: + +"How do we vote? Yes or no?" + +The same it was at night at the Opera, where music served only to remind +him of a familiar voice winding like a thread of gold out across the +orchards through the orange trees; and the same again, after dinner with +his colleagues on committees, when the deputies, their cigars tilted +cockily upwards between their lips, and with all the voluptuous gaiety +inspired by good digestions, would troop off to see the night out in +some trustworthy house of assignation where their dignity as +representatives of the country would not be compromised! + +Now that blue house was actually before his eyes! And he was hurrying +toward it,--not without some hesitation; a vague uneasiness he could not +explain. His heart was in his mouth, it seemed, and he found it hard to +breathe. + +Orchard workers came along the road, occasionally, stepping aside to +make room for the famous man, though he answered their greeting +absent-mindedly. What a nuisance! They would all be sure to tell where +they had seen him! His mother would know all about it within half an +hour! And, that evening, a scene in the dining-room! As Rafael walked on +toward the Blue House, he thought bitterly of his situation. Why was he +going there anyhow? Why insist on living in a stew all the time? He had +had two or three short but violent scenes with his mother a few months +before. What a fury that stern, pious, and puritanic woman became when +she found out that her son had been calling down at the Blue House and +was on friendly terms with a strange lady, an outsider, whom the +respectable folk of the city would have nothing to do with, and of whom +not a good word was ever heard except from the men at the Club, when +they were sure their wives were not in hearing distance! + +Tempestuous scenes they had been! He was running for Congress at the +time. Was he trying--she wanted to know--to dishonor the family and +compromise his political future? Was that what his poor father had lived +for--a life of sacrifice and struggle, of service to "the Party," which, +many a time, had meant shouldering a gun? And a loose woman was to be +allowed to ruin the House of Brull, which for thirty years had been +putting every cent it owned into politics, for the benefit of My Lords +up in Madrid! And just when a Brull was about to reap the reward of so +many sacrifices at last, and become a deputy--the means perhaps of +clearing off the property, which was lousy with attachments and +mortgages!... + +Rafael had been no match for that energetic mother, the soul of "the +Party." Meekly he had promised never to return to the Blue House, never +to call again on that "loose woman"--doña Bernarda actually hissed as +she said the word. + +However, the upshot of it all had been that Rafael simply discovered how +weak he was. Despite his promise, he returned to the Blue House often, +but by round-about ways and over long detours, skulking from cover to +cover, as he had done in childhood days when stealing oranges from the +orchards. There he was, a man whose name was on the lips of the whole +county, and who at any moment might be invested with authority from the +people, thus realizing the life-long dream of his father! But the sight +of a woman in the fields, a child, a beggar, would make him blanch with +terror! And that was not the worst of it! Whenever he entered the Blue +House now he had to pretend he came openly, without any fear whatever. +And so things had gone on down to the very eve of his departure for +Madrid. + +As Rafael reached this point in his reminiscences, he asked himself what +hope had led him to disobey his mother and brook her truly formidable +wrath. + +In that blue house he had found only frank, disinterested friendship,--a +somewhat ironic comradeship, the condescending tolerance of a person +compelled by solitude to choose as her comrade the least repulsive among +a host of inferiors. Alas! How clearly he remembered and could again +foresee the sceptical, cold smile with which his words were always +received, though he was sure he had crammed them with burning passion! +What a laugh she had given,--as insolent and as cutting as a lash,--the +day he had dared to declare his love! + +"Now the soft-pedal on slush, eh, Rafaelito?... If you want us to go on +being friends, all right, but it's on condition you treat me as a man. +Comrades, eh, and nothing more." + +And with a look at him through those green, luminous, devilish eyes of +hers, she had taken her seat at the piano and begun one of her divine +songs, as if she thought the magic of her art might raise a barrier +between them. + +On another occasion, she was irritable rather; Rafael's appealing eyes, +his words of amorous adoration, seemed to provoke her, and she had said +with brutal frankness: + +"Don't waste your breath, please! I am through with love. I know men too +well! But even if anyone were to upset me again, it would not be you, +Rafaelito dear." + +And yet he had persisted, insensible to the irony and the scorn of this +terrible _amigo_ in skirts, and indifferent as well to the conflicts +that his blind passion might provoke at home if his mother knew. + +He tried to free himself from his infatuation, but unsuccessfully. With +that in view he fixed his attention on the woman's past; it was said +that despite her beauty, her aristrocratic manners, the brilliancy of +mind with which she had dazzled him--a poor country boy--she was only an +adventuress who had made her way over half the globe from one pair of +arms to another. Well, in that case, it would be a great exploit to win +a woman whom princes and celebrated men had loved! But since that was +impossible, why go on, why continue endangering his career and having +trouble with his mother all the time? + +To forget her, he stressed, before his own mind, words and attitudes of +hers that might be judged defects; and he would taste the joy of duty +well done when, after such gymnastics of the will, he could think of her +without great emotion. + +At the beginning of his life in Madrid he imagined he had recovered. New +surroundings; continuous and petty satisfactions to vanity; the +kow-towing of doorkeepers in Congress; the flattery of visitors from +here, there and everywhere who came with requests for passes to admit +them to the galleries; the sense of being treated as a comrade by +celebrities, whose names his father had always mentioned with bated +breath; the "honorable" always written before his name; all Alcira +speaking to him with affectionate familiarity; this rubbing elbows, on +the benches of the conservative majority, with a battalion of dukes, +counts and marquises--young men who had become deputies to round out the +distinction conferred by beautiful sweethearts or winning +thoroughbreds,--all this had intoxicated him, filled his mind +completely, crowding out all other thoughts, and persuading him that he +had been completely cured. + +But as he grew familiar with his new life, and the novelty of all this +adulation wore off, tenacious recollections rose again in his memory. At +night, when sleep relaxed the will to forget, which his vigilance kept +at painful tension, that blue house, the green, diabolical eyes of its +principal denizen, that pair of fresh lips with their ironic smile that +seemed to quiver between two rows of gleaming white teeth, would become +the inevitable center of all his dreams. + +Why resist any longer? He could think of her as much as he +pleased--that, at least, his mother would never learn. And he gave +himself up to the imagination of love, where distance lent an ever +stronger enchantment to that woman. + +He felt a vehement longing to return to his city. Absence seemed to do +away with all the obstacles at home. His mother was not so formidable as +he had thought. Who could tell whether, when he went back--changed as he +felt himself to be by his new experiences--it would not be easier to +continue the old relations? After so much isolation and solitude she +might receive him in more cordial fashion! + +The Cortes were about to adjourn, so, in obedience to repeated urging +from his fellow-partisans, and from doña Bernarda, to _do +something_--anything at all--to show interest in the home town--he took +the floor one afternoon at the opening of the session, when only the +president, the sergeant-at-arms, and a few reporters asleep in the +press-gallery, were present, and, with his lunch rising in his throat +from emotion, asked the Minister of Internal Affairs to show a little +more despatch in the matter of flood protection at Alcira--a bill still +in its in-fancy, though it had been pending some seventy years. + +After this he was free to return with the halo of a "business-like" +deputy shining about his head--"a zealous defender of the region's +interests," the local weekly and party organ called him. And that +morning, as he stepped off the train, the deputy, deaf to the Royal +March and to the _vivas_, stood up on tiptoe, trying to descry through +the waving banners the Blue House nestling in the distance among the +orange-trees. + +As he approached the place that afternoon he was almost sick with +nervousness and emotion. For one last time he thought of his mother, so +intent upon maintaining her prestige and so fearful of hostile gossip; +of the demagogues who had thronged the doors of the cafes that morning, +making fun of the demonstration in his honor; but all his scruples +vanished at sight of the hedge of tall rose-bays and prickly hawthorns +and of the two blue pillars supporting a barrier of green wooden bars. +Resolutely he pushed the gate open, and entered the garden. + +Orange-trees stretched in rows along broad straight walks of red earth. +On either side of the approach to the house was a tangle of tall +rose-bushes on which the first buds, heralds of an early spring, were +already beginning to appear. + +Above the chattering of the sparrows and the rustle of the wind in the +trees, Rafael could hear the sound of a piano--the keys barely touched +by the player's fingers--and a soft, timid voice, as if the song were +meant for the singer alone. + +It was she. Rafael knew the music: a _Lied_ by Schubert--the favorite +composer of the day; a master "whose best work was still unknown," as +she said in the cant she had learned from the critics, alluding to the +fact that only the least subtle of the melancholy composer's works had +thus far been popularized. + +The young man advanced slowly, cautiously, as if afraid lest the sound +of his footsteps break in upon that melody which seemed to be rocking +the garden lovingly to sleep in the afternoon's golden sunlight. + +He reached the open space in front of the house and once more found +there the same murmuring palms, the same rubblework benches with seats +and backs of flowered tile that he knew so well. There, in fact, she had +so often laughed at his feverish protestations. + +The door was closed; but through a half-opened window he could see a +patch of silk; a woman's back, bending slightly forward over the music. + +As Rafael came up a dog began to bark at the end of the garden. Some +hens that had been scratching about in sand of the drive, scampered off +cackling with fright. The music stopped. A chair scraped as it was +pushed back. The lady was rising to her feet. + +At the balcony a flowing gown of blue appeared; but all that Rafael saw +was a pair of eyes--green eyes, that seemed to fill the entire window +with a flood of light. + +"Beppa! Beppina!" cried a firm, a warm, a sonorous, soprano voice. +"_Apri la porta_. Open the door." + +And with a slight inclination of her splendid head of thick auburn hair +that seemed to crown her with a helmet of old gold, she smiled to him +with a friendly, somewhat mocking, intimacy: + +"Welcome, Rafaelito. I don't know why, but I was expecting you this +afternoon. We have heard all about your triumphs; the music and the +tumult reached even to our desert. My congratulations to the Honorable +don Rafael Brull. Come right in, I _su señorÃa_." + + + + +II + + +From Valencia to Játiva, in all that immense territory covered with +rice-fields and orange groves which Valencians embrace under the general +and rather vague designation of _La Ribera_, there was no one unfamiliar +with the name of Brull and the political power it stood for. + +As if national unity had not yet been effected and the country were +still divided into _taifas_ and _waliatos_ as in the days when one +Moorish King reigned over Carlet, another over Denia, and a third over +Játiva, the election system maintained a sort of inviolable rulership in +every district; and when the Administration people came to Alcira in +forecasting their political prospects, they always said the same thing: + +"We're all right there. We can rely on Brull." + +The Brull dynasty had been bossing the district for thirty years, with +ever-increasing power. + +The founder of this sovereign house had been Rafael's grandfather, the +shrewd don Jaime, who had established the family fortune by fifty years +of slow exploitation of ignorance and poverty. He began life as a clerk +in the _Ayuntamiento_ of Alcira; then he became secretary to the +municipal judge, then assistant to the city clerk, then +assistant-registrar of deeds. There was not a subordinate position in +those offices where the poor come in contact with the law that he did +not get his hands on; and from such points of vantage, by selling +justice as a favor and using power or adroitness to subdue the +refractory, he felt his way along, appropriating parcel after parcel of +that fertile soil which he adored with a miser's covetousness. + +A brazen charlatan he was, every moment talking of "Article Number +So-and-So" of the law that applied to the case. The poor orchard workers +came to have as much awe for his learning as fear of his malice, and in +all their controversies they sought his advice and paid for it, as if he +were a lawyer. + +When he had gotten a small fortune together, he continued holding his +menial posts in the city administration to retain the superstitious +respect which is inspired in peasant-folk by all who are on good terms +with the law; but not content with playing the eternal beggar, dependent +on the humble gratuities of the poor, he took to pulling them out of +their financial difficulties, lending them money on the collateral of +their future harvests. + +But six per cent seemed too petty a profit for him. The real plight of +these folk came when a horse died and they had to buy another. Don Jaime +became a dealer in dray horses, buying more or less defective animals +from gypsies in Valencia, praising their virtues to the skies, and +reselling them as thoroughbreds. And no sale on the instalment plan! +Cash down! The horses did not belong to him--as he vowed with his hand +pressed solemnly to his bosom--and their owners wished to realize on +their value at once. The best he could do in the circumstances prompted +by his greatness of heart, which always overflowed at the sight of +poverty was to borrow money for the purchase from a friend of his. + +The peasant in his desperate need would fall into the snare, and carry +off the horse after signing all kinds of notes and mortgages to cover +the loan of money he had not seen! For the don Jaime who spoke for the +unknown party in the deal transferred the cash to the same don Jaime who +spoke for the owner of the horse. Result: the rustic bought an animal, +without chaffering, at double its value, having in addition borrowed a +lot of money at cut-throat interest. In every turn-over of this sort don +Jaime doubled his principal. New straits inevitably developed for the +dupe; the interest kept piling up; hence new concessions, still more +ruinous than the first, that don Jaime might be placated and give the +purchaser a month's reprieve. + +Every Wednesday, which was market-day in Alcira and brought a great +crowd of orchard-folk to town, the street where don Jaime lived was the +busiest in the city. People came in droves to ask for renewal of their +notes, each leaving a tip of several _pesetas_ usually, not to be +counted against the debt itself. Others, humbly, timidly, as if they had +come to rob the grasping Shylock, would ask for loans; and the strange +thing about it, as the malicious noted, was that all these people, after +leaving everything they owned in don Jaime's hands, went off content, +their faces beaming with satisfaction, as if they had just been rescued +from a danger. + +This was don Jaime's chief skill. He had the trick of making usury look +like kindness; he always spoke of _those fellows_, those hidden owners +of the money and the horses--heartless wretches who were "after him," +holding him responsible for the short-comings of all their debtors. The +burdens he thus supposedly assumed won him a reputation as a +kind-hearted soul, and such confidence was the wily old demon able to +instill in his victims that when mortgages were foreclosed on homes or +fields, many of the unfortunates despoiled, would say, resignedly: + +"It's not his fault. What could the poor man do if they forced him to +it? It's those _other fellows_ who are sucking the blood of us poor +folks." + +And so, quietly, leisurely, tranquilly, don Jaime got possession of a +field here, then another there, then a third between the two; and in a +few years he had rounded out a beautiful orchard of orange-trees with +virtually no expenditure of capital at all. Thus his property went on +increasing, and, with his radiant smile, his spectacles on his forehead +and his paunch growing fatter and fatter, he could be seen surrounded by +new victims, addressing them with the affectionate _tu_, patting them on +the back, and vowing that this weakness he had for the doing of favors +would some day bring him to dying like a dog in the gutter. + +Thus he went on prospering. Nor was all the scoffing of city people of +any avail in shaking the confidence reposed in him by that flock of +rustics, who feared him as they feared the Law itself and believed in +him as they believed in God. + +A loan to a spendthrift eldest son made him the proprietor of the fine +city mansion, which came to be known as "the Brull place." From that +date he began to hob-nob with the large real-estate owners of the city, +who, though they despised this upstart, made a small place for him in +their midst with the instinctive solidarity that characterizes the +freemasonry of money. To gain a little more standing for his name, he +became a votary of San Bernardo, contributed to the funds for church +festivals, and danced attendance on the _alcalde_, whoever that "mayor" +might be. In his eyes now, the only people in Alcira were such as +collected thousands of _duros_, whenever harvest time came around. The +rest were rabble, rabble, sir! + +Then, at last he resigned the petty offices he had been filling; and +handing his usury business over to those who formerly had served him as +go-betweens, he set himself to the task of marrying off his son and sole +heir, Ramon, an idling ne'er-do-well, who was always getting into +trouble and upsetting the tranquil comfort that surrounded old Brull as +he rested from his plunderings. + +The father felt the satisfaction of a bully in having such a tall, +strong, daring and insolent son, a boy who compelled respect in cafes +and clubs more with his fists than with the special privileges conferred +in small towns by wealth. Let anyone dare make fun of the old usurer +when he had such a fire-eater to protect him! + +Ramon had wanted to join the Army; but every time he referred to what he +called his vocation, his father would fly into a rage. "Do you think +that is what I've worked for all these years?" He could remember the +time when, as a poor clerk, he had been forced to fawn on his superiors +and listen humbly, cringingly, to their reprimands. He did not want a +boy of his to be shoved about hither and thither like a mere machine. +"Plenty of brass buttons," he exclaimed with the scorn of a man never to +be taken in by external show, "and plenty of gold braid! But after all, +a slave, a slave!" + +No, he wanted to see his son free and influential, continuing the +conquest of the city, completing the family greatness of which he had +laid the foundations, getting power over people much as he himself had +gotten power over money. Ramón must become a lawyer, the only career for +a man destined to rule others. It was a passionate ambition the old +pettifogger had, to see his scion enter through the front door and with +head proudly erect, the precincts of the law, into which he had crawled +so cautiously and at the risk, more than once, of being dragged out with +a chain fastened to his ankle. + +Ramón spent several years in Valencia without getting beyond the +elementary courses in Common Law. The cursed classes were held in the +morning, you see, and he had to go to bed at dawn--the hour when the +lights in the pool-rooms went out. Besides, in his quarters at the hotel +he had a magnificent shotgun--a present from his father; and +homesickness for the orchards made him pass many an afternoon at the +pigeon traps where he was far better known than at the University. + +This fine specimen of masculine youth--tall, muscular, tanned, with a +pair of domineering eyes to which thick eyebrows gave a touch of +harshness--had been born for action, and excitement; Ramón simply +couldn't concentrate on books! + +Old Brull, who through niggardliness and prudence had placed his son on +"half rations," as he put it, sent the boy just money enough to keep him +going; but dupe, in turn, of the wiles he had formerly practiced on the +rustics of Alcira, he was compelled to make frequent trips to Valencia, +to come to some understanding with money lenders there, who had +advanced loans to his son on such terms that insolvency might lead Ramón +to a prison cell. + +Home to Alcira came rumors of other exploits by the "Prince," as don +Jaime called his boy in view of the latter's ability to run through +money. In parties with friends of the family, don Ramón's doings were +spoken of as scandalous actually--a duel after a quarrel at cards; then +a father and a brother--common workingmen in flannel shirts!--who had +sworn they would kill him if he didn't marry a certain girl he had been +taking to her shop by day and to dance-halls by night. + +Old Brull made up his mind to tolerate these escapades of his son no +longer; and he made him give up his studies. Ramón would not be a +lawyer; well, after all, one didn't have to have a degree to be a man of +importance. Besides the father felt he was getting old; it was hard for +him to look after the working of his orchards personally. He could make +good use of that son who seemed to have been born to impose his will +upon everybody around him. + +For some time past don Jaime had had his eye on the daughter of a friend +of his. The Brull house showed noticeable lack of a woman's presence. +His wife had died shortly after his retirement from business, and the +old codger stamped in rage at the slovenliness and laziness displayed by +his servants. He would marry Ramón to Bernarda--an ugly, ill-humored, +yellowish, skinny creature--but sole heiress to her father's three +beautiful orchards. Besides, she was conspicuous for her industrious, +economical ways, and a parsimony in her expenditures that came pretty +close to stinginess. + +Ramón did as his father bade him. Brought up with all the ideas of a +rural skinflint, he thought no decent person could object to marrying an +ugly bad-tempered woman, so long as she had plenty of money. + +The father-in-law and the daughter-in-law understood each other +perfectly. The old man's eyes would water at sight of that stern, +long-faced puritan, who never had much to say in the house, but went +into high dudgeon over the slightest waste on the part of the domestics, +scolding the farmhands for the merest oversight in the orchards, +haggling and wrangling with the orange drummers for a _centime_ more or +less per hundredweight. That new daughter of his was to be the solace of +his old age! + +Meantime, the "prince" would be off hunting every morning in the nearby +mountains and lounging every afternoon in the cafe; but he was no longer +content with the admiration of the idlers hanging around a billiard +table, nor was he taking part in the game upstairs. He was frequenting +the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with the _alcalde_ +and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all "decent" +folk together to take the "rabble" in hand! + +"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his +daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get +there... That's the way I like to see him." + +Ramón began by winning a seat in the _Ayuntamiento_, and soon was an +outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded +as a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the +streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest +glory was to have his enemies say of him: + +"Look out for that Ramón ... He's a tough proposition." + +Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish +hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living, +that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched" +by anyone who could serve, in tavern and café, as advertising agent of +his rising fame. + +And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward +with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a +short time he had become _alcalde;_ his prestige outgrew the limits of +the city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the +capital of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from +military service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that +backed him, although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw +to it that the constabulary was not too energetic in running down the +_roders_, the "wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election +time, would be forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole +country dared make a move without the previous consent of don Ramón, +whom his adherents always respectfully called their _quefe_, their +"chief." + +Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramón reach the zenith of his fame. +That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the +city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in +addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty +assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who +had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and +ambition. + +Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation +of all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his +soul heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And, +though the rabble--the political opponents of the son, that is--recalled +those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would come +to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and sane +people--people who had something in this world to lose--mourned the +death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen from the +lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune by hard +work, honest hard work! + +In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had +caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings with +peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the _cacique's_ power stifled +all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women cost very +little money, doña Bernarda pretended to know nothing about them. She +did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow, +self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties +are fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving +money. + +By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to +start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money +against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the +lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political +sovereignty over the region. + +Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramón +would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who +might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who governed +yonder in Madrid had ordered--and orders must be obeyed. In every town +whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern wine would +flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of _pesetas_ +would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don Ramón's +expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper to save on +clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly anything left +for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when the day for +the contest came around, ready in her excitement to help her husband +throw the entire house through the window, if need be. + +This, however, was all pure speculation on her part. The money that was +being scattered so madly broadcast was a "loan" simply. Some day she +would get it back with interest. Already her piercing eyes were +caressing the tiny, dark-complexioned, restless little creature that lay +across her knees, seeing in him the privileged heir-apparent who would +one day reap the harvest from all such family sacrifices. + +Doña Bernarda had taken refuge in religion as in a cool, refreshing +oasis in the desert of vulgarity and monotony in her life. Her heart +would swell with pride every time a priest would say to her in the +church: + +"Take good care of don Ramón. Thanks to him the wave of demagogy halts +at the temple door and evil fails to triumph in the District. He is the +bulwark of the Lord against the impious!" + +And when, after such a declaration, which flattered her worldly vanity +and assured her of a mansion in Heaven, she would pass through the +streets of Alcira in her calico wrapper and a shawl not over-clean, +greeted affectionately, effusively, by the leading citizens, she would +pardon don Ramón all the infidelities she knew about and consider the +sacrifice of her fortune a good investment. + +"If it were not for what we do, what would happen to the District.... +The lower scum would conquer--those wild-eyed mechanics and common +laborers who read the Valencian newspapers and talk about equality all +the time. And they would divide up the orchards, and demand that the +product of the harvests--thousands and thousands of _duros_ paid for +oranges by the Englishmen and the French--should belong to all." But to +stave off such a cataclysm, there stood don Ramón, the scourge of the +wicked, the champion of "the cause" which he led to triumph, gun in +hand, at election time; and just as he was able to send any rebellious +trouble-maker off to the penal settlement, so he found it easy to keep +at liberty all those who, despite the various murders that figured in +their biographies, lent themselves to the service of the government in +this support of "law and order!" + +The patrimony of the House of Brull went down and down, but its prestige +rose higher and higher. The sacks of money filled by the old man at the +cost of so much roguery were shaken empty over all the District; nor +were several assaults upon the municipal treasury sufficient to bring +them back to normal roundness. Don Ramón contemplated this squandering +impassively, proud that people should be talking of his generosity as +much as of his power. + +The whole District worshipped as a sacred flagstaff that bronzed, +muscular, massive figure, which floated a huge, flowing, gray-flecked +mustache from its upper end. + +"Don Ramón, you ought to remove that bush," his clerical friends would +say to him with a smile of affectionate banter. "Why, man, you look just +like Victor Emmanuel himself, the Pope's jailer." + +But though don Ramón was a fervent Catholic (who never went to mass), +and hated all the infidel turnkeys of the Holy Father, he would grin and +give a satisfied twirl at the offending mouth-piece, quite flattered at +bottom to be likened to a king. + +The _patio_ of the Brull mansion was the throne of his sovereignty. His +partisans would find him there, pacing up and down among the green boxes +of plantain trees, his hands clasped behind his broad, strong, but now +somewhat stooping back--a majestic back withal, capable of supporting +hosts and hosts of friends. + +There he "administered justice," decided the fate of families, settled +the affairs of towns--all in a few off-hand but short and decisive +words, like one of those ancient Moorish kings who, in that selfsame +territory, centuries before, legislated for their subjects under the +open sky. On market-days the _patio_ would be thronged. Carts would stop +in long lines on either side of the door. All the hitching-posts along +the streets would have horses tied to them, and inside, the house would +be buzzing like a bee-hive with the chatter of that rustic gentry. + +Don Ramón would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his +chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his +side--a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown +Prince. + +On afternoons when the _Ayuntamiento_ was in session, the chief could +never leave his _patio_. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be +dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible, +like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it +spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind. + +All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the +City Hall to the Brull _patio._ The few enemies don Ramón had in the +Council--meddlers, doña Bernarda called them--idiots who swallowed +everything in print provided it were against the King and +religion--attacked the _cacique_ persistently, censuring everything he +did. Don Ramón's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge +must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!" + +And a _regidor_ would be off to don Ramón's like a greyhound; and +arriving at the _patio_ panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of +relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down +as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the +limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said +this-and-that!" Don Ramón would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and +finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put +this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape, +would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would +gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramón's wisdom had +deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to +have the privilege of annihilating the enemy with the magic words--all +talking at the same time like magpies suddenly set chattering by the +dawn of a new light. + +If the opposition held its ground, again stupefaction would come over +them. Another mad dash in quest of a new consultation. Thus the sessions +would go by, to the great delight of the barber Cupido--the sharpest and +meanest tongue in the city--who, whenever the Council met, would observe +to his early morning shaves: + +"Holiday today: the usual race of councilors bare-back." + +When party exigencies forced don Ramón to be out of town, it was his +wife, the energetic doña Bernarda, who attended to the consultations, +issuing statements on party policy, as wise and apt as those of "the +chief" himself. + +This collaboration in the upbuilding and the up-holding of the family +influence was the single bond of union between husband and wife. This +cold woman, a complete stranger to tenderness, would flush with pleasure +every time the chief approved her ideas. If only she were "boss" of "the +Party!" ...Don Andrés had often said as much himself! + +This don Andrés was her husband's most intimate friend, one of those men +who are born to be second everywhere and in everything. Loyal to the +family to the point of sacrifice, he served, with the couple itself, to +fill out the Holy Trinity of the Brull religion that was the faith of +all the District. Where don Ramón could not go in person, don Andrés +would be present for him, as the chief's _alter ego_. In the towns he +was respected as the supreme vicar of that god whose throne was in the +_patio_ of the plantain trees; and people too shy to lay their +supplications before the god himself, would seek out that jolly +advocate,--a very approachable bachelor, who always had a smile on his +tanned, wrinkled face, and a story under his stiff cigar-stained +mustache. + +Don Andrés had no relatives, and spent almost all his time at the +Brull's. He was like a piece of furniture that seems always to be +getting in the way at first; but when all were once accustomed to him, +he became an indispensable fixture in the family. In the days when don +Ramón had been a young subordinate of the _Ayuntamiento_, he had met and +liked the man, and taking him into the ranks of his "heelers," had +promoted him rapidly to be chief of staff. In the opinion of the "boss," +there wasn't a cleverer, shrewder fellow in the world than don Andrés, +nor one with a better memory for names and faces. Brull was the +strategist who directed the campaign; don Andrés the tactician who +commanded actual operations and cleaned up behind the lines when the +enemy was divided and undone. Don Ramón was given to settling everything +in a violent manner, and drew his gun at the slightest provocation. If +his methods had been followed, "the Party" would have murdered someone +every day. Don Andrés had a smooth tongue and a seraphic smile that +simply wound _alcaldes_ or rebellious electors around his little +finger, and his specialty was the art of letting loose a rain of sealed +documents over the District that started complicated and never-ending +prosecutions against troublesome opponents. + +He attended to "the chief's" correspondence, and was tutor and playmate +to the little Rafael, taking the boy on long walks through the orchard +country. To doña Bernarda he was confidential adviser. + +That surly, severe woman showed her bare heart to no one in the world +save don Andrés. Whenever he called her his "señora," or his "worthy +mistress," she could not restrain a gesture of satisfaction; and it was +to him that she poured out her complaints against her husband's +misdeeds. Her affection for him was that of a dame of ancient chivalry +for her private squire. Enthusiasm for the glory of the house united +them in such intimacy that the opposition wagged its tongues, asserting +that doña Bernarda was getting even for her husband's waywardness. But +don Andrés, who smiled scornfully when accused of taking advantage of +the chief's influence to drive hard bargains to his own advantage, was +not the man to be trifled with if gossip ventured to smirch his +friendship with the _señora_. + +Their Trinity was most closely cemented, however, by their fondness for +Rafael, the little tot destined to bring fame to the name of Brull and +realize the ambitions of both his grandfather and his father. + +Rafael was a quiet, morose little boy, whose gentleness of disposition +seemed to irritate the hard-hearted doña Bernarda. He was always hanging +on to her skirts. Every time she raised her eyes she would find the +little fellow's gaze fixed upon her. + +"Go out and play in _the patio_," the mother would say. + +And the little fellow, moody and resigned, would leave the room, as if +in obedience to a disagreeable command. + +Don Andrés alone was successful in amusing the child, with his tales and +his strolls through the orchards, picking flowers for him, making +whistles for him out of reeds. It was don Andrés who took him to school, +also, and who advertised the boy's fondness for study everywhere. + +If don Rafael were a serious, melancholy lad, that defect was chargeable +to his interest in books, and at the Casino, the "Party's" Club, he +would say to his fellow-worshippers: + +"You'll see something doing when Rafaelito grows up. That kid is going +to be another Canovas." + +And before all those rustic minds the vision of a Brull at the head of +the Government would suddenly flash, filling the first page of the +newspapers with speeches six columns long, and a _To Be Continued_ at +the end; and they could see themselves rolling in money and running all +Spain, just as they now ran their District, to their own sweet wills. + +Never did a Prince of Wales grow up amid the respect and the adulation +heaped upon little Brull. At school, the children regarded him as a +superior being who had condescended to come down among them for his +education. A well-scribbled sheet, a lesson fluently repeated, were +enough for the teacher, who belonged to "the Party" (just to collect his +wages on time and without trouble,) to declare in prophetic tones: + +"Go on working like that, señor de Brull. You are destined to great +things." + +At the _tertulias_ his mother attended evenings in his company, it was +enough for him to recite a fable or get off some piece of learning +characteristic of a studious child eager to bring his school work into +the conversation, for the women to rush upon him and smother him with +kisses. + +"But how much that child knows!... How brilliant he is!" + +And some old woman would add, sententiously: + +"Bernarda, take good care of the child; don't let him use his brain so +much. It's bad for him. See how peaked he looks!..." + +He finished his preparatory education with the Dominicans, taking the +leading rôle in all the plays given in the tiny theatre of the friars, +and always with a place in the first line on prize days. The Party organ +dedicated an annual article to the scholastic prodigies of the "gifted +son of our distinguished chief don Ramón Brull, the country's hope, who +already merits title as the shining light of the future!" + +When Rafael, escorted by his mother and half a dozen women who had +witnessed the exercises, would come home, gleaming with medals and his +arms full of diplomas, he would stoop and kiss his father's hard, +bristly hand; and that claw would caress the boy's head and +absent-mindedly sink into the old man's vest pocket--for don Ramón +expected to pay for all welcome favors. + +"Very good," the hoarse voice would murmur. "That's the way I like to +see you do ...Here's a _duro_." + +And not till the following year would the boy again know what a caress +from his father meant. On certain occasions, playing in the _patio_, he +had surprised the austere old man gazing at him fixedly, as if trying to +foresee his future. + +Don Andrés took charge of settling Rafael in Valencia when he began his +university studies. The dream of old don Jaime, disillusioned in the +son, would be fulfilled in the third generation! + +"This one at least will be a lawyer!" said doña Bernarda, who in the old +days had imbibed don Jaime's eagerness for the university degree, which +to her seemed like a title of nobility for the family. + +And lest the corruption of the city should lead the son astray as it had +done Ramón in his student days, she would send don Andrés frequently to +the capital, and write letter after letter to her Valencian friends, +particularly to a canon of her intimate acquaintance, asking them not to +lose sight of the boy. + +But Rafael was good behavior itself; a model boy, a "serious" young man, +the good canon assured the mother. The distinctions and the prizes that +came to him in Alcira continued to pursue him in Valencia; and besides, +don Ramón and his wife learned from the papers of the triumphs achieved +by their son in the debating society, a nightly gathering of law +students in a university hall, where future Solons wrangled on such +themes as "Resolved: that the French Revolution was more of a good than +an evil," or "Resolved, that Socialism is superior to Christianity." + +Some terrible youths, who had to get home before ten o'clock to escape a +whipping, declared themselves rabid socialists and frightened the +beadles with curses on the institution of property--all rights reserved, +of course, to apply, as soon as they got out of college, for some +position under the government as registrar of deeds or secretary of +prefecture! But Rafael, ever sane and a congenital "moderate," was not +of those fire-brands; he sat on "the Right" of the august assembly of +Wranglers, maintaining a "sound" attitude on all questions, thinking +what he thought "with" Saint Thomas and "with" other orthodox sages whom +his clerical Mentor pointed out to him. + +These triumphs were announced by telegraph in the Party papers, which, +to garnish the chief's glory and avoid suspicion of "inspiration," +always began the article with: "According to a despatch printed in the +Metropolitan press ..." + +"What a boy!" the priests of Alcira would say to doña Bernarda. "What a +silver tongue! You'll see; he'll be a second Manterola!" + +And whenever Rafael came home for the holidays or on vacation, each time +taller than before, dressed like a fashion-plate and with mannerisms +that she took for the height of distinction, the saintly mother would +say to herself with the satisfaction of a woman who knows what it means +to be homely: + +"What a handsome chap he's getting to be. All the rich girls in town +will be after him. He'll have his pick of them." + +Doña Bernarda felt proud of her Rafael, a tall youth, with delicate yet +powerful hands, large eyes, an aquiline nose, a curly beard and a +certain leisurely, undulating grace of movement that suggested one of +those young Arabs of the white cloak and elegant babooshes, who +constitute the native aristocracy of Spain's African colonies. + +Every time the student came home, his father gave him the same silent +caress. In course of time the _duro_ had been replaced by a hundred +_peseta_ note; but the rough claw that grazed his head was falling now +with an energy ever weaker and seemed to grow lighter with the years. + +Rafael, from long periods of absence, noted his father's condition +better than the rest. The old man was ill, very ill. As tall as ever, as +austere and imposing, and as little given to words. But he was growing +thinner. His fierce eyes were sinking deeper into their sockets. There +was little left to him now except his massive frame. His neck, once as +sturdy as a bull's, showed the tendons and the arteries under the loose, +wrinkled skin; and his mustache, once so arrogant, but now withering +with each successive day, drooped dispiritedly like the banner of a +defeated army wet with rain. + +The boy was surprised at the gestures and tears of anger with which his +mother welcomed expression of his fears. + +"Well, I hope he'll die as soon as possible ... Lot's of use he is to +us!... May the Lord be merciful and take him off right now." + +Rafael said nothing, not caring to pry into the conjugal drama that was +secretly and silently playing its last act before his eyes. + +Don Ramón, that somber libertine of insatiable appetites, prey to a +sinister, mysterious inebriation, was tossing in a last whirlwind of +tempestuous desire, as though the blaze of sunset had set fire to what +remained of his vitality. + +With a deliberate, determined lustfulness, he went scouring the +District like a wild satyr, and his brutish assaults, his terrorism and +abuse of authority, were reported back by scurrilous tongues to the +seignorial mansion, where his friend don Andrés was trying in vain to +pacify the wife. + +"That man!" doña Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going +to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?" + +His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional +respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at +night, when don Ramón, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable +demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a +disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to +sleep, doña Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded +across her bosom, and pray to herself: + +"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this +come to an end soon, oh Lord!" + +And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got +rapidly worse. + +"Take care of yourself, don Ramón," his curate friends would say to him. +They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're +getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!" + +The _cacique_ would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know +that such exploits were possible for a man at his age. + +He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted +by don Andrés, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He +gave the boy his shotgun--a veritable jewel, the admiration of the +entire District--and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting +around just to see the realization of old Don Jaime's ambition, which he +himself had not been able to fulfill, he passed away. + +All the bells of the city tolled mournfully. + +The Party weekly came out with a black border a palm wide; and from all +over the District folks came in droves to see whether the powerful don +Ramón Brull, who had been able to rain upon the just and unjust alike on +this earth, could possibly have died the same as any other human being. + + + + +III + + +When doña Bernarda found herself alone, and absolute mistress of her +home, she could not conceal her satisfaction. + +Now they would see what a woman could do. + +She counted on the advice and experience of don Andrés, who was closer +than ever to her now; and on the prestige of Rafael, the young lawyer, +who bade fair to sustain the reputation of the Brulls. + +The power of the family continued unchanged. Don Andrés, who, at the +death of his master, had succeeded to the authority of a second father +in the Brull house, saw to the maintenance of relations with the +authorities at the provincial capital and with the still bigger fish in +Madrid. Petitions were heard in the _patio_ the same as ever. Loyal +party adherents were received as cordially as before and the same favors +were done, nor was there any decline of influence in places that don +Andrés referred to as "the spheres of public administration." + +There came an election for Parliament, and as usual, doña Bernarda +secured the triumph of the individual whose nomination had been dictated +from Madrid. Don Ramón had left the party machine in perfect condition; +all it needed was enough "grease" to keep it running smoothly; and there +his widow was besides, ever alert at the slightest suggestion of a creak +in the gearing. + +At provincial headquarters they spoke of the District with the usual +confidence: + +"It's ours. Brull's son is as powerful as the old man himself." + +The truth was that Rafael took little interest in "the Party." He looked +upon it as one of the family properties, the title to which no one could +dispute. He confined his personal activities to obeying his mother. "Go +to Riola with don Andrés. Our friends there will be happy to see you." +And he would go on the trip, to suffer the torment of an interminable +rally, a _paella_, during which his fellow partisans would bore him with +their uncouth merriment and ill-mannered flattery. "You really ought to +give your horse a couple of days' rest. Instead of going out for a ride, +spend your afternoon at the Club! Our fellows are complaining they never +get a sight of you." Whereupon Rafael would give up his rides--his sole +pleasure practically--and plunge into a thick smoke-laden atmosphere of +noise and shouting, where he would have to answer questions of the most +illustrious members of the party. They would sit around, filling their +coffee-saucers with cigar-ash, disputing as to which was the better +orator, Castelar or Canovas, and, in case of a war between France and +Germany, which of the two would win--idle subjects that always provoked +disagreements and led to quarrels. + +The only time he entered into voluntary relations with "the Party" was +when he took his pen in hand and manufactured for the Brull weekly a +series of articles on "Law and Morality" and "Liberty and Faith,"--the +rehashings of a faithful, industrious plodder at school, prolix +commonplaces seasoned with what metaphysical terminology he remembered, +and which, from the very reason that nobody understood them, excited +the admiration of his fellow partisans. They would blink at the articles +and say to don Andrés: + +"What a pen, eh? Just let anyone dare to argue with him.... Deep, that +noodle, I tell you!" + +Nights, when his mother did not oblige him to visit the home of some +influential voter who must be kept content, he would spend reading, no +longer, however, as in Valencia, books lent him by the canon, but works +that he bought himself, following the recommendations of the press, and +that his mother respected with the veneration always inspired in her by +printed paper sewed and bound, an awe comparable only to the scorn she +felt for newspapers, dedicated, every one of them, as she averred, to +the purpose of insulting holy things and stirring up the brutal passions +of "the rabble." + +These years of random reading, unrestrained by the scruples and the +fears of a student, gradually and quietly shattered many of Rafael's +firm beliefs. They broke the mould in which the friends of his mother +had cast his mind and made him dream of a broader life than the one +known to those about him. French novels transported him to a Paris that +far outshone the Madrid he had known for a moment in his graduate days. +Love stories awoke in his youthful imagination an ardor for adventure +and involved passions in which there was something of the intense love +of indulgence that had been his father's besetting sin. He came to dwell +more and more in the fictitious world of his readings, where there were +elegant, perfumed, clever women, practicing a certain art in the +refinement of their vices. + +The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if +they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The +young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the +narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact +market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each +aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of +the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable +toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of +prejudice and tradition. + +For that reason he was deeply bored by his colorless, humdrum existence, +so far removed from that other purely imaginative life which rose from +the pages of his books and enveloped him with an exotic, exciting +perfume. + +Some day he would be free, and take flight on his own wings; and that +day of liberation would come when he got to be deputy. He waited for his +coming of age much as an heir-apparent waits for the moment of his +coronation. + +From early boyhood he had been taught to look forward to the great event +which would cut his life in two, opening out new pathways for a "forward +march" to fame and fortune. + +"When my little boy gets to be deputy," his mother would say in her rare +moments of affectionate expansiveness, "the girls will fight for him +because he is so handsome! And he'll marry a millionairess!" + +Meanwhile, in long years of impatient anticipation, his life went on, +with no special circumstance to break its dull monotony--the life of an +aspirant certain of his lot, "killing time" till the call should come +to enter on his heritage. He was like those noble youngsters of bygone +centuries who, graced in their cradles by the rank of colonel from the +monarch, played around with hoop and top till they were old enough to +join their regiments. He had been born a deputy, and a deputy he was +sure to be: for the moment, he was waiting for his cue in the wings of +the theatre of life. + +His trip to Italy on a pilgrimage to see the Pope was the one event that +had disturbed the dreary course of his existence. But in that country of +marvels, with a pious canon for a guide, he visited churches rather than +museums. Of theatres he saw only two--larks permitted by his tutor, +whose austerity was somewhat mollified in those changing scenes. +Indifferently they passed the famous artistic works of the Italian +churches, but paused always to venerate some relic with miracles as +famous as absurd. Even so, Rafael managed to catch a confused and +passing glimpse of a world different from the one in which he was +predestined to pass his life. From a distance he sensed something of the +love of pleasure and romance he had drunk in like an intoxicating wine +from his reading. In Milan he admired a gilded, adventurous bohemia of +opera; in Rome, the splendor of a refined, artistic aristocracy in +perpetual rivalry with that of Paris and London; and in Florence, an +English nobility that had come in quest of sunlight and a chance to air +its straw hats, show off the fair hair of its ladies, and chatter its +own language in gardens where once upon a time the somber Dante dreamed +and Boccaccio told his merry tales to drive fear of plague away. + +That journey, of impressions as rapid and as fleeting as a reel of +moving-pictures, leaving in Rafael's mind a maze of names, buildings, +paintings and cities, served to give greater breadth to his thinking, as +well as added stimulus to his imagination. Wider still became the gulf +that separated him from the people and ideas he met in his common +everyday life. He felt a longing for the extraordinary, for the +original, for the adventuresomeness of artistic youth; and political +master of a county, heir of a feudal dominion virtually, he nevertheless +would read the name of any writer or painter whatsoever with the +superstitious respect of a rustic churl. "A wretched, ruined lot who +haven't even a bed to die on," his mother viewed such people; but Rafael +nourished a secret envy for all who lived in that ideal world, which he +was certain must be filled with pleasures and exciting things he had +scarcely dared to dream of. What would he not give to be a bohemian like +the personages he met in the books of Murger, member of a merry band of +"intellectuals," leading a life of joy and proud devotion to higher +things in a bourgeois age that knew only thirst for money and prejudice +of class! Talent for saying pretty things, for writing winged verses +that soared like larks to heaven! A garret underneath the roof, off +there in Paris, in the Latin Quarter! A Mimà poor but spiritual, who +would love him, and--between one kiss and another--be able to +discuss--not the price of oranges, like the girls who followed him with +tender eyes at home--but serious "elevated" things! In exchange for all +that he would gladly have given his future deputyship and all the +orchards he had inherited, which, though encumbered by mortgages not to +mention moral debts left by the rascality of his father and +grandfather--still would bring him a tidy annuity for realizing his +bohemian dreams. + +Such preoccupations made life as a party leader, tied down to the petty +interests of a constituency, quite unthinkable! At the risk of angering +his mother, he fled the Club, to court the solitude of the hills and +fields. There his imagination could range in greater freedom, peopling +the roads, the meadows, the orange groves with creatures of his fancy, +often conversing aloud with the heroines of some "grand passion," +carried on along the lines laid down by the latest novel he had read. + +One afternoon toward the close of summer Rafael climbed the little +mountain of San Salvador, which lies close to the city. From the +eminence he was fond of looking out over the vast domains of his family. +For all the inhabitants of that fertile plain were--as don Andrés said +whenever he wished to emphasize the party's greatness--like so many +cattle branded with the name of Brull. + +As he went up the winding, stony trail, Rafael thought of the mountains +of Assisi, which he had visited with his friend the canon, a great +admirer of the Saint of Umbria. It was a landscape that suggested +asceticism. Crags of bluish or reddish rock lined the roadway on either +side, with pines and cypresses rising from the hollows, and extending +black, winding, snaky roots out over the fallow soil. At intervals, +white shrines with tiny roofs harbored mosaics of glazed tiles depicting +the Stations on the _Via Dolorosa_. The pointed green caps of the +cypresses, as they waved, seemed bent on frightening away the white +butterflies that were fluttering about over the rosemary and the +nettles. The parasol-pines projected patches of shade across the burning +road, where the sun-baked earth crackled and crumbled to dead dust under +every footstep. + +Reaching the little square in front of the Hermitage, he rested from the +ascent, stretching out full length on the crescent of rubblework that +formed a bench near the sanctuary. There silence reigned, the silence of +high hill-tops. From below, the noises of the restless life and labor of +the plain came weakened, softened, by the wind, like the murmuring of +waves breaking on a distant shore. Among the prickly-pears that grew in +close thicket behind the bench, insects were buzzing about, shining in +the sun like buds of gold. Some hens, belonging to the Hermitage, were +pecking away in one corner of the square, clucking, and dusting their +feathers in the gravel. + +Rafael surrendered to the charm of the exquisite scene. With reason had +it been called "Paradise" by its ancient owners, Moors from the magic +gardens of Bagdad, accustomed to the splendors of _The Thousand and One +Nights_, but who went into ecstacies nevertheless on beholding for the +first time the wondrous _ribera_ of Valencia! + +Throughout the great valley, orange groves, extending like shimmering +waves of velvet; hedges and enclosures of lighter green, cutting the +crimson earth into geometric figures; clumps of palms spurting like jets +of verdure upward toward the sky, and falling off again in languorous +swoons; villas blue and rose-colored, nestling in flowering gardens; +white farmhouses half concealed behind green swirls of forest; spindling +smokestacks of irrigation engines, with yellow sooty tops; Alcira, its +houses clustered on the island and overflowing to the opposite bank, all +of whitish, bony hue, pock-marked with tiny windows; beyond, Carcagente, +the rival city, girdled in its belt of leafy orchards; off toward the +sea, sharp, angular mountains, with outlines that from afar suggested +the fantastic castles imagined by Doré; and inland, the towns of the +upper _ribera_ floating in an emerald lake of orchard, the distant +mountains taking on a violet hue from the setting sun that was creeping +like a bristly porcupine of gold into the hot vapors of the horizon. + +Behind the Hermitage all the lower _ribera_ stretched, one expanse of +rice-fields drowned under an artificial flood; then, Sueca and Cullera, +their white houses perched on those fecund lagoons like towns in +landscapes of India; then, Albufera, with its lake, a sheet of silver +glistening in the sunlight; then, Valencia, like a cloud of smoke +drifting along the base of a mountain range of hazy blue; and, at last, +in the background, the halo, as it were, of this apotheosis of light and +color, the Mediterranean--the palpitant azure Gulf bounded by the cape +of San Antonio and the peaks of Sagunto and Almenara, that jutted up +against the sky-line like the black fins of giant whales. + +As Rafael looked down upon the towers of the crumbling convent of La +Murta, almost hidden in its pine-groves, he thought of all the tragedy +of the Reconquest; and almost mourned the fate of those farmer-warriors +whose white cloaks he could imagine as still floating among the groves +of those magic trees of Asia's paradise. It was the influence of the +Moor in his Spanish ancestry. Christian, clerical even, though he was, +he had inherited a melancholy, dreamy turn of mind from the very Arabs +who had created all that Eden. + +He pictured to himself the tiny kingdoms of those old _walis_; vassal +districts very like the one his family ruled. But instead of resting on +influence, bribery, intimidation, and the abuse of law, they lived by +the lances of horsemen as apt at tilling the soil as at capering in +tournaments with an elegance never equalled by any chevaliers of the +North. He could see the court of Valencia, with the romantic gardens of +Ruzafa, where poets sang mournful strophes over the wane of the +Valencian Moor, while beautiful maidens listened from behind the +blossoming rose-bushes. And then the catastrophe came. In a torrent of +steel, barbarians swept down from the arid hills of Aragon to appease +their hunger in the bounty of the plain--the _almogávares_--naked, wild, +bloodthirsty savages, who never washed. And as allies of this horde, +bankrupt Christian noblemen, their worn-out lands mortgaged to the +Israelite, but good cavalrymen, withal, armored, and with dragonwings on +their helmets; and among the Christians, adventurers of various tongues, +soldiers of fortune out for plunder and booty in the name of the Cross +--the "black sheep" of every Christian family. And they seized the great +garden of Valencia, installed themselves in the Moorish palaces, called +themselves counts and marquises, and with their swords held that +privileged country for the King of Aragon, while the conquered Saracens +continued to fertilize it with their toil. + +"Valencia, Valencia, Valencia! Thy walls are ruins, thy gardens +grave-yards, thy sons slaves unto the Christian ..." groaned the poet, +covering his eyes with his cloak. And Rafael could see, passing like +phantoms before his eyes, leaning forward on the necks of small, sleek, +sinewy horses, that seemed to fly over the ground, their legs +horizontal, their nostrils belching smoke, the Moors, the real people of +Valencia, conquered, degenerated by the very abundance of their soil, +abandoning their gardens before the onrush of brutal, primitive +invaders, speeding on their way toward the unending night of African +barbarism. At this eternal exile of the first Valencians who left to +oblivion and decay a civilization, the last vestiges of which today +survive in the universities of Fez, Rafael felt the sorrow he would have +experienced had it all been a disaster to his family or his party. + +While he was thinking of all these dead things, life in its feverish +agitation surrounded him. A cloud of sparrows was darting about the roof +of the Hermitage. On the mountain side a flock of dark-fleeced sheep was +grazing; and when any of them discovered a blade of grass among the +rocks, they would begin calling to one another with a melancholy +bleating. + +Rafael could hear the voices of some women who seemed to be climbing the +road, and from his reclining position he finally made out two parasols +that were gradually rising to view over the edge of his bench. One was +of flaming red silk, skilfully embroidered and suggesting the filigreed +dome of a mosque; the second, of flowered calico, was apparently keeping +at a respectful distance behind the first. + +Two women entered the little square, and as Rafael sat up and removed +his hat, the taller, who seemed to be the mistress, acknowledged his +courtesy with a slight bow, went on to the other end of the esplanade, +and stood, with her back turned toward him, looking at the view. The +other sat down some distance off, breathing laboriously from the +exertion of the climb. + +Who were those women?... Rafael knew the whole city, and had never seen +them. + +The one seated near him was doubtless the servant of the other--her maid +or her companion. She was dressed in black, simply but with a certain +charm, like the French soubrettes he had seen in illustrated novels. But +rustic origin and lack of cultivation were evident from the stains on +the backs of her unshapely hands; from her broad, flat, finger-nails; +and from her large ungainly feet, quite out of harmony with the pair of +stylish boots she was wearing--cast-off articles, doubtless, of the +lady. She was pretty, nevertheless, with a fresh exuberance of youth. +Her large, gray, credulous eyes were those of a stupid but playful lamb; +her hair, straight, and a very light blond, hung loosely here and there +over a freckled face, dark with sunburn. She handled her closed parasol +somewhat awkwardly and kept looking anxiously at the doubled gold chain +that drooped from her neck to her waist, as if to reassure herself that +a gift long-coveted had not been lost. + +Rafael's interest drifted to the lady. His eyes rested on the back of a +head of tightly-gathered golden hair, as luminous as a burnished helmet; +on a white neck, plump, rounded; on a pair of broad, lithe shoulders, +hidden under a blue silk blouse, the lines tapering rapidly, gracefully +toward the waist; on a gray skirt, finally, falling in harmonious folds +like the draping of a statue, and under the hem the solid heels of two +shoes of English style encasing feet that must have been as agile and as +strong as they were tiny. + +The lady called to her maid in a voice that was sonorous, vibrant, +velvety, though Rafael could catch only the accented syllables of her +words, that seemed to melt together in the melodious silence of the +mountain top. The young man was sure she had not spoken Spanish. A +foreigner, almost certainly!... + +She was expressing admiration and enthusiasm for the view, talking +rapidly, pointing out the principal towns that could be seen, calling +them by their names,--the only words that Rafael could make out clearly. +Who was this woman whom he had never seen, who spoke a foreign language +and yet knew the _ribera_ well? Perhaps the wife of one of the French or +English orange-dealers established in the city! Meanwhile his eyes were +devouring that superb, that opulent, that elegant beauty which seemed to +be challenging him with its indifference to his presence. + +The keeper of the Hermitage issued cautiously from the house--a peasant +who made his living from visitors to the heights. Attracted by the +promising appearance of the strange lady, the hermit came forward to +greet her, offering to fetch water from the cistern, and to unveil the +image of the miraculous virgin, in her honor. + +The woman turned around to answer the man, and that gave Rafael an +opportunity to study her at his leisure. She was tall, ever so tall, as +tall as he perhaps. But the impression her height of stature made was +softened by a grace of figure that revealed strength allied to elegance. +A strong bust, sculpturesque, supporting a head that engaged the young +man's wrapt attention. A hot mist of emotion seemed to cloud his vision +as he looked into her large eyes, so green, so luminous! The golden hair +fell forward upon a forehead of pearly whiteness, veined at the temples +with delicate lines of blue. Viewed in profile her gracefully moulded +nose, quivering with vitality at the nostrils, filled out a beauty that +was distinctly modern, piquantly charming. In those lineaments, Rafael +thought he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen +her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated +weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the +cover of some match-box--a common medium of publicity for famous +European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful +face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long +absence. + +The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door +of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast +their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange +lady. + +"Enter, _siñorita_" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the +Virgin _del Lluch_, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here +alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the +real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous +because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's +the real one by the miracles she works." + +He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a +cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the +little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face. + +Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image. +The Virgin _del Lluch_ was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been +compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to +discover--perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting, +war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her +to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca +came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a +liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even +wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep +what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just +like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the +original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the +Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her +miraculous voyage over the sea. + +The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all +ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her +credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from +the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling +at such a portentous miracle. Rafael had followed the party into the +shrine and taken a position near the fascinating stranger. She, however, +pretended not to see him. + +"That is only a legend," he ventured to remark, when the rustic had +finished his story. "You understand, of course, that nobody hereabouts +accepts such tales as true." + +"I suppose so," the lady answered coldly. + +"Legend or no legend, don Rafael," the recluse grumbled, somewhat +peeved, "that's what my grandfather and all the folk of his day used to +say; and that's what people still believe. If the story has been handed +down so long, there must be something to it." + +The patch of sunlight that shone through the doorway upon the flagstones +was darkened by the shadow of a woman. It was a poorly clad orchard +worker, young, it seemed, but with a face pale, and as rough as wrinkled +paper, all the crevices and hollows of her cranium showing, her eyes +sunken and dull, her unkempt hair escaping from beneath her knotted +kerchief. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. She stood +with her legs wide apart, as if in an effort to keep her balance. She +seemed to feel intense pain whenever she stepped upon the ground. +Illness and poverty were written on every feature of her person. + +The recluse knew her well; and as the unfortunate creature, panting with +the effort of the climb, sank upon a little bench to rest her feet, he +told her story briefly to the visitors. + +She was ill, very, very ill. With no faith in doctors, who, according to +her, "treated her with nothing but words"; she believed that the Virgin +_del Lluch_ would ultimately cure her. And, though at home she could +scarcely move from her chair and was always being scolded by her husband +for neglecting the housework, every week she would climb the steep +mountain-side, barefoot, her shoes in her hand. + +The hermit approached the sick woman, accepting a copper coin she +offered. A few couplets to the Virgin, as usual, he supposed! + +"Visanteta, a few _gochos_!" shouted the rustic, going to the door. And +his daughter came into the chapel--a dirty, dark-skinned creature with +African eyes, who might just have escaped from a gipsy band. + +She took a seat upon a bench, turning her back upon the Virgin with the +bored ill-humored expression of a person compelled to do a dull task day +after day; and in a hoarse, harsh, almost frantic voice, which echoed +deafeningly in that small enclosure, she began a drawling chant that +rehearsed the story of the statue and the portentous miracles it had +wrought. + +The sick woman, kneeling before the altar without releasing her hold +upon her shoes, the heels of her feet, which were bruised and bleeding +from the stones, showing from under her skirts, repeated a refrain at +the end of each stanza, imploring the protection of the Virgin. Her +voice had a weak and hollow sound, like the wail of a child. Her sunken +eyes, misty with tears, were fixed upon the Virgin with a dolorous +expression of supplication. Her words came more tremulous and more +distant at each couplet. + +The beautiful stranger was plainly affected at the pitiful sight. Her +maid had knelt and was following the sing-song rhythm of the chant, with +prayers in a language that Rafael recognized at last. It was Italian. + +"What a great thing faith is!" the lady murmured with a sigh. + +"Yes, _señora_; a beautiful thing!" + +Rafael tried to think of something "brilliant" on the grandeur of faith, +from Saint Thomas, or one of the other "sound" authors he had studied. +But he ransacked his memory in vain. Nothing! That charming woman had +filled his mind with thoughts far other than quotations from the +Fathers! + +The couplets to the Virgin came to an end. With the last stanza the wild +singer disappeared; and the sick woman, after several abortive efforts, +rose painfully to her feet. The recluse approached her with the +solicitude of a shopkeeper concerned for the quality of his wares. Were +things going any better? Were the visits to the Virgin doing good?... +The unfortunate woman did not dare to answer, for fear of offending the +miraculous Lady. She did not know!... Yes ... she really must be a +little better ... But that climb!... This offering had not had such good +results as the previous ones, she thought; but she had faith: the Virgin +would be good to her and cure her in the end. At the church door she +collapsed from pain. The recluse placed her on his chair and ran to the +cistern to get a glass of water. The Italian maid, her eyes bulging with +fright, leaned over the poor woman, petting her: + +"_Poverina! Poverina!... Coraggio_!" The invalid, rallying from her +swoon, opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at the stranger, not +understanding her words but guessing their kindly intention. + +The lady stepped out to the _plazoleta_, deeply moved, it seemed, by +what she had been witnessing. Rafael followed, with affected +absent-mindedness, somewhat ashamed of his insistence, yet at the same +time looking for an opportunity to renew their conversation. + +On finding herself once more in the presence of that wonderful panorama, +where the eye ran unobstructed to the very limit of the horizon, the +charming creature seemed to breathe more freely. + +"Good God!" she exclaimed, as if speaking to herself. "How sad and yet +how wonderful! This view is ever so beautiful. But that woman!... That +poor woman!" + +"She's been that way for years, to my personal knowledge," Rafael +remarked, pretending to have known the invalid for a long time, though +he had scarcely ever deigned to notice her before. "Our peasants are +queer people. They despise doctors, and refuse their help, preferring to +kill themselves with these barbarous prayers and devotions, which they +expect will do them good." + +"But they may be right, after all!" the lady replied. "Disease is often +incurable, and science can do for it about as much as faith--sometimes, +even less.... But here we are laughing and enjoying ourselves while +suffering passes us by, rubs elbows with us even, without our +noticing!"... + +Rafael was at a loss for reply. What sort of woman was this? What a way +she had of talking! Accustomed as he was to the commonplace chatter of +his mother's friends, and still under the influence of this meeting, +which had so deeply disturbed him, the poor boy imagined himself in the +presence of a sage in skirts--a philosopher under the disguise of +female beauty come from beyond the Pyrenees, from some gloomy German +alehouse perhaps, to upset his peace of mind. + +The stranger was silent for a time, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. +Then around her attractive sensuous lips, through which two rows of +shining, dazzling teeth were gleaming, the suggestion of a smile began +to play, a smile of joy at the landscape. + +"How beautiful this all is!" she exclaimed, without turning toward her +companion. "How I have longed to see it again!" + +At last the opportunity had come to ask the question he had been so +eager to put: and she herself had offered the opportunity! + +"Do you come from here?" he asked, in a tremulous voice, fearing lest +his inquisitiveness be scornfully repelled. + +"Yes," the lady replied, curtly. + +"Well, that's strange. I have never seen you...." + +"There's nothing strange about that. I arrived only yesterday." + +"Just as I said!... I know everyone in the city. My name is Rafael +Brull. I'm the son of don Ramón, who was mayor of Alcira many times." + +At last he had let it out! The poor fellow had been dying to reveal his +name, tell who he was, pronounce that magic word so influential in the +District, certain it would be the "Open Sesame" to that wonderful +stranger's grace! After that, perhaps, she would tell him who she was! +But the lady commented on his declaration with an "Ah!" of cold +indifference. She did not show that his name was even known to her, +though she did sweep him with a rapid, scrutinizing, half-mocking glance +that seemed to betray a hidden thought: + +"Not bad-looking, but what a dunce!" + +Rafael blushed, feeling he had made a false step in volunteering his +name with the pompousness he would have used toward some bumpkin of the +region. + +A painful silence followed. Rafael was anxious to get out of his plight. +That glacial indifference, that disdainful courtesy, which, without a +trace of rudeness, still kept him at a distance, hurt his vanity to the +quick. But since there was no stopping now, he ventured a second +question: + +"And are you thinking of remaining in Alcira very long?..." + +Rafael thought the ground was giving way beneath his feet. Another +glance from those green eyes! But, alas, this time it was cold and +menacing, a livid flash of lightning refracted from a mirror of ice. + +"I don't know ..." she answered, with a deliberateness intended to +accentuate unmistakable scorn. "I usually leave places the moment they +begin to bore me." And looking Rafael squarely in the face she added, +with freezing formality, after a pause: + +"Good afternoon, sir." + +Rafael was crushed. He saw her turn toward the doorway of the sanctuary +and call her maid. Every step of hers, every movement of her proud +figure, seemed to raise a barrier in front of him. He saw her bend +affectionately over the sick orchard-woman, open a little pink bag that +her maid handed her, and, rummaging about among some sparkling trinkets +and embroidered handkerchiefs, draw out a hand filled with shining +silver coins. She emptied the money into the apron of the astonished +peasant girl, gave something as well to the recluse, who was no less +astounded, and then, opening her red parasol, walked off, followed by +her maid. + +As she passed Rafael, she answered the doffing of his hat with a barely +perceptible inclination of her head; and, without looking at him, +started on her way down the stony mountain path. + +The young man stood gazing after her through the pines and the cypresses +as her proud athletic figure grew smaller in the distance. + +The perfume of her presence seemed to linger about him when she had +gone, obsessing him with the atmosphere of superiority and exotic +elegance that emanated from her whole being. + +Rafael noticed finally that the recluse was approaching, unable to +restrain a desire to communicate his admiration to someone. + +"What a woman!" the man cried, rolling his eyes to express his full +enthusiasm. + +She had given him a _duro_, one of those white discs which, in that +atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the +poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron +blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! _Duros, pesetas_, +two-_pesetas_, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold +button, which must have come from her glove! + +Rafael shared in the general astonishment. But who the devil was that +woman? + +"How do I know!" the rustic answered. "But judging from the language of +the maid," he went on with great conviction: "I should say she was some +Frenchwoman ... some Frenchwoman ... with a pile of money!" + +Rafael turned once more in the direction of the two parasols that were +slowly winding down the slope. They were barely visible now. The larger +of the two, a mere speck of red, was already blending into the green of +the first orchards on the plain ... At last it had disappeared +completely. + +Left alone, Rafael burst into rage! The place where he had made such a +sorry exhibition of himself seemed odious to him now. He fumed with +vexation at the memory of that cold glance, which had checked any +advance toward familiarity, repelled him, crushed him! The thought of +his stupid questions filled him with hot shame. + +Without replying to the "good-evening" from the recluse and his family, +he started down the mountain, in hopes of meeting the woman again, +somewhere, some time, he knew not when nor how. The heir of don Ramón, +the hope of the District, strode furiously on, his arms aquiver with a +nervous tremor. And aggressively, menacingly, addressing his own ego as +though it were a henchman cringing terror-stricken in front of him, he +muttered: + +"You imbecile!... You lout!... You peasant! You provincial ass! You ... +rube!" + + + + +IV + + +Doña Bernarda did not suspect the reason why her son rose on the +following morning pale, and with dark rings under his eyes, as if he had +spent a bad night. Nor could his political friends guess, that +afternoon, why in such fine weather, Rafael should come and shut himself +up in the stifling atmosphere of the Club. + +When he came in, a crowd of noisy henchmen gathered round him to discuss +all over again the great news that had been keeping "the Party" in +feverish excitement for a week past: the Cortes were to be dissolved! +The newspapers had been talking of nothing else. Within two or three +months, before the close of the year at the latest, there would be a new +election, and therewith, as all averred, a landslide for don Rafael +Brull. The intimate friend and lieutenant of the House of Brull was the +best informed. If the elections took place on the date indicated by the +newspapers, Rafael would still be five or six months short of his +twenty-fifth birth-day. But don Andrés had written to Madrid to consult +the Party leaders. The prime minister was agreeable--"there were +precedents!"--and even though Rafael should be a few weeks short of the +legal age, the seat would go to him just the same. They would send no +more "foundlings" from Madrid! Alcira would have no more "unknowns" +foisted upon her! And the whole Tribe of Brull dependents was preparing +for the contest with the enthusiasm of a prize-fighter sure of victory +beforehand. + +All this bustling expectation left Rafael cold. For years he had been +looking forward to that election time, when the chance would come for +his free life in Madrid. Now that it was at hand he was completely +indifferent to the whole matter, as if he were the last person in the +world concerned. + +He looked impatiently at the table where don Andrés, with three other +leading citizens, was having his daily hand at cards before coming to +sit down at Rafael's side. That was a canny habit of don Andrés. He +liked to be seen in his capacity of Regent, sheltering the heir-apparent +under the wing of his prestige and experienced wisdom. + +Well along in the afternoon, when the Club parlor was less crowded with +members, the atmosphere freer of smoke, and the ivory balls less noisy +on the green cloth, don Andrés considered his game at an end, and took a +chair in his disciple's circle, where as usual Rafael was sitting with +the most parasitic and adulatory of his partisans. + +The boy pretended to be listening to their conversation, but all the +while he was preparing mentally a question he had decided to put to don +Andrés the day before. + +At last he made up his mind. + +"You know everybody, don Andrés. Well, yesterday, up on San Salvador, I +met a fine-looking woman who seems to be a foreigner. She says she's +living here. Who is she?" + +The old man burst into a loud laugh, and pushed his chair back from the +table, so that his big paunch would have room to shake in. + +"So you've seen her, too!" he exclaimed between one guffaw and another. +"Well, sir, what a city this is! That woman got in the day before +yesterday, and everybody's seen her already. She's the talk of the town. +You were the only one who hadn't asked me about her so far. And now +you've bitten!... Ho! Ho! Ho! What a place this is!" + +When he had had his laugh out--Rafael, meanwhile, did not see the +joke--he continued in more measured style: + +"That 'foreign woman,' as you call her, boy, comes from Alcira. In fact, +she was born about two doors from you. Don't you know doña Pepa, 'the +doctor's woman,' they call her--a little lady who has an orchard close +by the river and lives in the Blue House, that's always under water when +the Júcar floods? She once owned the place you have just beyond where +you live, and she's the one who sold it to your father--the only +property don Ramón ever bought, so far as I know. Don't you remember?" + +Rafael thought he did. As he went back in his memory, the picture of an +old wrinkled woman rose before his mind, a woman round-shouldered, bent +with age, but with a kindly face smiling with simple-mindedness and good +nature. He could see her now, with a rosary usually in her hand, a +camp-stool under her arm, and her _mantilla_ drawn down over her face. +As she passed the Brull door on her way to church, she would greet his +mother; and doña Bernarda would remark in a patronizing way: "Doña Pepa +is a very fine woman; one of God's own souls.... The only decent person +in her family." + +"Yes; I remember; I remember doña Pepa," said Rafael. + +"Well, your 'foreigner,'" don Andrés continued, "is doña Pepa's niece, +daughter of her brother, the doctor. The girl has been all over the +world singing grand opera. You were probably too young to remember +Doctor Moreno, who was the scandal of the province in those days...." + +But Rafael certainly did remember Doctor Moreno! That name was one of +the freshest of his childhood recollections, the bugaboo of many nights +of terror and alarm, when he would hide his trembling head under the +clothes. If he cried about going to bed so early, his mother would say +to him in a mysterious voice: + +"If you don't keep quiet and go right to sleep I'll send for Doctor +Moreno!" + +A weird, a formidable personage, the Doctor! Rafael could see him as +clearly as if he were sitting there in front of him; with that huge, +black, curly beard; those large, burning eyes that always shone with an +inner fire; and that tall, angular figure that seemed taller than ever +as young Brull evoked it from the hazes of his early years. Perhaps the +Doctor had been a good fellow, who knows! At any rate Rafael thought so, +as his mind now reverted to that distant period of his life; but he +could still remember the fright he had felt as a child, when once in a +narrow street he met the terrible Doctor, who had looked at him through +those glowing pupils and caressed his cheeks gently and kindly with a +hand that seemed to the youngster as hot as a live coal! He had fled in +terror, as almost all good boys did when the Doctor petted them. + +What a horrible reputation Doctor Moreno had! The curates of the town +spoke of him in terms of hair-raising horror. An infidel! A man cut off +from Mother Church! Nobody knew for certain just what high authority had +excommunicated him, but he was, no doubt, outside the pale of decent, +Christian folks. Proof of that there was, a-plenty. His whole attic was +filled with mysterious books in foreign languages, all containing +horrible doctrines against God and the authority of His representatives +on earth. He defended a certain fellow by the name of Darwin, who +claimed than men were related to monkeys, a view that gave much +amusement to the indignant doña Bernarda, who repeated all the jokes on +the crazy notion her favorite preacher cracked of a Sunday in the +pulpit. And such a sorcerer! Hardly a disease could resist Doctor +Moreno. He worked wonders in the suburbs, among the lower scum; and +those laborers adored him with as much fear as affection. He succeeded +with people who had been given up by the older doctors, wiseacres in +long frocks and with gold-headed canes, who trusted more in God than in +science, as Rafael's mother would say in praise of them. That devil of a +physician used new and unheard-of treatments he learned from atheistic +reviews and suspicious books he imported from abroad. His competitors +grumbled also because the Doctor had a mania for treating poor folk +gratis, actually leaving money, sometimes, into the bargain; and he +often refused to attend wealthy people of "sound principles" who had +been obliged to get their confessor's permission before placing +themselves in his hands. + +"Rascal!... Heretic!... Lower scum!..." doña Bernarda would exclaim. + +But she said such things in a very low voice and with a certain fear, +for those days were bad ones for the House of Brull. Rafael remembered +how gloomy his father had been about that time, hardly even leaving the +_patio_. Had it not been for the respect his hairy claws and his +frowning eye-brows inspired, the rabble would have eaten him alive. +"Others" were in command, ... "others" ... everybody, in fact, except +the House of Brull. + +The monarchy had been treasonably overturned; the men of the Revolution +of September were legislating in Madrid. The petty tradesmen of the +city, ever rebellious against the tyranny of don Ramón, had taken guns +in their hands and formed a little militia, ready to send a fusilade +into the _cacique_ who had formerly trodden them under foot. In the +streets people were singing the _Marseillaise_, waving tricolored +bunting, and hurrahing for the Republic. Candles were being burned +before pictures of Castelar. And meantime that fanatical Doctor, a +Republican, was preaching on the public squares, explaining the "rights +of man" at daytime meetings in the country and at night meetings in +town. Wild with enthusiasm he repeated, in different words, the orations +of the portentous Tribune who in those days was traveling from one end +of Spain to the other, administering to the people the sacrament of +democracy to the music of his eloquence, which raised all the grandeurs +of History from the tomb. + +Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her +angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting, +would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors +away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer. +"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked +her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country. +Those people demanded a Republic--they belonged, as she said, to the +"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning; +and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and +strangle the baby! + +"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen _cacique_ would reply, +with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll +sing their _Marseillaise_ for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why +shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are +coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs." + +In don Ramón's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may +have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been +schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the +hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother +him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's +friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly +of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so +many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for +himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it! +The end of the world was surely coming! + +But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid, +what would become of the poor people who depended on him for health and +protection? Besides, he liked a quiet, sedentary life, with his books +and his studies, where he could satisfy his desires without quarrels and +fighting. His deep convictions impelled him to mingle with the masses, +and speak in public places--where he proved to be a successful agitator, +but he refused to join party organizations; and after a lecture or an +oration, he would spend days and days with his books and magazines, +alone save for his sister--a docile, pious woman who worshipped him, +though she bewailed his irreligion--and for his little daughter, a +blonde girl whom Rafael could scarcely remember, because her father's +unpopularity with the "best people" kept the little child away from +"good society." + +The Doctor had one passion--music; and everybody admired his talent for +that art. What didn't the man know, anyhow? According to doña Bernarda +and her friends, that remarkable skill had been acquired through "evil +arts." It was another fruit of his impiety! But that did not prevent +crowds from thronging the streets at night, cautioning pedestrians to +walk more softly as they approached his house; nor from opening their +windows to hear better when that devil of a doctor would be playing his +violoncello. This he did when certain friends of his came up from +Valencia to spend a few days with him--a queer, long-haired crew that +talked a strange language and referred to a fellow called Beethoven +with as much respect as if he were San Bernardo himself. + +"Yes, don Andrés," said Rafael. "I remember Doctor Moreno very well." +And his ears seemed to tingle again with the diabolical melodies that +had floated in to the side of his little bed on terrible nights still +fresh in his memory. + +"Very well," continued the old man. "That lady is the Doctor's daughter. +What a man he was! How he made your father and me fume in the days of +'73! Now that all that is so far in the past, I'll say he was a fine +fellow. His brain had gone somewhat bad from reading too much, like don +Quixote; and he was crazy over music. Most charming manners he had, +however. He married a beautiful orchard-girl, who happened to be very +poor. He said the marriage was ... for the purpose of perpetuating the +species--those were his very words--of having strong, sound, healthy +children. For that he didn't need to bother about his wife's social +position. What he was looking for was health. So he picked out that +Teresa of his, as strong as an ox, and as fresh as an apple. But little +good it did the poor woman. She had one baby and died a few days +afterward, despite the science and the desperate efforts of her husband. +They had lived together less than a year." + +Rafael's companions were listening with as much attention as he; for +morbid curiosity is the characteristic of the people of small places, +where the keenest pleasure available is that of knowing the private +affairs of others intimately. + +"And now comes the good part," don Andrés continued. "The mad Doctor +had two saints: Castelar and Beethoven. The pictures of those fellows +were scattered in every room of the house, even in the attic. This +Beethoven (in case you don't know it), was an Italian or an Englishman, +I'm not sure which--one of those fellows who makes music up out of his +head for people to play in theatres or for lunatics like Moreno to amuse +themselves with. Well, when his daughter was born the Doctor wondered +what name to give her. As a tribute to Emilio Castelar, his idol, he +felt he ought to call her Emilia: but he liked the sound of Leonora +better (no, not Lenor, but Leonora!). According to what he told us, that +was the title of the only opera Beethoven ever wrote--an opera he could +read, for that matter, the way I read the paper. Anyhow, the foreigner +won out; and the Doctor packed the child off to church with his sister, +who took a few neighbors of the poorer sort along to see Leonora +baptized. + +"You can imagine what the priest said after he had looked in vain +through the catalogue of saints for that name. At the time I was +employed in the municipal offices, and I had to intervene. This was all +before the Revolution; Gonzalez Brabo was boss in those days--and good +old days they were! Let an enemy of law and order or sound religion just +raise his voice and he was off on his way to Fernando Pio in no time. +Well, what a racket the Doctor raised! He sat himself down in that +church--first time he'd ever been in the place--and insisted that his +daughter be labeled as he directed. Later he thought he would take her +home without any baptism at all, saying he had no use for the ceremony +anyhow, and that he put up with it only to please his sister. During +the argument, he called all the curates and acolytes assembled in the +sacristy there, a pack of 'brahmans.'" + +"He must have said Brahmins," interrupted Rafael. + +"Yes, that's it: and Bonzes, too--just joking, of course--I remember +very well. But finally he compromised and let her be baptized with the +orthodox name of 'Leonor.' Not that he cared what they called her in the +church. As he went out he said to the priest: "She will be 'Leonora' for +reasons that please her father, and which you wouldn't understand even +if I were to explain them to you." What a hubbub followed! Don Ramón and +I had to interfere to calm the good curates; they were for sending him +up for sacrilege, insult to religion, what not! We had to go some to +quiet things down. In those days, boy, a matter of that sort was more +serious than killing a man." + +"Which name did she keep?" asked a friend of Rafael. + +"Leonora, as her father wished. That girl always took after the old man. +Just as queer as he was. The Doctor all over again! I haven't seen her +yet. They say she's a stunning beauty, like her mother, who was a +blonde, and the handsomest girl in all these parts. When the Doctor had +dressed his wife up like a lady, she wasn't much for manners, but she +certainly was something to look at...." + +"And what became of Moreno?" asked another. "Is it true, as they said +years ago, that he shot himself?" + +"Oh, some say one thing, some another. Perhaps it's all a lie. Who +knows! It all happened so far away.... After the Republic fell, it was +the turn of decent people again. Poor Moreno took it all harder than he +did the death of his Teresa, and kept himself locked up in his house day +in, day out. Your father was stronger than before and we ran things in a +way that was a sight for sore eyes! Don Antonio up in Madrid gave orders +to the Governors to give us a free hand in cleaning up everything that +was left of the Revolution. The people who before had been cheering for +the Doctor all the time, now kept away from him for fear we should catch +them. Some afternoons he would go for a walk in the suburbs, or a stroll +over to his sister's orchard, near the river--always with Leonora at his +side. She was now about eleven years old. All his affection was centered +on her. Poor Doctor! How things had changed from the days when his mobs +would meet the troops shot for shot in the streets of Alcira, shouting +_vivas_ for the Federal Republic!... In his solitude and in all the +dejection coming from the defeat of his perverted ideas, he took more +than ever to music. He had but one joy left him. Leonora loved music as +much as he. She learned her lessons rapidly; and soon could accompany +her father's violoncello on the piano. They would spend the days playing +together, going through the whole pile of music sheets they kept stored +in the attic along with those accursed medical books. Besides, the +little girl showed she had a voice, and it seemed to grow fuller and +more beautiful every day. 'She will be a singer, a great singer,' her +father proclaimed enthusiastically. And when some tenant of his or one +of his dependents came into the house and could hardly believe his ears +at the sweetness of the little angel's voice, the Doctor would rub his +hands and gleefully exclaim: 'What do you think of the little lady, +eh?... Some day people in Alcira will be proud she was born here.'" + +Don Andrés paused to sift his recollections, and after a long silence +added: + +"The truth is, I can't tell you any more. At that time, we were in power +again, and I had very little to do with the Doctor. We gradually lost +sight of him, forgot him, practically. The music we heard when going by +the house was all there was to remind us of him. We learned one day, +through his sister, doña Pepa, that he had gone way off with the little +girl somewhere--what was that city you visited, Rafael?--Milan, yes, +Milan, that's it! I've been told that's the market for singers. He +wanted his Leonora to become a prima donna. He never came back, poor +fellow!... Things must have gone badly with them. Every year he would +write home to his sister to sell another piece of land. It is known that +over there they lived in real poverty. In a few years the little fortune +the Doctor got from his parents was gone. Poor doña Pepa, kind old soul, +even disposed of the house--which belonged half to the Doctor and half +to her--sent him every cent of the money, and moved to the orchard. Ever +since then she's been coming in to mass and to Forty Hours in all sorts +of weather. I could learn nothing for certain after that. People lie so, +you see. Some say poor Moreno shot himself because his daughter left him +when she got placed on the stage; others say that he died like a dog in +a poorhouse. The only sure thing is that he died and that his daughter +went on having a great time all over those countries over there. The +way she went it! They even say she had a king or two. As for money! Say, +boys, there are ways and ways of earning it, and ways and ways of +spending it! The fellow who knows all about that side of her is the +barber Cupido. He imagines he's an artist, because he plays the guitar; +and besides he has a Republican grouch, and was a great admirer of her +father's. He's the only one in town who followed all she was up to, in +the papers. They say she doesn't sing under her own name, but uses some +prettier sounding one--foreign, I believe. Cupido is a regular busybody +and you can get all the latest news in his barbershop. Only yesterday he +went to doña Pepa's farmhouse to greet the '_eminent artist_,' as he +calls her. There's no end to what he tells. Trunks in every corner, +enough to pack a house-full of things into, and silk dresses ... +shopfuls of them! Hats, I can't say how many; jewelry-boxes on every +table with diamonds that strike you blind. And she told Cupido to have +the station-agent get a move on and send what was still missing--the +heavier luggage--boxes and boxes that come from way off somewhere--the +other end of the world, and that cost a fortune just to ship.... There +you are!... And why not? The way she earned it!" + +Don Andrés winking maliciously and laughing like an old faun, gave a sly +nudge at Rafael, who was listening in deep abstraction to the story. + +"But is she going to live on here?" asked the young man. "Accustomed as +she is to flitting about the world, do you think she'll be able to stand +this place?" + +"Nobody can tell," don Andrés replied. "Not even Cupido can find that +out. She'll stay until she gets bored, he says. And to be in less danger +of that, she has brought her whole establishment along on her back, like +a snail." + +"Well, she'll be bored soon enough," one of Rafael's friends observed. +"I suppose she thinks she's going to be admired and stared at as she was +abroad! Moreno's girl! Did you ever hear of such a family?... Daughter +of that _descamisado_, as my father calls him because he died without a +stitch on his back! And all people say of them! Last night her arrival +was the subject of conversation in every decent home in town, and there +wasn't a man who did not promise to fight shy of her. If she thinks +Alcira is anything like the places where they dance the razzle-dazzle +and there's no shame, she'll be sadly disappointed." + +Don Andrés laughed slyly. + +"Yes, boys! She'll be disappointed. There's a plenty of morality in this +town, and much wholesome fear of scandal. We're probably as bad as +people in other places, but we don't want anybody to find us out. I'm +afraid this Leonora is going to spend most of her time with her aunt--a +silly old thing, whatever her many virtues may be. They say she's +brought a French maid along.... But she's beginning to cry 'sour grapes' +already. Do you know what she said to Cupido yesterday? That she had +come here with the idea of living all by herself, just to get away from +people; and when the barber spoke to her of society in Alcira, she made +a wry face, as much as to say the place was filled with no-accounts. +That's what the women were talking most about last night. You can see +why! She has always been the favorite of so many big guns!" + +An idea seemed to flit across the wrinkled forehead of don Andrés, +tracing a wicked smile around his lips: + +"You know what I think, Rafael? You're young and you're handsome, and +you've been abroad. Why don't you make a try for her, if only to prick +the bubble of her conceit and show her there are people here, too. They +say she's mighty good-looking, and, what the deuce! It wouldn't be so +hard. When she finds out who you are!..." + +The old man said this with the idea of flattering Rafael, certain that +the prestige of his "prince" was such that no woman could resist him. +But Rafael had lived through the previous afternoon, and the words +seemed very bitter pills. Don Andrés at once grew serious, as if a +frightful vision had suddenly passed before his eyes; and he added in a +respectful tone: + +"But no: that was only a jest. Don't pay any attention to what I say. +Your mother would be terribly provoked." + +The thought of doña Bernarda, the personification of austere, +uncompromising virtue, chased the mirth from every face in the company. + +"The strange thing about all this," said Rafael, who was anxious to turn +the conversation in a different direction, "is that now everybody +remembers the Doctor's daughter. But years and years went by without her +name being mentioned, in my hearing at least." + +"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man +answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your +day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always +been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as +Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we +got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers +and spread all over town, or something that that silly doña Pepa would +let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece +was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I +don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire, +so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to +Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here, +and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life, +digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take +my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself, +but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to +them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow +everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramón the greatest man the +District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..." + +And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael +had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few +hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood +years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in +their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other. + +This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city, +lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would +not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her. + +How get to know her better, then?... Rafael was tempted as he walked +aimlessly about the streets, to look up the barber Cupido in his shop +that very afternoon. That merry rogue was the only person in all Alcira +who entered her house. But Brull did not dare, for fear of gossip. His +dignity as a party leader forbade his entering that barbershop where the +walls were papered with copies of "Revolution" and where a picture of Pi +y Margall reigned in place of the King's. How could he justify his +presence in a place he had never visited before? How explain to Cupido +his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it +before sundown? + +Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the +barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch. Finally he +sauntered off toward the orchards, following the riverbank slowly along, +with his gaze fixed on that blue house, which had never before attracted +his attention, but which now seemed the most beautiful detail in that +ample paradise of orange-trees. + +Through the groves he could see the balcony of the house, and on it a +woman unfolding shining gowns of delicate colors. She was shaking the +prima donna's skirts to straighten out the wrinkles and the folds caused +by the packing in the trunks. + +It was the Italian maid--that Beppa of the reddish hair whom he had seen +the previous afternoon with her mistress. + +He thought the girl was looking at him, and that she even recognized +him through the foliage, despite the distance. He felt a sudden +timorousness, like a child caught redhanded doing something wrong. He +turned in his tracks and strode rapidly off toward the city. + +But later, he felt quite comforted. Merely to have approached the Blue +House seemed like progress toward acquaintance with the beautiful +Leonora. + + + + +V + + +All work had stopped on the rich lands of the _ribera_. + +The first winter rains were falling over the entire District. Day after +day the gray sky, heavy with clouds, seemed to reach down and touch the +very tops of the trees. The reddish soil of the fields grew dark under +the continuous downpour; the roads, winding deep between the mudwalls +and the fences of the orchards, were changed to rushing streams. The +weeping orange-trees seemed to shrink and cringe under the deluge, as if +in aggrieved protest at the sudden anger of that kindly, friendly land +of sunshine. + +The Júcar was rising. The waters, turned to so much liquid clay, lashed +red and slimy against the buttresses of the bridges. People living along +the banks followed the swelling of the river with anxious eyes, studying +the markers placed along the shores to note how the water was coming up. + +_"Munta?"_ ... asked the people from the interior, in their quaint +dialect. + +_"Munta!"_ answered the river dwellers. + +And the water was indeed slowly rising, already threatening the city +that had so audaciously taken root in the very middle of its bed. + +But despite the danger, the townspeople seemed to be feeling nothing +more than uneasy curiosity. No one thought of moving across the bridges +to take refuge on the high land. Nonsense! The Júcar was always +flooding. You had to expect something of the sort every once in a while. +Thank heaven there was something to break the monotony of life in that +sleepy town! Why complain at a week's vacation? It was hard to disturb +the placid complacency of those descendants of the Moors. Floods had +been coming since the days of their fathers, their grandfathers and +their great-grandfathers, and never had the town been carried off. A few +houses at the worst. Why suppose the catastrophe would be due now?... +The Júcar was a sort of husband to Alcira. As happens in any decent +family, there would be a quarrel now and then--a thrashing followed by +kisses and reconciliation. Just imagine--living seven or eight centuries +together! Besides,--and this the lesser people thought--there was Father +San Bernardo, as powerful as God Himself in all that concerned Alcira. +He was able, single-handed, to tame the writhing monster that wound its +coiling way underneath the bridges. + +It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to +be having a holiday. The young ones, sent home from school because of +the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the +water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close +to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the +ever-broadening torrent to reach them. + +Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts +were belching streams as thick as a man's arm, loungers in the cafés +would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing +at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make +their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their +opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous +inspection. + +The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically +"Southern" argument and prophecy. Friendships were being made and +broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the +past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more +important than the one five years before. + +Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, +roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the +low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the +shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges +and the mudwalls. + +The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the +mountains of Cuenca. If much water came down from there, the flood would +become serious. And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters +carefully. If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the +upper provinces. + +The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days. The night of the second day +closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness. +On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless +flashes of flame--candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen +on guard along the banks. + +In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the +houses. Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the +men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about +in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or +tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the +water. + +All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the +darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully +displayed during the daytime. Now fear of the supernatural came over +them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher +Power to avert the danger. Perhaps this freshet was the final one! +Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall +of the city!... Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their +wretched lanes converted into deep canals. + +"_El pare San Bernat!... Que traguen al pare San Bernat_! Father Saint +Bernard!... Let them fetch father Saint Bernard!" + +The men looked at each other uneasily. Nobody could handle a matter like +this so well as the glorious patron. It was now high time to have +recourse to him, as had so often been done before, and get him to +perform his miracle. + +They ought to go to the City Council, and compel the big guns there, in +spite of their scepticism, to bring the saint out for the consolation of +the poor. + +In an hour a veritable army was formed. Mobs issued from the dark lanes, +paddling in the water like frogs, and raising their war-cry: "_San +Bernat! San Bernat_!"; the men, with their sleeves and trousers rolled +up, or even entirely naked save for the sash that is never removed from +the skin of a Valencian peasant; the women, with their skirts raised +over their heads for protection, sinking their tanned, skinny, +over-worked legs into the slime, and all drenched from head to foot, the +wet clothes sticking to their bodies; and at the head, a number of +strong young men with four-wicked tapers lighted, sputtering and +crackling in the rain and casting a weird flickering radiance back over +the clamoring multitude. + +"_San Bernat! San Bernat!... Viva el pare San Bernat!_ Father Saint +Bernard, _viva_!" + +Under the drizzle pouring from the sky and the streams tumbling from the +eavespouts, the mob rushed along through the streets in a wild riot. +Doors and windows flew open, and new voices were added to the delirious +uproar, while at every crossing recruits would come to swell the +on-rushing avalanche headed for the _Ayuntamiento_. Muskets, ancient +blunderbusses, and horse-pistols as big as guns, could be seen in the +menacing throng, as though those wild forms were to compel the granting +of a petition that might be denied, or to slay the river, perhaps. + +The _alcalde_, with all the members of the council, was waiting at the +door of the City Hall. They had come running to the place, marshalling +the _alguacils_ and the patrols, to face and quell the mutiny. + +"What do you want?" the Mayor asked the crowd. + +What did they want! They wanted the one remedy, the one salvation, for +the city: they wanted to take the omnipotent saint to the bank of the +river that he might awe it with his presence, just as their ancestors +had been doing for centuries and centuries, and thanks to which the city +was still standing! + +Some of the city people, whom the peasants regarded as atheists, began +to smile at the strange request. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time +getting all the valuables out of the houses on the bank? A tempest of +protests followed this proposal. "Out with the saint! Out with _San +Bernat!_ We want the miracle! The miracle!" Those simple people were +thinking of the wonders they had learned in their childhood at their +mothers' knees; times in former centuries, when it had been enough for +San Bernardo to appear on a river road, to start the flood down again, +draining off from the orchard lands as water leaks from a broken +pitcher. + +The _alcalde_, a liegeman of the Brull dynasty, was in a quandary. He +was afraid of that ugly mob and was anxious to yield, as usual; but it +would be a serious breach of etiquette not to consult "the chief." +Fortunately, just as the huge, dark mass of human beings was beginning +to surge in indignation at his silence, and hisses and shouts of anger +were being raised, Rafael appeared. + +Doña Bernarda had sent him out at the first sign of uneasiness in the +populace. It was in circumstances such as these that her husband used to +shine, taking the helm in every crisis, giving orders and settling +questions, though to no avail at all. But when the river returned to its +normal level, and danger was past, the peasant would remember don +Ramón's "sacrifices" and call him the father of the poor. If the +miraculous saint must come out, let Rafael be the one to produce him! +The elections were at hand. The flood could not have come in better +time. There must be no false steps, no frightening opportunity away. +Something rather must be done to get people to talking about him as they +used to talk about his father on similar occasions. + +So Rafael, after having the purpose of this demonstration explained to +him by the most ardent of the leaders, gave a magnificent gesture of +consent: + +"Granted; have _San Bernat_ brought out!" + +With a thunder of applause and _vivas_ for young Brull, the black +avalanche headed rumbling for the church. + +They must now persuade the curate to take the saint out, and that good +priest--a fat, kindly, but rather shrewd fellow--always objected to what +he called a bit of old-fashioned mummery. The truth was he looked +forward with little pleasure to a tramp out in the rain at the head of a +procession, trying to keep dry under an umbrella, with his _soutane_ +rolled up to his knees, and his shoes coming off at every step in the +mire. Besides, some day, in the very face of San Bernardo, the river +might carry half the city off, and then what a fix, what a fix, religion +would be in, all on account of those disturbers of the peace! + +Rafael and his henchmen of the _Ayuntamiento_ tried their hardest to +convince the curate; but his only reply was to ask whether water was +coming down from Cuenca. + +"I believe it is," said the _alcalde_. "You can see that makes the +danger worse. It's more than ever necessary to bring out the saint." + +"Well, if there's water coming down from Cuenca," the priest answered, +"we'd better let it come, and San Bernardo also had better keep +indoors, at home. Matters concerning saints must be treated with great +discretion, take my word for that.... And, if you don't agree with me, +just remember that freshet when the river got above the bridges. We +brought the saint out, and the river almost carried him off downstream." + +The crowd, growing restless at the delay, began to shout against the +priest. The good sense of that canny churchman was powerless in the face +of superstitions instilled by centuries of fanaticism. + +"Since you will it so, so let it be," he said gravely. "Let the Saint +come forth, and may the Lord have mercy on us!" + +A frenzied acclamation burst from the crowd, which now filled the whole +square in front of the church. The rain continued falling, and above the +serried ranks of heads covered with skirts, cloaks, and an occasional +umbrella, the flames of the tapers flickered, staining the wet faces +red. + +The people smiled happily in all their discomfort from the downpour. +Confident of success, they were foretasting gleefully the terror of the +stream at sight of the blessed image entering its waters. What could not +San Bernardo do? His marvelous history, a blend of Moorish and Christian +romance, flamed in all those credulous imaginations. He was a saint +native to that region--the second son of the Moorish king of Carlet. +Through his talent, courtesy and beauty he won such success at court in +Valencia, that he rose to the post of prime minister. + +Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of +Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete, +to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of +the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting +mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to +the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by +the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of +Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of +Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen +monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two +sisters--beautiful Mooresses they were--and they took the names of +Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go +with their brother on his tour of preachment. + +But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born--the arrogant +Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor--succeeded to the rulership of the +tiny state--a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended +in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the +roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called +a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He +came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of +his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he +crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred +preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here +was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering +mendicant even--a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his +votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted +_vivas_ to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had +been of the pagan king of Valencia. + +The procession was rapidly organized. Along the narrow lanes of the +island where the rain coursed in streams, people kept coming in droves. +They were barefoot for the most part, but some were sinking shoes +indifferently into the water. Most of them had tapers or shotguns. The +women did their best to shelter little ones under the skirts they had +gathered about their heads. The musicians, all barefoot, were in regular +uniform--gold braided jackets and plumed hats--looking for all the world +like Malay chiefs who beautify their nakedness with castoff coats and +three-cornered hats the missionaries give them. + +In front of the church the lights of the tapers blended into one great +flare. Through the wide doorway the candles on the altars gleamed like a +distant constellation. + +The whole neighborhood, almost, had assembled in the square, despite the +increasing rain. Many had come to scoff. What a farce it all would be! +They did well, however, to wait two days! The rain was almost over. It +would probably stop by the time they got the Saint out! + +In double file of tapers the procession began to move between two lines +of tightly jammed spectators. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_ Hurrah for father San Bernardo!" a +multitude of hoarse voices cried. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes_! Hurrah for his sisters!" others added, to +correct the lack of gallantry displayed by the most enthusiastic of the +idolators in putting ladies last. + +For the sisters, the holy martyrs, Gracia and Maria, also figured in +the procession. San Bernardo never went anywhere alone. As even children +in baby-school knew, not a power on earth, not all the men and horses in +the orchards put together, could lift the saint from his altar unless +his sisters went first. That was one of his miracles long accredited by +tradition. He had very little confidence in women--less pious +commentators said--and not willing to trust his sisters out of sight, he +insisted that they precede him whenever he left his pedestal. + +The holy sisters appeared in the church doorway, swaying on their +litters above the heads of the worshippers. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes!_" + +And the poor _chermanetes_, dripping from every fold of their vestments, +came out into that dark, tempestuous, rain-soaked atmosphere that was +rent by sheaves of crude light from the tapers. + +The musicians tuned their instruments, ready to break into the Royal +March! In the brilliantly lighted doorway something shining could be +seen laboriously advancing, swaying this way and that, as if the waves +of an angry sea were rocking it. + +The crowd again began to cheer, and the music sounded. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_" + +But the music and the acclamations were drowned by a deafening crash, as +if the island had suddenly burst into a thousand pieces, dragging the +city to the depths of the Abyss. The square was shooting a fusillade of +lightning flashes, a veritable cannonade. Those ancient arms, +blunderbusses, muzzle-loaders, pistols, crammed full of powder, could +roar like artillery. All the guns in the neighborhood were saluting the +appearance of the Saint. And the crowd, drunk with the smell of powder, +began to shout and gesticulate in the presence of that bronze image, +whose round, kindly face--that of a healthy well-fed friar--seemed to +quiver with life in the light of the torches. + +Eight strong men, almost naked, came forward staggering under the weight +of the metal saint. The crowd surged against them, threatening to upset +the statue. But two bare-breasted strong-armed boys, devotees of the +patron, were marching on either side, and they fought the multitude +back. + +The women, shoved hither and thither and almost suffocated in the jam, +burst into tears as their gaze fell upon the miraculous image. + +"_Ay_, father San Bernardo! Father San Bernardo! Save us! Save us!" + +Others dragged children out from the folds of their skirts, and held +them out above their heads toward the powerful guards. + +"Lift him up! Let him kiss the Saint!" + +And those muscular peasants would pick the children up like dolls, now +by an arm, now by a leg, now by the nape of the neck, raise them to a +level with the saint, that they might kiss the bronze face, and then +toss them back into the arms of their mothers, working like automatons, +dropping one child to seize another, with the regularity of machines in +action. Many times the impact was too rough; the noses of the children +would flatten against the folds of the metallic garb; but the fervor of +the crowd seemed to infect the little ones. They were the future adorers +of the Moorish monk. Rubbing their bruises with their soft little hands +they would swallow their tears and return to their snug places in their +mothers' skirts. + +Behind the glorious saint marched Rafael and the gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ with long wax tapers; and after them the curate, +grumbling as he heard the first dashes of rain beat on the large red +silk umbrella which the sacristan held over him, and felt the impact of +the crowd of orchard-folk, that was mixed at random with the musicians. +The latter, paying more attention to where they stepped than to their +instruments, played a rather discordant march. Guns, meanwhile, +continued to blaze away. The wild cheering for San Bernardo and his +sisters went on; and, framed in a red nimbus of torch-light, greeted at +every street-corner by a new fusillade, the image sailed along over that +sea of heads, pelted by the rain, which, in the light of the candles, +looked like a maze of transparent crystal threads. Around the saint the +arms of the athletes kept ever moving, lifting children up to bump their +drooling noses on the bronze of father San Bernardo. Balconies and +windows along the way were filled with women, their heads protected by +their skirts. + +Sighs, wails, exclamations of entreaty welcomed the passing saint in a +chorus of despair and hope. + +"Save us, father San Bernardo!... Save us!..." + +The procession reached the river, crossing and recrossing the bridges +that led to the suburbs. The flickering torches were mirrored in the +dark edges of the stream, which was growing momentarily more terrifying +and clamorous. The water had not yet reached the railing, as at other +times. Miracle! San Bernardo was at work already! + +Then the procession marched to points where the river had flooded the +lanes near the bank, and turned them to virtual ponds. The more +fanatical of the devotees, lifting their tapers above their heads, went +out fearlessly neck high into the water: for surely the Saint must not +go in alone. + +One old man, shaking with malaria, caught in the rice-fields, and hardly +able to hold the taper in his trembling hands, hesitated at the brink of +the stream. + +"Go on in, _agüelo_!" the women encouraged affectionately. "Father San +Bernardo will cure you. Don't lose such a chance!" + +When the saint was out performing miracles, he might remember the old +man, too. So _agüelo_--"grandaddy"--shivering in his drenched clothes +and his teeth chattering, walked resolutely in. + +The statue was making its way very slowly along the inundated streets, +for the feet of the bearers sank deep into the water under their load; +and they could advance at all only with the aid of the faithful, who +gathered about the litter on all sides to help. A writhing mass of bare, +sinewy arms rose from the water like tentacles of a human octopus to +carry the Saint along. + +Just behind the image came the curate and the political dignitaries, +riding astride the shoulders of some enthusiasts who, for the greater +pomp of the ceremony, were willing to serve as mounts, though the tapers +of their riders kept getting into their faces. + +The curate began to feel the cold water creeping up his back, and +ordered the Saint inshore again. In fact San Bernardo was already at +the end of the lane, and actually in the river itself. His guards of +honor were having a time of it to keep their feet in the face of the +current, but they were still willing to go on, believing that the +farther the statue went into the stream, the sooner the waters would go +down. At last, however, the most foolhardy withdrew. The Saint came +back. Though the procession at once went on to the next road and to the +next, repeating the same performance. + +And suddenly it stopped raining. + +A wild cheer, a shout of joy and triumph, shook the multitude. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat_!..." Now would the people of the neighboring +towns dare dispute his immense power?... There was the proof! Two days +of incessant downpour, and then, the moment the Saint showed his face +out of doors--fair weather! Excuse me! + +In fervent thanksgiving weeping women rushed upon the saint and began to +kiss whatever part of the image was within reach--the handles of the +litter, the decorations of the pedestal, the bronze body itself. The +tottering structure of wood and metal began to stagger and reel like a +frail bark tossing over a sea of shrieking heads and extended arms that +trembled with exaltation. + +The procession marched on for more than an hour still along the river. +Then the priest, who was dripping wet and had exhausted more than a +dozen "horses" under him, forbade it to continue. Leave it to those +peasants, and the nonsense would go on till dawn! So the curate observed +that the Saint had already done what was required of him. Now it was +time to go home! + +Rafael handed his taper to one of his henchmen and stopped on the bridge +with a number of experienced observers, who were lamenting the damage +done by the flood. At every moment, no one could say just how, alarming +reports of the destruction wrought by the river were coming in. Now a +mill had been isolated by the waters, and the people there had taken +refuge on the roof, firing their shotguns as signals of distress. Many +orchards had been completely submerged. The few boats available in the +city were doing the best they could in the work of rescue. The valley +had become one vast lake. Rowboats caught in the shifting currents were +in danger of smashing against hidden obstructions; and it was +practically impossible to push a punt upstream with oars. + +Yet the people spoke with relative calmness. They were accustomed to +this almost annual visitation, and accepted it resignedly as an +inevitable evil. Besides, they referred hopefully to telegrams received +by the _alcalde_. By dawn help would be coming in. The governor in +Valencia was sending a detachment of marines, and the lagoon would be +filled with navy boats. Everything would be all right in a few hours. +But if the water got much higher meanwhile ...! + +They consulted stakes and other water marks along the river, and violent +disputes arose. Rafael, for his part, could see the flood was still +rising, though but slowly. + +The peasants refused to believe it. How could the river rise after +Father San Bernardo had gone into it? No, sir! it was _not_ rising. That +was all a lie intended to discredit the patron. And a sturdy youth with +flashing eyes threatened to disembowel with one stroke of his +knife--like that!--a certain scoffer who maintained that the river would +go on rising if only for the pleasure of refuting that charlatan of a +friar. + +Rafael approached the brawlers, and by the dim lantern light recognized +Cupido--the barber--a sarcastic fellow, with curly side-whiskers and an +aquiline nose, who took great pleasure in poking fun at the barbarous, +unshakable faith of the illiterate peasants. + +Brull knew the barber very well. The man was one of his childhood +favorites. Fear of his mother was the only thing that had kept him from +frequenting Cupido's shop--the rendezvous of the city's gayest set, a +hotbed of gossip and practical jokes, a school of guitar playing and +love songs that kept the whole neighborhood astir. Besides, Cupido was +the freak of the city, the sharp-tongued but irresponsible practical +joker, who was forgiven everything in advance, and could enjoy his +idiosyncrasies and speak his mind about people without starting a riot +against him. He was, for instance, the one person in Alcira who scoffed +at the tyranny of the Brulls without thereby losing entrance to the +Party Club, where the young men admired his wit and his eccentric way of +dressing. + +Rafael was still fond of Cupido, though not very intimate with him. In +all the sedate, conservative world around him, the barber seemed the +only person really worth while talking with. Cupido was almost an +artist. In winter he would go to Valencia to hear the operas praised by +the newspapers, and in one corner of his shop he had heaps of novels and +illustrated magazines, much mildewed and softened by the damp, and their +leaves worn through from continual thumbing by customers. + +He had very little to do with Rafael, guessing that the youth's mother +would not regard such a friendship with any too much favor; but he +displayed a certain liking for the boy; and addressed him familiarly, +having known him as a child. Of Rafael he said everywhere: + +"He's the best one in the family; the only Brull with more brains than +crookedness." + +Nothing too small for Cupido to notice ever happened in Alcira. Every +weakness, every foible of the city's celebrities was made public by him +in his barbershop, to the delight of the Opposition, whose members +gathered there to read their party organ. The gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ feared the barber more than any ten newspapers combined, +and whenever some famous Conservative minister referred in parliament to +a "revolutionary hydra" or a "hotbed of anarchy," they pictured to +themselves a barbershop like that of Cupido, but much larger perhaps, +scattering a poisonous atmosphere of cruel gibe and perverse effrontery +all through the nation. + +The barber was inevitably on hand where anything was going on. It might +be at the very end of the suburbs, or away out in the country. In a few +moments Cupido would put in an appearance to learn all about it, give +advice to those who might need it, arbitrate between disputants and +afterward tell the whole story with a thousand embellishments. + +He had plenty of time on his hands for leading such a life. Two young +fellows, as crazy as their employer, tended shop. Cupido paid them with +music-lessons and meals--better or worse these latter, according to the +day's receipts, which were divided fraternally among the three. And if +the "boss" sometimes astonished the city by going out for a walk in +midwinter in a suit of white duck, they, not to be outdone, would shave +off their hair and eyebrows and show heads as smooth as billiard-balls +behind the shop windows, to the great commotion of the city, which would +flock _en masse_ to see "Cupido's Chinamen." + +A flood was always a great day for the barber. He closed shop and +planted himself out on a bridge, oblivious to wind and rain, haranguing +the crowds of spectators, terrifying the stupid with his exaggerations +and inventions, and announcing hair-raising news which he asserted he +had just received from the Governor by telegraph, and according to +which, in two hours, there would not be a cellar-hole left of the place. +Even the miracle-working San Bernardo would be washed into the sea! + +When Rafael found him upon the bridge that night, after the procession, +Cupido was on the point of coming to blows with several rustics, who had +grown indignant at his heresies. + +Stepping aside from the crowd, the two began a conversation about the +dangers of the flood. Cupido, as usual, was well-informed. He had been +told a poor old man had been cut off in an orchard and drowned. That was +probably not the only accident that had taken place. Horses and pigs in +large numbers had drifted past under the bridge, early in the afternoon. + +The barber talked earnestly and with some sadness, it seemed. Rafael +listened in silence, scanning his face anxiously, as if looking for a +chance to speak of something which he dared not broach. + +"And how about the Blue House," he ventured finally, "that farm of doña +Pepa's where you go sometimes? Will anything be wrong down there?" + +"It's a good solid place," the barber replied, "and this isn't the first +flood it's been through.... But it's right on the river, and by this +time the garden must be a lake; the water will surely be up to the +second story. I'll bet doña Pepa's poor niece is scared out of her +wits... Just imagine--coming from so far away and from such pretty +places, and running into a mess like this ..." + +Rafael seemed to meditate for a moment. Then as if an idea that had been +dancing about in his head all day had just occurred to him, he said: + +"Suppose we take a run down there!... What do you say, Cupido?" + +"Down there!... And how'll we get there?" + +But the proposal, from its very rashness, was bound to appeal to a man +like the barber, who at length began to laugh, as if the adventure were +a highly amusing one. + +"You're right! We could get through! It will look funny, all right! Us +two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a +celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home +and fetch my guitar along ..." + +"What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our +job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we +don't." + +The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes +on Rafael. + +"I see! So you're interested in the illustrious _artiste_, too ... You +rascal! You're smitten on her reputation for good looks ... But no ... I +remember ... you've seen her; she told me so herself." + +"She!... She spoke to you about me?" + +"Oh, nothing important! She told me she saw you one afternoon up at the +Hermitage." + +Cupido kept the rest to himself. He did not say that Leonora, on +mentioning Rafael's name, had added that he looked like an "idiot." + +Rafael's heart leaped with joy! She had talked of him! She had not +forgotten that meeting which had left such a painful memory in him!... +What was he doing, then, standing like a fool there on that bridge, when +down at the Blue House they might be needing a man's help? + +"Listen, Cupido; I have my boat right handy here; you know, the boat +father had made to order in Valencia as a present for me. Steel frame; +hard wood; safe as a warship. You know the river ... I've seen you +handle an oar more than once; and I've got a pair of arms myself ... +What do you say?" + +"I say, let's go," the barber answered resolutely. + +They asked for a torch, and with the help of several men dragged +Rafael's boat toward a stairway on the riverbank. + +Above, through the crowds on the bridge, the news of the expedition +flashed, but exaggerated and much idealized by the curious. The men were +going to save a poor family that had taken refuge on the roof of a +house--poor devils in danger of being swept off at any moment. Rafael +had learned of their plight, and he was starting to save them at the +risk of his own skin. And a wealthy, powerful man like him, with so much +to live for! Damn it, those Brulls were all men, anyhow!... And yet see +how people talked against them! What a heart! And the peasants followed +the blood-red glow of the torch in the boat as it mirrored across the +waters, gazing adoringly at Rafael, who was sitting in the stern. Out of +the dark entreating voices called. Many loyal followers of the Brulls +were eager to go with the chief--drown with him, if need be. + +Cupido protested. No; for a job like that, the fewer the better; the +boat had to be light; he would do for the oars and Rafael could steer. + +"Let her go! Let her go!" called Rafael. + +And the boat, after hesitating a second, shot off on the current. + +In the narrow gorge between the Old City and the New, the swollen +torrent swept them along like lightning. The barber used his oars just +to keep the boat away from the shore. Submerged rocks sent great +whirlpools to the surface and pulled the boat this way and that. The +light of the torch cast a dull reddish glow out over the muddy eddies. +Tree trunks, refuse, dead animals, went floating by, shapeless masses +with only a few dark points visible above the surface, as though some +dead man covered with mud were swimming under water. Out on that +swirling current, with the slimy vapors of the river rising to his +nostrils and the eddies sucking and boiling all around, Rafael thought +himself the victim of a weird nightmare and began even to repent of his +rashness. Cries kept coming from houses close to the river; windows were +suddenly lighted up; and from them great shadowy arms like the wings of +a windmill waved in greeting to that red flame which people saw gliding +past along the river, bringing the outlines of the boat and the two men +into distinct view. The news of their expedition had spread throughout +the city and people were on the watch for them as they sped by: "_Viva_ +don Rafael! _Viva_ Brull!" + +But the hero who was risking his life to save a family of poor folks out +there in the darkness of that sticky, murky, sepulchral night, had in +mind only one thing--a blue house, into which he was to penetrate at +last, in so strange and romantic a fashion. + +From time to time a scraping sound or a jolt of the boat would bring him +back to reality. + +"Your tiller there!" Cupido would shout, without, however, taking his +eyes from the water ahead. "Look out, Rafaelito, or we'll get smashed!" + +The boat was indeed a good one, for any other, would long before have +come to grief in those rapids jammed with rocks and debris. + +They were around the city in no time. Few lighted windows were now to be +seen. High, steep banks of slippery mud--quite unscalable--crested with +walls, were slipping past on either hand, with an occasional palisade, +the piles just emerging from the water. Somewhat ahead, the open river, +where the two arms that girt the Old City reunited in what was now a +vast lake! + +The two men went on blindly. All normal landmarks were gone. The banks +had disappeared, and in the blackness, beyond the red circle of torch +light, they could make out only water and then more water--an immense +incessantly rolling sheet that was taking them they knew not where. From +time to time a black spot would show above the muddy surface; the crest +of some submerged canebrake; the top of a tree; a strange, fantastic +vegetation that seemed to be writhing in the gloom. The river, free now +from the gorges and shallows around the city, had ceased its roaring. It +seethed and swirled along in absolute silence, effacing all trace of the +land. The two men felt like a couple of shipwrecked sailors adrift on a +shoreless, sunless ocean, alone save for the reddish flame flickering at +the prow, and the submerged treetops that appeared and vanished rapidly. + +"Better begin to row, Cupido," said Rafael. "The current is very strong. +We must be still in the river. Let's turn to the right and see if we can +get into the orchards." + +The barber bent to the oars, and the boat, slowly, on account of the +current, came around and headed for a line of tree-tops that peered +above the surface of the flood like seaweed floating on the ocean. +Shortly the bottom began to scrape on invisible obstacles. Entanglements +below were clutching at the keel, and it took some effort occasionally +to get free. The lake was still dark and apparently shoreless, but the +current was not so strong and the surface had stopped rolling. The two +men knew they had reached dead water. What looked like dark, gigantic +mushrooms, huge umbrellas, or lustrous domes, caught the reflection of +the torch, at times. Those were orange-trees. The rescuers were in the +orchards. But in which? How find the way in the darkness? Here and there +the branches were too thick to break through and the boat would tip as +if it were going over. They would back water, make a detour, or try +another route. + +They were going very slowly for fear of striking something, zig-zagging +meanwhile to avoid snags. As a result they lost direction altogether, +and could no longer say which way the river lay. Darkness and water +everywhere! The submerged orange-trees, all alike, formed complicated +lanes over the inundation, a labyrinth in which they grew momentarily +more confused. They were now rowing about quite aimlessly. + +Cupido was perspiring freely, under the hard work. The boat was moving +slower and slower because of the branches catching at the keel. + +"This is worse than the river," he murmured. "Rafael, you're facing +forward. Can't you make out any light ahead?" + +"Not a one!" + +The torch would throw some huge clump of leaves into relief for a +moment. When that was gone, the light would be swallowed up into damp, +thick, empty space. + +Thus they wandered about and about the flooded countryside. The barber's +strength had given out and he passed the oars over to Rafael, who was +also nearly exhausted. + +How long had they been gone? Were they to stay there forever? And their +minds dulled by fatigue and the sense of being lost, they imagined the +night would never end--that the torch would go out and leave the boat a +black coffin, for their corpses to float in eternally. + +Rafael, who was now facing astern suddenly noticed a light on his left. +They were going away from it; perhaps that was the house they had been +so painfully searching for. + +"It may be," Cupido agreed. "Perhaps we went by without seeing it, and +now we're downstream, toward the sea.... But even if it is not the Blue +House, what of it? The main thing is to find someone there. That's far +better than wandering around here in the dark. Give me the oars, again +Rafael. If that isn't doña Pepita's place, at least we'll find out where +we are." + +He pulled the boat around, and gradually they made their way through the +treetops toward the light. They struck several snags, orchard fences, +perhaps, or submerged walls--but the light kept growing brighter. +Finally it had become a large red square across which dark forms were +moving. Over the waters a golden, shimmering wake of light was +streaming. + +The torch from the boat brought out the lines of a broad house with a +low roof that seemed to be floating on the water. It was the upper story +of a building that had been swamped by the inundation. The lower story +was under water. The flood, indeed, was getting closer to the upper +rooms. The balconies and windows looked like landings of a pier in an +immense lake. + +"Seems to me as if we'd struck the place," the barber said. + +A warm, resonant voice, that of a woman, vibrant, but with a deep, +melodious softness, broke the silence. + +"Hey, you in the boat there!... Here, here!" + +The voice betrayed no fear. It showed not a trace of emotion. + +"Didn't I tell you so I ..." the barber exclaimed. "The very place we +were looking for. Doña Leonora!... It's I! It's I!" + +A rippling laugh came out into gloom. + +"Why, it's Cupido! It's Cupido!... I can tell him by his voice. Auntie, +auntie! Don't cry any more. Don't be afraid; and stop your praying, +please! Here comes the God of Love in a pearl shallop to rescue us!" + +Rafael shrank at the sound of that somewhat mocking voice, which seemed +to people the darkness with brilliantly colored butterflies. + +Now in the luminous square of a window he could make out the haughty +profile of a woman among other black forms that were going to and fro +past the light inside, in agreeable surprise at the unexpected visit. + +The craft drew up to the balcony. The men rose to their feet and were +able to reach an iron railing. The barber, from the prow, was looking +for something strong where he could make the boat fast. + +Leonora was leaning over the balustrade while the light from the torch +lit up the golden helmet of her thick, luxuriant hair. She was trying to +identify that other man down there who had bashfully sat down again in +the stern. + +"You're a real friend, Cupido!... Thank you, thank you, ever and ever +so much. This is one of the favors we never forget.... But who has come +along with you?..." + +The barber was already fastening the boat to the iron railing. + +"It's don Rafael Brull," he answered slowly. "A gentleman you have met +already, I believe. You must thank him for this visit. The boat is his, +and it was he who got me out on this adventure." + +"Oh, thank you, Señor Brull," said Leonora, greeting the man with the +wave of a hand that flashed blue and red from the rings on its fingers. +"I must repeat what I said to our friend Cupido. Come right in, and I +hope you'll excuse my introducing you through a second-story window." + +Rafael had jumped to his feet and was answering her greeting with an +awkward bow, clasping the iron railing in order not to fall. Cupido +jumped into the house and was followed by the young man, who took pains +to make the climb gracefully and sprightly. + +He was not sure how well he succeeded. That had been too much excitement +for a single night: first the wild trip through the gorges near the +city; then those hours of desperate aimless rowing over the winding +lanes of the flooded countryside; and now, all at once, a solid floor +under his feet, a roof over his head, warmth, and the society of that +madly beautiful woman, who seemed to intoxicate him with her perfume, +and whose eyes he did not dare meet with his own for fear of fainting +from embarrassment. + +"Come right in, _caballero_," she said to him. "You surely need +something after this escapade of yours. You are sopping wet, both of +you.... Poor boys! Just look at them!... Beppa!... Auntie! But do come +in, sir!" + +And she fairly pushed Rafael forward with a sort of maternal +authoritativeness, much as a kindly woman might take her child in hand +after he has done some naughty prank of which she is secretly proud. + +The rooms were in disorder. Clothes everywhere and heaps of rustic +furniture that contrasted with the other pieces arranged along the +walls! The household belongings of the gardener had been brought +upstairs as soon as the flood started. An old farmer, his wife--who was +beside herself with fear--and several children, who were slinking in the +corners, had taken refuge in the upper story with the ladies, as soon as +the water began seeping into their humble home. + +Rafael entered the dining-room, and there sat doña Pepita, poor old +woman, heaped in an armchair, the wrinkles of her features moistened +with tears and her two hands clutching a rosary. Cupido was trying +vainly to cheer her with jokes about the inundation. + +"Look, auntie! This gentleman is the son of your friend, doña Bernarda. +He came over here in a boat to help us out. It was very nice of him, +wasn't it?" + +The old woman seemed quite to have lost her mind from terror. She looked +vacantly at the new arrivals, as if they had been there all their lives. +At last she seemed to realize what they were saying. + +"Why, it's Rafael!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Rafaelito.... And you +came to see us in such weather! Suppose you get drowned? What will your +mother say?... Lord, how crazy of you! Lord!" + +But it was not madness, and even if it were, it was very sweet of him! +That, at least, was what Rafael seemed to read in those clear, luminous +eyes of the golden sparkles that caressed him with their velvety touch +every time he dared to look at them. Leonora was staring at him: +studying him in the lamplight, as if trying to understand the difference +between the man in front of her and the boy she had met on her walk to +the Hermitage. + +Doña Pepa's spirits rallied now that men were in the house; and with a +supreme effort of will, the old lady decided to leave her armchair for a +look at the flood, which had stopped rising, if, indeed, it were not +actually receding. + +"How much water, oh Lord our God!... How many terrible things we'll +learn of tomorrow! This must be a punishment from Heaven ... a warning +to us to think of our many sins." + +Leonora meanwhile was bustling busily about, hurrying the refreshments. +Those gentlemen couldn't be left like that--she kept cautioning to her +maid and the peasant woman. Just imagine, with their clothes wet +through! How tired they must be after that all night struggle! Poor +fellows! It was enough just to look at them! And she set biscuits on the +table, cakes, a bottle of rum--everything, including a box of Russian +cigarettes with gilded tips--to the shocked surprise of the gardener's +wife. + +"Let them come here, auntie," she said to the old lady. "Don't make them +talk any more now.... They need to eat and drink a little, and get +warm.... I'm sorry I have so little to offer you. What in the world can +I get for them? Let's see! Let's see!" + +And while the two men were being forced, by that somewhat despotic +attentiveness, to take seats at the table, Leonora and her maid went +into the adjoining room, where keys began to rattle and tops of chests +to rise and fall. + +Rafael, in his deep emotion, could scarcely manage a few drops of rum; +but the barber chewed away for all he was worth, downing glass after +glass of liquor, and talking on and on through a mouth crammed with food +while his face grew redder and redder. + +When Leonora reappeared, her maid was following her with a great bundle +of clothes in her arms. + +"You understand, of course, we haven't a stitch of men's clothes in the +house. But in war-time we get along as best we can, eh? We're in what +you might call a state of siege here." + +Rafael noted the dimples that a charming smile traced in those wonderful +cheeks! And what perfect teeth--jewels in a casket of red velvet! + +"Now, Cupido; off with those wet things of yours; you're not going to +catch pneumonia on my account, and thus deprive the city of its one +bright spot. Here's something to put on while we are drying your +clothes." + +And she offered the barber a magnificent gown of blue velvet, with +veritable cascades of lace at the breast and on the sleeves. + +Cupido nearly fell off his chair.... Was he going to dress in top style +for once in his life? And with those side-whiskers?... How the people in +Alcira would howl if they could only see him now! And entering at once +into the fun of the situation, he hastened into the next room to don his +gown. + +"For you," Leonora said to Rafael with a motherly smile, "I could find +only this fur cloak. Come, now, take off that jacket of yours; it's +dripping wet." + +With a blush, the young man refused. No, he was all right! Nothing would +happen to him! He had been wetter than that many times. + +Leonora without losing her smile, seemed to grow impatient. No one in +that house ever talked back to her. + +"Come, Rafael, don't be so silly. We'll have to treat you like a child." + +And taking him by a sleeve, as if he were a refractory baby, she began +to pull at his jacket. + +The young man, in his confusion, was hardly aware of what was taking +place. He seemed to be traveling along on an endless horizon, at greater +speed than he had been swept down the river just before. She had called +him by his first name; he was a pampered guest in a house he had for +months been trying in vain to enter, and she, Leonora, was calling him +"child" and treating him like a child, as if they had been friends all +their lives. What sort of woman was this? Was he not lost in some +strange world? The women of the city--the girls he met at the parties at +his home, seemed to be creatures of another race, living far, ever so +far, away, at the other end of the earth, cut off from him forever by +that immense sheet of water. + +"Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we'll have to undress you like a doll." + +She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and +the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious +intoxication swept over him. + +The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders. It was a rare +garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the +plumes of some fantastic bird. Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its +edges touched the floor. The young man realized that thousands of francs +had suddenly been thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the +bottom up, lest he should step upon it. + +Leonora laughed at his embarrassment. + +"Don't be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it. One would think you +were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat. It isn't +worth much. I use it only to travel in. A grandduke gave it to me in +Saint Petersburg." + +And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she +wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it +more tightly to him. + +Slowly they walked back into the front room. Meanwhile, the appearance +of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of +laughter in the dining-room. Cupido was taking full advantage of the +occasion. The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the +other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and +singing in a falsetto soprano voice. The peasant family laughed like +mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened +her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace +with which he pronounced the Italian verses. Even poor doña Pepa hitched +around in her armchair and applauded. The barber, according to her, was +the most charming devil in the world. + +Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora's side, his gaze lost in +the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his +body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have +retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders. With +marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate +trip down the river. + +Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath. + +"What you have done," the prima donna was saying, "deserves my deep, +deep gratitude! It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times. +Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa! Only the swan is +lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan...." + +"And suppose you had been carried off--drowned!..." the youth exclaimed +in justification of his rashness. + +"Drowned!...I must confess that at first I was somewhat afraid. Not so +much of dying, for I'm somewhat tired of life--as you will realize after +you've known me a little longer. But a death like that, suffocated in +that mud, that filthy, dirty water that smells so bad, doesn't at all +appeal to me. If it were some green, transparent Swiss lake!... I want +beauty even in death; I'm concerned with the 'final posture,' like the +Romans, and I was afraid of perishing here like a rat in a sewer.... And +nevertheless, I couldn't help laughing at my aunt and our poor servants +to see the fright they were in!... Now the water is no longer rising, +and the house is strong. Our only trouble is that we're cut off, and +I'm waiting for daylight to come so that we can see where we are. The +sight of all this country changed into a lake must be very beautiful, +isn't it, Rafael?" + +"You've probably seen far more interesting things," the young man +replied. + +"I don't deny that; but I'm always most impressed by the sensation of +the moment." + +And she fell silent, showing by her sudden seriousness the vexation that +his distant allusion to her past had caused. + +For some moments neither of them spoke; and it was Leonora who finally +broke the silence. + +"The truth is, if the water had gone on rising, we would have owed our +lives to you.... Let's see, now, frankly: why did you come? What kind +inspiration made you think of me. You hardly know me!" + +Rafael blushed with embarrassment, and trembled from head to foot, as if +she had asked him for a mortal confession. He was on the point of +uttering the great truth, baring in one great explosion all his thoughts +and dreams and dreads of past days. But he restrained himself and +grasped wildly for an answer. + +"My enthusiasm for the artist," he replied timidly. "I admire your +talent very much." + +Leonora burst into a noisy laugh. + +"But you don't know me! You've never heard me sing!... What do you know +about my "talent," as they call it? If it weren't for that chatterbox of +a Cupido, Alcira would never dream that I am a singer and that I'm +somewhat well-known--except in my own country." + +Rafael was crushed by the reply; he did not dare protest. + +"Come, Rafael," the woman continued affectionately, "don't be a child +and try to pass off the fibs boys use to deceive mama with. I know why +you came here. Do you imagine you haven't been seen from this very +balcony hovering about here every afternoon, lurking in the road like a +spy? You are discovered, sir." + +The shy Rafael thought the balcony was collapsing underneath his feet. +He shivered in abject terror, drew the fur cloak tighter around him, +without knowing what he was about, and shook his head in energetic +denial. + +"So it's not true, you fraud?" she said, with comic indignation. "You +deny that since we met up at the Hermitage you have been taking all your +walks in this neighborhood? _Dios mÃo_! What a monster of falsehood have +we here? And how brazenly he lies." + +And Rafael, vanquished by her frank merriment, had finally to smile, +confessing his crime with a loud laugh. + +"You're probably surprised at what I do and say," continued Leonora +drawing closer to him, leaning a shoulder against his with unaffected +carelessness, as if she were with a girl friend. "I'm not like most +women. A fine thing it would be for me, with the life I lead, to play +the hypocrite!... My poor aunt thinks I'm crazy because I say just what +I feel; in my time I've been much liked and much disliked on account of +the mania I have for not concealing anything.... Do you want me to tell +you the real truth?... Very well; you've come here because you love me, +or, at least, because you think you love me: a failing all boys of your +age have, as soon as they find a woman different from the others they +know." + +Rafael bowed his head and said nothing; he did not dare look up. He felt +the gaze of those green eyes upon the back of his head and they seemed +to reach right into his soul. + +"Let's see your face. Raise that head of yours a little. Why don't you +say it isn't so, as you did before? Am I right or not?" + +"And supposing you were right?..." Rafael ventured to murmur, finding +himself thus suddenly discovered. + +"Since I know I am, I thought it best to provoke this explanation, so as +to avoid any misunderstandings. After what has happened to-night, I want +to have you for a friend; friend you understand, and nothing more; a +comradeship based on gratitude. We ought to know in advance exactly +where we stand. We'll be friends, won't we?... You must feel quite at +home here; and I'm sure I shall find you a very agreeable chum. What +you've done to-night has given you a greater hold on my affection than +you could ever have gained in any ordinary social way; but you're going +to promise me that you won't drift into any of that silly love-making +that has always been the bane of my existence." + +"And if I can't help myself?" murmured Rafael. + +"'And if I can't help myself'," said Leonora, laughing and mimicking +the voice of the young man and the expression on his face. "'And if I +can't help myself'! That's what they all say! And why can't you help +yourself? How can one take seriously a love for a woman you are now +seeing for the second time? These sudden passions are all inventions of +you men. They're not genuine. You get them out of the novels you read, +or out of the operas we sing. Nonsense that poets write and callow boys +swallow like so many boobies and try to transplant into real life! The +trouble is we singers are in the secret, and laugh at such bosh. Well, +now you know--good friends, and the soft pedal on sentiment and drama, +eh? In that way we'll get along very well and the house will be yours." + +Leonora paused and, threatening him playfully with her forefinger, +added: + +"Otherwise, you may consider me just as ungrateful and cruel as you +please, but your gallant conduct of to-night won't count. You'll not be +permitted to enter this place again. I want no adorers; I have come here +looking for rest, friendship, peace ... Love! A beautiful, cruel +hoax!..." + +She was speaking very earnestly, without moving, her gaze lost on that +immense sheet of water. + +Rafael dared to look at her squarely now. He had raised his head and was +studying her as she stood there thinking. Her beautiful face was tinted +with a bluish light, that seemed to surround her with a halo of romance. +Morning was coming on, and the leaden curtains of the sky were rent in +the direction of the sea, allowing a livid light to filter through. + +Leonora shivered as if from cold, and snuggled instinctively against +Rafael. With a shake of her head she seemed to rout a troop of painful +thoughts, and stretching out a hand to him she said: + +"Which shall it be? Friends, or distant acquaintances? Do you promise to +be good, be a real comrade?" + +Rafael eagerly clasped that soft, muscular hand, and felt her rings cut +deliciously into his fingers. + +"Very well--friends then!... I'll resign myself, since there's no help +for it." + +"In that case you will find what you now believe a sacrifice something +quite tolerable and quite consoling; you don't know me, but I know +myself. Believe me, even should I come to love you--as I never +shall--you would be the loser by it. I am worth much more as a friend +than as a lover. And more than one man in the world has found that out." + +"I will be a friend, ready to do much more for you than I've done +to-night. I hope you will come to know me too." + +"No promises now! What more can you do for me? The river doesn't flood +every day. You can't expect to be a hero every other moment. No, I'm +satisfied with to-night's exploit. You can't imagine how grateful I am. +It has made a very deep impression on my--friendly--heart.... May I be +quite frank? Well, when I met you there at the Hermitage, I took you for +one of these local _señoritos_ who have such an easy time of it in town, +and so, look upon every woman they meet as their property for the +asking. Afterwards, when I saw you lurking about the house, my scorn +increased. 'Who does that little dandy think he is?' I said to myself. +And how Beppa and I laughed over it! I hadn't even noticed your face +and your figure: I hadn't realized how handsome you were...." + +Leonora laughed at the thought of how angry she had been, and Rafael, +overwhelmed by such candor, likewise smiled to conceal his +embarrassment. + +"But after what happened to-night I am fond of you ... as people are +fond of friends. I am alone here: the friendship of a good and noble boy +like yourself, capable of sacrifice for a woman whom he hardly knows, is +a very comforting thing to have. Besides, that much doesn't compromise +me. I am a bird of passage, you see; I have alighted here because I'm +tired, ill--I don't just know what's the matter, but deeply broken in +spirit anyhow. I need rest, just plain existence--a plunge into sweet +nothingness, where I can forget everything; and I gratefully accept your +friendship. Later on, when you least expect it, probably, I'll fly away. +The very first morning when I wake up, feel quite myself again--and hear +inside my head the song of the mischievous bird that has advised me to +do so many foolish things in my life--I'll pack up my trunk and take +flight! I'll drop you a line of course; I'll send you newspaper +clippings that speak of me, and you'll see you have a friend who does +not forget you and who sends you greetings from London, Saint +Petersburg, or New York--any one of the corners of this world which many +believe so large yet where I am unable to stir without encountering +things that bore me." + +"May that moment be long delayed!" said Rafael. "May it never come!" + +"Rash boy!" Leonora exclaimed. "You don't know me. If I were to stay +here very long, we'd finish by quarreling and coming to blows. At bottom +I hate men: I have always been their most terrible enemy." + +Behind their backs they heard the rustle of the gown that Cupido was +dragging along behind him with absurd antics. He was coming to the +balcony with doña Pepita to see the sunrise. + +Through its dense clouds the sky was beginning to shed a gray, wan +light, under which the vast, watery plain took on the whitish color of +absinthe. Down the stream the debris of the inundation was floating, +sweepings of wretched poverty, uprooted trees, clumps of reeds, thatched +roofs from huts, all dirty, slimy, nauseating. Bits of flotsam and +jetsam became entangled between the orange-trees and formed dams that +little by little grew with the new spoils brought along by the current. + +In the distance at the very end of the lake, a number of black points +could be seen in regular rhythmic motion, stirring their legs like +aquatic flies around some roofs barely protruding above the immense +field of water. The rescuers had arrived from Valencia--with whale-boats +of the Fleet, brought overland by rail to the scene of the flood. + +The provincial authorities would soon be arriving in Alcira; and the +presence of Rafael was indispensable. Cupido himself, with sudden +gravity, advised him to go and meet those boats. + +While the barber was putting on his own clothes, Rafael, with intense +regret, removed his fur cloak. It seemed that in taking it off he was +losing the warmth of that night of sweet intimacy, the contact of that +soft shoulder that had for hours long been leaning against him. + +Leonora meanwhile looked at him fixedly. + +"We understand each other, don't we?" she asked, slowly. "Friends, with +no hope of anything more than that. If you break the pact, you'll not +enter this place again, not even by the second-story window, as you did +last night." + +"Yes, friends and nothing more," Rafael murmured with a tone of sincere +sadness, that seemed to move Leonora. + +Her green eyes lighted up: her pupils seemed to glitter with spangles of +gold. She stepped nearer and held out her hand. + +"You're a good boy; that's the way I like you: resignation and +obedience. For this time, and in reward for your good sense, we'll make +just one exception. Let's not part thus coldly.... So,--you may kiss +me,--as they do it on the stage--here!" + +And she raised her hand up toward his lips. Rafael seized it hungrily +and kissed it over and over again, until Leonora, tearing it away with a +violence that showed extraordinary strength, reprimanded him sharply. + +"You rogue!... Up to mischief so soon! What an abuse of confidence? +Good-bye! Cupido is calling you.... Good-bye." + +And she pushed him toward the balcony, where the barber was already +holding the boat against the railing. + +"Hop in, Rafael," said Cupido. "Better lean on me; the water's going +down and the boat's very low," Rafael jumped into his white craft, +which was now dirty and stained from the red water. The barber took the +oars. They began to move away. + +"Good-bye! Good-bye! Many thanks!" cried doña Pepa. The maid and the +whole family of the gardener had come out on the balcony. + +Rafael let go the tiller, and turned toward the house. He could see +nothing, however, but that proud beauty, who was waving her handkerchief +to them. He watched her for a long time, and when the crests of the +submerged trees hid the balcony from view, he bowed his head, giving +himself up entirely to the silent pleasure of tasting the sweetness that +he could still feel upon his burning lips. + + + + +VI + + +The elections set the whole District agog. The crucial moment for the +House of Brull had come, and all its loyal henchmen, as though still +uncertain of the Party's omnipotence, and fearing the sudden appearance +of hidden enemies, were running this way and that about the city and the +outlying towns, shouting Rafael's name as a clarion call to victory. + +The inundation was something of the forgotten past. The beneficent sun +had dried the fields. The orchards fertilized by the silt of the recent +flood looked more beautiful than ever. A magnificent harvest was +forecasted, and, as sole reminders of the catastrophe, there remained +only a shattered enclosure here, a fallen fence there, or some sunken +road with the banks washed away. Most of the damage had been repaired in +a few days, and people were quite content, referring to the past danger +jokingly. Until next time! + +Besides, plenty of relief money had been given out. Help had come from +Valencia, from Madrid, from every corner of Spain, thanks to the +whimpering publicity given the inundation in the local press; and since +the pious believer must attribute all his boons to the protection of +some patron saint, the peasants thanked Rafael and his mother for this +alms, resolving to be more faithful than ever to the powerful family. +So--long live the Father of the Poor! + +Doña Bernarda's ambitious dreams were on the point of realization, and +she could not give herself a moment's rest. Her son's cool indifference +was something she could not understand for the life of her! The District +was his all right, but was that a reason for falling asleep on the job? +Who could tell what the "enemies of law and order"--there was more than +one of them in the city--might spring at the very last moment? No, he +must wake up--go and make a speech--now at this town, now at that--and +say a few words of encouragement to the people of property, especially. +And why not visit the _alcalde_, down in X---, just to show that poor +devil he was being taken seriously. Rafael must show himself in public, +keep everybody talking about him and thinking about him! + +And Rafael obeyed, but taking good care to avoid the company of don +Andrés on such trips, in order to spend a few hours at the Blue House on +the way out or back, or else, to cut his engagement altogether and pass +the day with Leonora, trembling to return home lest his mother should +have learned what he had been up to. + +Doña Bernarda, in fact, had not been slow in detecting her son's new +friendship. To begin with, her one concern in life was Rafael's health +and conduct. And in that gossipy inquisitive country-town, her son could +do virtually nothing which she did not know all about in the course of a +few hours. An indiscreet remark of Cupido had even brought her to the +bottom of that mysterious and perilous night trip down the flooded +river--not to rescue a "poor family," but to call on that +_comica_--that "chorus girl"--as doña Bernarda called Leonora in a +furious burst of scorn. Stormy scenes occurred that were to leave a +strong undercurrent of bitterness and fear in Rafael's character. Doña +Bernarda's harshness of disposition broke the young man's spirit, making +him realize with what good reason he had always feared his mother. That +uncompromising pietist, with her armorplate of impeccable virtue and +"sound principles" about her, crushed him flat with her very first +words. What in the world was he thinking of? Was he bound to dishonor +the name of Brull? Now after so many, many years of family sacrifice, +was he going to make a fool of himself, and give his enemies a hold on +him, just because of the first ballet-skirt that came along? And in her +rage she did not hesitate to rend the veil of reticence behind which her +conjugal fury and her conjugal unhappiness had run their parallel +courses. + +"The same as your father!" doña Bernarda exclaimed. "There's no escaping +blood: a woman-chaser, a friend of low-lives, ready to drive me out of +house and home for the sake of any one of them ... and I, big fool that +I am, work for men like that! Forgetting the salvation of my soul in the +next world to see you get farther along in this than your father did!... +And how do you repay me? Just as he did; with one disappointment, one +irritation, after another!" + +Then softening somewhat and feeling the need of imparting her great +plans for the future, she would pass from anger to friendly confidence, +and give Rafael insight into the condition of the family. He was so busy +with Party affairs, and thumbing his big books upstairs, that he did +not know how things were going at home. And he didn't need to know for +that matter: she was there to take care of that. But Rafael must realize +the gaps that had been opened in their fortune by his father's wild +conduct just before he died. She was performing miracles of economy. +Thanks to her efficient administration of affairs, and to the loyal aid +of don Andrés, many debts had already been paid off, and she had +redeemed several mortgages. But the burden was a heavy one and it would +still be many years before she could call herself quite free of it. + +Besides--and as doña Bernarda came to this part of her talk she grew +tenderer and more insinuating still--he was now the leading man of the +District and so he must be the wealthiest. Now that wouldn't be a +difficult thing to manage. All he had to do was, be a good son, and +follow the advice of his mama, who loved him more than anything else in +the world... A deputy now, and later on, when he came back from Madrid, +marry! There were plenty of good girls around--well brought up, educated +in the fear of the Lord--and millionairesses besides--who would be more +than glad to be his wife. + +Rafael smiled faintly at this harangue. He knew whom his mother had in +mind--Remedios, the daughter of the richest man in town--a rustic, the +latter, with more luck than brains, who flooded the English markets with +oranges and made enormous profits, circumventing by instinctive +shrewdness all the commercial combinations made against him. + +That was why Rafael's mother was always insistently urging her son to +visit the house of Remedios, inventing all sorts of pretexts to get him +there. Besides, doña Bernarda invited Remedios to the Brull place +frequently, and rarely indeed did Rafael come home of an afternoon +without finding that timid maiden there--a dull, handsomish sort of +girl, dressed up in clothes that did cruel injustice to a peasant beauty +rapidly transformed, by her father's good luck, into a young "society" +girl. + +"But, mama," said Rafael, smiling. "I'm not thinking of marriage!... And +when I do, I'll have to consider my own feelings." + +After that interview a moral gulf had opened between mother and son. As +a child, Rafael had known his mother to frown and sulk after some +mischievous prank of his. But now, her aggressive, menacing, +uncommunicative glumness was prolonged for days and days. + +On returning home at night he would find himself subjected to a +searching cross-examination that would last all during supper. Don +Andrés would usually be present, though he did not dare raise his head +when that masterful woman spoke. Where had he been? Whom had he seen?... +Rafael felt himself surrounded by a system of espionage that followed +him wherever he went in the city or in the country. + +"No sir, today you were at the chorus-girl's house again!... Take care, +Rafael! Mark my word! You're killing me, you're killing me ...!" + +And then those absurd clandestine trips to the Blue House began, the +leading man of the district, the advocate of Alcira's fortunes, creeping +on his stomach, skulking from bush to bush, in order not to be seen by +telltale observers! + +Don Andrés did his best to console the irate woman. It was just a +passing whim of Rafael's! Boys will be boys! You've got to let them have +a good time now and then! What do you expect with a handsome fellow like +that and from the best family in the region! And the cynical old man, +accustomed to easy conquests in the suburbs, blinked maliciously, taking +it for granted that Rafael had won a complete triumph down at the Blue +House. How else explain the youth's assiduity in his visits there, and +his timid though tenacious rebelliousness against his mother's +authority? + +"Such affairs, oh you enjoy them--what's the use! But in the end they +weary a fellow, doña Bernarda," the old man said sententiously. "She'll +be clearing out some fine day. Besides, just let Rafael go to Madrid as +deputy, and see the society there! When he comes back he'll have +forgotten this woman ever existed!" + +The faithful lieutenant of the Brulls would have been astonished to know +how little Rafael was progressing with his suit. + +Leonora was not the woman that she had shown herself on the night of the +flood. With the fascination of danger gone, the novelty of the +adventure, and the extraordinary circumstances of their second +interview, she treated Rafael with a kindly indifference like any other +of the adorers who had flocked about her in her day. She had come to +look upon him as a new piece of furniture that she found in place in +front of her every afternoon; an automaton, who appeared as regularly as +a clock strikes, to spend hours and hours staring at her, pale, +shrinking with an absurd consciousness of inferiority, and often +answering her questions with stupid phrases that made her laugh. + +Her irony and deliberate frankness wounded Rafael cruelly. "Hello, +Rafaelito," she would say sometimes as he came in. "You here again? +Better look out! People will be talking about us before long. Then what +will mama say to you?" And Rafael would be stung to the quick. What a +disgrace, to be tied to a mother's apron-strings, and have to stoop to +all those subterfuges to visit this place without raising a rumpus at +home! + +But try as he would, meanwhile, he could not shake off the spell that +Leonora was exercising over him. + +Besides, what wonderful afternoons when she deigned to be good! +Sometimes, wearied with walks about the open country, and bored, as +might have been expected of a frivolous, fickle character like hers, +with the monotony of the landscape of orange-trees and palms, she would +take refuge in her parlor, and sit down at the piano! With the hushed +awe of a pious worshipper, Rafael would take a chair in a corner, and +gluing his eyes upon those two majestic shoulders over which curly +tresses fell like golden plumes, he would listen to her rich, sweet, +mellow voice as it blended with the languishing chords of the piano; +while through the open windows the breath of the murmurous orchard made +its way drenched in the golden light of autumn, saturated with the +seasoned perfume of the ripe oranges that peered with faces of fire +through the festoons of leaves. + +Shubert, with his moody romances, was her favorite composer. The +melancholy of that sad music had a peculiar fascination for her in her +solitude. Her passionate, tumultuous soul seemed to fall into a +languorous enervation under the fragrance of the orange blossoms. At +times, she would be assailed by sudden recollections of triumphs on the +stage, and on such occasions, setting the piano ringing with the sublime +fury of the Valkyries' Ride, she would begin to shout Brunhilde's +"Hojotojo," the impetuous, savage war-cry of Wotan's daughter--a +melodious scream with which she had brought many an audience to its +feet, and which, in that deserted paradise, made Rafael shudder and +admire, as if the singer were some strange divinity--a blond goddess +with green eyes, wont to charge across the ice-fields through whirlwinds +of driving snow, but who, there, in a land of sunshine, had deigned to +become a simple, an entrancing woman! + +And then again, throwing her beautiful body back in her chair, as if in +her mind's eye she could see some old palatial hall festooned with +roses, and in it a maze of hoop skirts, powdered wigs, and red heels, +whirling in the dance, she would brush the keys with a minuet by Mozart, +as subtly fragrant as priceless perfume, as seductive as the smile of a +painted princess with beauty-patches and false dimples! + +Rafael had not forgotten the first night of their friendship, nor the +fingers that had been offered to his lips in that selfsame parlor. Once +he was moved to repeat the scene, and bending low over the keys, had +tried to kiss Leonora's hand. + +The actress started, as if awakening from a dream. Her eyes flashed +angrily, though her lips did not lose their smile; and she raised her +hand threateningly, with all its fantastic glitter of jewelry, and +pretended to strike at him: + +"Take care, Rafael; you're a child and I'll treat you as such. You +already know that I don't like to be annoyed. I won't send you away this +time, but if you do it again, you'll get a good cuffing. Don't forget +that when I want my hand kissed I begin by giving it voluntarily. What a +nuisance! Such a thing happens only once in a life-time.... But, I +understand: no more music for today; it's all over! I'll have to +entertain the little boy so's he won't fuss." + +And she began to tell him stories of her professional career, which +Rafael at once appraised as new progress toward intimacy with the divine +beauty. + +He looked over her pictures for the various operas in which she had +sung; a rich collection of beautiful photographs, with studio signatures +in almost every European tongue, some of them in strange alphabets that +Rafael could not identify. That pale, mystic Elizabeth of _Tannhäuser_ +had been taken in Milan; that ideal, romantic Elsa of _Lohengrin_, in +Munich; here was a wide-eyed, bourgeois Eva from _die Meistersinger_, +photographed in Vienna; there a proud arrogant Brunhilde, with hostile, +flashing eyes, that bore the imprint of St. Petersburg. And there were +other souvenirs of seasons at Covent Garden, at the San Carlos of +Lisbon, the Scala of Milan, and opera houses of New York and Rio de +Janeiro. + +As Rafael handled the large pasteboard mountings, he felt much like a +boy watching strange steamers entering a harbor and scattering the +perfumes of distant, mysterious lands all around. Each picture seemed +to wrap him in the atmosphere of its country, and from that peaceful +salon, murmuring with the breathing of the silent orchard, he seemed to +be traveling all over the earth. + +The photographs were all of the same characters--heroines of Wagner. +Leonora, a fanatic worshipper of the German genius, was ever speaking of +him in terms of intimate familiarity, as if she had known him +personally, and wished to sing no operas but his. And in her eager +desire to compass all the Master's work, she did not hesitate to +compromise her reputation for power and vigor by attempting roles of +lighter or tenderer vein. + +Rafael gazed at the portraits one by one; here she seemed emaciated, +wan, as if she had just recovered from an illness; there, she was strong +and proud, as if challenging the world with her beauty. + +"Oh, Rafael!" she murmured pensively. "Life isn't all gaiety. I have had +my stormy times like everybody else. I have lived centuries, it seems, +and these strips of cardboard are chapters of my life-story." + +And while she surrendered to a dreamy re-living of the past, Rafael +would go into ecstasies over a picture of Brunhilde, a beautiful +photograph which he had more than once thought of stealing. + +That Brunhilde was Leonora herself; the arrogant Valkyrie, the strong, +the valiant Amazon, capable of trying to beat him for the slightest +unwarranted liberty he took--and of doing it besides. Beneath the helmet +of polished steel, with its two wings of white plumes, her blond locks +fell, while a savage flash glittered in her green eyes, and her +nostrils seemed to palpitate with indomitable fierceness. A cloak fell +from her shoulders that were round, muscular, powerful. A steel coat of +mail curved outward around her magnificent bust, and her bare arms, one +holding the lance, and the other resting on a burnished shield, as +shining and luminous as a sheet of crystal, showed vigor and strength +under feminine grace of line. There she was in all her goddess-like +majesty--the Pallas of a mythology of the North, as beautiful as +heroism, as terrible as war. Rafael could understand the mad enthusiasm, +the electrified commotion of her audiences as they saw her stepping out +among the rocks of painted canvas, setting the boards a-tremble with her +lithe footsteps, rudely raising her lance and shield above the white +wings of her helmet and shouting the cry of the Valkyries--"_Hojotoho!_" +which, repeated in the green tranquility of that Valencian orchard, +seemed to make the lanes of foliage quiver with a tremor of admiring +ecstasy. + +Across the whole world, and everywhere in triumph, that whimsical, +adventuresome, madcap woman, of whose life as an actress so many stories +were told, had carried the arrogance of the virgin warrior-maid +conceived by the master Wagner. In a bulky book, of uneven irregular +pages, where the singer with the minute conscientiousness of a child, +had preserved everything the newspapers of the globe had written about +her, Rafael found echos of her stormy ovations. Many of the printed +clippings were yellow with age, but they could still evoke before his +dazzled eyes, visions of theaters packed with elegant, sensuous women, +as beautiful as Wotan's daughter in the coat-of-mail; atmospheres hot +with light and enthusiasm, a-glitter with sparkling jewels and +sparkling eyes; and in the background, with her helmet and her lance, +the dominating Valkyrie herself greeted with frantic applause and +limitless admiration. + +In the collection were newspaper reproductions of the singer's +photographs, biographical notices, critical articles relating to the +triumphs of the celebrated _diva_ Leonora Brunna--for such was the stage +name adopted by Doctor Moreno's daughter--clipping after clipping +printed in Castilian or South American Spanish; columns of the clear, +close print of English papers; paragraphs on the coarse, thin paper of +the French and Italian press; compact masses of Gothic characters, which +troubled Rafael's eyes, and unintelligible Russian letters, that, to +him, looked like whimsical scrawls of a childish hand. And all in praise +of Leonora, one universal tribute to the talent of that woman, who was +looked upon so scornfully by the citified peasants of the boy's native +town. A divinity, indeed! And Rafael felt a growing hatred and contempt +for the gross, uncouth virtue of those who had left her in a social +vacuum. Why had she come to Alcira, anyway? What could possibly have led +her to abandon a world of triumphs, where she was admired by everyone, +for the life, virtually, of a barnyard? + +Later she showed him some of her more personal mementoes; jewels of rare +beauty, expensive baubles, "testimonials," reminiscent of "evenings of +honor," when admirers had surprised her in the green room while outside +the audience was applauding wildly, and she, lowering her lance, and +surrounded by ushers with huge bouquets, would step forward to the +footlights and make her bow of acknowledgment, under a deluge of tinsel +and flowers. One medallion bore the portrait of the venerable don Pedro +of Brazil, the artist-emperor, who paid tribute to the singer in a +greeting written in diamonds. Gem-incrusted frames of gold spoke of +enthusiasts who perhaps had begun by desiring the woman to resign +themselves in the end to admiration for the artist. Here was a +collection of illuminated diplomas from charitable societies thanking +her for assistance at benefits. Queen Victoria of England had given her +a fan with an autograph dated from a concert at Windsor Castle. From +Isabel II came a royal bracelet, as a souvenir of various evenings at +the Castilla Palace in Paris. Millionaires, princes, grand-dukes, +presidents of Spanish-American republics, had left a whole museum of +costly trinkets at her feet. Characteristic of adorers from the United +States, where people always temper enthusiasm with usefulness, were a +number of portfolios, their bindings much worn by time, containing +railroad shares, land titles, stocks in enterprises of varying +stability, suggesting the rambles of the American promotor from the +prairies of Canada to the pampas of the Argentine. + +In the presence of all the trophies that the arrogant Valkyrie had +gathered in on her triumphal passage through the world, Rafael felt +pride, first of all, at being friends with such a woman; but at the same +time a sense of his own insignificance, exaggerating, if anything, the +difference that separated them. How in the world had he ever dared make +love to a person like Leonora Brunna? + +Finally came the most interesting, the most intimate of all her +treasures--an album which she allowed him hurriedly to glimpse through, +forbidding him, however, even to look at certain of the pages. It was a +volume modestly bound in dark leather with silver clasps; but Rafael +gazed upon it as on a wonderful fetish, and with all the awe-struck +adoration inspired by great names. Kings and emperors were the least +among the celebrities who had knelt in homage before the goddess. The +overshadowing geniuses of art were there, dedicating a word of +affection, a line of verse, a bar of music, to the beautiful songstress. +Rafael stared in open-mouthed wonderment at the signatures of the old +Verdi and of Boito. Then came the younger masters, of the new Italian +school, noisy and triumphant with the clamor of art brought within range +of the mob. In gallant phrases the Frenchmen, Massenet and Saint-Saens, +paid their respects to the greatest interpreter of the greatest of +composers; Rafael could decipher what was in Italian, scenting the sweet +perfume of Latin adulation despite the fact that he scarcely knew the +language. A sonnet by Illica moved him actually to tears. Other +inscriptions were meaningless to him--the lines from Hans Keller, +especially, the great orchestral conductor, disciple and confidant of +Wagner, the artistic executor, charged with watching over the master's +glory--that Hans Keller of whom Leonora was speaking all the time with +the fondness of a woman and the admiration of an artist--all of which +did not prevent her from adding that he was "a barbarian." Stanzas in +German, in Russian and in English, which, as the singer re-read them +brought a contented smile to her features, Rafael, to his great +despair, could not induce her to translate. + +"Those are matters you wouldn't understand. Go on to the next page. I +mustn't make you blush." + +And that was the only explanation she would give--as though he were a +child. + +Some Italian verses, written in a tremulous hand and in crooked lines, +attracted Rafael's attention. He could half make their meaning out, but +Leonora would never let him finish reading them. It was an amorous, +desperate lament; a cry of racking passion condemned to disappointment, +writhing in isolation like a wild beast in its cage: Luigi Macchia. + +"And who is Luigi Macchia?" asked Rafael. "Why such despair?" + +"He was a young fellow from Naples," Leonora answered, at last, one +afternoon, in a sad voice, and turning her head, as if to conceal the +tears that had come to her eyes. "One day they found him under the pine +trees of Posilipo, with a bullet through his head. He wanted to die, you +see, and he killed himself.... But put all this aside and let's go down +to the garden. I need a breath of air." + +They sauntered along the avenue that was bordered with rose-bushes, and +several minutes went by before either of them spoke. Leonora seemed +quite absorbed in her thoughts. Her brows were knitted and her lips +pressed tightly together, as if she were suffering the sting of painful +recollections. + +"Suicide!" she said at last. "Doesn't that seem a silly thing to do, +Rafael? Kill yourself for a woman? Just as if we women were obliged to +love every man who thinks he's in love with us!... How stupid men are! +We have to be their servants, love them willy-nilly. And if we don't, +they kill themselves just to spite us." + +And she was silent for a time. + +"Poor Macchia! He was a good boy, and deserved to be happy. But if I +were to surrender to every desperate protestation made to me!... +However, he went and did just what he said he would do.... How crazy +they get! And the worst of it is, I have found others like him in my +travels." + +She explained no farther. Rafael gazed at her, but respected her +silence, trying in vain to guess the thoughts that were stirring behind +her shining eyes, as green and golden as the sea under a noonday sun. +What a wealth of romance must be hidden in that woman's past! What +tragedies must have been woven into the checkered fabric of her +wonderful career!... + +So the days went by, and election time came around. Rafael, in passive +rebellion against his mother, who rarely spoke a word to him now, had +completely neglected the campaign. But on the decisive Sunday he +triumphed completely, and Rafael Brull, Deputy from Alcira, spent the +night shaking hands, receiving congratulations, listening to serenades, +waiting for morning to come that he might run to the Blue House and +receive Leonora's ironic good wishes. + +"I'm very glad to hear it," the actress said. "Now you'll be leaving +very soon and I'll lose sight of you. It was high time really! You know, +my dear child, you were beginning to get tiresome with your assiduous +worship, that mute, persistent, tenacious adoration of yours. But up in +Madrid you'll get over it all. Tut, tut, now ... don't say you won't. No +need to perjure yourself. I guess I know what young men are like! And +you're a young man. The next time we meet, you'll have other things in +your head. I'll be a friend, just a friend; and that's what--and all--I +want to be." + +"But will I find you here when I come back?" Rafael asked, anxiously. + +"You want to know more things than anybody I ever knew! How can I say +whether I'll be here or not? Nobody in the world was ever sure of +holding me. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow myself.... But, no," she +continued, gravely, "if you come back by next spring, you'll find me +here. I'm thinking of staying surely until then. I want to see the +orange-trees in bloom, go back to my early childhood--the only memories +of my past that have followed me everywhere. Many a time I have gone to +Nice, spending a fortune and crossing half the world to get there--and +just to see a handful of puny orange-trees in bloom; now I want to take +one great, deep, plunge into the deluge of orange blossoms that +inundates these fields every year. It's the one thing that keeps me in +Alcira.... I'm sure. So if you come back about that season, you will +find me; and we will meet for one last time; for that will be the limit +of my endurance. I shall simply have to fly away, however hard poor +auntie takes it.... For the present, however, I am quite comfortable. +You see I was so tired! I find this solitude a welcome refuge after a +stormy voyage. Only something very important indeed could persuade me to +leave it at once." + +But they saw each other on many another afternoon in the garden, there. +It was saturated now with the fragrance of ripe oranges. The vast valley +lay blue beneath the winter sun. Oranges, oranges, everywhere, reaching +out, it seemed, through the foliage, to the industrious hands that were +plucking them from the branches. Carts were creaking all along the +roads, trundling heaps of golden fruit over the ruts. The large shipping +houses rang again with the voices of girls singing at their work as they +selected and wrapped the oranges in paper. Hammers were pounding at the +wooden crates, and off toward France and England in great golden waves +those daughters of the South rolled--capsules of golden skin, filled +with sweet juice--the quintessence of Spanish sunshine. + +Leonora, standing on tiptoe under an old tree, with her back toward +Rafael, was looking for a particularly choice orange among the dense +branches. As she swayed this way and that, the proud, graceful curves of +her vigorous slenderness became more beautiful than ever. + +"I'm leaving tomorrow," the young man said, dispiritedly. + +Leonora turned around. She had found her orange and was peeling it with +her long pink nails. + +"Tomorrow?" she said, smiling. "Everything comes if you wait long +enough!... The best of success to you, señor deputy." + +And bringing the fragrant fruit to her lips, she sank her white, +glistening teeth into the golden pulp, closing her eyes rapturously, to +sense the full warm sweetness of the juice. + +Rafael stood there pale and trembling, as if something desperate were +in his mind. + +"Leonora! Leonora!... Surely you are not going to send me away like +this?" + +And then suddenly, carried away by a passion so long restrained, so long +crushed under timidity and fear, he ran up to her, seized her hands and +hungrily sought her lips. + +"Oh! What in the world are you up to, Rafael?... How dare you!" she +cried. And with one thrust of her powerful arms she threw him back, +staggering, against the orange-tree. The young man stood there with +lowered head, humiliation and shame written on every line of his face. + +"You see, I'm a strong woman," said Leonora, in a voice quivering with +anger. "None of your foolish tricks, or you'll be sorry!" + +She glared at him for a long time; but then gradually recovered her +equanimity, and began to laugh at the pitiable spectacle before her. + +"But what a child you are, Rafael!... Is that what you call a friendly +good-bye?... How little you know me, silly! You force matters, you do, I +see. Well just understand, I'm impregnable, unless I choose to be +otherwise. Why, men have died without being able to kiss so much as the +tip of my fingers. It's time you were going, Rafael. We'll still be +friends, of course.... But in case we are to see each other again, don't +forget what I tell you. We are through with such nonsense once and for +all. Don't waste your time. I cannot be yours. I'm tired of men; perhaps +I hate them. I have known the handsomest, the most elegant, the most +famous of them all. I have been almost a queen; queen 'on the left hand +side,' as the French say, but so much mistress of the situation that, +had I cared to get mixed up in such vulgarity, I could have changed +ministries and overturned thrones. Men renowned in Europe for their +elegance--and their follies--have grovelled at my feet, and I have +treated them worse than I have treated you. The most celebrated women +have envied me and hated me--copying my dresses and my poses. And when, +tired of all that brilliancy and noise, I said 'Good-bye' and came to +this retreat, do you think it was to give myself to a village +_señorito_, though a few hundred country bumpkins think he is a +wonder?... Oh, say, Rafael, really...." + +And she laughed a cruel, mocking laugh--that cut Rafael to the quick. +The young man bowed his head and his chest heaved painfully, as if the +tears that could not find issue through his eyes were stifling, choking +him. He seemed on the point of utter collapse. + +Leonora repented of her cruelty. + +She stepped up to the boy until she was almost touching him. Then taking +his chin in her two hands, she made him raise his head. + +"Oh, I have hurt you, haven't I! What mean things I said to the poor +child! Let me see now. Lift that head up! Look me straight in the eye! +Say that you forgive me.... That cursed habit I have of never holding my +tongue! I have offended you; but please, don't pay any attention to +that! I was joking! What a fine way of repaying you for what you did +that night!... No; Rafael, you are a very handsome chap indeed ... and +very distinguished ... and you will make a great name for yourself, up +in Madrid!... You'll be what they call a 'personage,' and you'll +marry--oh my--a very stylish, elegant, society girl! I can see all +that.... But, meanwhile, my dear boy, don't depend on me. We are going +to be friends, and nothing more than friends, ever! Why, there are tears +in your eyes! Well, here. Come ... kiss my hand, I will let you ... as +you did that night--there, like that! I could be yours only if I loved +you; but alas! I shall never fall in love with the dashing Rafaelito! +I'm an old woman, already, and I've been so lavish with my heart, spent +it so freely, I'm afraid I have none left.... Poor, poor little Rafael! +I'm so sorry ... but, you see, you came so late ... so late ...!" + + + + +PART TWO + +I + + +Hidden in the tall, thick rose-bushes that bounded the _plazoleta_ in +front of the Blue House, and under four old dead palms that drooped +their branches dry and melancholy under the vigorous tufts of younger +trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests +of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques +and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Saracen rule--sturdy, but +comfortable seats, with the graceful lines of the sofas of the +Eighteenth Century; and in them Leonora liked to spend her time in late +afternoons especially, when the palm trees covered the little square +with a cool, delightful shade. + +On that warm March day, doña Pepa was sitting in one of them, her +silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, reading the "Life" of the day's +saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the _campagna_ of +Rome, Beppa had been trained to piety from her earliest years; and she +was listening attentively so as not to miss a word. + +On the other bench were Leonora and Rafael. The actress, with lowered +head, was following the movements of her hands, busily engaged on some +embroidery. + +Rafael found Leonora much changed after his months of absence. + +She was dressed simply, like any young lady of the city; her face and +hands, so white and marble-like before, had taken on the golden +transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the +Valencian sun. Her slender fingers were bare of all rings, and her pink +ears were not, as formerly, a-gleam with thick clusters of diamonds. + +"I've become a regular peasant, haven't I?" she said, as if she could +read in Rafael's eyes his astonishment at the transformation she had +undergone. "It's life in the open that works such miracles: today one +frill, tomorrow another, and a woman eventually gets rid of everything +that was once a part of her body almost. I feel better this way.... +Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the +perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of +fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who +had to paint herself every night like a clown before she could appear +before an audience. Take a good look at me! Well ... what do you think? +You might mistake me for one of your vassals almost, eh? I'll bet that +if I had gone out this morning to join your demonstration at the station +you wouldn't have recognized me in the crowd." + +Rafael was going to say--and quite seriously, too--that he thought her +more beautiful than ever. Leonora seemed to have descended from her +height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed what was coming, and to +forestall any compliments, hastened to resume control of the +conversation. + +"Now don't say you like me better this way. What nonsense! Remember, you +come from Madrid, from real elegance, a world you did not know +before!... But, to tell the truth, I like this simplicity; and the +important thing in life is to please yourself, isn't it? It was a slow +transformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually +filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland +delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human +animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up +again. Why, Rafaelito! If nothing extraordinary happens and the devil +doesn't give an unexpected tug at my sleeve, I can conceive of staying +on here forever. I think of the outer world as a sailor must of the sea, +when he finds himself all cosy at home after a voyage of continuous +tempest." + +"That's right, do stay," said Rafael. "You can't imagine how I worried +up in Madrid wondering whether or not I'd find you here on my return." + +"Don't go telling any fibs," said Leonora, gently, smiling with just a +suggestion of gratification. "Do you think we haven't been following +your doings in Madrid? Though you never were a friend, exactly, of good +old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently--and all sorts of +nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing--the +postscript, with your regards to the 'illustrious artist,' sure to +provoke the consoling reply that the 'illustrious artist' was still +here. How those letters made me laugh!" + +"Anyway, that will prove I wasn't lying that day when I assured you I +would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I didn't! The separation has +made me worse, much worse, in fact." + +"Thanks, Rafael," Leonora answered, quite seriously, as if she had lost +mastery over the irony of former days. "I know you're telling the +truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You understand, +of course, that I can't love you.... So--if you don't mind--let's talk +of something else." + +And hastily, to shift the conversation from such dangerous ground, she +began to chat about her rustic pleasures. + +"I have a hen-coop that's too charming for anything. If you could only +see me mornings, in a circle of cackling feathers, throwing fusillades +of corn about to keep the roosters away. You see they get under my +skirts and peck at my feet. It's hard to realize I can be the same woman +who, just a few months ago, was brandishing a stage lance and +interpreting Wagner's dreams, no less, as finely as you please! You'll +soon see _my_ vassals. I have the most astonishing layers you ever saw; +and every morning I rummage around in the straw like a thief to get the +eggs, and when I find them, they are still warm.... I've forgotten the +piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon--I +don't know why--I just felt like spending a little while in the society +of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of +the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the +thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby +in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my +dear deputy, that everything here is mere play--just chickens and the +simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I +have done big things to the house. You would never guess! A bathroom, if +you please! And it just scandalizes poor auntie; while Beppa says it's +a sin to give so much thought to matters of the body. I could give up +many of my old habits, but not my bath; it's the one luxury I have kept, +and I sent to Valencia for the plumbers, the marble, and the wood and... +well ... it's a gem. I'll show it to you, by and by. If some fine day I +should suddenly take it into my head to fly away, that bath will remain +here, for my poor aunt to preach about and show how her madcap niece +squandered a mint of money on sinful folly, as she calls it." + +And she laughed, with a glance at the innocent doña Pepa, who, there on +the other bench, was for the hundredth time explaining to the Italian +maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying +to persuade the "foreigner" to transfer her faith to that saint, and +waste no more time on the second or third raters of Italy. + +"Don't imagine," the actress continued, "that I forgot you during all +this time. I am a real friend, you see, and take an interest! I learned +through Cupido, who ferrets out everything, just what you were doing in +Madrid. I, too, figured among your admirers. That proves what friendship +can do! ... I don't know why, but when señor Brull is concerned, I +swallow the biggest whoppers, though I know they're lies. When you made +your speech in the Chambers on that matter of flood protection, I sent +to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many +times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met +Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have +known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer +eloquence--not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of +them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my +dressing-room--once I had sung at the 'Real.' Well, despite all that, I +took the exaggerations your party friends printed about you quite +seriously for some days, putting you on a level with all the solemn +top-notchers I have known. And why, do you suppose? Perhaps from my +isolation and tranquillity here, which do make you lose perspective; or +perhaps it was the influence of environment! It is impossible to live in +this region without being a subject of the Brulls!... Can I be falling +in love with you unawares?" + +And once more she laughed the gleeful, candid, mocking laugh of other +days. At first she had received him seriously, simply, under the +influence still of solitude, country life and the longing for rest and +quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of +that lovesick expression in eyes which now, however, showed a trace of +self-possession, the old teaser had reappeared in her; and her irony cut +into the youth's flesh like a steel blade. + +"Stranger things than that have happened," Rafael snapped boldly, and +imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you +should wind up by falling in love with even me--out of pity, of course!" + +"No," answered Leonora bluntly. "It's not even humanly conceivable. I'll +never fall in love with you ... And even if I should," she continued in +a gentle, almost mothering tone, "you would never know about it. I +should keep it jolly well to myself--so as to prevent your going crazy +on finding your affections returned. All afternoon I have been trying +to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have +inquired about your life in Madrid--even going into details that haven't +the slightest interest for me--all to keep the talk off love. But with +you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. +Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you--I must not love you. If +I had made your acquaintance somewhere else, but under the same romantic +circumstances, I don't say it mightn't have happened. But here!... My +scruples may make you laugh, but I feel as though I'd be committing a +crime to love you. It would be like entering a home and repaying the +hospitality by purloining the silverware." + +"That's a new kind of nonsense you are talking," Rafael exclaimed. "Just +what do you mean? I don't think I understand, exactly." + +"Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it's all +like. Love for love's sake alone! That may happen in the world where I +come from. There folks aren't scandalized at things. Virtue is +broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have +their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too +harshly. But here!... Here love is the straight and narrow path that +leads to marriage. Now let's see how good a liar you are! Would you be +capable of saying that you would marry me?..." + +She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking +eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as +he started to speak. + +"Exactly," she went on. "You wouldn't, and you are right. For that +would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity. I'm not one of the +women who are made for such things. Many men have proposed marriage to +me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once +they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their +marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me +back when I got bored and tried to fly away. But imagine me married! +Could anything be more absurd?" + +She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael +deeply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which +reminded the young man of Mephisto's mirth during his infernal serenade +to Marguerite. + +"Moreover," continued Leonora, recovering her composure, "you don't seem +to realize just how I stand in this community. Don't imagine what's said +about me in town escapes me ... I just have to notice the way the women +look at me the few times I go in there. And I know also what happened to +you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. +The gossip of these people carries--it reaches even this solitary spot. +I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even heard +about the squabbles you've had at home over coming here. Well, we must +put a stop to all that! I am going to ask you not to visit me any more. +I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will +be to the advantage of us both." + +That was a painful thrust for Rafael. So she knew! But to escape from +what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of +independence. + +"Don't you believe such bosh! It's just election gossip spread by my +enemies. I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without +asking mamma." + +"Very well; keep on coming, if you really want to; but all the same, it +shows how people feel toward me--a declaration of war, virtually. And if +I should ever fall in love with you ... heavens! What would they say +then? They'd be sure I had come here for the sole purpose of capturing +their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It +would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they +talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a lamb, imagine how their +tongues would wag then!... No, I'm not looking for excitement! Let them +snap at me as much as they please; but I mustn't be to blame. It must be +out of pure envy on their part. I wouldn't stoop to provoking them!" + +And with a turn of her head in the direction of the city that was hidden +from view behind the rows of orange-trees, she laughed disdainfully. + +Then her gleeful frankness returned once more--a candor of which she was +always ready to make herself the first victim--and in a low, +confidential, affectionate tone she continued: + +"Besides, Rafaelito, you haven't had a good look at me. Why, I'm almost +an old woman!... Oh, I know it, I know it. You don't have to tell me. +You and I are of the same age; but you are a man; and I'm a woman. And +the way I've lived has added considerably to my years. You are still on +the very threshold of life. I've been knocking about the world since I +was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, +my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me +worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just +gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't +advance a step on the stage without rousing the jealousy of someone; and +that kind of jealousy is the most bloodthirsty of human passions. Can +you imagine what my kind colleagues say about me? That I've gotten along +as a woman of the _demimonde_ rather than as an artist--that I'm a +_cocotte_, using my voice and the stage for soliciting, as it were." + +"Damn the liars!" cried Rafael hotly. "I'd like to have someone say that +in my hearing." + +"Bah! Don't be a child. Liars, yes, but what they say has a grain of +truth in it. I have been something of the sort, really; though the blame +had not been wholly mine ... I've done crazy foolish things--giving a +loose rein to my whims, for the fun of the thing. Sometimes it would be +wealth, magnificence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, +ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the +novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at +finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of +mine--it has taken in a good part of Europe--I have come to one +conclusion: either that what the poets call love is a lie, a pleasant +lie, if you wish; or else that I was not born to love, that I am immune; +for as I go back over my exciting and variegated past, I have to +recognize that in my life love has not amounted to this!" + +And she gave a sharp snap with her pink fingers. + +"I am telling you everything, you see," she continued. "During your long +absence I thought of you often. Somehow I want you to know me +thoroughly, once and for all. In that way perhaps we can get along +together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will +walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a +priest listen to her confession. I am in that mood this afternoon. I +feel as though I must tell everything. Even if I tried not to, I should +not succeed. There's a little demon inside me here urging me, compelling +me, to unveil all my past." + +"Please feel quite free to do so. To be a confessor even, to deserve +your confidence, is some progress for me, at any rate." + +"Progress? But why should you care to progress ... into my heart! My +heart is only an empty shell! Do you think you'd be getting much if you +got me? I'm absolutely, absolutely worthless! Don't laugh, please! I +mean it! Absolutely worthless. Here in this solitude I have been able to +study myself at leisure, see myself as I really am. I recognize it plain +as day: I am nothing, nothing. Good looking?... Well, yes; I confess I +am not what you'd call ugly. Even if, with a ridiculous false modesty, I +were to say I was, there's my past history to prove that plenty of men +have found me beautiful. But, alas, Rafaelito! That's only the outside, +my facade, so to speak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and +show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a +ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned +my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into +the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old +hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have +all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see +that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on +the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, +come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that will go to the bottom as +soon as it strikes deep water, and carry you down with it!... Rafael, my +dear boy, don't be foolish. I am all right to have as a friend; but it's +too late for me to be anything more ... even if I were to love you. We +are of a different breed. I have been studying you, and I see that you +are a sensible, honest, plodding sort of fellow. Whereas I--I belong to +the butterflies, to the opposite of all you are. I am a conscript under +the banner of Bohemia, and I cannot desert the colors. Each of us on his +own road then. You'll easily find a woman to make you happy.... The +sillier she is, the better.... You were born to be a family man." + +It occurred to Rafael that she might be poking fun at him, as she so +often did. But no; there was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The +forced smile had vanished from her face. She was speaking tenderly, +affectionately, as if in motherly counsel to a son in danger of going +wrong. + +"And don't make yourself over, Rafael. If the world were made up of +people like me, life would be impossible. I too have moments when I +should like to become a different person entirely--a fowl, a cow, or +something, like the folks around me, thinking of money all the time, and +of what I'll eat tomorrow; buying land, haggling with farmers on the +market, studying fertilizers, having children who'd keep me busy with +their colds and the shoes they'd tear, my widest vision limited to +getting a good price for the fall crop. There are times when I envy a +hen. How good it must be, to be a hen! A fence around me to mark the +boundaries of my world, my meals for the trouble of pecking at them, my +life-work to sit hour after hour in the sun, balanced on a roost.... You +laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and +the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a +pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of +it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant +women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a +whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to +Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They +can hardly believe their eyes when they see the _siñorita_ isn't half so +black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw +up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and +I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me.... Now all that is +agreeable, isn't it? Peace; the affection of the humble; an innocent old +woman, my poor aunt, who seems to have grown younger since I came here! +Nevertheless, some fine day, this shell, this rustic bark that has +formed around me in the sun and the air of the orchards, will burst, and +the woman of old--the Valkyrie--will step out of it again. And then, to +horse, to horse! Off on another gallop around the world, in a tempest of +pleasure, acclaimed by a chorus of brutal libertines!... I am sure that +is bound to happen. I swore to remain here until Spring. Well, Spring is +almost here! Look at those rose-bushes! Look at those orange-trees! +Bursting with life! Oh, Rafael, I'm afraid of Springtime. Spring has +always been a season of disaster for me." + +And she was lost in thought for a moment. Doña Pepa and the Italian maid +had gone into the house. The good old woman could never keep away from +the kitchen long. + +Leonora had dropped her embroidery upon the bench and was looking +upward, her head thrown back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and +drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as if visions of the past were +filing by in front of her. Suddenly she shuddered and sat up. + +"I'm afraid I'm ill, Rafael. I don't know what's the matter with me +today. Perhaps it's the surprise of seeing you; this talk of ours that +has called me back to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... +Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, +though you don't know it, of making me talk, of reminding me of things I +was determined to forget.... Come, give me your arm; let's walk out +through the garden; it will do me good." + +They arose, and began to saunter along over the broad avenue that led +from the gate to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost +in the thick crests of the orange-trees. Leonora smiled mischievously +and lifted a forefinger in warning. + +"I took it for granted you had returned from your trip a more serious, +a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Besides, +you know already that I'm strong, and can fight--if I have to." + + + + +II + + +Rafael spent a sleepless night tossing about in his bed. + +Party admirers had honored him with a serenade that had lasted beyond +midnight. The "prominents" among them had shown some pique at having +cooled their heels all afternoon at the Club waiting for the deputy in +vain. He put in an appearance well on towards evening, and after shaking +hands once more all around and responding to speeches of congratulation, +as he had done that morning, he went straight home. + +He had not dared raise his head in Doña Bernarda's presence. He was +afraid of those glowering eyes, where he could read, unmistakably, the +detailed story of everything he had done that afternoon. At the same +time he was nursing a resolve to disobey his mother, meet her +domineering, over-bearing aggressiveness with glacial disregard. + +The serenade over, he had hurried to his room, to avoid any chance of an +accounting. + +Snug in his bed, with the light out, he gave way to an intense, a +rapturous recollection of all that had taken place that afternoon. For +all the fatigue of the journey and the bad night spent in a +sleeping-car, he lay there with his eyes open in the dark, going over +and over again in his feverish mind all that Leonora told him during +that final hour of their walk through the garden. Her whole, her real +life's story it had been, recorded in a disordered, a disconnected +way--as if she must unburden herself of the whole thing all at +once--with gaps and leaps that Rafael now filled in from his own lurid +imagination. + +Italy, the Italy of his trip abroad, came back to him now, vivid, +palpitant, vitalized, glorified by Leonora's revelations. + +The shadowy majestic Gallery of Victor Emmanuel at Milan! The immense +triumphal arch, a gigantic mouth protended to swallow up the Cathedral! +The double arcade, cross-shaped, its walls covered with columns, set +with a double row of windows under a vast crystal roof. Hardly a trace +of masonry on the lower stories; nothing but plate glass--the windows of +book-shops, music shops, cafés, restaurants, jewelry stores, +haberdasheries, expensive tailoring establishments. + +At one end, the Duomo, bristling with a forest of statues and perforated +spires; at the other, the monument to Leonardo da Vinci, and the famous +_Teatro de la Scala_! Within the four arms of the Gallery, a continuous +bustle of people, an incessant going and coming of merging, dissolving +crowds: a quadruple avalanche flowing toward the grand square at the +center of the cross, where the Café Biffi, known to actors and singers +the world over, spreads its rows of marble tables! A hubbub of cries, +greetings, conversations, footsteps, echoing in the galleries as in an +immense cloister, the lofty skylight quivering with the hum of busy +human ants, forever, day and night, crawling, darting this way and that, +underneath it! + +Such is the world's market of song-birds; the world's Rialto of Music; +the world's recruiting office for its army of voices. From that center, +march forth to glory or to the poorhouse, all those who one fine day +have touched their throats and believed they have some talent for +singing. In Milan, from every corner of the earth, all the unhappy +aspirants of art, casting aside their needles, their tools or their +pens, foregather to eat the macaroni of the _trattoria_, trusting that +the world will some day do them justice by strewing their paths with +millions. Beginners, in the first place, who, to make their start, will +accept contracts in any obscure municipal theatre of the Milan district, +in hopes of a paragraph in a musical weekly to send to the folks at home +as evidence of promise and success; and with them, overwhelming them +with the importance of their past, the veterans of art--the celebrities +of a vanished generation: tenors with gray hair and false teeth; strong, +proud, old men who cough and clear their throats to show they still +preserve their sonorous baritone; retired singers who, with incredible +niggardliness, lend their savings at usury or turn shopkeepers after +dragging silks and velvets over world famous "boards." + +Whenever the two dozen "stars," the stars of first magnitude that shine +in the leading operas of the globe, pass through the Gallery, they +attract as much admiring attention as monarchs appearing before their +subjects. The _pariahs_, still waiting for a contract, bow their heads +in veneration; and tell, in bated breath, of the castle on Lake Como +that the great tenor has bought, of the dazzling jewels owned by the +eminent soprano, of the graceful tilt at which the applauded baritone +wears his hat; and in their voices there is a tingle of jealousy, of +bitterness against destiny--the feeling that they are just as worthy of +such splendor--the protest against "bad luck," to which they attribute +failure. Hope forever flutters before these unfortunates, blinding them +with the flash of its golden mail, keeping them in a wretched despondent +inactivity. They wait and they trust, without any clear idea of how they +are to attain glory and wealth, wasting their lives in impotence, to die +ultimately "with their boots on," on some bench of the Gallery. + +Then, there is another flock, a flock of girls, victims of the Chimera, +walking with a nimble, a prancing step, with music scores under their +arms, on the way to the _maestro's_; slender, light-haired English +_misses_, who want to become prima donnas of comic opera; fair-skinned, +buxom Russian _parishnas_ who greet their acquaintances with the +sweeping bow of a dramatic soprano; Spanish _señoritas_ of bold faces +and free manners, preparing for stage careers as Bizet's +cigarette-girl--frivolous, sonorous song-birds nesting hundreds of +leagues away, and who have flown hither dazzled by the tinsel of glory. + +At the close of the Carnival season, singers who have been abroad for +the winter season appear in the Gallery. They come from London, St. +Petersburg, New York, Melbourne, Buenos Aires, looking for new +contracts. They have trotted about the globe as though the whole world +were home to them. They have spent a week in a train or a month on a +steamer, to get back to their corner in the Gallery. Nothing has +changed, for all of their distant rambles. They take their usual table. +They renew their old intrigues, their old gossip, their old jealousies, +as if they had been gone a day. They stand around in front of the +show-windows with an air of proud disdain, like princes traveling +incognito, but unable quite to conceal their exalted station. They tell +about the ovations accorded them by foreign audiences. They exhibit the +diamonds on their fingers and in their neckties. They hint at affairs +with great ladies who offered to leave home and husband to follow them +to Milan. They exaggerate the salaries they received on their trip, and +frown haughtily when some unfortunate "colleague" solicits a drink at +the nearby Biffi. And when the new contracts come in, the mercenary +nightingales again take wing, indifferently, they care not whither. Once +more, trains and steamers distribute them, with their conceits and their +petulances, all over the globe, to gather them in again some months +later and bring them back to the Gallery, their real home--the spot to +which they are really tied, and on which they are fated to drag out +their old age. + +Meantime, the _pariahs_, those who never arrive, the "bohemians" of +Milan--when they are left alone console themselves with tales of famous +comrades, of contracts they themselves refused to accept, pretending +uncompromising hauteur toward impresarios and composers to justify their +idleness; and wrapped in fur coats that almost sweep the ground, with +their "garibaldis" on the backs of their heads, they hover around +Biffi's, defying the cold draughts that blow at the crossing of the +Gallery, talking and talking away to quiet the hunger that is gnawing at +their stomachs; despising the humble toil of those who make their living +by their hands, continuing undaunted in their poverty, content with +their genius as artists, facing misfortune with a candor and an +endurance as heroic as it is pathetic, their dark lives illumined by +Hope, who keeps them company till she closes their eyes. + +Of that strange world, Rafael had caught a glimpse, barely, during the +few days he had spent in Milan. His companion, the canon, had run across +a former chorister from the cathedral of Valencia, who could find +nothing to do but loiter night and day about the Gallery. Through him +Brull had learned of the life led by these journeymen of art, always on +hand in the "marketplace", waiting for the employer who never comes. + +He tried to picture the early days of Leonora in that great city, as one +of the girls who trot gracefully over the sidewalks with music sheets +under their arms, or enliven the narrow side streets with all those +trills and cadences that come streaming out through the windows. + +He could see her walking through the Gallery at Doctor Moreno's side: a +blonde beauty, svelte, somewhat thin, over-grown, taller than her years, +gazing with astonishment through those large green eyes of hers at the +cold, bustling city, so different from the warm orchards of her +childhood home; the father, bearded, wrinkled, nervous, still irritated +at the ruin of his Republican hopes; a veritable ogre to strangers who +did not know his lamb-like gentleness. Like exiles who had found a +refuge in art, they two went their way through that life of emptiness, +of void, a world of greedy teachers anxious to prolong the period of +study, and of singers incapable of speaking kindly even of themselves. + +They lived on a fourth floor on the _Via Passarella_--a narrow, gloomy +thoroughfare with high houses, like the streets of old Alcira, preempted +by music publishers, theatrical agencies and retired artists. Their +janitor was a former chorus leader; the main floor was rented by an +agency exclusively engaged from sun to sun in testing voices. The others +were occupied by singers who began their vocal exercises the moment they +got out of bed, setting the house ringing like a huge music-box from +roof to cellar. The Doctor and his daughter had two rooms in the house +of _Signora Isabella_, a former ballet-dancer who had achieved notorious +"triumphs" in the principal courts of Europe, but was now a skeleton +wrapped in wrinkled skin, groping her way through the corridors, +quarreling over money in foul-mouthed language with the servants, and +with no other vestiges of her past than the gowns of rustling silk, and +the diamonds, emeralds and pearls that took their turns in her stiff, +shrivelled ears. This harpy had loved Leonora with the fondness of the +veteran for the new recruit. + +Every day Doctor Moreno went to a café of the Gallery, where he would +meet a group of old musicians who had fought under Garibaldi, and young +men who wrote _libretti_ for the stage, and articles for Republican and +Socialist newspapers. That was his world: the only thing that helped him +endure his stay in Milan. After a lonely life back there in his native +land, this corner of the smoke-filled café seemed like Paradise to him. +There, in a labored Italian, sprinkled with Spanish interjections, he +could talk of Beethoven and of the hero of Marsala; and for hour after +hour he would sit wrapt in ecstasy, gazing, through the dense +atmosphere, at the red shirt and the blond, grayish locks of the great +Giuseppe, while his comrades told stories of this, the most romantic, of +adventurers. + +During such absences of her father, Leonora would remain in charge of +_Signora Isabella_; and bashful, shrinking, half bewildered, would spend +the day in the salon of the former ballet-dancer, with its coterie of +the latter's friends, also ruins surviving from the past, burned-out +"flames" of great personages long since dead. And these witches, smoking +their cigarettes, and looking their jewels over every other moment to be +sure they had not been stolen, would size up "the little girl," as they +called her, to conclude that she would "go very far" if she learned how +to "play the game." + +"I had excellent teachers," said Leonora, in speaking of that period of +her youth. "They were good souls at bottom, but they had very little +still to learn about life. I don't remember just when I began to see +through them. I don't believe I was ever what they call an 'innocent' +child." + +Some evenings the Doctor would take her to his group in the café, or to +some second balcony seat under the roof of _La Scala_, if a couple of +complimentary tickets happened to come his way. Thus she was introduced +to her father's friends, bohemians with whom music went hand in hand +with the ideas and the ideals of revolution, curious mixtures of artist +and conspirator; aged, bald-headed, near-sighted "professors," their +backs bent by a lifetime spent leaning over music stands; and swarthy +youths with fiery eyes, stiff, long hair and red neckties, always +talking about overthrowing the social order because their operas had +not been accepted at _La Scala_ or because no _maestro_ could be found +to take their musical dramas seriously. One of them attracted Leonora. +Leaning back on a side-seat in the cafe, she would sit and watch him for +hours and hours. He was a fair-haired, extremely delicate boy. His +tapering goatee and his fine, silky hair, covered by a sweeping, soft +felt hat, made her think of Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I of England +that she had seen in print somewhere. They called him "the poet" at the +café, and gossip had it that an old woman, a retired "star," was paying +for his keep--and his amusements--until his verses should bring him +fame. "Well," said Leonora, simply, with a smile, "he was my first +love--a calf-and-puppy love, a schoolgirl's infatuation which nobody +ever knew about"; for though the Doctor's daughter spent hours with her +green golden eyes fixed upon the poet, the latter never suspected his +good fortune; doubtless because the beauty of his patroness, the +superannuated _diva_, had so obsessed him that the attractions of other +women left him quite unmoved. How vividly Leonora remembered those days +of poverty and dreams!... Little by little the modest capital the Doctor +owned in Alcira vanished, what with living expenses and music lessons. +Doña Pepa, at her brother's instance, sold one piece of land after +another; but even such remittances were often long delayed; and then, +instead of eating in the _trattoria_, near _la Scala_, with dancing +students and the more successful of the young singers, they would stay +at home; and Leonora would lay aside her scores and take a turn at +cooking, learning mysterious recipes from the old _danseuse_. For weeks +at a time they would live on nothing but macaroni and rice served _al +burro_, a diet that her father abhorred, the Doctor, meanwhile, +pretending illness to justify his absence from the café. But these +periods of want and poverty were endured by father and daughter in +silence. Before their friends, they still maintained the pose of +well-to-do people with plenty of income from property in Spain. + +Leonora underwent a rapid transformation. She had already passed her +period of growth--that preadolescent "awkward age" when the features are +in constant change before settling down to their definitive forms and +the limbs seem to grow longer and longer and thinner and thinner. The +long-legged spindling "flapper," who was never quite sure where to stow +her legs, became the reserved, well-proportioned girl with the +mysterious gleam of puberty in her eyes. Her clothes seemed, naturally, +willingly, to curve to her fuller, rounding outlines. Her skirts went +down to her feet and covered the skinny, colt-like appendages that had +formerly made the denizens of the Gallery repress a smile. + +Her singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor, +Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the +_Statuto_, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the +Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had +come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning +his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students +whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white +goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he +would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said, +were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the +ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor +Moreno. + +"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his +own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the _maestro_ praised the +beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for +her. + +And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful, +the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the +midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the _maestro_, despite +her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right--the first fruits of +her initiation into theatrical life. + +Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on +finding his blind confidence in the _maestro_ so betrayed? She sank into +resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house +daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional +course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice. + +Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning, +at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled +_maestro_ during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her +a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to +make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor +doña Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her +own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send +him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant +directors and impresarios _à l'aventure_, "launched" his daughter +finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan +district--two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such +companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very day of the +performance sometimes,--troupes like the strolling players of old, +leaving at a venture in a third-class compartment on the train with the +prospect of returning on foot if the impresario made off with the money. + +Leonora began to know what applause was, what it meant to give _encore_ +after _encore_ before crowds of rustic landowners, dressed in their +Sunday clothes, and ladies with false rings and plated chains; and she +had her first thrills of feminine vanity on receiving bouquets and +sonnets from subalterns and cadets in small garrison towns. Boldini +followed her everywhere, neglecting his lessons, in pursuit of this, his +last depraved infatuation. "All for art, art for all!" He must enjoy the +fruits of his creation, be present at the triumphs of his star pupil! So +he said to Doctor Moreno; and that unsuspecting gentleman, thankful for +this added courtesy of the master, would leave her more and more to the +old satyr's care. + +The escape from that life came when she secured a contract for a whole +winter in Padua. There she met the tenor Salvatti, a high and mighty +_divo_, who looked down upon all his associates, though tolerated +himself, by the public, only out of consideration for his past. + +For years now he had been holding his own on the opera stage, less for +his voice than for his dashing appearance, slightly repaired with pencil +and rouge, and the legend of romantic love affairs that floated like a +rainbow around his name--noble dames fighting a clandestine warfare for +him; queens scandalizing their subjects by blind passions he inspired; +eminent divas selling their diamonds for the money to hold him faithful +by lavish gifts. The jealousy of Salvatti's comrades tended to +perpetuate and exaggerate this legend; and the tenor, worn out, poor, +and a wreck virtually for all of his pose of grandeur, was able to make +a living still from provincial publics, who charitably applauded him +with the self-conceit of climbers pampering a dethroned prince. + +Leonora, playing opposite that famous man, "starring," singing duets +with him, clasping hands that had been kissed by the queens of art, was +deeply stirred. This, at last, was the world she had dreamed of in her +dingy garret in Milan. Salvatti's presence gave her just the illusion of +aristocratic grandeur she had longed for. Nor was he slow in perceiving +the impression he had made upon that promising young woman. With a cold +calculating selfishness, he determined to profit by her naïve +admiration. Was it love that thrust her toward him? As, so long +afterwards, she analyzed her passion to Rafael, she was vehemently +certain it had not been love: Salvatti could never have inspired a +genuine feeling in anyone. His egotism, his moral corruptness, were too +close to the surface. No, he was a philanderer simply, an exploiter of +women. But for her it had been a blinding hallucination nevertheless, +fraught, during the first days, at least, with the delicious +exhiliration, the voluptuous abandonment of true love. She became the +slave of the decrepit tenor, voluntarily, just as she had become her +_maestro's_ slave through fear. And so complete had her infatuation +been, so overpowering its intoxication, that, in obedience to Salvatti, +she fled with him at the end of the season, and deserted her father, who +had objected to the intimacy. + +Then came the black page in her life, that filled her eyes with +anguished tears as she went on with her story. What folks said about her +father's end was not true. Poor Doctor Moreno had not committed suicide. +He was altogether too proud to confess in that way the deep grief that +her ingratitude had caused him. + +"Don't talk to me about that woman," he would say fiercely to his +landlady at Milan whenever the old _danseuse_ would mention Leonora. "I +have no daughter: it was all a mistake." + +Unbeknown to Salvatti, who became terribly grasping as he saw his power +waning, Leonora would send her father a few hundred francs from London, +from Naples, from Paris. The Doctor, though in direst poverty, would at +once return the checks "to the sender" and, without writing a word; +where-upon Leonora paid an allowance every month to the housekeeper, +begging her not to abandon the old man. + +The unhappy Doctor needed, indeed, all the care the landlady and her old +friends could give him. The _povero signor spagnuolo_--the poor Spanish +gentleman--spent his days locked up in his room, his violoncello between +his knees, reading Beethoven, the only one "in his family"--as he +said--"who had never played him false." When old Isabella, tired of his +music, would literally put him out of the house to get a breath of air, +he would wander like a phantom through the Gallery, distantly greeted +by former friends, who avoided closer contact with that black +despondency and feared the explosions of rage with which he received +news of his daughter's rising fame. + +A rapid rise she was making in very truth! The worldly old women who +foregathered in the ballet-dancer's little parlor, could not contain +their admiration for their "little girl's" success; and even grew +indignant at the father for not accepting things "as things had to be." +Salvatti? Just the support she needed! An expert pilot, who knew the +chart of the opera world, who would steer her straight and keep her off +the rocks. + +The tenor had skilfully organized a world wide publicity for his young +singer. Leonora's beauty and her artistic verve conquered every public. +She had contracts with the leading theatres of Europe, and though +critics found defects in her singing, her beauty helped them to forget +these, and one and all they contributed loyally to the deification of +the young goddess. Salvatti, sheltering his old age under this prestige +which he so religiously fostered, was keeping in harness to the very +end, and taking leave of life under the protecting shadow of that woman, +the last to believe in him and tolerate his exploitation. + +Applauded by select publics, courted in her dressing-room by celebrated +men and women, Leonora began to find Salvatti's tyranny unbearable. She +now saw him as he really was: miserly, petulant, spoiled by praise. +Every bit of her money that came into his hands disappeared, she knew +not where. Eager for revenge, though really answering the lure of the +elegant world she glimpsed in the distance but was not yet a part of, +she began to deceive Salvatti in passing adventures, taking a diabolical +pleasure in the deceit. But no; as she looked back on that part of her +life with the sober eye of experience, she understood that she had +really been the one deceived. Salvatti, she remembered, would always +retire at the opportune moment, facilitating her infidelities. She +understood now that the man had carefully prepared such adventures for +her with influential men whom he himself introduced to make certain +profits out of the meeting--profits that he never declared. + +After three years of this sort of life, when Leonora had reached the +full splendor of her beauty, she chanced to become the favorite of +fashion for one whole summer at Nice. Parisian newspapers, in their +"society columns" referred, in veiled language, to the passion of an +aged king, a democratic monarch, who had left his throne, much as a +manufacturer of London or a stockbroker of Paris would leave his office, +for a vacation on the Blue Coast. This tall, robust gentleman with a +patriarchal beard--the very type of the good king in fairy tales--had +not hesitated to be seen in public with a beautiful _artiste_. + +That conquest, fleeting though it had been, put the finishing touch on +Leonora's eminence! "Ah! La Brunna!" people would declare +enthusiastically. "The favorite of king Ernesto.... Our greatest +artist." And troops of adorers began to besiege her under the keen, +mercenary eyes of the tenor Salvatti. + +About this time her father died in a hospital at Milan--a very sad end, +as Signora Isabella, the former ballet-dancer, explained in her letters. +Of what had he died?... The old lady could not say, as the physicians +had differed; but her own view of the matter was that the _povero signor +spagnuolo_ had simply grown tired of living--a general collapse of that +wonderful constitution, so strong, so powerful, in a way, yet strangely +susceptible to moral and emotional influences. He was almost blind when +admitted to the hospital. He seemed quite to have lost his mind--sunk in +an unbreakable silence. Isabella had not dared to keep him in her house +after he had fallen into that coma. But the strange thing was, that as +death drew near, his memory of the past suddenly cleared, and the nurses +would hear him groan for nights at a time, murmuring in Spanish with +tenacious persistency: + +"Leonora! My darling! Where are you?... Little girl, where are you?" + +Leonora wept and wept, and did not leave her hotel for more than a week, +to the great disgust of Salvatti, who observed, in addition, that tears +were not good for her complexion. + +Alone in the world!... Her own wrong-doing had killed her poor father! +No one was left now except her good old aunt, who was "existing" far +away in Spain, like a vegetable in a garden, her stupid mind entirely on +her prayer-book. Leonora vented her anguish in a burst of hatred for +Salvatti. He was responsible for her abandonment of her father! She +deserted him, taking up with a certain count Selivestroff, a handsome +and wealthy Russian, captain in the Imperial Guard. + +So she had found her destiny! Her life would always be like that! She +would pass from stage to stage, from song to song, belonging to +everybody--and to nobody! + +That fair Russian, so strong, so manly, so thoroughly a gentleman, had +loved her truly, with a passionate humble adoration. + +He would kneel submissively at her feet, like Hercules in the presence +of Adriadne, resting his chin on her knees, looking up into her face +with his gray, kindly, caressing eyes. Timidly, doubtfully, he would +approach her every day as if he were meeting her for the first time and +feared a repulse. He would kiss her softly, delicately, with hushed +reserve, as if she were a fragile jewel that might break beneath his +tenderest caress. Poor Selivestroff! Leonora had wept at the thought of +him. In Russia and with princely Russian sumptuousness, they had lived +for a year in his castle, in the country, among a population of sodden +_moujiks_ who worshipped that beautiful woman in the white and blue furs +as devotedly as if she had been a Virgin stepping forth from the gilded +background of an ikon. + +But Leonora could not live away from stageland: the ladies of the rural +aristocracy avoided her, and she needed applause and admiration. She +induced Selivestroff to move to St. Petersburg, and for a whole winter +she sang at the Opera there, like a grand dame turned opera singer out +of love for the work. + +Once more she became the reigning _belle_. All the young Russian +aristocrats who held commissions in the Imperial Guard, or high posts in +the Government, spoke enthusiastically of the great Spanish beauty; and +they envied Selivestroff. The count yearned moodily for the solitude of +his castle, which held so many loving memories for him. In the bustling, +competitive life of the capital, he grew jealous, sad, melancholy, +irritable at the necessity of defending his love. He could sense the +underground warfare that was being waged against him by Leonora's +countless admirers. + +One morning she was rudely awakened and leapt out of bed to find the +count stretched out on a divan, pale, his shirt stained with blood. A +number of gentlemen dressed in black were standing around him. They had +just brought him in from a carriage. He had been wounded in the chest. +The evening before, on leaving the theatre, the count had gone up for a +moment to his Club. He had caught an allusion to Leonora and himself in +some words of a friend. There had been blows--then hasty arrangements +for a duel, which had been fought at sunrise, with pistols. Selivestroff +died in the arms of his mistress, smiling, seeking those delicate, +powerful, pearly hands for one last time with his bleeding lips. Leonora +mourned him deeply, truly. The land where she had been so happy with the +first man she had really loved became intolerable to her, and abandoning +most of the riches that the count had given her, she went forth into the +world again, storming the great theatres in a new fever of travel and +adventure. + +She was then just twenty-three, but already felt herself an old woman. +How she had changed!... More affairs? As she went over that period of +her life in her talk with Rafael, Leonora closed her eyes with a shudder +of modesty and remorse. Drunk with fame and power she had rushed about +the world lavishing her beauty on anyone who interested her for the +moment. The property of everybody and of nobody! She could not remember +the names, even, of all the men who had loved her during that era of +madness, so many had been caught in the wake of her stormy flight across +the world! She had returned to Russia once, and been expelled by the +Czar for compromising the prestige of the Imperial Family, through an +affair with a grand duke who had wanted to marry her. In Rome she had +posed in the nude for a young and unknown sculptor out of pure +compassion for his silent admiration; and she herself made his "Venus" +public, hoping that the world-wide scandal would bring fame to the work +and to its author. In Genoa she found Salvatti again, now "retired," and +living on usury from his savings. She received him with an amiable +smile, lunched with him, treated him as an old comrade; and at dessert, +when he had become hopelessly drunk, she seized a whip and avenged the +blows she had received in her time of slavery to him, beating him with a +ferocity that stained the apartment with gore and brought the police to +the hotel. Another scandal! And this time her name bandied about in a +criminal court! But she, a fugitive from justice, and proud of her +exploit, sang in the United States, wildly acclaimed by the American +public, which admired the combative Amazon even more than the artist. + +There she made the acquaintance of Hans Keller, the famous orchestra +conductor, and a pupil and friend of Wagner. The German _maestro_ became +her second love. With stiff, reddish hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, an +enormous mustache that drooped over either side of his mouth and framed +his chin, he was certainly not so handsome as Selivestroff. But he had +one irresistible charm, the charm of Art. With the tragic Russian in her +mind and on her conscience, she felt the need of burning herself in the +immortal flame of the ideal; and she adored the famous musician for the +artistic associations that hovered about him. For the first time, the +much-courted Leonora descended from her lofty heights to seek a man's +attention and came with her amorous advances to disturb the placid calm +of that artist so wholly engrossed in the cult of the sublime Master. + +Hans Keller noticed the smile that fell like a sunbeam upon his music +scrolls. He closed them and let himself be drawn off on the by-paths of +love. Leonora's life with the _maestro_ was an absolute rupture with all +her past. Her one wish was to love and be loved--to throw a cloak of +mystery over her real self, ashamed as she now was of her previous wild +career. Her passion enthralled the musician and she in turn felt at once +stirred and transfigured by the atmosphere of artistic fervor that +haloed the illustrious pupil of Wagner. + +The spirit of Him, the Master, as Hans Keller called Wagner with pious +adoration, flashed before the singer's eyes like the revealing glory +that converted Paul on the road to Damascus. Music, as she now saw +clearly for the first time, was not a means of pleasing crowds, +displaying physical beauty, and attracting men. It was a religion--the +mysterious power that brings the infinite within us into contact with +the infinite that surrounds us. She became the sinner awakening to +repentance, and yearning for the atoning peace of the cloister, a +Magdalen of Art, touched on the high road of worldliness and frivolity +by the mystic sublimity of the Beautiful; and she cast herself at the +feet of Him, the supreme Master, as the most victorious of men, lord of +the mystery that moves all souls. + +"Tell me more about Him," Leonora would say. "How much I would give to +have known him as you did!... I did see him once in Venice: during his +last days ...he was already dying." + +And that meeting was, indeed, one of her most vivid and lasting +memories. The declining afternoon enlivening the dark waters of the +Grand Canal with its opalescent spangles; a gondola passing hers in the +opposite direction; and inside, a pair of blue, imperious eyes, shining, +under thick eyebrows, with the cold glint of steel--eyes that could +never be mistaken for common eyes, for the divine fire of the Elect, of +the demi-God, was bright within them! And they seemed to envelop her in +a flash of cerulean light. It was He--ill, and about to die. His heart +was wounded, bleeding, pierced, perhaps, by the shafts of mysterious +melody, as hearts of the Virgin sometimes bleed on altars bristling with +swords. + +Leonora could still see him as if he were there in front of her. He +looked smaller than he really was, dwarfed, apparently, by illness, and +by the wrack of pain. His huge head, the head of a genius, was bent low +over the bosom of his wife Cosima. He had removed the black felt hat so +as to catch the afternoon breeze full upon his loose gray locks. His +broad, high curved forehead, seemed to weigh down upon his body like an +ivory chest laden full of unseen jewels. His arrogant nose, as strong as +the beak of a bird of prey, seemed to be reaching across the sunken +mouth toward the sensuous, powerful jaw. A gray beard ran down along the +neck, that was wrinkled, wasted with age. A hasty vision it had been, to +be sure; but she had seen him; and his venerable figure remained in her +memory like a landscape glimpsed at the flare of a lightning-flash. She +had witnessed his arrival in Venice to die in the peace of those canals, +in that silence which is broken only by the stroke of the oar--where +many years before he had thought himself dying as he wrote his +_Tristan_--that hymn to the Death that is pure, to the Death that +liberates! She saw him stretched out in the dark boat; and the splash of +the water against the marble of the palaces echoed in her imagination +like the wailing, thrilling trumpets at the burial of Siegfried--the +hero of Poetry marching to the Valhalla of immortality and glory upon a +shield of ebony--motionless, inert as the young hero of the Germanic +legend--and followed by the lamentations of that poor prisoner of life, +Humanity, that ever eagerly seeks a crack, a chink, in the wall about +it, through which the inspiriting, comforting ray of beauty may +penetrate. + +And the singer gazed with tearful eyes at the broad _boina_ of black +velvet, the lock of gray hair, two broken, rusty steel pens--souvenirs +of the Master, that Hans Keller had piously preserved in a glass case. + +"You knew him--tell me how he lived. Tell me everything: talk to me +about the Poet ... the Hero." + +And the musician, no less moved, described the Master as he had seen him +in the best of health; a small man, tightly wrapped in an +overcoat--with a powerful, heavy frame, however, despite his slight +stature--as restless as a nervous woman, as vibrant as a steel spring, +with a smile that lightly touched with bitterness his thin, colorless +lips. Then came his "genialities," as people said, the caprices of his +genius, that figure so largely in the Wagner legend: his smoker, a +jacket of gold satin with pearl flowers for buttons; the precious cloths +that rolled about like waves of light in his study, velvets and silks, +of flaming reds and greens and blues, thrown across the furniture and +the tables haphazard, with no reference to usefulness--for their sheer +beauty only--to stimulate the eye with the goad of color, satisfy the +Master's passion for brightness; and perfumes, as well, with which his +garments--always of oriental splendor--were literally saturated; phials +of rose emptied at random, filling the neighborhood with the fragrance +of a fabulous garden, strong enough to overcome the hardiest uninitiate, +but strangely exciting to that Prodigy in his struggle with the Unknown. + +And then Hans Keller described the man himself, never relaxed, always +quivering with mysterious thrills, incapable of sitting still, except at +the piano, or at table for his meals; receiving visitors standing, +pacing back and forth in his salon, his hands twitching in nervous +uncertainty; changing the position of the armchairs, rearranging the +furniture, suddenly stopping to hunt about his person for a snuff-box or +a pair of glasses that he never found; turning his pockets inside out, +pulling his velvet house-cap now down over one eye, now back over the +crown of his head, or again, throwing it into the air with a shout of +joy or crumpling it in his hand, as he became excited in the course of a +discussion! + +And Keller would close his eyes, imagining that he could still hear in +the silence, the faint but commanding voice of the Master. Oh, where was +he now? On some star, doubtless, eagerly following the infinite song of +the spheres, a divine music that only his ears had been attuned to hear! +And to choke his emotion, the musician would sit down at the piano, +while Leonora, responsive to his mood, would approach him, and standing +as rigid as a statue, with her hands lost in the musician's head of +rough tangled hair, sing a fragment from the immortal _Tetralogy_. + +Worship of Wagner transformed the butterfly into a new woman. Leonora +adored Keller as a ray of light gone astray from the glowing star now +extinguished forever; she felt the joy of humbleness, the sweetness of +sacrifice, seeing in him not the man, but the chosen representative of +the Divinity. Leonora could have grovelled at Keller's feet, let him +trample on her--make a carpet of her beauty. She willed to become a +slave to that lover who was the repository of the Master's thoughts; and +who seemed to be magnified to gigantic proportions by the custody of +such a treasure. + +She tended him with the exquisite watchfulness of an enamored servant, +following him, on his trips in the summer, the season of the great +concerts, to Leipzig, Geneva, Paris; and she, the most famous living +prima donna, would stay behind the scenes, with no jealousy for the +applause she heard, waiting for Hans, perspiring and tired, to drop the +baton amid the acclamations of the audience and come back-stage to have +her dry his forehead with an almost filial caress. + +And thus they traveled about Europe, spreading the light of the Master; +Leonora, voluntarily in the background, like a patrician of old, dressed +as a slave and following the Apostle in the name of the New Word. + +The German musician let himself be adored, receiving all her caresses of +enthusiasm and love with the absent-mindedness of an artist so +preoccupied with sounds that at last he comes to hate words. He taught +his language to Leonora that she might some day realize a dream of hers +and sing in Bayreuth; and he grounded her in the principles that had +guided the Master in the creation of his great characters. And so, when +Leonora made her appearance on the stage one winter with the winged +helmet and the lance of the Valkyrie, she attained an eminence in +Wagnerian interpretation that was to follow her for the remainder of her +career. Hans himself was carried away by her power, and could never +recover from his astonishment at Leonora's complete assimilation of the +spirit of the Master. + +"If only He could hear you!" he would say with conviction. "I am sure He +would be content." + +And the pair traveled about the world together. Every springtime she, as +spectator, would watch him directing Wagnerian choruses in the "Mystic +Abyss" at Bayreuth. Winters it was he who went into ecstasies under her +tremendous "_Hojotoho_!"--the fierce cry of a Valkyrie afraid of the +austere father Wotan; or at sight of her awakening among the flames for +the spirited Siegfried, the hero who feared nothing in the world, but +trembled at the first glance of love! + +But artists' passions are like flowers, fragrant, but quickly +languishing. The rough German musician was a simple person, unstable, +fickle, ready to be amused at any new plaything. Leonora admitted to +Rafael that she could have lived to old age submissively at Keller's +side, pampering his whims and selfish caprices. But one day Keller +deserted her, as she had deserted others, to take up with a sickly, +languid contralto, whose best charms could have been hardly comparable +to the morbid delicacy of a hot-house flower. Leonora, mad with love and +jealousy, pursued him, knocking at his door like a servant. For the +first time she felt the voluptuous bitterness of being scorned, +discarded, until reaction from despair brought her back to her former +pride and self-control! + +Love was over. She had had enough of artists; though an interesting sort +of folk they were in their way. Far preferable were the ordinary, normal +men she had known before Keller's time! The foolisher--the more +commonplace--the better! She would never fall in love again! + +Wearied, broken in spirit, disillusioned, she went back into her old +world. But now the legend of her past beset her. Again men came, +passionately besieging her, offering her wealth in return for a little +love. They talked of killing themselves if she resisted, as if it were +her duty to surrender, as if refusal on her part were treachery. The +gloomy Macchia committed suicide in Naples. Why? Because she did not +capitulate to his melancholy sonnets! In Vienna there had been a duel, +in which one of her admirers was slain. An eccentric Englishman followed +her about, looming in her pathway everywhere like the shadow of a fatal +Destiny, vowing to kill anybody she should prefer to him.... She had had +enough at last! She was wearied of such a life, disgusted at the male +voracity that dogged her every step. She longed to fall out of sight, +disappear, find rest and quiet in a complete surrender to some boundless +dream. And the thought--a comforting, soothing thought, it had been--of +the distant land of her childhood came back to her, the thought of her +simple, pious aunt, the sole survivor of her family, who wrote to her +twice every year, urging her to reconcile her soul with God--to which +end the good old Doña Pepa was herself aiding with prayer! + +She felt, too, somehow, without knowing just why, that a visit to her +native soil would soften the painful memory of the ingratitude that had +cost her father's life. She would care for the poor old woman! Her +presence would bring a note of cheer into that gray, monotonous +existence that had gone on without the slightest change, ever. And +suddenly, one night, after an "Isolde" in Florence, she ordered Beppa, +the loyal and silent companion of her wandering life, to pack her +things! + +Home! Home! Off for her native land! And might she find there something +to keep her ever from returning to the troubled stirring world she was +leaving! + +She was the princess of the fairy tales longing to become a shepherdess. +There she meant to stay, in the shade of her orange-trees, now and then +fondling a memory of her old life, perhaps, but wishing eternally to +enjoy that tranquillity, fiercely repelling Rafael, therefore, because +he had tried to awaken her, as Siegfried rouses Brunhilde, braving the +flames to reach her side. + +No; friends, friends, nothing else! She wanted no more of love. She +already knew what that was. Besides, he had come too late.... + +And Rafael tossed sleeplessly in his bed, rehearsing in the darkness the +story he had been told. He felt dwarfed, annihilated, by the grandeur of +the men who had preceded him in their adoration of that woman. A king, +great artists, handsome and aristocratic paladins, Russian counts, +potentates with vast wealth at their command! And he, a humble country +boy, an obscure junior deputy, as submissive as a child to his mother's +despotic ways, forced to beg for the money for his personal expenses +even--he was trying to succeed them! + +He laughed with bitter irony at his own presumptuousness. Now he +understood Leonora's mocking tone, and the violence she had used in +repulsing all boorish liberties he had tried to take. But despite the +contempt he began to feel for himself, he lacked the strength to +withdraw now. He had been caught up in the wake of seduction, the +maelstrom of love that followed the actress everywhere, enslaving men, +casting them, broken in spirit and in will, to earth, like so many +slaves of Beauty. + + + + +III + + +"Good morning, Rafaelito ... we are seeing each other betimes today.... +I am up so early not to miss the marketing. I remember that Wednesday +was always a great event in my life, as a child. What a crowd!..." + +And Leonora, with the great swarming cities far from her mind, was +really impressed at the numbers of bustling people crowding the little +square, called _del Prado_, where every Wednesday the "grand market" of +the Alcira region was held. + +Their sashes bulging with money bags, peasants were coming into town to +buy supplies for the whole week out in the orange country. Orchard women +were going from one stall to the next, as slender of body and as neatly +dressed as the peasant girls of an opera ballet, their hair in +_señorita_ style, their skirts of bright batiste gathered up to hold +their purchases and showing fine stockings and tight-fitting shoes +underneath. Tanned faces and rough hands were the only signs to betray +the rustic origin of the girls; because those were prosperous days for +the orange growers of the District. + +Along the walls hens were clucking, ranged in piles and tied together by +the feet. Here and there were pyramids of eggs, vegetables, fruit. In +"shops" that were set up in the morning and taken down at night, +drygoods dealers were selling colored sashes, strips of cotton cloth and +calico, and black woolsey, the eternal garb of every native of the +Júcar valley. Beyond the Prado, in _El AlborchÃ_, was the hog market; +and then came the _Hostal Gran_ where horses were tried out. On +Wednesdays all the business of the neighborhood was transacted--money +borrowed or paid back, poultry stocks replenished, hogs bought to fatten +on the farms, whole families anxiously following their progress; and new +cart-horses, especially, the matter of greatest concern to the farmers, +secured on mortgage, usually, or with cash saved up by desperate +hoarding. + +Though the sun had barely risen, the crowd, smelling of sweat and soil, +already filled the market place with busy going and coming. The +orchard-women embraced as they met, and with their heavy baskets propped +on their hips, went into the chocolate shops to celebrate the encounter. +The men gathered in groups; and from time to time, to "buck up" a +little, would go off in parties to swallow a glass of sweet brandy. In +and out among the rustics walked the city people: "petty bourgeois" of +set manners, with old capes, and huge hempen baskets, where they would +place the provisions they had bought after tenacious hagglings; +_señoritas_, who found in these Wednesday markets a welcome relief from +the monotony of their secluded life at home; idlers who spent hour after +hour at the stall of some vendor friend, prying into what each marketer +carried in his basket, grumbling at the stinginess of some and praising +the generosity of others. + +Rafael gazed at his friend in sheer astonishment. What a beauty she was! +Who could ever have taken her, in that costume, for a world-famous prima +donna! + +Leonora looked the living picture of an orchard girl: a plain cotton +dress, in anticipation of spring; a red kerchief around her neck; her +blond hair uncovered, combed back with artful carelessness and hastily +knotted low on the back of her head. Not a jewel, not a flower! Only her +height and her striking comeliness marked her off from the other girls. +Under the curious, devouring glances of the whole market throng, Rafael +smilingly greeted her, feasting his eyes on her fresh, pink skin, still +radiant from the morning bath, inhaling the subtle, indefinable +fragrance that hovered about that strong, healthy, youthful person. + +She was constantly smiling, as if bent on dazzling the bumpkins, who +were gaping at her from a distance, with the pearly flash of her teeth. +The market-place began to buzz with admiring curiosity, or the thrill of +scandal. There, face to face, in view of the whole city, the deputy and +the opera singer were talking and laughing together like the best of +friends! + +Rafael's supporters--the chief officials in the city government--who +were loitering about the square, could not conceal their satisfaction. +Even the humblest of the constables felt a certain pride. That beautiful +fairy was talking with "the Chief," smiling at him, even. What an honor +for "the Party!" But after all, why not? Everything considered, don +Rafael Brull deserved all that, and more! And those men, who were very +careful to keep silent when their wives spoke indignantly of the +"stranger," admired her with the instinctive fervor that beauty +inspires, and envied the deputy his good fortune. The old orchard-women +wrapped the couple in caressing glances of approval. There was a +handsome pair! What a fine match! + +The town ladies in passing by would draw up full height and pretend not +to see them. On meeting acquaintances they would make wry faces and say +ironically: "Did you see?... here she is, in full sight of everybody, +casting her fly for doña Bernarda's son!" What a disgrace! It was +getting so a decent woman hardly dared go out of doors! + +Leonora, quite unconscious of the interest she was arousing, chattered +on about her shopping. Beppa, you see, had decided to stay at home with +her aunt that morning; so she had come with her gardener's wife and +another woman--there they were over there with the large baskets. She +had no end of things to get--and she laughed as she read off the list. A +regular housewife she had become, yes, sir! She knew the price of +everything and could tell down to a _centime_ just what it was costing +her to live. It was like those hard times back in Milan, when she had +gone with her music roll under her arm to get macaroni, butter or coffee +at the grocer's. And what fun it all was!... However, Leonora observed +that, without a doubt, her audience was interpreting her cordial offhand +way with Rafael in the worst light possible. She gave him her hand and +took leave. It was growing late! If she stood there much longer the best +of the market would be carried off by others--if she found anything at +all left! "Down to business, then! Good-bye!" + +And the young man saw her make her way, followed by the two country +women, through the crowds, pausing at the booths, welcomed by the +vendors with their best smiles, as a customer who never haggled; +interrupting her purchases to fondle the filthy, whining children the +poor women were carrying in their arms, and taking the best fruits out +of her basket to give to the little ones. + +And everywhere general admiration! "_AsÃ, siñorita_!--Here, my dear +young lady!" "_Vinga, doña Leonor_!--This way, doña Leonora!" the +huckstresses cried, calling her by name to show greater intimacy. And +she would smile, with a familiar intimate word for everybody, her hand +frequently visiting the purse of Russian leather that hung from her +wrist. Cripples, blind beggars, men with missing arms or legs, all had +learned of the generosity of that woman who scattered small change by +the fistful. + +Rafael gazed after her, smiling indifferently in acknowledgment of the +congratulations the town notables were heaping on him. The +_alcalde_--the most hen-pecked husband in Alcira, according to his +enemies--affirmed with sparkling eyes that for a woman like that he was +capable of doing almost any crazy thing. And they all joined in a chorus +of invidious praise, taking it for granted that Rafael was the +_artiste's_ accepted lover; though the youth himself smiled bitterly at +the thought of his real status with that wonderful woman. + +And she vanished, finally, into the sea of heads at the other end of the +market-place; though Rafael, from time to time, thought he could still +make out a mass of golden hair rising above the _chevelures_ of the +other girls. Willingly he would have followed; but Don Matias was at his +side--don Matias, the wealthy orange exporter, father of the wistful +Remedios who was spending her days obediently at doña Bernarda's side. + +That gentleman, heavy of speech and heavier still of thought, was +pestering Rafael with a lot of nonsense about the orange business, +giving the young man advice on a new bill he had drawn up and wanted to +have introduced in Congress--a protectionist measure for Spanish +oranges. "Why, it will be the making of the city, boy! Every mother's +son of us swimming in money!" as he guaranteed with his hand upon his +heart. + +But Rafael's gaze was lost in the distant reaches of the Prado, to catch +one more fleeting glimpse of a golden head of hair--proof of Leonora's +presence still! He found it hard to be courteous, even, to this man who, +according to authentic rumor, was destined to be his father-in-law. Of +all the drawling trickling words only a few reached his ears, beating on +his brain like monotonous hammer blows. "Glasgow ... Liverpool ... new +markets ... lower railroad rates ... The English agents are a set of +thieves ..." + +"Very well, let them go hang," Rafael answered mentally. And giving a +mechanical "yes, yes!" to propositions he was not even hearing, he gazed +away more intently than ever, fearing lest Leonora should already have +gone. He felt relieved, however, when a gap opened in the crowd and he +could see the actress seated in a chair that had been offered her by a +huckstress. She was holding a child upon her knees, and talking with a +tiny, wretched, sickly creature who looked to Rafael like the +orchard-woman they had met at the hermitage. + +"Well, what do you think of my plan?" don Matias asked. + +"Excellent, magnificent, and well worthy of a man like you, who knows +the question from top to bottom. We'll discuss the matter thoroughly +when I return to the Cortes." + +And to avoid a second exposition, he patted the wealthy boor on the +back, and wondered why in the world Fortune should have picked such a +disgusting man to smile on. + +The whole city had known don Matias when he went around in peasant's +clogs and worked a tiny orchard he had secured on lease. His son, a +virtual half-wit, who took advantage of every opportunity to rifle the +old man's pockets and spend the money in Valencia with bull-fighters, +gamblers and horse-dealers, went barefoot in those days, scampering +about the roads with the children of the gipsies encamped in _El +Alborchi_. His daughter--the now well-behaved, the now modest, Remedios, +who was passing day after day at complicated needlework under the +tutelage of doña Bernarda--had grown up like a wild rabbit of the +fields, repeating with shocking fidelity all the oaths and vile language +she heard from the carters her father drank with. + +"But you have to be an ox to get rich these days!" the barber Cupido +would say when don Matias came up for discussion. + +Little by little the man had worked his way into the orange export +business--to England especially. His first stock he bought on credit; +and at once Fortune began to blow upon him with bloated cheeks, and she +was still puffing and puffing! His wealth had been accumulated in a few +years. In crises where the most powerful vessels foundered, that rude +and heavy bark, sailing on without chart or compass, suffered not the +slightest harm. His shipments always arrived at the psychological +moment. The fancy, carefully-selected oranges of other merchants would +land at Liverpool or London when the markets were glutted and prices +were falling scandalously. The lucky dolt would send anything at all +along, whatever was available, cheap; and circumstances always seemed to +favor him with an empty market and prices sky-high regardless of +quality. He realized fabulous profits. He had nothing but scorn for all +the wiseacres who subscribed to the English papers, received daily +bulletins and compared market quotations from year to year, getting, for +all their pains, results that made them tear their hair. He was an +ignoramus and he was proud of it! He trusted to his lucky star. Whenever +he thought it best, he would ship his produce off from the port of +Valencia, and--there you are!--it would always turn out that his oranges +found no competition on arrival and brought the highest prices. More +than once it had happened that rough weather held his vessel up. +Well--the market would sell out, and his shipment would have a clear +field just the same! + +Within two years he had a place in town and had become a "personage." He +would smilingly declare that he wouldn't "go to the wall for under +eighty thousand _duros_." Later, ever on the wing, his fortune reached +dizzy heights. Folks whispered in superstitious awe the figures he made +in net profits at the end of every sailing. He owned warehouses as +large as churches in the vicinity of Alcira, employing armies of girls +to wrap the oranges and regiments of carpenters to make the crates. He +would buy the crop of an entire orchard at a single glance and never be +more than a few pounds off. As for the pay he gave, the city was proud +of its millionaire. Not even the Bank of Spain enjoyed the respect and +confidence his firm had won. No clerks and cashiers! No mahogany +furniture! Everything above board! Ask for a hundred thousand; and if +don MatÃas said "yes," he just went in to his bedroom and, God knows +from where, he would draw out a roll of bank-notes the size of your +body! + +And this lucky rustic, this upstart lout, rich without deserving it for +any competence he had, was giving himself the airs of an intelligent +dealer, presuming to approach Rafael, "his deputy," with a proposal for +a freight-rate bill to promote the shipping of oranges into the interior +of Spain! As if a little thing like a bill in Congress would make any +difference to his way of getting money! + +Of his wretched past don MatÃas preserved but a single trait: his +respect for the house of Brull. The rest of the city he treated with a +certain uppishness; but he could not conceal the awe which doña Bernarda +inspired in him--a feeling that was strengthened by gratitude for her +kindness in singling him out (after he had become rich), and for the +interest she showed in his "little girl." He cherished a vivid memory of +Rafael's father, the "greatest man" he had known in all his life. It +seemed as though he could still see don Ramón stopping on his big horse +in front of his humble farmhouse and, with the air of a grand lord, +leaving orders for what don MatÃas was to do in the coming elections. +He knew the bad state in which the great man had left his affairs upon +his death; and more than once he had given money to doña Bernarda +outright, proud that she should do him the honor of appealing to him in +her straits. But in his eyes, the House of Brull, poor or rich, was +always the House of Brull, the cradle of a dynasty whose authority +no power could shake. He had money. But those _others_, the +Brulls--ah!--they had, up there in Madrid, friends, influence! If they +wanted to they could get the ear of the Throne itself. They were people +with a "pull," and if anyone suggested in his presence that Rafael's +mother was thinking of Remedios as a daughter-in-law, don MatÃas would +redden with satisfaction and modestly reply: + +"I don't know; I imagine it's all talk. My Remedios is only a town girl, +you see. The señor deputy is probably thinking of someone from the +'upper crust' in Madrid." + +Rafael had for some time been aware of his mother's plans. But he had no +use for "that crowd." The old man, despite his boresome habit of +suggesting "new bills," he could stand on account of his touching +loyalty to the Brull family. But the girl was an utterly insignificant +creature, pretty, to be sure, but only as any ordinary young girl is +pretty. And underneath that servile gentleness of hers lay an +intelligence even more obtuse than her father's, a mind filled with +nothing but piety and the religious phrases in which she had been +educated. + +That morning, followed by an aged servant, and with all the gravity of +an orphan who must busy herself with the affairs of her household and +act as head of the home, Remedios had walked by Rafael twice. She +scarcely looked at him. The submissive smile of the future slave with +which she usually greeted him had disappeared. She was quite pale, and +her colorless lips were pressed tight together. Without a doubt in the +world she had seen him, from a distance, talking and laughing with "the +chorus girl." His mother would know all about it within an hour! Really, +that young female seemed to think he was her private property! And the +angry expression on her face was that of a jealous wife taking notes for +a curtain-lecture! + +Scenting a danger Rafael took hasty leave of don Matias and his other +friends, and left the market place to avoid another meeting with +Remedios. Leonora was still there. He would wait for her on the road to +the orchard. He must take advantage of the early hour! + +The orange country seemed to be quivering under the first kisses of +spring. The lithe poplars bordering the road were covered with tender +leaves. In the orchards the buds on the orange-trees, filling with the +new sap, were ready to burst, as in one grand explosion of perfume, into +white fragrant bloom. In the matted herbage on the river-banks the first +flowers were growing. Rafael felt the cool caress of the sod as he sat +down on the edge of the road. How sweet everything smelled! What a +beautiful day it was! + +The timorous, odorous violet must be sprouting on the damp ground yonder +under the alders! And he went looking along the stream for those little +purple flowers that bring dreams of love with their fragrance! He would +make a bouquet to offer Leonora as she came by. + +He felt thrilled with a boldness he had never known before. His hands +burned feverishly. Perhaps it was the emotion from his own sense of +daring. He had resolved to settle things that very morning. The fatuity +of the man who feels himself ridiculous and is determined to raise +himself in the eyes of his admirers, excited him, filling him with a +cynical rashness. + +What would his friends, who envied him as Leonora's lover, say if they +knew she was treating him as an insignificant friend, a good little boy +who helped her while away the hours in the solitude of her voluntary +exile? + +A few kisses--on her hand; a few kind words; many many cruel jests, such +as come from a chum conscious of superiority ... that was all he had won +after months and months and months of assiduous courtship, months of +disobedience to his mother, in whose house he had been living like a +stranger, without affection, at daggers' points; months of exposure to +the criticism of his enemies, who suspected him of a liaison with the +"chorus girl" and were raising their brows, horror-stricken, in the name +of morality. How they would scoff, if they knew the truth! Those +addlepates down at the Club were always boasting of their amorous +adventures, which began inevitably with the sudden physical attack and +ended in easy triumph. + +With the Spaniard's mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to +assure himself that those brutes were right--that such was the road to +a woman's heart. He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at +Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at +an ikon. Bosh! Wasn't he a man, and isn't the man the stronger? Some +show of a male authority, that was what she needed! He liked her! Well, +that was the end of it! His she must be! Besides, since she treated him +so kindly, she surely loved him! A few scruples perhaps! But that would +be nothing, before a show of real manhood! + +Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its +dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, +Rafael heard voices down the road. He jumped to his feet. Leonora was +approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under +their heavily laden baskets. + +"Here, too!" the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly +under the white skin of her throat. "You are getting to be my shadow. In +the market place, on the road, everywhere! I find you every time I look +around!" + +She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man's hand, inhaling +their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment. + +"Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season. My +beautiful, faithful old friend! Springtime! You have brought her to me +this year, though I felt her coming days before! I am so happy--can't +you see? I feel as though I'd been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a +cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings! And I'm going to fly out +over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes! Don't +you feel as I do, Rafael?..." + +Rafael, gravely, said he did. He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the +nip of life in every one of his pores! And his eyes ran over the bare +neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white +beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that +strong, robust bosom. The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a +meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their +mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their +presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces. + +"Yes, go right on," she said. "We'll take our time, but we'll be there +soon!" + +And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women +with her closed parasol: + +"Did you see that? Didn't you notice their smiles and the winks they +exchanged when they saw you on the road?... Oh, Rafael! You are blind as +a bat! And no good is going to come of it! If I had any reputation to +lose, I'd be mighty careful with a friend like you! What do you suppose +they are thinking?" + +And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, +she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with +Rafael. + +"On the market-place all the huckstresses talk to me about you, with the +idea of flattering me. They assure me we'd make a wonderful couple. My +kitchen woman seizes every opportunity to tell me how handsome you are. +You ought to thank her.... Even my aunt, my poor aunt, with one leg in +the grave, drew it out the other day to say to me: 'Do you notice that +Rafael visits us quite frequently? Do you think he wants to marry you?' +Marry, you see! Ha, ha, ha! Marry! That's all poor auntie can see in the +world for a woman!" + +And she went on gaily chattering like a wild bird escaped from a cage +and happy at its liberty, though her frank, mocking laughter was in +strange contrast with the expression of sinister determination on +Rafael's face. + +"But how glum and queer you look today! Are you ill?... What's the +matter?" + +Rafael took advantage of this opening. Ill, yes! Sick with love! He knew +the whole place was gossiping about them. But it wasn't his fault. He +simply couldn't hide his feelings. If she only realized what that mute +adoration was costing him! He had tried to root the thought of her out +of his mind, but that had been impossible. He must see her, hear her! He +lived for her alone. Study? Impossible! Play, with his friends? They had +all become obnoxious to him! His house was a cave, a cellar, a place to +eat in and sleep in. He left it the moment he got out of bed, and kept +away from the city, too, which seemed stuffy, oppressive, like a jail to +him. Off to the fields; to the orchards, to the Blue House where she +lived! He would wait and wait for afternoon to come--the time when, by a +tacit arrangement neither of them had proposed, he might enter her +orchard and find her on the bench under the four dead palms!... Well, he +could not go on living that way. Poor folks envied him his power, +because he was a deputy, at twenty-five! And yet his one purpose in life +was to be ... well, she could guess what ... that garden bench, for +instance, gently, deliciously burdened with her weight for whole +afternoons; or that needlework which played about in her soft fingers; +or one of her servants, Beppa, perhaps, who could waken her in the +morning, bend low over her sleeping head, and smooth the loose tresses +spread like rivulets of gold over the white pillow. A slave, an animal, +a thing even, provided it should be in continuous contact with her +person--that was what he longed to be; not to find himself obliged, at +nightfall, to leave her after a parting absurdly prolonged by childish +pretexts, and return to his irritating, common, vulgar life at home, to +the solitude of his room, where he imagined he could see a pair of green +eyes staring at him from every dark corner, tempting him. + +Leonora was not laughing. Her gold-spotted eyes had opened wide; her +nostrils were quivering with emotion. She seemed deeply moved by the +young man's eloquent sincerity. + +"Poor Rafael! My poor dear boy!... And what are we going to do?" + +Down at the Blue House, Rafael had never dared speak so openly. The +presence of Leonora's servants; the nonchalant, mocking air with which +she welcomed him at the door; the irony with which she met his every +hint at a declaration had always crushed, humiliated him. But there, on +the open highway, it was different somehow. He felt free. He would empty +his whole heart out. + +What anguish! Every day he went to the Blue House trembling with hope, +enthralled in his dream of love! "Perhaps it will be today," he would +say to himself each time. And his legs would give way at the knees, and +he would choke as he swallowed! Then, hours later, at nightfall, he +would slink home, downcast, dispirited, desperate, staggering along the +road under the star-light as if he were drunk, repressing the tears +burning in his eyes, longing for the peace of death, like a weary +explorer who must go on and on breaking his way over one ice-field after +another. She must have noticed, surely! She must have seen the untiring +efforts he made to please her!... Ignorant, humble, recognizing the vast +gulf that separated them because of the different lives they had led, +how he had worked to raise himself to a level with the men who had loved +and won her! If she spoke of the Russian count--a model of stylish +elegance--the next day, to the great astonishment of his mother, Rafael +would take out his best clothes and, all sweating in the hot sun and +nearly strangled by a high collar, he would set out along that same +road--his Road to Calvary--walking on his toes like a boarding-school +girl in order not to get his shoes dirty. If Hans Keller had come to +Leonora's mind, he would run through his histories of music, and +dressing up like some artist he had read about in novels, would come to +her house fully intending to deliver an oration on the immortal Master, +Wagner, whom he knew nothing at all about, but whom he adored as a +member of his family.... Good God! All that was ridiculous, he knew very +well; it would have been far better to present himself just as he was, +undisguised, in all his littleness. He knew that this pretending to +equality with the thousand or more figures flitting in Leonora's memory, +was grotesque. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing he would not do +to stir her heart a little, be loved for a day, a minute, a second--and +then die!... + +There was a note of such real feeling in the youth's confession that +Leonora, more and more deeply moved, unconsciously drew closer to him, +almost grazing him as they walked along; and she smiled slightly, as she +repeated her previous phrase--a blend of motherly affection and +compassion: + +"Poor Rafael!... My poor dear boy!" + +They had reached the gate to the orchard. The walk inside was deserted. +In the little square some hens were scratching about. + +Overwhelmed by the strain of that confession, in which he had vented the +anguish and dreams of many months, Rafael leaned against the trunk of an +old orange-tree. Leonora stood in front of him, listening to his words, +with head lowered, making marks on the ground with the tip of her red +parasol. + +Die, yes; he had often read in novels about people dying for love. And +he had always laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. But he +understood now. Many a night, tossing in his delirium, he had thought of +ending his misery in some tragic manner. The violent, domineering blood +of his father seethed in his veins. Once firmly convinced she could +never be his, he would kill her, to keep her from belonging to +anybody... and then stab himself! They would fall together to the +blood-soaked ground, and lie there as on a bed of red damask, and he +would kiss her cold lips, without fear of being disturbed; kiss her and +kiss her, till the last breath of his life exhaled upon her livid mouth. + +He seemed to be saying all that with deadly earnestness. The muscles of +his strong face quivered, and his eyes--Moorish eyes--glowed like live +coals. Leonora was looking at him passionately now, as if a man were in +front of her. She shuddered with a strange fascination as she pictured +his barbarous dreams, fraught with blood and death. This was something +new! This boy, when he saw that his love was vain, would not gloomily +and prosaically slay himself as Macchia, the Italian poet, had done. He +would die, but asserting himself, killing the woman, destroying his idol +when it would not harken to his entreaties! + +And, pleasantly excited by Rafael's tragic demeanor, she gave way to the +thrill of it, letting herself be carried along by his anguished rapture. +He had taken her arm and was drawing her off the path, out among the +low-hanging branches of the orange-trees. + +For some time they were both silent. Leonora seemed to be drinking in +the virile perfume of that savage passionate adoration. + +Rafael thought he had offended her, and was sorry for his violent words. + +She must pardon him; he was beside himself, exasperated beyond bounds at +her strange resistance. Leonora! Leonora! Why persist in spoiling a +perfectly beautiful thing? He was not wholly a matter of indifference in +her eyes. She did not dislike him. Otherwise she would not have let him +be a friend and have permitted his frequent visits. Love?... Of course +she did not love him--poor unhappy wretch that he was, incapable of +inspiring passion in a woman like her. But let her just accept him. He +would teach her to love him in time, win her by the sheer beauty of his +own tenderness and worship. His love alone, alas, was great enough for +both of them and for all the famous lovers in history put together! He +would be her slave; a carpet for her to tread underfoot; a dog, always +at her feet, his eyes burning with the fire of eternal fidelity! She +would finally learn to be fond of him, if not out of passion, at least +out of gratitude and pity! + +And as he spoke, he brought his face close to Leonora's, looking for his +own image in the depths of her green eyes; and he pressed her arm in a +fever of passion. + +"Careful, Rafael.... That hurts! Let go, of me." + +And as if suddenly sensing a danger in the full of a sweet dream, she +shuddered and pulled herself free with a nervous violence. + +Then, quite recovered from the intoxication into which she had been led +by Rafael's passionate appeal, she began to speak calmly, composedly. + +No; what he asked was impossible. Her fate was ordained; she did not +want love any more.... Friendship had carried them a bit astray. It was +her fault, but she would find a way to remedy that. If she had known him +years before--perhaps! She might have learned to love him. He was more +worthy of being loved than many of the men she had accepted. But he had +come too late. Now she was content with just living. Besides, what a +horror! Imagine a "grand passion" in a petty environment such as they +were in, a tiny world of gossip-mongers and evil tongues! Imagine having +to hide like a criminal to express a noble emotion! No, when she loved, +she loved in the open, with the sublime immodesty of the masterpiece +that scandalizes bumpkins with its naked beauty! How impossible it would +be, finding herself nibbled at constantly by gossiping fools, quite +beneath her contempt. She would feel the scorn and the indignation of a +whole town about her. They would accuse her of leading an innocent boy +astray, alienating him from his own mother. "No, Rafael; a thousand +times no; I have a little conscience left! I'm not the irresponsible +siren I used to be." + +"But what about me?" cried the youth, seizing her arm again with a +boyish petulance. "You think of yourself and of other people, but never +of me. What am I going to do all along with my suffering?" + +"Oh, you? Why ... you will forget," said Leonora gravely. "I have just +realized this very moment that it is impossible for me to stay here any +longer. We two must separate. I will leave before Spring is over; I'll +go ... I don't know where, back to the world at any rate, take up my +singing again, where I'll not find men of just your kind. Time, and my +absence, will attend to the curing of you." + +Leonora winced before the flash of savage desire that gleamed in +Rafael's eyes. On her face she felt the ardent breath of lips that were +seeking her own, and she heard him murmur with a stifled roar of +passion: + +"No. You shall not go; I refuse to let you go!" + +And she felt his strong arms close about her, swaying her from head to +foot, in a clasp to which madness added strength. Her feet left the +ground, and a brutal thrust threw her to her side at the foot of an +orange-tree. + +But, in a flash, the Valkyrie reappeared in Leonora. With a supreme +effort, she struggled free from the encircling vise, sat up, threw +Rafael violently to his back, got to her feet, and stamped a foot +brutally and mercilessly down upon the young man's chest, using her +whole weight as though bent on crushing the very framework of his body. + +Her face was an inspiring thing to look upon. She seemed to have gone +mad! Her blond hair had fallen awry and was flecked with leaves and +grass and bark. Her green eyes flashed with metallic glints, like +daggers. Her lips were pale from emotion. And in that wild posture, +whether through force of habit, or the suggestiveness of the effort she +had made, she raised her warcry--a piercing, savage "_Hojotoho!_" that +rent the calm of the orchard, frightening the hens and sending them +scampering off over the paths. Her parasol she brandished as if it were +the lance of Wotan's daughter, and several times she aimed it at +Rafael's eyes, as if she intended to spear him blind. + +The youth seemed to have collapsed less from the violence of the +struggle than from an overpowering sense of shame. He lay motionless on +the ground, without protesting, and as if not caring ever to rise +again--longing to die under the pressure of that foot which was so +heavily weighing down upon him, taking away his breath. + +Leonora regained her composure, and slowly stepped back. Rafael sat up, +and reached for his hat. + +It was a painful moment. They stood there cold, as if the sun had gone +out and a glacial wind were blowing through the orchard. + +Rafael kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look up and meet her gaze, +ashamed at the thought of his disordered clothes, which were soiled with +dirt; humiliated at having been beaten and pummeled like a robber caught +by a victim he had expected to find powerless. + +He heard Leonora's voice addressing him with the scornful "_tu_" a lady +might use toward her lowest inferiors. + +"Go!" + +He raised his head and found Leonora looking at him, her eyes ablaze +with anger and offended dignity. + +"I'm never taken by force," she said coldly. "I give myself ... if I +feel like it." + +And in the gesture of scorn and rage with which she dismissed him, +Rafael thought he caught a trace of loathing at some memory of +Boldini--that repugnant lecher, who had been the only person in the +world to win her by violence. + +Rafael tried to stammer an excuse, but that hateful association of the +brutal scene rendered her implacable. + +"Go! Go, or I'll beat you again!... And never come back!" + +And to emphasize the words, as Rafael, humiliated and covered with dirt, +was leaving the garden, she shut the gate behind him with such a violent +slam that the bars almost went flying. + + + + +IV + + +Doña Bernarda was much pleased with Rafael. The angry glances, the +gestures of impatience, the wordless arguments between mother and son, +which the household had formerly witnessed in such terror, had come to +an end. + +The boy had not been visiting the Blue House for some time. She knew +that with absolute certainty, thanks to the gratuitous espionage +conducted for her by persons attached to the Brull family. He scarcely +ever left the house; a few moments at the Club after lunch; and the rest +of the day in the dining-room, with her and family friends; or else, +shut up in his room, with his books, probably, which the austere señora +revered with the superstitious awe of ignorance. + +Don Andrés, her advisor, commented upon the change with a gloating "I +told you so." What had he always said, when doña Bernarda, in the +confiding intimacies of that friendship which amounted almost to a +senile, a tranquil, a distantly respectful passion, would complain of +Rafael's contrariness? That it would all pass; that it was a young man's +whim; that youth must have its fling! What was the use? Rafael hadn't +studied to be a monk! Many boys his age, and even older ones, were far +worse!... And the old gentleman smiled, for he was thinking of his own +easy conquests with the wretched flock of dirty, unkempt peasant girls +who wrapped the oranges in the shipping houses of Alcira. "You see, doña +Bernarda, you suffered too much with don Ramón. You are a bit too +exacting with Rafael. Let him have a good time! Let him enjoy himself! +He'll get tired of that chorus girl soon enough, pretty as she is. Then +you can take hold and start him right!" + +Doña Bernarda once again had reason to appreciate the talent of her +counsellor. His predictions, made with a cynicism that always caused the +pious lady to blush, had been fulfilled to the letter! + +She, too, was sure it was all over. Her son was not so blind as his +father had been. He had soon wearied of a "lost woman" like Leonora; he +had decided it was not worth while to quarrel with his mamma over so +trifling a matter, and have his enemies discredit him on that account. +He was returning to the path of duty; and to express her unbounded joy, +the good woman could not pamper him enough. + +"And how about ... that?" her friends would ask her, mysteriously. + +"Nothing," she would answer, with a proud smile. "Three weeks have gone +by and he hasn't shown the slightest inclination to go back. No, Rafael +is a good boy. All that was just a young one's notion. If you could only +see him keeping me company in the parlor every afternoon! An angel! Good +as pie! He spends hour after hour chatting with me and MatÃas's +daughter." + +And then, broadening her smile and winking cunningly, she would add: + +"I think there's something doing in that direction." + +And indeed something was "doing"; at least, to judge by appearances. +Bored with wandering from room to room through the house, sick of his +books, with which he would spend hours and hours turning pages without +really seeing a word that was printed on them, Rafael had taken refuge +in the sitting-room where his mother did her sewing, supervising a +complicated piece of embroidery that Remedios was making. + +The girl's submissive simplicity appealed to Rafael. Her ingenuousness +gave him a sense of freshness and repose. She was a cosy secluded refuge +where he might sleep after a tempest. His mother's satisfied smile was +there to encourage him in this feeling. Never had he seen her so kind +and so communicative. The pleasure of having him once more safe and +obedient in her hands had mollified that disposition so stern by nature +as to verge on rudeness. + +Remedios, with her head bowed low over her embroidery, would blush deep +red whenever Rafael praised her work or told her she was the prettiest +girl in all Alcira. He would help her thread her needles, and hold his +hands out to make a winding frame for the skeins; and more than once, +with the familiarity of an old playmate, he would pinch her +mischievously through the embroidery hoop. And she would never miss the +chance to scream scandal. + +"Rafael, don't be crazy," his mother would say, threatening him +indulgently with her withered forefinger. "Let Remedios work; if you +carry on so I won't let you come into the parlor." + +And at night, alone in the dining-room with don Andrés, when the hour +of confidences came, doña Bernarda would forget the affairs of "the +House" and of "the Party," to say with satisfaction: + +"It's going better." + +"Is Rafael taking to her?" + +"More and more every day. We're getting there, we're getting there! That +boy is the living image of his father when it comes to matters like +this. Believe me, you can't let one of that tribe out of your sight a +minute. If I didn't keep my eye peeled, that young devil would be doing +something that would discredit the House forever." + +And the good woman was sure that Doctor Moreno's daughter--that +abominable creature whose good looks had been her nightmare for some +months past--no longer existed for Rafael. + +She knew, from her spies, that on one market morning the two had met on +the street in town. Rafael had looked the other way, as if trying to +avoid her; the "_comica_" had turned pale and walked straight ahead +pretending not to see him. What did that mean?... A break for good of +course! The impudent hussy was livid with rage, you see, perhaps because +she could not trap her Rafael again; for he, weary of such +uncleanliness, had abandoned her forever. Ah, the lost soul, the +indecent gad-about! Excuse me! Was a woman to educate a son in the +soundest and most virtuous principles, make a somebody of him, and then +have an adventuress come along, a thousand times worse than a common +street-woman, and carry him off, as nice as you please, in her filthy +hands? What had the daughter of that scamp of a doctor thought?... Let +her fume! "You're sore just because you see he's dumped you for good!" + +In the joy of her triumph doña Bernarda was thinking anxiously of her +son's marriage to Remedios, and, coming down one peg on the ladder of +her dignity toward don Matias, she began to treat the exporter as a +member of the family, commenting contentedly upon the growing affection +that united their two children. + +"Well, if they're fond of each other," said the rustic magnate, "the +wedding can take place tomorrow so far as I'm concerned. Remedios means +a good deal to me; hard to find a girl like her for running a house; but +that needn't interfere with the marriage. I'm mighty well satisfied, +doña Bernarda, that we should be related through our children. I'm only +sorry that don Ramon isn't here to see it all." + +And that was true. The one thing lacking to the millionaire's perfect +joy was that he would never have the chance to treat the tall, imposing +Don Ramon on equal terms for once,--the crowning triumph of a self-made +man. + +Doña Bernarda, too, saw in this union the realization of her fondest +dreams: money joined to power; the millions of a business, whose +marvelous successes seemed like deliberate tricks of Chance, coming to +revivify with their sap of gold the Brull family tree, which was showing +the signs of age and long years of struggle! + +Spring had come on apace. Some afternoons doña Bernarda would take "the +children" to her own orchards or to the wealthy holdings of don MatÃas. +It was a sight worth seeing--the kindly shrewdness with which she +chaperoned the young couple, shouting with shocked alarm if they +disappeared behind the orange-trees for a moment or two in their +frolics. + +"That Rafael of ours," she would say to don Andrés, mimicking the long +face he used to put on when bringing up her troubles with her husband, +"what a rascal he is! I'll bet he's got both arms around her by this +time!" + +"Let 'em alone, let 'em alone, doña Bernarda! The deeper in he gets with +this one, the less likely he'll be to go back to the other." + +Back to her?... There was no fear of that. It was enough to watch Rafael +picking flowers and weaving them into the girl's hair while she +pretended to fight him off, blushing like a rose, and quite moved at +such homage. + +"Now be good, Rafaelito," Remedios would murmur in a sort of entreating +bleat, "don't touch me; don't be so bold." + +But her emotion would so betray her that you could see the thing she +most wanted in the world was for Rafael to place upon her body once +again those hands that made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the +roots of her hair. She resisted only because such was the duty of a +well-educated Christian girl. Like a young she-goat she would dash off +with graceful, tripping bounds between the rows of orange-trees, and _su +señoria_, the member from Alcira, would give chase with all his might, +his nostrils quivering and his eyes ablaze. + +"Let's see if he can catch you!" the mother would call, with a laugh. +"Run and let him try to catch you!" + +Don Andrés would roll up his wrinkled face into the smile of an old +faun. Such play made him feel young again. + +"Huh, _señora_! I believe you. This is getting on--on, and then some. +I'd say, marry them off pretty quick; for, if you don't, mark my word, +there'll soon be something for Alcira to laugh about." + +And they were both mistaken. Neither the mother nor don Andrés was +present to note the expression of dejection and despair on Rafael's face +when he was alone, shut up in his room, where, in the dark corners, he +could still see a pair of green, mysterious eyes gleaming at him and +tempting him. + +Go back to her? Never! He still felt the shame, the humiliation of that +morning. He could see himself in all his tragic ridiculousness, in a heap +on the ground, trampled under foot by that Amazon, covered with dirt, as +humble and abashed as a criminal caught redhanded and with no excuse. +And then that word, that had cut like the lash of a whip: "Go!" As if he +were a lackey who had dared approach a Duchess! And then that gate +slamming behind him, falling like a slab over a tomb, setting up an +eternal barrier between him and the love of his life! + +No, he would never go back! He was not brave enough to face her again. +That morning when he had met her by chance near the market-place, he +thought he would die of shame; his legs sagged under him, and the street +turned black as if night had suddenly fallen. She had disappeared; but +there was a ringing in his ears; and he had had to take hold of +something, as if the earth were swaying under his feet, and he would +fall. + +He needed to forget that unutterable disgrace--a recollection as +tenacious as remorse itself. That was why he had plunged into the +affair with his mother's protegée--as a sort of anaesthetic. She was a +woman! And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that +painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his +vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now +expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive +features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where +the other woman was, offended and in hiding. + +With Remedios he would feel some sign of life, only to relapse into +torpid gloom the moment he was left alone. It was a foamy, frothy +intoxication he felt when with the girl, an effervescence that all +evaporated in solitude. He thought of Remedios as a piece of green +fruit--sound, free of cut or stain, and with all the color of maturity, +but lacking the taste that satisfies and the perfume that enthralls. + +In his strange situation, spending days in childish games with a young +girl who aroused in him nothing more than the bland sense of fraternal +comradeship, and nights in sad and sleepless recollection, the one thing +that pleased him was intimacy with his mother. Peace had been restored +to the home. He could come and go without being conscious of a pair of +eyes glaring upon him and without hearing words of indignation stifled +between grating teeth. + +Don Andrés and his friends at the Club kept asking him when the wedding +would take place. In presence of "the children" doña Bernarda would +speak of alterations that would have to be made in the house. She and +the servants would occupy the ground floor. The whole first story would +be for the couple, with new rooms that would be the talk of the +city--they would get the best decorators in Valencia! Don Matias treated +him familiarly, just as he had in the old days when he came to the +_patio_ to get his orders from don Ramón and found Rafael, as a child, +playing at his father's feet. + +"Everything I have will be for you two. Remedios is an angel, and the +day I die, she will get more than my rascal of a son. All I ask of you +is not to take her off to Madrid. Since she is leaving my roof, at least +let me be able to see her every day." + +And Rafael would listen to all these things as in a dream. In reality he +had not expressed the slightest desire to marry; but there was his +mother, taking everything for granted, arranging everything, imposing +her will, accelerating his sluggish affection, literally forcing +Remedios into his arms! His wedding was a foregone conclusion, the topic +of conversation for the entire city. + +Sunk in this sadness, in the clutch of the tranquillity which now +surrounded him and which he was afraid to break; weak, as a matter of +character, and without will power, he sought consolation in the +reflection that the solution his mother was preparing was perhaps for +the best. + +His friendship with Leonora had been broken forever. Any day she might +take flight! She had said so very often. She would be going very +soon--when the blossoms were off the orange-trees! What would be left +for him then ... except to obey his mother? He would marry, and perhaps +that would serve as a distraction. Little by little his affection for +Remedios might grow. Perhaps in time he would even come to love her. + +Such meditations brought him a little calm, lulling him into an +attitude of agreeable irresponsibility. He would turn child again, as he +once had been, have his mother take charge of everything; let himself be +drawn along, passive, unresisting, by the current of destiny. + +But at times this resignation boiled up into hot, seething ebullitions +of angry protest, of raging passion. At night Rafael could not sleep. +The orange-trees were beginning to bloom. The blossoms, like an odorous +snow, covered the orchards and shed their perfume as far even as the +city streets. The air was heavy with fragrance. To breathe was to scent +a nosegay. Through the window-gratings under the doors, through the +walls, the virginal perfume of the vast orchards filtered--an +intoxicating breath, that Rafael, in his impassioned restlessness, +imagined as wafted from the Blue House, caressing Leonora's lovely +figure, and catching something of the divine fragrance of her redolent +beauty. And he would roll furiously between the sheets, biting the +pillow and moaning. + +"Leonora! Leonora!" + +One night, toward the end of April, Rafael drew back in front of the +door to his room, with the tremor he would have felt on the threshold of +a place of horror. He could not endure the thought of the night that +awaited him. The whole city seemed to have sunk into languor, in that +atmosphere so heavily charged with perfume. The lash of spring was +stirring all the impulses of life with its exciting caress, and goading +every feeling to new intensity. Not the slightest breeze was blowing. +The orchards saturated the calm atmosphere with their odorous +respiration. The lungs expanded as if there were no air, and all space +were being inhaled in each single breath. A voluptuous shudder was +stirring the countryside as it lay dozing under the light of the moon. + +Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rafael went down into the street. +Soon he found himself upon the bridge, where a few strollers, hat in +hand, were breathing the night air eagerly, looking at the clusters of +broken light that the moon was scattering over the river like fragments +of a mirror. + +He went on through the silent, deserted streets of the suburbs, his +footsteps echoing from the sidewalks. One row of houses lay white and +gleaming under the moon. The other was plunged in shadow. He was drawn +on and on into the mysterious silence of the fields. + +His mother was asleep, he suddenly reflected. She would know nothing. He +would be free till dawn. He yielded further to the attraction of the +roads that wound in and out through the orchards, where so many times he +had dreamed and hoped. + +The spectacle was not new to Rafael. Every year he had watched that +fertile plain come to life at the touch of Springtime, cover itself with +flowers, fill the air with perfumes; and yet, that night, as he beheld +the vast mantle of orange-blossoms that had settled over the fields, and +was gleaming in the moonlight like a fall of snow, he felt himself +completely in control of an infinitely sweet emotion. + +The orange-trees, covered from trunk to crown with white, ivory-smooth +flowerets, seemed like webs of spun glass, the vegetation of one of +those fantastic snow-mantled landscapes that quiver sometimes in the +glass spheres of paper-weights. The perfume came in continuous, +successive waves, rolling out upon the infinite with a mysterious +palpitation, transfiguring the country, imparting to it a feeling of +supernaturalness--the vision of a better world, of a distant planet +where men feed on perfume and live in eternal poetry. Everything was +changed in this spacious love-nest softly lighted by a great lantern of +mother-of-pearl. The sharp crackling of the branches sounded in the deep +silence like so many kisses; the murmur of the river became the distant +echo of passionate love-making, hushed voices whispering close to the +loved one's ears words tremulous with adoration. From the canebrake a +nightingale was singing softly, as if the beauty of the night had +subdued its plaintive song. + +How good it was to be alive! The blood tingled more rapidly, more hotly, +through the body! Every sense seemed sharper, more acute; though that +landscape imposed silence with its pale wan beauty, just as certain +emotions of intense joy are tasted with a sense of mystic shrinking! + +Rafael followed the usual path. He had turned instinctively toward the +Blue House. + +The shame of his disgrace still smarted raw within him. Had he met +Leonora now in the middle of the road he would have recoiled in childish +terror; but he would not meet her at such an hour. That reflection gave +him strength to walk on. Behind him, over the roofs of the city, the +tolling of a clock rolled. Midnight! He would go as far as the wall of +her orchard, enter if that were possible, stand there a few moments in +silent humility before the house, looking up adoringly at the windows +behind which Leonora lay sleeping. + +It would be his farewell! The whim had occurred to him as he left the +city and saw the first orange-trees laden with the blossoms whose +perfume had for many months been holding the songstress there in patient +expectation. Leonora would never know he had been near her in the silent +orchard bathed in moonlight, taking leave of her with the unspoken +anguish of an eternal farewell, as to a dream vanishing on the horizon +of life! + +The gate with the green wooden bars came into view among the trees--the +gate that had been slammed behind him in insulting dismissal. Among the +thorns of the hedge he looked for an opening he had discovered in the +days when he used to hover about the house. He went through, and his +feet sank into the fine, sandy soil of the orange-groves. Above the tops +of the trees, the house itself could be seen, white in the moonlight. +The rain-troughs of the roof and the balustrades of the balconies shone +like silver. The windows were all closed. Everything was asleep. + +He was about to step forward, when a dark form shot out from between two +orange-trees and stopped near him with a muffled growl. It was the house +dog, an ugly, ill-tempered animal trained to bite before it barked. + +Rafael recoiled instinctively from the warm breath of that panting, +furious muzzle which was reaching for his leg; but the dog, after a +second's hesitation, began to wag its tail with pleasure; and was +content merely to sniff at the boy's trousers so as to make absolutely +sure of an old friend's identity. Rafael patted him on the head, as he +had done so many times, distractedly, in conversations with Leonora on +the bench in the _plazoleta_. A good omen this encounter seemed! And he +walked on, while the dog resumed his watch in the darkness. + +Timidly he made his way forward in the shelter of a large patch of +shadow cast by the orange-trees, dragging himself along, almost, like a +thief afraid of an ambuscade. + +He reached the walk leading to the _plazoleta_ and was surprised to find +the gate half open. Suddenly he heard a suppressed cry near by. + +He turned around, and there on the tile bench, wrapped in the shadow of +the palm-trees and the rose-bushes, he saw a white form--a woman. As she +rose from her seat the moonlight fell squarely on her features. + +"Leonora!" + +The youth would have gladly sunk into the earth. "Rafael! You here?..." + +And the two stood there in silence, face to face. He kept his eyes fixed +on the ground, ashamed. She looked at him with a certain indecision. + +"You've given me a scare that I'll never forgive you for," she said at +last. "What are you doing here?..." + +Rafael was at a loss for a reply. He stammered with an embarrassment +that quite impressed Leonora; but despite his agitation, he noticed a +strange glitter in the girl's eyes, and a mysterious veiling of her +voice that seemed to transfigure her. + +"Come, now," said Leonora gently, "don't hunt up any far-fetched +excuses.... You were coming to bid me good-bye--and without trying to +see me! What a lot of nonsense! Why don't you say right out that you +are a victim of this dangerous night--as I am, too?" + +And her eyes, glittering with a tearful gleam, swept the _plazoleta_, +which lay white in the moonlight; and the snowy orange-blossoms, the +rose-bushes, the palm-trees, that stood out black against the blue sky +where the stars were twinkling like grains of luminous sand. Her voice +trembled with a soft huskiness, as caressing as velvet. + +Rafael, quite encouraged by this unexpected reception, tried to beg +forgiveness for the madness that had caused his expulsion from the +place; but the actress cut him short. + +"Let's not discuss that unpleasant thing! It hurts me just to think of +it. You're forgiven; and since you've fallen on this spot as though +heaven had dropped you here, you may stay a moment. But ... no +liberties. You know me now." + +And straightening up to her full height as an Amazon sure of herself, +she turned to the bench, motioning to Rafael to take a seat at the other +end. + +"What a night!... I feel a strange intoxication without wine! The +orange-trees seem to inebriate me with their very breath. An hour ago my +room was whirling round and round, as though I were going to faint. My +bed was like a frail bark tossing in a tempest. So I came down as I +often do; and here you can have me until sleep proves more powerful than +the beauty of this beautiful night." + +She spoke with a languid abandonment; her voice quivering, and tremors +rippling across her shoulders, as if all the perfume were hurting her, +oppressing her powerful vitality. Rafael sat looking at her over the +length of the bench--a white, sepulchral figure, wrapped in the hooded +cape of a dressing-gown--the first thing she had laid hands upon when +she had thought of going out into the garden. + +"I was frightened when I saw you," she continued, in a slow, faint +voice. "A little fright, nothing more! A natural surprise, I suppose; +and yet, I was thinking of you that very moment. I confess it. I was +saying to myself: 'What can that crazy boy be doing, at this hour, I +wonder?' And suddenly you appeared, like a ghost. You couldn't sleep; +you were excited by all this fragrance; and you have come to try your +luck anew, with the hope that brought you here at other times." + +She spoke without her usual irony, softly, simply, as if she were +talking to herself. Her body was thrown limply back against the bench, +one arm resting behind her head. + +Rafael started to speak once more of his repentance, of his desire to +kneel in front of the house there in mute entreaty for pardon, while she +would be sleeping in the room above. But Leonora interrupted him again. + +"Hush! Your voice is very loud. They might hear you. My aunt's room is +in the other wing of the house, but she's not a heavy sleeper.... +Besides, I don't care to listen to talk about remorse, pardon, and such +things. It makes me think of that morning. The mere fact that I am +letting you stay here ought to be enough, oughtn't it? I want to forget +all that.... Hush, Rafael! Silence makes the beauty of the night more +wonderful. The fields seem to be talking with the moon, and these waves +of perfume that are sweeping over us are echoes of their passionate +words." + +And she fell silent, keeping absolutely still, her eyes turned upward, +catching the moonbeams in their tear-like moisture. From time to time +Rafael saw her quiver with a mysterious tremor; then extend her arms and +cross them behind her head of golden hair, in a voluptuous stretch that +made her white robe rustle, while her limbs grew taut in a delicious +tension. She seemed upset, ill almost; at times her panting breath was +like a sob. Her head drooped over a shoulder and her breast heaved with +countless sighs. + +The youth was obediently silent, fearing lest the remembrance of his +base audacity should again come up in the conversation; and not +venturing to reduce the distance that separated them on the bench. She +seemed to divine what he was thinking and began to speak, slowly, of the +abnormal state of mind in which she found herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me tonight. I feel like crying, +without knowing why. I am filled with a strange inexplicable happiness, +and yet I could just weep and weep. Oh, I know--it's the Springtime; all +this fragrance that whips my nerves like a lash. I really believe I'm +crazy.... Springtime! My best friend--though she has done me only wrong! +If ever I have been guilty of any foolish thing in my life, Spring was +at the bottom of it.... It's youth reborn in us--madness paying us its +annual visit.... And I--ever faithful to her, adoring her; waiting in +this out-of-the-way spot almost a year for her to come, to see her once +more in her best clothes, crowned with orange-blossoms like a virgin--a +wicked virgin who pays me back for my devotion with betrayal!... Just +see what I've come to! I am ill--I don't know why--with excess of life, +perhaps. She drives me on I don't know where, but certainly where I +ought not to go.... If it weren't for sheer will-power on my part, I'd +collapse in a heap on this bench here. I'm just like a drunken man +bending every effort to keep his feet and walk straight." + +It was true; she was really ill. Her eyes grew more and more tearful; +her body was quivering, shrinking, collapsing, as if life were +overflowing within her and escaping through all her pores. + +Again she was silent, for a long time, her eyes gazing vacantly into +space; then, she murmured, as if in answer to a thought of her own. + +"No one ever understood as well as He. He knew everything, felt as +nobody ever felt the mysterious hidden workings of Nature; and He sang +of Springtime as a god would sing. Hans used to remark that many a time; +and it's so." + +Without turning her head she added, in a dreamy musing voice. + +"Rafael, you don't know _Die Walküre_, do you? You've never heard the +Spring Song?" + +He shook his head. And Leonora, with her eyes still gazing moonward, her +head resting back against her arms, which escaped in all their round, +pearly strength from her drooping sleeves, spoke slowly, collecting her +memories, recreating in her mind's eye that Wagnerian scene of such +intense poetry--the glorification and the triumph of Nature and Love. + +Hunding's hut, a barbaric dwelling, hung with savage trophies of the +chase, suggesting the brutish existence of man scarcely yet possessed of +the world, in perpetual strife with the elements and with wild animals. +The eternal fugitive, forgotten of his father,--Sigmund by name, though +he calls himself "Despair," wandering years and years through the +forests, harrassed by beasts of prey who take him for one of themselves +in his covering of skins, rests at last at the foot of the giant oak +that sustains the hut; and as he drinks the hidromel in the horn offered +to him by the sweet Siglinda, he gazes into her pure eyes and for the +first time becomes aware that Love exists. + +The husband, Hunding, the wild huntsman, takes leave of him at the end +of the rustic supper: "Your father was the Wolf, and I am of the race of +Hunters. Until the break of day, my house protects you; you are my +guest; but as soon as the sun rises in the heavens you become my enemy, +and we will fight.... Woman, prepare the night's drink; and let us be +off to bed." + +And the exile sits alone beside the fireplace, thinking of his immense +loneliness. No home, no family, not even the magic sword promised him by +his father the Wolf. And at daybreak, out of the hut that shelters him +the enemy will come to slay him. The thought of the woman who allayed +his thirst, the sparkle of those pure eyes wrapping him in a gaze of +pity and love, is the one thing that sustains him.... She comes to him +when her wild consort has fallen asleep. She shows him the hilt of the +sword plunged into the oak by the god Wotan; nobody can pull it out: it +will obey only the hand of him to whom it has been destined by the god. + +As she speaks the wandering savage gazes at her in ecstasy, as if she +were a white vision revealing to him the existence of something more +than might and struggle in the world. It is the voice of Love. Slowly he +draws near; embraces her; clasps her to his heart, while the door is +pushed open by the breeze and the green forest appears, odorous in the +moonlight--nocturnal Springtime, radiant and glorious, wrapped in a +mantle of music and perfume. + +Siglinda shudders. "Who has come in?" No one--and yet, a Stranger has +entered the hovel, opening the door with an invisible hand. And Sigmund, +at the inspiration of Love, divines the identity of the visitant. "It is +Springtime laughing in the air about your tresses. The storms are gone; +gone is the dark solitude. The radiant month of May, a young warrior in +an armor of flowers, has come to give chase to bleak Winter, and in all +this festival of rejoicing Nature, seeks his sweetheart: Youth. This +night, which has brought you to me, is the unending night of Spring and +Youth." + +And, Leonora was thrilled as she heard in her memory the murmur of the +orchestra accompanying the song of tenderness inspired by Spring; the +rustle of the forest branches benumbed by the winter, now swaying with +the new sap that had flowed into them like a torrent of vitality; and +out on the brightly lighted _plazoleta_ she could almost see Sigmund and +Siglinda clasping in an eternal unseverable embrace, as she had seen +them from the wings of the opera, where she would be waiting as a +Valkyrie to step out and set an audience wild with her mighty +"_Hojotoho!"_ + +She was feeling the same loneliness and yearning that Sigmund felt in +Hunding's hovel. Without a family, without a home, wandering over the +world, she longed for someone to lean on, someone to clasp tenderly to +her heart! And it was she who unconsciously, instinctively, had drawn +closer to Rafael, and placed her hand in his. + +She was ill. She sighed softly with the appealing entreaty of a child, +as if the intense poetry of that memory of music had shattered the frail +remnant of will that had kept her mistress of herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night. I feel as though I +were dying.... But such a sweet death! So sweet!... What madness, +Rafael! How rash it was of us to have seen each other on such a +night!..." + +And with supplicating eyes, as if entreating forgiveness, she gazed out +into the majestic moonlight, where the silence seemed to be stirring +with the palpitation of a new life. She could divine that something was +dying within her, that her will lay prostrate on the ground, without +strength to defend itself. + +Rafael, too, was overwhelmed. He held her clasped against his breast, +one of her hands in his. She was weak, languid, will-less, incapable of +resistance; yet he did not feel the brutal passion of the previous +meeting; he did not dare to move. A sense of infinite tenderness came +over him. All he yearned for was to sit there hour after hour in contact +with that beautiful form, clasping her tightly to him, making her one +with him, as a jewel-case might guard a jewel. + +He whispered mysteriously into her ear, hardly knowing what he was +saying; tender words that seemed to be coming from someone within him, +thrilling him with a tingling, suffocating passion as they left his +lips. + +Yes, it was true; that night was the night dreamed of by the immortal +Poet; the wedding night of smiling Youth and of martial May in his armor +of flowers. The fields were quivering voluptuously under the rays of the +moon; and they, two young hearts, feeling the flutter of Love's wings +about their hair, why should they sit unresponsive there, blind to the +beauty of the night, deaf to the infinite caress that was echoing from +all around? + +"Leonora! Leonora!" moaned Rafael. + +He had slipped down from the bench. Before he was aware of it, he found +himself kneeling at her feet, clutching her hands, and thrusting his +face upward without daring to reach her lips. + +She drew weakly back, protesting feebly, with a girlish plaint: + +"No, no; it would hurt me.... I feel that I'm dying." + +"You belong to me," the youth continued with an exaltation +ill-suppressed. "You belong to me forever; to gaze into your dear eyes, +and to murmur in your ear, your sweet, beautiful, name, and die, if need +be, here. What do we care for the world and its opinions?" + +And Leonora with weakening resistance, continued to refuse: + +"No, no.... I must not. It's a feeling I can't explain." + +And that was so. The gentle quiver of Nature under the kiss of +Springtime, the intense perfume of the flower that is the emblem of +virginity, had transfigured that madcap singer, that adventuress of a +career so checkered, who had been violently thrust into her first +experience of passion, and now for the first time felt the blush of +modesty in the arms of a man. Nature, intoxicating her, shattering her +will, seemed to have created a strange virginity in that body so +familiar with the call of passion. + +"Oh, Rafael, what is happening to me?... What's happening to me? It must +be love; a new love that I did not think I should ever know.... Rafael ... +Rafael, my own boy!" + +And weeping softly, she took his head in her hands, pressed her lips to +his, and then fell back in her seat with eyes distended, maddened with +the joy of that kiss. + +"I belong to you, Rafael! Yours ... but forever. I have always loved you +from the first, but now ... I adore you.... For the first time in my +life I say that with all my soul." + +Hardly able to realize his good fortune, Rafael was thrilled by a deeply +generous sentiment. There was nothing he would not give to that +woman.... + +"Yes; you belong to me forever.... I will marry you." + +But in his dreamy, wild intoxication he saw the artiste's eyes open wide +in surprise, as a sad smile flitted across her lips. + +"Marry me And why?... That's well enough for other women; but me you +must love, my darling child, ever so much, as much as you can.... Just +love me!... I believe only in Love!" + + + + +V + + +"But my dear child, when are we getting to this island of yours?... It +bores me to be here sitting on this seat, so far away from my little +boy, watching his arms get tired from all that rowing. I must kiss him.. +even if he says no! It will rest him, I am sure." + +And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white +boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times. +He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself. + +"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we +make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island." + +Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the +moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal +pleasure in the romantic escapade. + +It had been one of her caprices--a desire repeated during his visits to +the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of doña Pepa and the +maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge +where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness. + +For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had +he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious +abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved +about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were +invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking +the trouble to look up. + +He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come--that the +family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence +he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and +everybody was asleep. + +Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the +effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his +door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a +sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill, +and of getting the same reply: + +"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing." + +It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself +from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find +the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would +lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she +would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs, +perhaps in his stocking-feet. + +The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in +silence, complaining only to don Andrés of the recrudescence of a +madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen +the counselor kept watch upon the young man. His spies followed Rafael +cautiously through the night, up to the gate of the Blue House. + +"What a scandal!" exclaimed doña Bernarda. "At night, too! He'll wind +up by bringing her into this house! Can it be that that simpleton of a +doña Pepita is blind to all this?" + +And there was Rafael, unaware of the storm that was gathering about his +head, no longer deigning even to speak to Remedios, or look at her, as +with her head bowed like a sulky goat, she went around stifling her +tears at the memory of those happy strolls in the orchard under doña +Bernarda's surveillance. + +The deputy had eyes for nothing outside of the Blue House; his happiness +had blinded him. The one thing that annoyed him was the necessity of +hiding his joy--his inability to make his good fortune public, so that +all his admirers might learn of it. + +He would willingly have gone back to the days of the Roman decadence, +when the love affairs of the powerful became matters of national +adoration. + +"What do I care for their gossip" he once said to Leonora. "I love you +so much that I'd like to see the whole city worship you in public. I'd +like to snatch you up in my arms, and appear upon the bridge at high +noon, before a concourse stupefied by your beauty: 'Am I or am I not +your "_quefe_"?' I'd ask. 'Well, if I am, adore this woman, who is my +very soul and without whom I could not live. The affection which you +have for me you must have also for her.' And I'd do just as I say if it +were possible." + +"Silly boy ... adorable child," she had replied, showering him with +kisses, brushing his dark beard with her soft, quivering lips. + +And it was during one of their meetings--when their words were broken +by sudden impulses of affection, and their lips were tightly pressed +together--that Leonora had expressed her capricious desire. + +"I'm stifling in this house. I hate to caress you inside four walls, as +if you were only a passing whim. This is unworthy of you. You are Love, +who came to seek me out on the most beautiful of nights. I like you +better in the open air. You look more handsome to me then, and I feel +younger." + +And recalling those trips down the river about which Rafael had told her +so many times when they were only friends--that islet with its curtains +of reeds, the willows bending over the water and the nightingale singing +from its hiding-place--she had asked him, eagerly: + +"What night are you going to take me there? It's a whim of mine, a wild +idea; but, what does love exist for, if not to make people do the +foolish things that sweeten life?... Carry me off in your boat! The bark +that bore you there will transport the two of us to your enchanted +island; we will spend the whole night in the open air." + +And Rafael, who was flattered by the idea of taking his love publicly +down the river, through the slumbering countryside, unfastened his boat +at midnight under the bridge and rowed it to a canebrake near Leonora's +orchard. + +An hour later they emerged through the opening in the hedge, arm in arm, +laughing at the mischievous escapade, disturbing the majestic silence of +the landscape with noisy, insolent kisses. + +They got into the boat, and with a favoring current, began to descend +the Júcar, lulled by the murmur of the river as it glided between the +high mudbanks covered with reeds that bent low over the water and +formed mysterious hiding places. + +Leonora clapped her hands with delight. She threw over her neck the silk +shawl with which she had covered her head. She unbuttoned her light +traveling coat, and inhaled with deep enjoyment the moist, somewhat +muggy breeze that was curling along the surface of the river. Her hand +trembled as it dipped into the water from time to time. + +How beautiful it was! All by themselves, and wandering about, as if the +world did not exist; as if all Nature belonged to them, to them alone! +Here they were, slipping past clusters of slumbering houses, leaving the +city far behind. And nobody had suspected that passion, which in its +enthusiasm had broken its chains and left its mysterious lair to have +the heavens and the fields for sympathetic witnesses. Leonora would have +wished that the night should never end; that the waning moon, which +seemed to have been slashed by a sword, should stop eternally in the sky +to wrap them forever in its feeble, dying light; that the river should +be endless, and the boat float on and on until, overwhelmed by so much +love, they should breathe the last gasp of life away in a kiss as +tenuous as a sigh. + +"If you could only know how grateful I am to you for this excursion, +Rafael!... I'm happy, so happy. Never have I had such a night as this. +But where is the island? Have we gone astray, as you did the night of +the flood?" + +No! At last they reached the place. There Rafael had spent many an +afternoon hidden in the bushes, cut off by the encircling waters, +dreaming that he was an adventurer on the virgin prairies or the vast +rivers of America, performing exploits he had read about in the novels +of Fenimore Cooper and Mayne Reid. + +A tributary joined the Júcar at this point, emptying gently into the +main stream from under a thicket of reeds and trees that formed a +triumphal arch of foliage. At the confluence rose the island--a tiny +piece of land almost level with the water, but as fresh as green and +fragrant as an aquatic bouquet. The banks were lined with dense clumps +of cane, and a few willows that bent their hairy foliage low over the +water, forming dark vaults through which the boat could make its way. + +The two lovers entered the shade. The curtain of branches concealed them +from the river; a bare tear of moonlight managed to filter through the +mane of willows. + +Leonora felt a first sense of uneasiness in this dark, damp, cave-like +haunt. Invisible animals took to the water with dull splashes as they +heard the boat's bow touch the mud of the bank. The actress clutched her +lover's arm with nervous pleasure. + +"Here we are," murmured Rafael. "Hold on to something and get out. +Careful, careful! Don't you want to hear the nightingale? Here we have +him. Listen." + +It was true. In one of the willows, at the other side of the island, the +mysterious bird was trilling from his hiding place, a dizzying shower of +notes, which broke at the crescendo of the musical whirl-pool into a +plaint as soft and long-sustained as a golden thread stretched in the +silence of the night across the river, that seemed to be applauding +with its hushed murmur. To get nearer, the lovers went up through the +rushes, stopping, bending over at each step, to keep the branches from +crackling underneath their feet. + +Favoring moisture had covered the islet with an exuberant undergrowth. +Leonora repressed exclamations of glee as she found her feet caught in +meshes of reeds or received the rude caresses of the branches that +snapped back, as Rafael went ahead, and brushed against her face. She +called for help in a muffled voice; and Rafael, laughing also, would +hold out his hand to her, taking her finally to the very foot of the +tree where the nightingale was singing. + +The bird, divining the presence of intruders, ceased his song. Doubtless +he had heard the rustle of their clothing as they sat down at the foot +of the tree, or the tender words they were murmuring into each other's +ear. + +Over all, the silence of slumbering Nature reigned--that silence made up +of a thousand sounds, harmonizing and blending in one majestic calm; the +murmur of the water, the stirring of the foliage, the mysterious +movements of unseen creatures crawling along under the leaves or +patiently boring their winding galleries in the creaking trunks. + +The nightingale began again to sing, timidly, like an artist afraid of +an impending interruption. He uttered a few disconnected notes with +anxious rests between them--love sighs they seemed, broken by sobs of +passion. Then gradually he took courage, regained self-confidence, and +entered on his full song, just as a soft breeze rose, swept over the +island, and set all the trees and reeds rustling in mysterious +accompaniment. + +The bird gradually grew intoxicated with the sound of his own trilling, +cadenced, voice; one could almost see him up there in the thick +darkness, panting, ardent, in the spasm of his musical inspiration, +utterly engrossed in his own beautiful little world of song, overwhelmed +by the charm of his own artistry. + +But the bird had ceased his music when the two lovers awoke in a tight +embrace, still in ecstasy from the song of love to which they had fallen +asleep. Leonora was resting a dishevelled head on Rafael's shoulder, +caressing his neck with an eager, wearied breathing, whispering in his +ear, random, incoherent words that still were vibrant with emotion. + +How happy she was there! Everything comes for true love! Many a time, +during the days of her unkindness to him, she had looked out from her +balcony upon the river winding down through the slumbering countryside; +and she had thought with rapture of a stroll some day through that +immense garden on Rafael's arm--of gliding, gliding down the Júcar, to +that very island. + +"My love is an ancient thing," she murmured. "Do you suppose, I have +been loving you only since the other night? No, I have loved you for a +long, long time.... But don't you go and get conceited on that account, +_su señoria_! I don't know how it began: It must have been when you were +away in Madrid. When I saw you again I knew that I was lost. If I still +resisted, it was because I was a wise woman; because I saw things +clearly. Now I'm mad and I've thrown my better judgment to the winds. +God knows what will become of us.... But come what may, love me, Rafael, +love me. Swear that you'll love me always. It would be cruel to desert +me after awakening a passion like this." + +And, in an impulse of dread, she nestled closer against his breast, sank +her hands into his hair, lifted her head back to kiss him avidly on the +face, the forehead, the eyes, the lips, nibbling playfully, tenderly at +his nose and chin, yet with an affectionate vehemence that drew cries of +mock protest from Rafael. + +"Madcap!" he muttered, smiling. "You're hurting me." + +Leonora looked steadily at him out of her two great eyes that were +a-gleam with love. + +"I could eat you up," she murmured. "I feel like devouring you, my +heaven, my king, my god.... What have you given me, tell me, little boy? +How have you been able to fascinate me, make me feel a passion that I +never, never felt before?" + +And again they fell asleep. + +Rafael stirred in his lover's arms, and suddenly sat up. + +"It must be late. How many hours have we been here, do you suppose?" + +"Many, many hours," Leonora answered sadly. "Hours of happiness always +go so fast." + +It was still dark. The moon had set. They arose and, hand in hand, +groping their way along, they reached the boat. The splash of the oars +began again to sound along the dark stream. + +Suddenly the nightingale again piped gloomily in the willow wood, as if +in farewell to a departing dream. + +"Listen, my darling," said Leonora. "The poor little fellow is bidding +us good-bye. Just hear how plaintively he says farewell." + +And in the strange exhiliration that comes from fatigue, Leonora felt +the flames of art flaring up within her, seething through her organism +from head to foot. + +A melody from _Die Meistersinger_ came to her mind, the hymn that the +good people of Nuremberg sing when Hans Sachs, their favorite singer, as +bounteous and gentle as the Eternal Father, steps out on the platform +for the contest in poetry. It was the song that the poet-minstrel, the +friend of Albrecht Dürer, wrote in honor of Luther when the great +Reformation broke; and the prima donna, rising to her feet in the stern, +and returning the greeting of the nightingale began: + + "_Sorgiam, che spunta il dolce albor, + cantar ascolto in mezzo ai fior + voluttuoso un usignol + spiegando a noi l'amante vol_!..." + +Her ardent, powerful voice seemed to make the dark surface of the river +tremble; it rolled in harmonious waves across the fields, and died away +in the foliage of the distant island, whence the nightingale trilled an +answer that was like a fainting sigh. Leonora tried to reproduce with +her lips the majestic sonorousness of the Wagnerian chorus, mimicking +the rumbling accompaniment of the orchestra, while Rafael beat the +water with his oars in time with the pious, exalted melody with which +the great Master had turned to popular poetry adequately to greet the +outbreak of Reform. + +They went on and on up the river against the current, Leonora singing, +Rafael bending over the oars, moving his sinewy arms like steel springs. +He kept the boat inshore, where the current was not so strong. At times +low branches brushed the heads of the lovers, and drops of dew fell on +their faces. Many a time the boat glided through one of the verdant +archways of foliage, making its way slowly through the lily-pads; and +the green overhead would tremble with the harmonious violence of that +wonderful voice, as vibrant and as resonant as a great silver bell. + +Day had not yet dawned--the _dolce albor_ of Hans Sachs' song--but at +any moment the rosy rim of sunrise would begin to climb the sky. + +Rafael was hurrying to get back as soon as possible. Her sonorous voice +of such tremendous range seemed to be awakening the whole countryside. +In one cottage a window lighted up. Several times along the river-bank, +as they rowed past the reeds, Rafael thought he heard the noise of +snapping branches, the cautious footsteps of spies who were following +them. + +"Hush, my darling. You had better stop singing; they'll recognize you. +They'll guess who you are." + +They reached the bank where they had embarked. Leonora leaped ashore. +They must separate there; for she insisted on going home alone. And +their parting was sweet, slow, endless. + +"Good-bye, my love; one kiss. Until tomorrow ... no, later--today." + +She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to +snuggle again in her lover's arms. + +"Another, my prince ... the last." + +Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the +garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, +creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy +melody of an orchard boy. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Now I must really go. They'll discover us." + +Wrapping her coat about her she hurried away, waving a final farewell to +him with her handkerchief. + +Rafael rowed upstream toward the city. That part of the trip--he +reflected--alone, tired, and struggling against the current, was the one +bad part of the wonderful night. When he moored his boat near the bridge +it was already broad day. The windows of the river houses were opening. +Over the bridge carts laden with produce for the market were rumbling, +and orchard women were going by with huge baskets on their heads. All +these people looked down with interest on their deputy. He must have +spent the night fishing. And this news passed from one to the other, +though not a trace of fishing tackle was visible in the boat. How they +envied rich folks, who could sleep all day and spend their time just as +they pleased! + +Rafael jumped ashore. All that curiosity he was attracting annoyed him. +His mother would know everything by the time he got home! + +As he climbed slowly and wearily, his arms numb from rowing, to the +bridge, he heard his name called. + +Don Andrés was standing there, gazing at him out of those yellow eyes of +his, scowling through his wrinkles with an expression of stern +authority. + +"You've given me a fine night, Rafael. I know where you've been. I saw +you row off last night with that woman; and plenty of my friends were on +hand to follow you and find out just where you went. You've been on the +island all night; that woman was singing away like a lunatic.... God of +Gods, boy! Aren't there any houses in the world? Do you have to play the +band when you're having an affair, so that everybody in the Kingdom can +come and look?" + +The old man was truly riled; all the more because he was himself the +secretive, the dexterous, libertine, adopting every precaution not to be +discovered in his "weaknesses." Was it anger or envy that he felt on +seeing a couple enough in love with each other to be fearless of gossip +and indifferent to danger, to throw prudence to the winds, and flaunt +their passion before the world with the reckless insolence of happiness? + +"Besides, your mother knows everything. She's discovered what you've +been up to, these nights past. She knows you haven't been in your room. +You're going to break that woman's heart!" + +And with paternal severity he went on to speak of doña Bernarda's +despair, of the danger to the future of the House, of the obligations +they were under to don MatÃas, of the solemn promise given, of that poor +girl waiting to be married! + +Rafael walked along in silence and like an automaton. That old man's +chatter brought down around his head, like a swarm of pestering +mosquitoes, all the provoking, irritating obligations of his life. He +felt like a man rudely awakened by a tactless servant in the middle of a +sweet dream. His lips were still tingling with Leonora's kisses! His +whole body was aglow with her gentle warmth! And here was this old +curmudgeon coming along with a sermon on "duty," "family," "what they +would say"--as if love amounted to nothing in this life! It was a plot +against his happiness, and he felt stirred to the depths with a sense of +outrage and revolt. + +They had reached the entrance to the Brull mansion. Rafael was fumbling +about for the key-hole with his key. + +"Well," growled the old man. "What have you got to say to all this? What +do you propose to do? Answer me! Haven't you got a tongue in your head?" + +"I," replied the young man energetically--"will do as I please." + +Don Andrés jumped as though he had been stung. My, how this Rafael had +changed!... Never before had he seen that gleam of aggressiveness, +arrogance, belligerency in the eye of the boy! + +"Rafael, is that the way you answer me,--a man who has known you since +you were born? Is that the tone of voice you use toward one who loves +you as your own father loved you?" + +"I'm of age, if you don't mind my saying so!" Rafael replied. "I'm not +going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the +street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to +yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!" + +As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the +semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that +entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning, +tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice. + +But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless +and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for +some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own. + + + + +VI + + +"You're right, don Andrés. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That +wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse, +than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I +should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to +you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The +other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he +treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he +pleases, or--what amounts to the same thing--he'll keep up his affair +with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand +debauch, like his father.... My God! And that's what I've suffered for +all these years. That's what I get for sacrificing myself, day in day +out, trying to make somebody out of him!" + +The austere doña Bernarda, dethroned by her son's resolute +rebelliousness, wept as she said this. In her tears of a mother's grief +there was something also of the chagrin of the authoritarian on finding +in her own home a will rebellious to hers and stronger than hers. + +Between sobs she told don Andrés how her son had been carrying on since +his declaration of independence. He was no longer cautious about +spending the night away from home. He was coming in now in broad +daylight; and, afternoons, with his meals "still in his mouth" as she +said, he would take the road to the Blue House, on the run almost, as if +he could not get to perdition soon enough. The dead hand of his father +was upon him! + +All you had to do was look at him. His face discolored, yellow, pale; +his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones; and--the only sign of +life--the fire that gleamed in his eyes like a spark of wild joy! Oh, a +curse was on the family! They were all alike ...! + +The mother did her best to conceal the truth from Remedios. Poor girl! +She was going about crestfallen and in deep dejection, unable to explain +Rafael's sudden withdrawal. + +The matter had to be kept secret; and that was what held doña Bernarda's +rage within bounds during her rapid, heated exchanges with her son. + +Perhaps everything would come out all right in the end--something +unforeseen would turn up to undo the evil spell that had been cast over +Rafael. And in this hope she used every effort to keep Remedios and her +father from learning what had happened. She feigned contentment in their +presence, and invented a thousand pretexts--studies, work, even +illness--to justify her son's neglect of his "fiancee." At the same +time, the disconsolate mother feared the people around her--the gossip +of a small town, bored with itself, ever on the alert, hunting for +something interesting to talk about and get scandalized about. + +The news of Rafael's affair spread like wildfire meanwhile, considerably +magnified as it passed from mouth to mouth. People told hair-raising +tales of that expedition down the river, of walks through the orange +groves, of nights spent at doña Pepa's house, Rafael entering in the +dark, in his stocking feet, like a thief; of silhouettes of the lovers +outlined in suggestive poses against the bedroom curtain; of their +appearing in windows their arms about each other's waists, looking at +the stars--everything sworn to by voluntary spies, who could say "I saw +it with my own eyes"--persons who had spent whole nights, on the +river-bank, behind some fence, in some clump of bushes, to surprise the +deputy on his way to or from his assignations. + +In the cafés or at the Casino, the men openly envied Rafael, commenting +with eyes a-glitter on his good fortune. That fellow had been born under +a lucky star! But later at home they would add their stern voices to the +chorus of indignant women. What a scandal! A deputy, a public man, a +"personage" who ought to set an example for others! That was a disgrace +to the constituency! And when the murmur of general protest reached the +ears of doña Bernarda, she lifted her hands to heaven in despair. Where +would it all end! Where would it all end! That son of hers was bent on +ruining himself! + +Don MatÃas, the rustic millionaire, said nothing; and, in the presence +of doña Bernarda, at least, pretended to know nothing. His interest in a +marriage connection with the Brull family counselled prudence. He, too, +hoped that it would all blow over, prove to be the blind infatuation of +a young man. Feeling himself a father, more or less, to the boy, he +thought of giving Rafael just a bit of advice when he came upon him in +the street one day. But he desisted after a word or two. A proud glance +of the youth completely floored him, making him feel like the poor +orange-grower of former days, who had cringed before the majestic, +grandiose don Ramón! + +Rafael was intrenched in haughty silence. He needed no advice. But alas! +When at night he reached his beloved's house--it seemed to be redolent +with the very perfume of her, as if the furniture, the curtains, the +very walls about her had absorbed the essence of her spirit--he felt the +strain of that insistent gossip, of the persecution of an entire city +that had fixed its eyes upon his love. + +Two against a multitude! With the serene immodesty of the ancient +idylls, they had abandoned themselves to passion in a stupid, narrow +environment, where sprightly gossip was the most appreciated of the +moral talents! + +Leonora grew sad. She smiled as usual; she flattered him with the same +worship, as if he were an idol; she was playful and gay; but in moments +of distraction, when she did not notice that he was watching, Rafael +would surprise a cast of bitterness about her lips--and a sinister light +in her eyes, the reflection of painful thoughts. + +She referred with acrid mirth one night to what people were saying about +them. Everything was found out sooner or later in that city! The gossip +had gotten even to the Blue House! Her kitchen woman had hinted that she +had better not walk so much along the river front--she might catch +malaria. On the market place the sole topic of conversation was that +night trip down the Júcar ... the deputy, sweating his life out over +the oars, and she waking half the country up with her strange songs!... +And she laughed, but with a hard, harsh laugh of affected gaiety that +showed the nervousness underneath, though without a word of complaint. + +Rafael remorsefully reflected that she had foreseen all that in first +repelling his advances. He admired her resignation. She would have been +justified in rebuking him for the harm he had done her. As it was, she +was not even telling him all she knew! Ah, the wretches! To harass an +innocent woman so! She had loved him, given herself to him, bestowed on +him the royal gift of her person. And the deputy began to hate his city, +for repaying in insult and scandal the wondrous happiness she had +conferred on its "chief"! + +On another night Leonora received him with a smile that frightened him. +She was affecting a mood of hectic cheerfulness, trying to drown her +worries by sheer force, overwhelming her lover with a flood of light, +frivolous chatter; but suddenly, at the limit of her endurance, she gave +way, and in the middle of a caress, burst into tears and sank to a +divan, sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"Why what's the matter? What has happened ...?" + +For a time she could not answer, her voice was too choked with weeping. +At last, however, between sobs, burying her tear-stained face on +Rafael's shoulder, she began to speak, completely crushed, fainting from +virtual prostration. + +She could stand it no longer! The torture was becoming unbearable. It +was useless for her to pretend. She knew as well as he what people were +saying in the city. They were spied upon continuously. On the roads, in +the orchard, along the river, there were people constantly on the watch +for something new to report. That passion of hers, so sweet, so +youthful, so sincere, was a butt of public laughter, a theme for idle +tongues, who flayed her as if she were a common street-woman, because +she had been good to him, because she had not been cruel enough to watch +a young man writhe in the torment of passion, indifferently.... But +though this persecution from a scandalized public was bad enough, she +did not mind it. Why should she care what those stupid people said? But, +alas, there were others--the people around Rafael, his friends, his +family, ... his mother! + +Leonora sat silent for a moment, as if waiting to see the effect of that +last word; unless, indeed, she were hesitating, out of delicacy, to +include her lover's family in her complaint. The young man shrank with a +terrible presentiment. Doña Bernarda was not the woman to stand by idle +and resigned in the face of opposition, even from him! + +"I see ... mother!" he said in a stifled voice. "She has been up to +something. Tell me what it is. Don't be afraid. To me you are dearer +than anything else in the world." + +"Well ... there is auntie ..." Leonora resumed; and Rafael remembered +that doña Pepa, remarking his assiduous visits to the Blue House, had +thought her niece might be contemplating marriage. In the afternoon, +Leonora explained, she had had a _scene_ with her aunt. Doña Pepa had +gone into town to confession, and on coming out of church had met doña +Bernarda. Poor old woman! Her abject terror on returning home betrayed +the intense emotion Rafael's mother had succeeded in wakening in her. +Leonora, her niece, her idol, lay in the dust, stripped of that blind, +enthusiastic, affectionate trust her aunt had always had for her. All +the gossip, all the echoes of Leonora's adventurous life, that +had--heretofore but feebly--come to her ears, the old lady had never +believed, regarding them as the work of envy. But now they had been +repeated to her by doña Bernarda, by a lady "in good standing," a good +Christian, a person incapable of falsehood. And then after rehearsing +that scandalous biography, Rafael's mother had come to the shocking +effrontery with which her niece and Rafael were rousing the whole city; +flaunting their wrong-doing in the face of the public; and turning her +home, the respectable, irreproachable home of doña Pepa, into a den of +vice, a brothel! + +And the poor woman had wept like a child in her niece's presence, +adjuring her to "abandon the wicked path of transgression," shuddering +with horror at the great responsibility she, doña Pepa, had unwittingly +assumed before God. All her life she had labored and prayed and fasted +to keep her soul clean. She had thought herself almost in a state of +grace, only to awaken suddenly and find herself in the very midst of sin +through no fault of her own--all on account of her niece, who had +converted her holy, her pure, her pious home into an ante-chamber of +hell! And it was the poor woman's superstitious terror, the conviction +of damnation that had seized on doña Pepa's simple soul, that wounded +Leonora most deeply. + +"They've robbed me of all I had in the world," she murmured desperately, +"of the affection of the only dear one left after my father died. I am +not the child of former days to auntie; that is apparent from the way +she looks at me, the way she shuns me, avoiding all contact with me.... +And just because of you, because I love you, because I was not cruel to +you! Oh, that night! How I shall suffer for it!... How clearly I foresaw +how it would all end!" + +Rafael was humiliated, crushed, filled with shame and remorse at the +suffering that had fallen upon this woman, because she had given herself +to him. What was he to do? The time had come to prove himself the +strong, the resourceful man, able to protect the beloved woman in her +moment of danger. But where should he strike first to defend her?... + +Leonora lifted her head from her lover's shoulder, and withdrew from his +embrace. She wiped away her tears and rose to her feet with the +determination of irrevocable resolution. + +"I have made up my mind. It hurts me very much to say what I am going to +say; but I can't help it. It will do you no good to say 'no'--I cannot +stay under this roof another day. Everything is over between my aunt and +me. Poor old woman! The dream I cherished was to care for her lovingly, +tenderly till she died in my arms, be to her what I failed to be to +father.... But they have opened her eyes. To her I am nothing but a +sinner now and my presence upsets everything for her.... I must go away. +I've already told Beppa to pack my things.... Rafael, my love, this is +our last night together.... To-morrow ... and you will never see me +again." + +The youth recoiled as if someone had struck him in the breast. + +"Going? Going ...? And you can say that coolly, simply, just like that? +You are leaving me ... this way ... just when we are happiest ...?" + +But soon he had himself in hand again. This surely could be nothing more +than a passing impulse, a notion arrived at in a flash of anger. Of +course she did not really mean to go! She must think things over, see +things clearly. That was a crazy idea! Desert her Rafaelito? Absurd! +Impossible! + +Leonora smiled sadly. She had expected him to talk that way. She, too, +had suffered much, ever so much, before deciding to do it! It made her +shudder to think that within two days she would be off again, alone, +wandering through Europe, caught up again in that wild, tumultuous life +of art and love, after tasting the full sweetness of the most powerful +passion she had ever known--of what she believed was her "first love." +It was like putting to sea in a tempest with destination unknown. She +loved him, adored him, worshipped him, more than ever now that she was +about to lose him. + +"Well, why are you going?" the young man asked. "If you love me, why are +you forsaking me?" + +"Just because I love you, Rafael.... Because I want you to be happy." + +For her to remain would mean ruin for him: a long battle with his +mother, who was an implacable, a merciless foe. Doña Bernarda might be +killed, but never conquered! Oh, no! How horrible! Leonora knew what +filial cruelty was! How had she treated her father? She must not now +come between a son and a mother! Was she, perhaps, a creature accursed, +born forever to corrupt with her very name the sacredest, purest +relations on earth? + +"No, you must be good, my heart. I must go away. We can't go on loving +each other here. I'll write to you, I'll let you know all I'm doing.... +You'll hear from me every day, if I have to write from the North Pole! +But you must stay! Don't drive your mother to despair! Shut your eyes to +the poor woman's injustice! For after all, she is doing it all out of +her immense love for you.... Do you imagine I am glad to be leaving +you--the greatest happiness I have ever known?" + +And she threw her arms about Rafael, kissing him over and over again, +caressing his bowed, pensive head, within which a tempest of conflicting +ideas and resolutions was boiling. + +So those bonds which he had come to believe eternal were to be broken? +So he was to lose so easily that beauty which the world had admired, the +possession of which had made him feel himself the first among men? She +talked of a love from a distance, of a love persisting through years of +separation, travel, all the hazards of a wandering life; she promised to +write to him every day!... Write to him ... from the arms of another +man, perhaps! No! He would never give up such a treasure; never! + +"You shall not go," he answered at last decisively. "A love like ours is +not ended so easily. Your flight would be a disgrace to me--it would +look as if I had affronted you in some way, as if you were tired of me." + +Deep in his soul he felt eager to make some chivalrous gesture. She was +going away because she had loved him! He should stay behind, sad and +resigned like a maid abandoned by a lover, and with the sense of having +harmed her on his conscience! _Ira de diós_! He, as a man, could not +stand by with folded arms accepting the abnegation of a woman, to stick +tied to his mother's apron-strings in boobified contentment. Even girls +ran away from home and parents sometimes, in the grip of a powerful +love; and he, a man, a man "in the public eye" also--was he to let a +beautiful girl like Leonora go away sorrowful and in tears, so that he +could keep the respect of a city that bored him and the affection of a +mother who had never really loved him? Besides, what sort of a love was +it that stepped aside in a cowardly, listless way like that, when a +woman was at stake, a woman for whom far richer, far more powerful men +than he, men bound to life by attractions that he had never dreamed of +in his countrified existence, had died or gone to ruin?... + +"You shall not go," he repeated, with sullen obstinacy. "I won't give up +my happiness so easily. And if you insist on going, we will go +together." + +Leonora rose to her feet all quivering. She had been expecting that; her +heart had told her it was coming. Flee together! Have her appear like an +adventuress, drawing Rafael on, tearing him from his mother's arms after +crazing him with love? Oh, no! Thanks! She had a conscience! She did +not care to burden it with the execration of a whole city. Rafael must +consider the matter calmly, face the situation bravely. She must go away +alone. Afterwards, later on, she would see. They might chance to meet +again; perhaps in Madrid, when the Cortes reassembled! He would be +there, and alone; she could find a place at the _Real_, singing for +nothing if that should prove necessary. + +But Rafael writhed angrily at her resistance. He could not live without +her! A single night without seeing her would mean despair. He would end +as Macchia ended! He would shoot himself! + +And he seemed to mean it. His eyes were fixed on the floor as if he were +staring at his own corpse, lying there on the pavement, motionless, +covered with blood, a revolver in its stiffened hand. + +"Oh, no! How horrible! Rafael, my Rafael!" Leonora groaned, clasping him +around the neck, hanging upon him in terror. + +Her lover continued to protest. He was free. Had he been a married man; +if, in his flight, he were leaving a wife behind to cry betrayal, or +children calling for his help in vain, it would all be a different +matter. She could properly feel the repugnance of a kind heart unwilling +that love should mean a shattered home! But whom was he abandoning? A +mother, who, in a short time, would find consolation in the thought that +he was well and happy, a mother jealous of any rivalry in her son's +affection, and to that jealousy willing to sacrifice his very happiness! +Any harm an elopement would bring would by no means be irreparable. No, +they must go away together, parade their love through the whole world! + +But Leonora, lowering her head again, repeated feebly: + +"No, my mind is made up. I must go alone. I haven't the strength to face +a mother's hatred." + +Rafael flushed indignantly: + +"Why not say outright that you don't love me. You're tired of me, and of +this environment. The hankering for your old life has come over you +again; your old world is calling!" + +The actress fixed her great, luminous, tear-stained eyes upon him. And +they were filled with tenderness and pity. + +"Tired of you!... When I have never felt such desperation as tonight! +You say I want my old life back. You don't realize that to leave here +seems like entering a den of torture.... Oh, dear heart, you'll never +know how much I love you." + +"Well, then ...?" + +And to tell everything, to spare no detail of the danger he would face +after separation, Rafael spoke of the life he would lead alone with his +mother in that dull, unspeakable city. Leonora was assuming that +affection played some part in his mother's indignant opposition. Well, +doña Bernarda did love him--agreed: he was her only son; but ambition +was the decisive thing in her schemes, her passion for the +aggrandizement of the House--the controlling motive of her whole life. +She was openly, frankly, using him as security in an alliance she was +planning with a great fortune. She wanted to marry him to money: and if +Leonora were to go, if he were left alone, forsaken, then despair--and +time, which can do all things--would break his will; and eventually he +would succumb, like a victim at the altar, who, in his terror and +abasement, does not sense the real significance of the sacrifice forced +upon him. + +The words reached a jealous spot in Leonora's heart. All the scattered +rumors that had come to her ears in former days now echoed in her +memory. She knew that Rafael was telling the truth. The man she loved, +given away by his mother--to another woman!... Lost forever if she lost +him now!... And her eyes opened wide with horror and revulsion. + +"And I refuse, Leonora, do you understand? I refuse!" continued her +lover with unaffected resolution. "I belong to you, you are the only +woman I love. I shall follow you all over the world, even against your +wishes, to be your servant, see you, speak to you, and there are not +millions enough in the world to stop me!" + +"Oh, my darling! My darling! You love me, you love me--as I love you!" + +And in a frenzy of passion she fell impetuously, madly upon him, +clutching him in her arms like a fury. In her caresses Rafael felt an +intensity that almost frightened him. The room seemed to be whirling +about him. Trembling, limp and weak, he sank to the divan, overwhelmed, +pounded to pieces, it seemed, by that vehement adoration, that caught +him up and carried him away like a tumultuous avalanche. His senses left +him in that trembling confusion, and he closed his eyes. + +When he opened them, the room was dark. Around his neck he could feel a +gentle arm that was tenderly sustaining him, and Leonora was whispering +in his ear. + +Agreed! They would go together: to continue their love duct in some +charming place, where nobody knew them, where envy and vulgarity would +not disturb. Leonora knew every nook in the world. She would have none +of Nice and the other cities of the Blue Coast, pretty places, +coquettish, bepowdered and rouged like women fresh from their dressing +tables! Besides there would be too many people there. Venice was better. +They would thread the narrow, solitary silent canals there, stretched +out in a gondola, kissing each other between smiles, pitying the poor +unfortunate mortals crossing the bridges over them, unaware of how great +a love was gliding beneath their feet! + +But no, Venice is a sad place after all: when it rains, it rains and +rains! Naples rather; Naples! _Viva Napoli_! And Leonora clapped her +hands in glee! Live in perpetual sunshine, freedom, freedom, freedom to +love openly, as nakedly as the _lazzaroni_ walk about the streets! She +owned a house in Naples,--at Posilipo, that is--a _villino_, in pink +stucco, a dainty little place with fig trees, nopals and parasol pines, +that ran in a grove down a steep promontory to the sea I They would fish +in the bay there--it was as smooth and blue as a looking-glass! And +afternoons he would row her out to sea, and she would sing, looking at +the waters ablaze with the sunset, at the plume of smoke curling up from +Vesuvius, at the immense white city with its endless rows of windows +flaming like plaques of gold in the afterglow. Like gipsies they would +wander through the countless towns dotting the shores of the miraculous +Bay; kissing on the open sea among the fisherboats, to the accompaniment +of passionate Neapolitan boat-songs; spending whole nights in the open +air, lying in each other's arms on the sands, hearing the pearly +laughter of mandolins in the distance, just as that night on the island, +they had heard the nightingale! "Oh, Rafael, my god, my king! How +wonderful!" + +When day dawned, they were still sitting there weaving fanciful plans +for the future, arranging all the details of their elopement. She would +leave Alcira as soon as possible. He would join her two days later, when +all suspicion had been quieted, when everybody would imagine she was +far, far away. Where would they meet? At first they thought of +Marseilles, but that was a long way off! Then they thought of Barcelona. +But that, too, meant hours of travel, when hours, minutes, counted for +so much. It seemed utterly incredible that they could live two days +without each other! No, the sooner they met again the better! And, +bargaining with time like peasants in a market, at last they chose the +nearest city possible, Valencia. + +For love--true love--is fond of brazenness! + + + + +VII + + +They had just finished lunch among the trunks and boxes that occupied a +great part of Leonora's room in the _Hôtel de Roma_ in Valencia. + +For the first time they were at a table in familiar intimacy, with no +other witness than Beppa, who was quite accustomed to every sort of +surprise in her mistress's adventurous career. The faithful maid was +examining Rafael with a respectful kindliness, as if he were a new idol +that must share the unswerving devotion she showed for Leonora. + +This was the first moment of tranquillity and happiness the young man +had tasted for some days. The old hotel, with its spacious rooms, its +high ceilings, its darkened corridors, its monastic silence, seemed to +him a veritable abode of delight, a grateful place of refuge where for +once he would be free of the gossip and the strife that had been +oppressing him like a belt of steel. Besides, he could already feel the +exotic charm that lingers around harbors and great railroad terminals. +Everything about the place, from the macaroni of the lunch, and the +Chianti in its straw-covered, heavy-paunched bottle, to the musical, +incorrect Spanish of the hotel-proprietors--fleshy, massive men with +huge mustaches in Victor Emmanuel style--spoke of flight, of delightful +seclusion in that land so glowingly described by Leonora. + +She had made an appointment with him in that hotel, a favorite haunt of +artists. Somewhat off the main thoroughfares, the "Roma" occupies one +whole side of a sleepy, peaceful, aristocratic square with no noise save +the shouting of cab-drivers and the beating of horses' hoofs. + +Rafael had arrived on the first morning train--and with no baggage; like +a schoolboy playing truant, running off with just the clothes he had on +his back. The two days since Leonora left Alcira had been days of +torture to him. The singer's flight was the talk of the town. People +were scandalized at the amount of luggage she had. Counted over in the +imagination of that imaginative city, it eventually came to fill all the +carts in the province. + +The man who knew the business to the bottom was Cupido, the barber, who +had dispatched the trunks and cases for her. He knew where the dangerous +woman was bound, and he kept it so secret that everybody found it out +before the train started. She was going back to Italy! He himself had +checked and labelled the baggage to the Customs' House at the +frontier--cases as big as a house, man! Trunks he could have lain down +comfortable in, with his two "Chinamen" to boot! And the women, as they +listened to his tale, applauded the departure with undissimulated +pleasure. They had been liberated from a great danger. Joy go with her! + +Rafael kept quite to himself. He was vexed at the curiosity of people, +at the scoffing sympathy of his friends who condoled with him that his +happiness was ending. For two days he remained indoors, followed by his +mother's inquiring glances. Doña Bernarda felt more at ease now that the +evil influence of the "chorus girl" promised to be over; but none the +less she did not lose her frown. With a woman's instinct, she still +scented the presence of danger. + +The young man could hardly wait for the time to come. It seemed +unbearable for him to be there at home while "she" was away off +somewhere, alone, shut up in a hotel, waiting just as impatiently as he +was for the moment of reunion. + +What a sunrise it had been that day when he set out! Rafael burned with +shame as he crept like a burglar in his stockings and on tip-toe, +through the room where his mother received the orchard-folk and adjusted +all accounts pertaining to the tilling of the land. He groped his way +along guided by the light that came in through the chinks in the closed +windows. His mother was sleeping in a room close by; he could hear her +breathe--the labored respiration of a deep sleep that spelled recovery +from the insomnia of the days of his love trysts. He could still feel +the criminal shudder that rippled through him at a slight rattle of the +keys, which had been left with the confidence of unlimited authority in +the lock of an old chest where doña Bernarda kept her savings. With +tremulous hands he had collected all the money she had put away in the +small boxes there. A thief, a thief! But, after all, he was taking only +what belonged to him. He had never asked for his share of his father's +estate. Leonora was rich. With admirable delicacy she had refused to +talk of money during their preparations for the journey; but he would +refuse to live on her! He did not care to be like Salvatti, who had +exploited the singer in her youth! That thought it had been which gave +him strength to take the money finally and steal out of the house. But +even on the train he felt uneasy; and _su señoria_, the deputy, shivered +with an instinctive thrill of fear, every time a tricorne of the Civil +Guard appeared at a railroad station. What would his mother say when she +got up and found the money gone? + +As he entered the hotel his self-confidence returned and his spirits +revived. He felt as if he were entering port after a storm. He found +Leonora in bed, her hair spread over the pillow in waves of gold, her +eyes closed, and a smile on her lips, as if he had surprised her in the +middle of a dream, where she had been tasting her memories of love. They +ordered lunch in the room early, intending to set out on their journey +at once. Circumspection, prudence, until they should be once beyond the +Spanish border! They would leave that evening on the Barcelona mail for +the frontier. And calmly, tranquilly, like a married couple discussing +details of house-keeping in the calm of a quiet home, they ran over the +list of things they would need on the train. + +Rafael had nothing. He had fled like a fugitive from a fire, with the +first clothes he laid hands on as he bounded out of bed. He needed many +indispensable articles, and he thought of going out to buy them--a +matter of a moment. + +"But are you really going out?" asked Leonora with a certain anguish, as +if her feminine instinct sensed a danger. "Are you going to leave me +alone?..." + +"Only a moment. I won't keep you waiting long." + +They took leave of each other in the corridor with the noisy, +nonchalant joy of passion, indifferent to the chamber-maids who were +walking to and fro at the other end of the passageway. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Another hug; just one more." + +And as, with the taste of the last kiss still fresh on his lips, he +reached the square, he saw a bejewelled hand still waving to him from a +balcony. + +Anxious to get back as soon as possible, the young man walked hurriedly +along, elbowing his way among the cab-drivers swarming in front of the +great _Palacio de Dos Aguas_, closed, silent, slumbering, like the two +giants that guarded its portals, displaying in the golden downpour of +sunlight the overdecorated yet graceful sumptuousness of its roccocò +facade. + +"Rafael! Rafael!..." + +The deputy turned around at the sound of his name, and blanched as if he +had seen a ghost. It was don Andrés, calling to him. + +"Rafael! Rafael!" + +"You?... Here?" + +"I came by the Madrid express. For two hours I've been hunting for you +in all the hotels of Valencia. I knew you were here.... But come, we +have a great deal to talk over. This is not just the place to do it." + +And the old Mentor glowered hatefully at the _Hôtel de Roma_, as if he +wanted to annihilate the huge edifice with everybody in it. + +They walked off, slowly, without knowing just where they were going, +turning corners, passing several times through the same streets, their +nerves tense and quivering, ready to shout at the top of their lungs, +yet using every effort to speak softly, so as not to attract attention +from the passers-by who were rubbing against them on the narrow +side-walks. + +Don Andrés, naturally, was the first to speak: + +"You approve of what you've done?" + +And seeing that Rafael, like a coward, was trying to pretend innocent +astonishment, asking "what" he had done, observing that he had come to +Valencia on a matter of business, the old man broke into a rage. + +"Now, see here, don't you go lying to me: either we're men or we're not +men. If you think you've acted properly, you ought to stand up for it +and say so. Don't imagine you're going to pull the wool over my eyes and +then run off with that woman to God knows where. I've found you and I'm +not going to let you go. I want you to know the truth. Your mother is +sick abed; she tipped me off and I caught the first train to get here. +The whole house is upside down! At first it was thought a robbery had +been committed. By this time the whole city must be agog about you. Come +now!... What do you say to that? Do you want to kill your mother? Well, +you're going about it right! Good God! And this is what they call a 'boy +of talent,' a 'young man of promise'! How much better it would have been +if you were a dunce like me or your father--but a dunce at least who +knows how to get a woman if he has to, without making a public ass of +himself!" + +Then he went into detail. Rafael's mother had gone to the old chest to +get some money for one of her laborers. Her cry of horror and alarm had +thrown the whole house into an uproar. Don Andrés had been hastily +summoned. Suspicions against the servants, a "third degree" for the +whole lot, all of them protesting and weeping, in outrage! Until finally +doña Bernarda sank to a chair in a swoon, whispering into her adviser's +ear: + +"Rafael is not in the house. He has gone ... perhaps never to return. I +am sure of it--he took the money!" + +While the others were getting the sobbing mother to bed, and sending for +the doctor, don Andrés had made for the station to catch the express. He +could tell from the way people looked at him that everybody knew what +had been going on. Gossip had already connected the excitement in the +Brull mansion with Rafael's taking the early train! He had been seen by +several persons, in spite of his precautions. + +"Well, is the Hon. don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, satisfied with +his morning's work? Don't you think the laugh your enemies have raised +deserves an _encore_!" + +For all his bitter sarcasm the old man spoke in a faltering voice, and +seemed on the verge of tears. The labor of his entire life, the great +victories won with don Ramón, that political power which had been so +carefully built up and sustained over decades, was about to crumble to +ruins; all because of a light-headed, erratic boy who had handed to the +first skirt who came along everything that belonged to him and +everything that belonged to his friends as well. + +Rafael had gone into the interview in an aggressive mood, ready to +answer with plain talk if that sodden idiot should go too far in his +recriminations. But the sincere grief of the old man touched him deeply. +Don Andrés, who resembled Rafael's father as the cat resembles the +tiger, could think of nothing but Brull politics; and he was almost +sobbing as he saw the danger which the prestige of the Brull House was +running. + +With bowed head, crushed by the realization of the scene that had +followed his flight, Rafael did not notice where they were going. But +soon he became conscious of the perfume of flowers. They were crossing a +garden; and as he looked up he saw the figure of Valencia's conqueror on +his sinewy charger glistening in the sun. + +They walked on. The old man began in wailing accents to describe the +situation which the Brull House was facing. That money, which perhaps +Rafael still had in his pocket--more than thirty thousand +_pesetas_--represented the final desperate efforts of his mother to +rescue the family fortune, which had been endangered by don Ramón's +prodigal habits. The money was his, and don Andrés had nothing to say in +that regard. Rafael was at liberty to squander it, scatter it to the +four winds of heaven; but don Andrés wasn't talking to a child, he was +talking to a man with a heart: so he begged him, as his childhood +preceptor, as his oldest friend, to consider the sacrifices his mother +had been making--the privations she had imposed upon herself, going +without new clothes, quarreling with her help over a _céntimo_, despite +all her airs as a grand lady, depriving herself of all the dainties and +comforts that are so pleasant to old age--all that her son, her _señor +hijo_, might waste it in gay living on a woman! Thirty thousand! And +don Andrés mentioned the sum with bated breath! It had taken so much +trouble to hoard it! Come, man! The sight of such things was enough to +make a fellow cry like a baby!... + +And suppose his father, don Ramón, were to rise from the grave? Suppose +he could see how his Rafael were destroying at a single stroke what it +had cost him so many years to build up, just because of a woman!... + +They were now crossing a bridge. Below, against the background of white +gravel in the river-bed the red and blue uniforms of a group of soldiers +could be seen; and the drums were beating, sounding in the distance like +the humming of a huge bee-hive--worthy accompaniment, Rafael reflected, +to the old man's evocation of the youth's father. Rafael thought he +could almost see in front of him the massive body, the flourishing +mustache, the proud, arrogant brow of don Ramón, a born fighter, an +adventurer destined from the cradle to lead men and impose his will upon +inferiors. + +What would that heroic master of men have said of this? Don Ramón would +give a lot of money to a woman--granted--but he wouldn't have swapped +all the beauties on earth put together for a single vote! + +But his son, the boy on whom he had grounded his fondest hopes--the +redeemer destined to raise the House of Brull to its loftiest glory--the +future "personage" in Madrid, the fondled heir-apparent, who had found +his pathway already cleared for him at birth--was throwing all his +father's labors through the window, the way you toss overboard +something it has cost you nothing to earn! It was easy to see that +Rafael had never known what hard times were--those days of the +Revolution, when the Brulls were out of power and held their own just +because don Ramón was a bad man with a gun--desperate election +campaigns, when you marched to victory over somebody's dead body, bold +cross-country rides on election night, never knowing when you would meet +the _roder_ in ambush--the outlaw sharpshooter who had vowed to kill don +Ramón; then endless prosecutions for intimidation and violence, which +had given doña Bernarda and her husband months and months of anxiety, +lest a catastrophe from one moment to the next bring prison and +forfeiture of all their property! All that his father had gone through, +for his boy's sake; to carve out a pedestal for Rafael, pass on to him a +District that would be his own, blazing a path over which he might go to +no visible limit of glory! And he was just throwing it all away, +relinquishing forever a position that had been built up at the cost of +years and years of labor and peril! That is what he would be doing, +unless that very night he returned home, refuting by his presence there +the rumors his scandalized adherents were circulating. + +Rafael shook his head. The mention of his father had touched him, and he +was convinced by the old man's arguments; but none the less he was +determined to resist. No, and again no; his die was cast: he would +continue on his way. + +They were now under the trees of the Alameda. The carriages were rolling +by, forming an immense wheel in the center of the avenue. The harnesses +of the horses and the lamps of the drivers' boxes gleamed in the +sunlight. Women's hats and the white lace shawls of children could be +seen through the coach windows as they passed. + +Don Andrés became impatient with the youth's stubbornness. He pointed to +all those happy, peaceful-looking families out for their afternoon +drive--wealth, comfort, public esteem, abundance, freedom from struggle +and toil! _Cristo_, boy! Was that so bad, after all? Well, that was just +the life he could have if he would be good and not turn his back on his +plain duty--rich, influential, respected, growing old with a circle of +nice children about him. What more could a decent person ask for in this +world? + +All that bohemian nonsense about pure love, love free from law and +restraint, love that scoffs at society and its customs, sufficient unto +itself and despising public opinion, that was just bosh, the humbug of +poets, musicians and dancers--a set of outcasts like that woman who was +taking him away, cutting him off forever from all the ties that bound +him to family and country! + +The old man seemed to take courage from Rafael's silence. He judged the +moment opportune for launching the final attack upon the boy's +infatuation. + +"And then, what a woman! I have been young, like you, Rafael. It's true +I didn't know a stylish woman like this one, but, bah! they're all +alike. I have had my weaknesses; but I tell you I wouldn't have lifted a +finger for this actress of yours! Any one of the girls we have down home +is worth two of her. Clothes, yes, talk, yes, powder and rouge inches +deep!... I'm not saying she's bad to look at--not that; what I say +is... well, it doesn't take much to turn your head--you're satisfied +with the leavings of half the men in Europe...." + +And he came to Leonora's past, the lurid, much exaggerated legend of her +journey through life--lovers by the dozens; statues and paintings of her +in the nude; the eyes of all Europe centered on her beauty; the public +property of a continent! "That was virtue to go crazy about, come now! +Quite worth leaving house and home for, no doubt of that!" + +The old man winced under the flash of anger that blazed in Rafael's +eyes. They had just crossed another bridge, and were entering the city +again. Don Andrés, wretched coward that he was, sidled away to be within +reach of the customs' office if the fist he could already see cleaving +the air should come his way. + +Rafael, in fact, stopped in his tracks, glaring. But in a second or two +he went on his way again, dejected, with bowed head, ignoring the +presence of the old man. Don Andrés resumed his place at the boy's side. + +The cursed old fox! He had stuck the knife in the right place! Leonora's +past! Her favors distributed with mad lavishness over the four corners +of the globe! An army of men of every nation owning her for a moment +with the appeal of luxury or the enchantment of art! A palace today and +a hotel tomorrow! Her lips repeating in all the languages of Babel the +very words of love that had fired him as if he had been the first to +hear them! He was going to lose everything for that--that refuse, as don +Andrés said--a public scandal, a ruined reputation; and a murdered +mother perhaps,--for that! Oh, that devil of a don Andrés! How cunningly +he had slashed him, and then plunged his fingers into the bleeding gash +to make the wound deeper! The old man's plain common-sense had shattered +his dream. That man had been the rustic, cunning Sancho at the side of +the quixotic don Ramón; and he was playing the same role with Rafael! + +Leonora's story came back to the boy in one flash--the frank confession +she had made during the days of their mere friendship, when she had told +him everything to prevent his continuing to desire her. However much she +might adore him, he would be nothing after all but a successor to a +Russian count, and a German musician; the latest, simply among those +countless ephemeral lovers, whom she had barely mentioned but who must +none the less have left some trace in her memory. The last item in a +long inventory! The most recent arrival, coming several years late, and +content to nibble at the soggy over-ripe fruit which they had known when +it was fresh and firm. Her kisses that so deeply disturbed him! What +were they but the intoxicating, unhealthful perfume of a whole career of +corruptness and licentiousness, the concentrated essence of a world +madly dashing at her seductive beauty, as a bird of night breaks its +head against the globe of a lighthouse? Give up everything for that! The +two of them traveling about the world, free, and proud of their +passion!... And out in that world he would encounter many of his +predecessors; and they would look at him with curious, ironic eyes, +knowing of her all that he would know, able to repeat all the panting +phrases she would speak to him in the exaggerations of her insatiable +passion! The strange thing about it was that all this had not occurred +to him sooner. Blind with happiness, he had never thought an instant of +his real place in that woman's life! + +How long had they been walking through the streets of Valencia?... His +legs were sagging under him! He was faint with weariness. He could +hardly see. The gables of the houses were still tipped with sunlight, +yet he seemed to be groping about in a deep night. + +"I'm thirsty, don Andrés. Let's go in somewhere." + +The old man headed him toward the Café de España, his favorite resort. +He selected the table in the center of the big square salon under the +four clocks supported by the angel of Fame. The walls were covered with +great mirrors that opened up fantastic perspectives in the dingy room +where the gilded ornaments were blackened by the smoke and a crepuscular +light filtered in through the lofty skylight as into a sombre crypt. + +Rafael drank, without realizing just what his glass contained--a poison, +it felt like, that froze his heart. Don Andrés sat looking at the +writing articles on the marble table: a letter-case of wrinkled +oil-cloth, and a grimy ink-well. He began to rap upon them with the +holder of the public pen--rusty and with the points bent--an instrument +of torture well fitted for a hand committed to despair! + +"We have just an hour to catch our train! Come, Rafael, be a man! +There's still time! Come, let's get out of this mess we're in!" + +And he held out the pen, though he had not said a word about writing to +anybody. + +"I can't, don Andrés. I'm a gentleman. I've given my word; and I will +not go back upon it, come what may!" + +The old man smiled ironically. + +"Very well, be as much of a gentleman as you please. She deserves it! +But when you break with her, when she leaves you, or you leave her, +don't come back to Alcira. Your mother won't be there to welcome you! I +shall be--I don't know where; and those who made you deputy will look +upon you as a thief who robbed and killed his mother.... Oh, get mad if +you want to--beat me up even; people at the other tables are already +looking at us.... Why not top the whole business off with a saloon +brawl? But just the same, everything I've been saying to you is gospel +truth!..." + +In the meantime Leonora was growing impatient in her hotel room. Three +hours had gone by. To relieve her nervousness she sat down behind the +green curtain at the window watching pedestrians crossing the square. + +How like a small piazza of old Florence this place was, with its stately +aristocratic residences, shrouded in imposing gloom; it's grass-grown, +cobblestone pavements hot from the sun; its sleepy solitude: an +occasional woman, or a priest, or a tourist,--and you could hear their +footsteps even when they were far away! Here was a curious corner of the +_Palacio de Dos Agnas_--panels of jasper stucco with a leaf design on +the mouldings! That talking came from the drivers gathered in the hotel +door--the innkeeper and the servants were setting the chairs out on the +sidewalk as if they were back at home--in a small Italian town! Behind +the roof opposite, the sunlight was gradually fading, growing paler and +softer every moment. + +She looked at her watch. Six o'clock! Where on earth could that Rafael +have gone? They were going to lose the train. In order to waste no time, +she ordered Beppa to have everything in readiness for departure. She +packed her toilet articles; then closed her trunks, casting an inquiring +glance over the room with the uneasiness of a hasty leave-taking. On an +armchair near the window she laid her traveling coat, then her hand-bag, +and her hat and veil. They would have to run the moment Rafael came in. +He would probably be very tired and nervous from returning so late. + +But Rafael did not come!... She felt an impulse to go out and look for +him; but where? She had not been in Valencia since she was a child. She +had forgotten the streets. Then she might actually pass Rafael on the +way without knowing it, and wander aimlessly about while he would be +waiting for her at the hotel. No. It would be better to stay there! + +It was now dusk and the hotel-room was virtually dark. She went to the +window again, trembling with impatience, filled with all the gloom of +the violet light that was falling from the sky with a few red streaks +from the sunset. They would surely lose the train now! They would have +to wait until the next day. That was a disappointment! They might have +trouble in getting away! + +She whirled nervously about as she heard someone calling from the +corridor. + +"Madame, madame, a letter for you!" + +A letter for her!... She snatched it feverishly from the bell-boy's +hand, while Beppa, seated on a trunk, looked on vacantly, without +expression. + +She began to tremble violently. The thought of Hans Keller, the +ungrateful artist, suddenly rose in her memory. She looked for a candle +on the chiffonier. There was none. Finally she went to the balcony and +tried to read the letter in the little light there was. + +It was his handwriting on the envelope--but tortuous, labored, as if it +were the product of a painful effort. She felt all her blood rush back +upon her heart. Madly she tore the letter open, and read with the haste +of a person anxious to drain the cup of bitterness at a single draught, +skipping a line here and a line there, taking in only the significant +words. + +"My mother very ill.... I must go home for a day or two ... my duty as a +son ... we'll soon meet again." And then all the cowardly, conventional +excuses that chivalry has created to soften the harshness of +desertion--the promise to join her again as soon as possible; passionate +protestations that she was the only woman in the world he loved. + +Her first thought was to go back to Alcira at once, walk there if +necessary, find the scamp somewhere, throw the letter into his face, +beat him, claw him to pieces! + +"Ah, the wretch! The infamous, cowardly, unspeakable wretch!" she cried. + +Beppa had found a candle. She lighted it. And there her mistress +was--staggering, deathly pale, her eyes wide open, her lips white with +anguish! Leonora began to walk up and down the apartment, taut and +strained, as if her feet were not moving at all, as if she were being +thrust about by an invisible hand. + +"Beppa," she groaned finally, "he has gone. He is deserting me." + +The maid did not care about the desertion particularly. She had been +through that before. She was thinking about Leonora, waiting for the +impending crisis, studying the anguished countenance of her mistress +with her own placid, bovine eyes. + +"The wretch!" Leonora hissed, pacing back and forth in the chamber. +"What a fool, what a complete, unconscionable fool I have been! Giving +myself to that man, believing in that man, trusting that man, giving up +my peace of mind, the last relative I had in the world for that man!... +And why would he not let me go off alone? He made me dream of an eternal +springtime of love, and now he deserts me.... He has tricked me ... he +is laughing at me ... and I can not hate him. Why did he insist on +rousing me when I was there alone, quite peaceful, forgetting +everything, sunk in a placid indulgent calm!... The cool fraud that he +was!... But what do I care, after all?... It's all over. Come Beppa, +cheer up! Hah-hah! Come, Beppa! We're off! We're off! We're going to +sing again! Off over the whole globe. Good-bye to this rat-hole forever! +I'm through educating children! Now for life again! And we'll drain them +dry, the brutes! Kick them about like the selfish donkeys they are! +Well, well! I can't believe I've been taken in this way! Isn't it a +joke? The best joke you ever heard! Ha, ha, ha! And I thought I knew the +world ...! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!..." + +And her laugh was audible distinctly down in the square. It was a wild, +shrill, metallic laughter, that seemed to be rending her flesh! The +whole hotel was in commotion, while the actress, with foaming lips, fell +to the floor and began to writhe in fury, overturning the furniture and +bruising her body on the iron trimmings of her trunks. + + + + +PART THREE + + +I + +"Don Rafael, the gentlemen of the Committee on the Budget are waiting +for you in the second section." + +"I'll be there directly." + +And the deputy bent low over his desk in the writing-room of the +Congress, went on with his last letter, adding one more envelope to the +heap of correspondence piled up at the end of the table, near his cane +and his silk hat. + +This was his daily grind, the boresome drudgery of every afternoon; and +around him, with similar expressions of disgust on their faces, a large +number of the country's representatives were busy at the same task. +Rafael was answering petitions and queries, stifling the complaints and +acknowledging the wild suggestions that came in from the District--the +endless clamor of the voters at home, who never met the slightest +annoyance in their various paths of life without at once running to +their deputy, the way a pious worshipper appeals to the miracle-working +saint. + +He gathered up his letters, gave them to an usher to mail, and +sauntering off with a counterfeit sprightliness that was more +counterfeit as he grew fatter and fatter with the years, walked through +to the central corridor, a prolongation of the lobby in front of the +_Salón de Conferencias_. + +The Honorable señor don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, felt as much +at ease as if he were in his own house when he entered that corridor,--a +dark hole, thick with tobacco smoke, and peopled with black suits +standing around in groups or laboriously elbowing their way through the +crowds. + +He had been there eight years; though he had almost lost count of the +times he had been "duly elected" in the capricious ups and downs of +Spanish politics, which give to Parliaments only a fleeting existence. +The ushers, the personnel of the Secretariat, the guards and janitors, +treated him with deferential intimacy, as a comrade on a somewhat higher +level, but as much of a fixture as they were to the Spanish Congress. He +was not one of those men who are miraculously washed into office on the +crest of a reform wave, but never succeed in repeating the trick, and +spend the rest of their lives idling on the sofas of the Conference +Chamber, with wistful memories of lost greatness, waiting to enter +Congress afternoons, to preserve their standing as ex-deputies, and +forever hoping that their party will some day return to power, so that +once again they may sit on the red benches. No, don Rafael Brull was a +gentleman with a District all his own: he came with a clean, undisputed +and indisputable certificate of election, whether his own party or the +Opposition were in the saddle. For lack of other discoverable merit in +him, his fellow-partisans would say: "Brull is one of the few who come +here on honest returns." His name did not figure brilliantly in the +Congressional record, but there was not an employee, not a journalist, +not a member of the "ex-honorables" who, on noticing the word "Brull" on +all the committees, did not at once exclaim: "Ah, yes! Brull ... of +Alcira." + +Eight years of "service to the country." Eight years of lodging-house +life, while yonder lay a sumptuous home adorned with a luxuriousness +that had cost his mother and his father-in-law half a fortune! Long +seasons of separation from his wife and his children--and without +amusements, to avoid spending money lest the folks at home suspect him +of dereliction in public--and private--duty! What a dog's life his eight +years as deputy had been! Indigestion from the countless gallons of +sugared water drunk at the Congressional bar; callouses on his feet from +endless promenades along the central corridor, absentmindedly knocking +the varnish off the tiles of the wainscoating with the tip of his cane; +an incalculable quantity of _pesetas_ spent on carriages, through fault +of his supporters, who sent him trotting every morning from one Ministry +to the next, asking for the earth, and getting a grain of sand! + +He had not as yet gotten anywhere in particular; but according to +Chamber gossip he was a "serious" well-balanced young man, of few words, +but good ones, and sure some day to be rewarded with a Portfolio. +Content with the rôle of safety and sanity that had been assigned to +him, he laughed very seldom, and dressed soberly, with not a dissonant +color to brighten his black attire. He would listen patiently to things +that did not concern him in the least, rather than venture a personal +opinion with the chance of going wrong--satisfied with premature +wrinkles, premature corpulency, and premature baldness, since nothing +could be more respectable than a thoughtful face, a conspicuous paunch, +and a pate that could shine with venerable brilliancy under the lamps of +the Chamber. At thirty-four, he looked more like forty-five. When he +spoke he would remove his spectacles with a gesture he had carefully +imitated from the deceased leader of "the Party." He would never take +the floor without prefacing his remarks with: "My understanding is ...," +or "I have my own humble opinion on this matter...." And this was what +don Rafael Brull had learned in eight years of parliamentary assiduity! + +The new Conservative leader, seeing that he could always depend on +Brull's vote and that Alcira elections cost "the Party" nothing, had a +certain consideration for Rafael. He was a soldier always on hand for +roll-call, whenever a new Parliament was formed. He would present +himself with his certificate of election, whether his party, with all +the insolence of victory, occupied the benches on the Right, or hungry +and defiant, and reduced in numbers, was huddled on the Left, determined +to find fault with everything the reigning Ministry did. Two sessions as +part of the minority had won him a certain intimacy with the leader in +that frank comradeship that Oppositions always have, since, from leader +down to the most silent member, all the deputies "out of power" are on a +level. Besides, in those two seasons of misfortune, to aid in the +destructive tactics of his faction, he put little interpellations to the +government, at the openings of the sessions when the crowds were small; +and more than once he heard from the pale smiling lips of the chief: +"Very good, Brull; that was to the point." And such congratulations +were duly echoed in his home city, where rustic imagination did the +rest. + +In addition, a few parliamentary honors had come his way; the "Grand +Cross" had been given him, as it is given to most deputies of a certain +length of service--from membership, eventually, on committees charged +with representing the legislative branch of the government at formal +public functions. If an "Answer to the Message" was to be taken "to the +Palace," he was one of those chosen for the purpose; and he trembled +with emotion to think of what his mother, his wife, all the people down +yonder at home would say if they could see him riding there in the +sumptuous carriage of state, preceded by bright-liveried horsemen and +saluted by trumpets blaring the royal march! He was also usually among +the delegates who came out on the staircase of the Congress to welcome +Their Majesties on the opening of a parliament. Finally, for one +session, he was on "the Committee for the Interior," an appointment that +raised his prestige a thousand percent among the ushers. + +"That fellow Brull," they would say in the Chamber, "will be somebody +the day his party returns to power." + +Well, now "the Party" was in power again. During one of those ordered, +calculated "changes of direction" to which Spain lives subject, because +of its parliamentary system of party weights and party balances, the +Conservatives captured the premiership; and Rafael went on the budget +committee. There he would do something more than make interpellations +when he opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had to win his spurs, +justify his filling one of those posts which, according to report, his +chief was holding for him. + +The green deputies, the younger set constituting the new majority, elect +and triumphant through grace of the Ministry of the Interior, respected +him and deferred to what he said, much as students listen to a tutor who +they know receives his orders from the master directly--the +subordination of freshmen, as it were, to the sophomore who knows the +rules. + +Whenever a vote was being taken and the Opposition was excited over the +chance of putting the government in the minority, the Premier would look +about anxiously over the hall for Brull. + +"See here, Brull, better bring your people in; we're going to have a +close call." + +And Brull, proud at being noticed thus, would dash out like a streak of +lightning while the bells were ringing and the ushers were running about +summoning the deputies to vote. He would make the rounds of the desks in +the writing rooms, elbow his way into groups in the corridors; and +filling with self-importance because of the authority conferred upon +him, he would rudely shoo the ministerial flock off toward the Chamber, +grumbling fogeywise and assuring them that "in his time," when he was +serving his first term, there was "far better discipline." When the vote +was all in and the victory won, he would sigh with satisfaction. He had +saved the government! And perhaps the nation! + +At times a residue of the sincerity and frankness of his character as a +boy would rise to the surface in him. Then cruel doubts would assail his +faith in himself. Weren't they all playing a stupid comedy there +without the slightest wit or sense in it? Really was what they said and +did there of the slightest importance to the country--to anybody? + +Standing in the corridor, he would feel the nervous flutter of the +journalists about him--those poor, intelligent, attractive, young +fellows, who found it so hard to make a living. From the press-gallery +they would sit and look down on the legislators the way birds in the +treetops must look down on the wretchedness of the streets below, +laughing at the nonsense those solemn baldpates were talking! Could a +farce on the stage be more amusing? + +To Rafael those "intellectuals" seemed to bring a breeze from out of +doors into the close, sordid, vitiated air of the Chamber. They stood +for the thought of the world outside--the idea fatherless, unsponsored, +the aspiration of the great masses--a breath of fresh air in the +sick-room of a chronic invalid forever dying, forever unburiable. + +Their judgment always differed from that of the country's +representatives. His Excellency señor don What's-his-Name was in their +eyes, a mud-eel, and in their lingo a _congrio_; the illustrious orator +What-do-you-call-him, who took up a sixteen-page sheet in the +Congressional Record every time he spoke, was a _percebe_, a "barnacle +on the keel of Progress"; every act of parliament struck them as a bit +of balderdash, though, to hold their jobs, they praised it to the skies +in their articles. And why was it that the country, in some mysterious +way, would always think eventually what those boys thought, so long, and +only so long, as they remained boys? Would they have to come down from +their scats in the press-gallery to the red benches on the floor before +the real will of the country would make itself felt? + +Rafael Brull finally realized that national opinion was present on the +floor, among his fellow members, also, but like a mummy in a +sarcophagus: bound hand and foot in rhetoric and conventional utterance, +spiced, embalmed with proprieties that made any outburst of sincerity, +any explosion of real feeling, evidence of "bad taste!" + +In reality everything was going well with the Ship of State. The nation +had passed from action to talk, and from talk to passivity, and from +passivity to resignation. The era of revolutions was gone forever. The +infallible system of government had proved to be this mechanism of +pre-arranged "crises" and amicable exchanges of patronage between +Liberals and Conservatives, each member of the party in power and each +member of the party out of power knowing just what he was to say and +just what he was to get. + +So, in that palace of over-ornate architecture, as pretentious and as +showy as the mansion of a millionaire _parvenu_, Rafael was condemned to +spend his lifetime, foregoing the blue sky and the flowering fields and +orchards of Alcira that a family ambition might be realized. + +Nothing noteworthy had occurred during those eight years. His life had +been a muddy, monotonous stream, with neither brilliancy nor beauty in +its waters, lazily meandering along, like the Júcar in winter. As he +looked back over his career as a "personage," he could have summed it up +in three words: he had married. + +Remedios was his wife. Don Matias was his father-in-law. He was +wealthy. He had control over a vast fortune, for he exercised despotic +rule over his wife's peasant father, the most fervent of his admirers. +His mother seemed to have put the last of her strength into the +arrangement of that "marriage of convenience." She had fallen into a +senile decrepitude that bordered on dotage. Her sole evidence of being +alive was her habit of staying in church until the doors were closed and +she could stay no longer. At home she did nothing but recite the rosary, +mumbling away in some corner of the house, and taking no part in the +noisy play of her grandchildren. Don Andrés had died, leaving Rafael +sole "boss" of "the Party." He had had three children. They had had +their teeth, their measles, their whooping-cough. These episodes, with a +few escapades of that brother of Remedios, who feared Rafael's paunch +and bald head more than the wrath of don Matias, were the only +distractions in a thoroughly dull existence. + +Every year he bought a new piece of land. He felt a thrill of pride when +from the top of San Salvador--that Hermitage, alas, of such desperate +and unfading memory!--he looked down upon the vast patches of land with +orange-trees in straight rows and fenced in by green walls, that all, +all, belonged to him. The joy of ownership, the intoxication of property +had gone to his head. + +As he entered the old mansion, entirely made over now, he felt the same +sense of well-being and power. The old chest in which his mother used to +keep her money stood where it had always stood; but it was no longer +devoted to savings hoarded slowly at the cost of untold sacrifice and +privation to raise mortgages and temporize with creditors. Never again +had he tip-toed up in the dark to rifle it. Now it was his own. And at +harvest time it became literally crammed with the huge rolls of +banknotes his father-in-law paid over in exchange for the oranges of the +Brull orchards. And Rafael had a covetous eye on what don MatÃas had in +the banks; for all that, too, would come to him when the old man died. +Acquisitiveness--money and land--had become his one, his ruling passion. +Monotony, meanwhile, had turned him into an accurate, methodical, +meticulous machine; so that every night he would make out a schedule, +hour for hour, of all that he would do on the following day. At the +bottom of this passion for riches conjugal contagion probably lay. Eight +years of unbroken familiarity had finally inoculated him with most of +the obsessions and most of the predilections of his wife. + +The shrinking, timorous little she-goat that used to gambol about with +him in pursuit, the poor child who had been so wistful and downcast +during the days of his wantonness, had now become a woman with all the +imperious obstinacy, all the domineering superiority of the female of +the species as it has evolved in the countries of the South. Cleanliness +and frugality in Remedios took the form of unendurable tyranny. She +scolded her husband if he brought the slightest speck of dust into the +house on his shoes. She would turn the place upside down, flay all the +servants alive, if ever a few drops of oil were spilled from a jar, or a +crumb of bread were wasted on the table. + +"A jewel for the home! And didn't I tell you so?" her father would +whisper, satisfied with his daughter's obtrusive qualities. + +Rafael, for his part, found them intolerable. He had tried to love his +bride in the early months of their marriage. He made an honest effort to +forget, and recall the playful, passionate impulses he had felt on those +days when he had chased her around the orchards. But after a first fever +of passion had passed, she had proved to be a cold, calculating +child-bearer, hostile to expansiveness of love out of religious +scruples, viewing it her duty to bring new offsprings into the world to +perpetuate the House of Brull and to fill "grandaddy" don MatÃas with +pride at sight of a nursery full of future "personages" destined to the +heights of political greatness in the District and in the nation. + +Rafael had one of those gentle, temperate, honest, households that, on +the afternoon of their walk through Valencia, don Andrés had pointed out +to him as a radiant hope, if only he would turn his back on his mad +adventure. He had a wife; and he had children; and he was rich. His +father-in-law ordered shotguns for him from his correspondents in +England. Every year a new horse was added to the stable, and don Matias +would see to purchasing the best that could be found in the fairs of +Andalusia. He hunted, took long horseback rides over the roads of the +district, dispensed justice in the _patio_ of the house, just as his +father don Ramón had done. His three little ones, finding him somewhat +strange after his long absences in Madrid and more at home with their +grand-parents than with him, would group themselves with bowed, bashful +heads around his knees, silently waiting for his paternal kiss. +Everything attainable around him was within his reach for the asking; +and yet--he was not happy. + +From time to time the adventure of his youth would come back to his +mind. The eight years that had passed seemed to have put a century +between him and those ancient days. Leonora's face had slowly, slowly, +faded in his memory, till all he could remember were her two green eyes, +and her blond hair that crowned her with a crown of gold. Her aunt, the +devout, ingenuous doña Pepa, had died some time since--leaving her +property for the salvation of her soul. The orchard and the Blue House +belonged now to Rafael's father-in-law, who had transferred to his own +home the best of its equipment--all the furniture and decorations that +Leonora had bought during her period of exile, while Rafael had been in +Madrid and she had thought of living the rest of her life in Alcira. + +Rafael carefully avoided revisiting the Blue House, out of regard for +his wife's possible susceptibilities. As it was, the woman's silence +sometimes weighed heavily upon him, a strange circumspection, which +never permitted the slightest allusion to the past. In the coldness and +the uncompromising scorn with which she abominated any poetic madness in +love, an important part was doubtless played by the suppressed memory of +her husband's adventure with the actress, which everybody had tried to +conceal from her and which had deeply disturbed the preparations for her +wedding. + +When the deputy was alone in Madrid, as much at liberty as before his +marriage, he could think of Leonora freely, without those restraints +which seemed to disturb him back at home in the bosom of his family. +What could have become of her? To what limits of mad frolic had she gone +after that parting which even after years had passed, still brought a +blush of shame to Rafael's cheeks? The Spanish papers paid very little +attention to matters of foreign art. Only twice in their columns did he +discover Leonora's stage name with an account of her new triumphs. She +had sung in Paris in French, with as much success as a native _artiste_. +The purity of her accent had surprised everyone. In Rome she had played +the "lead" in an opera by a young Italian composer, and her coming had +been announced by press agents as a great event. The opera had failed to +please; not so the singer. Her audience had been moved to tears by her +execution of a scene in the last act, where she wept for a lost love. + +After that--silence, no news whatever! She had disappeared. A new love +affair, Rafael supposed, a new outburst of that vehement passion which +made her follow her chosen man like a slave. And Rafael felt a flash of +jealousy at the thought, as if he had rights over the woman still, as if +he had forgotten the cruelty with which he had bidden her farewell. + +That, fundamentally, had been the cause of all the bitterness and +remorse in his life. He understood now that Leonora had been his one +genuine passion: the love that comes to people once in a lifetime. It +had been within reach of his hand, and he had failed to grasp it, had +frightened it away forever with a cowardly act of villany, a cruel +farewell, the shame of which would go to the grave with him. Garlanded +in the orange-blossoms of the orchard, Love had passed before him, +singing the Hymn of wild Youth that knows neither scruples nor ambition. +Love, true love had invited him to follow--and he had answered with a +stab--in the back! That love would never return, as he well knew. That +mysterious being with its smiles and with its frolics, goes forever when +once it goes. It knows no bartering with destiny. It demands blind +obedience and bids the lover take the woman who offers her hand, +orchard-maid or prima donna as she may be. The man who hesitates is +lost. + +And Rafael felt that an endless night had closed around him! He found +all his efforts to escape from his dullness and depression vain. He +could not shake off the senility that was creeping over his spirit. +Sadly he bowed to the conviction that another love like the first was +impossible. + +For two months he had been the lover of Cora, a popular girl of the +private rooms of the Fornos, a tall, thin, strong Galician beauty--as +strong, alas, as the other. Cora had spent a few months in Paris, and +had returned thence with her hair bleached and a distinctly French +manner of lifting her skirt as if she were strolling along the +_trottoir_ of the _boulevards_. She had a sweet way of mixing French +words in her conversation, calling everybody _mon cher_ and pretending +expertness in the organization of a supper. At all events she shone like +a great _cocotte_ among her competitors, though her real asset was a +line of _risqué_ stories, and a certain gift for low songs. + +Rafael soon wearied of this affair. He did not like her manufactured +beauty, nor her tiresome chatter that always turned on fashions. She was +always wanting money for herself and for her friends. Rafael, as a +wealthy miser, grew alarmed. Remorsefully he thought of his children's +future, as if he were ruining them; and of what his economical Remedios +would say of his considerably augmented expenditures. Well he knew that +Remedios haggled for everything down to the last _céntimo_, and that her +one extravagance was an occasional new shawl for the local Virgin, and +an annual _fiesta_ for the Saint with a large orchestra and hundreds of +candles! He broke off relations with the Galician _boulevardière_, and +found the rupture a sweet relief. It seemed to remove a sully from the +memory of his youthful passion. Moreover, his Party had just returned to +power and it was important to have no blemish on his standing as a +"serious" person! He resumed his seat on the Right, and near the Blue +Bench this time, as one of the senior deputies. The moment for work had +come! Now, it was time to see whether he could not make a position for +himself with one good boost! + +They named him to the Committee on the Budget, and he took it upon +himself to refute certain strictures presented by the Opposition to the +Government program on Pardon and Justice. One friend he could count on +was the minister: a respectable, solemn marquis who had once been an +Absolutist, and who, wearied of platonisms, as he put it, had finally +"recognized" the liberal regime, without amending his former ideas, +however. + +Rafael was as nervous as a schoolboy on the eve of his first +examinations. At the library he studied everything that had been said on +the subject by countless deputies in a century of Parliamentary +government. His friends in the Conference Chamber--the legislative +bohemia of "ex-honorables" and unsuccessful aspirants, who were loyal to +him in gratitude for passes to the floor--were encouraging him and +prophesying victory. They no longer approached him to begin: "When I was +auditor ..." to indulge in a veritable intoxication on the fumes of +their past glory; no longer did they ask him what don Francisco thought +of this, that, or the other thing, to draw their own wild inferences +from his replies and start rumors going based on "inside information." +Now, quite frankly, they "advised" him, giving him hints in accordance +with what they had said or meant to say during that discussion of the +budget back in González Brabo's time, to end by murmuring, with a smile +that gave him the shudders: "Well, anyhow, we'll see! Good luck to you!" + +And that flock of disgruntled spirits who sat around waiting for an +election that would never come and ran like old war-horses at the scent +of gun-powder to group themselves, as soon as a row started and the bell +began to ring for order, in two factions on either side of the +president's chair, could never have imagined that the young deputy, on +many a night, broke off his study with a temptation to throw the thick +tomes of records against the wall, yielding finally, with thrills of +intense voluptuousness, to the thought of what might have become of him +had he gone out into life on his own in the trail of a pair of green +eyes whose golden lights he thought he could still see glittering in +front of him between the lines of clumsy parliamentary prose, tempting +him as they had tempted him of yore! + + + + +II + + +"Order of the day. Resumption of debate on ecclesiastical +appropriations!" + +The Chamber suddenly came to life with a wild movement of dispersion, +something comparable to the stampede of a herd or the panic of an army. +The deputies of quickest motory reactions were on their feet in an +instant, followed by dozens and dozens of others, all making for the +doors. Whole blocks of seats were emptied. + +The Chamber had been packed from the opening of the Session. It was a +day of intense excitement: a debate between the leader of the Right and +a former comrade who was now in the Opposition. The jealousy between the +two old cronies was resulting in a small-sized scandal. Mutual secrets +of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light--many of +the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the +premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to +enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either +hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two +hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And +the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm. +Run--do not walk--to the nearest exit! + +However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor +served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped +by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their +benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where, +a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a +gently ironical smile, was coming into view. + +The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person, +that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies +had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink +at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale +countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age. +To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with +which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty. + +The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the +Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared +through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the +press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for +silence in order not to lose a word. + +This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the +Revolution"--not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but +the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all +present systems of government and society. His theories irritated +everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering +ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired +by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious +feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the +silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the +vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the +revelation of a perfect society of the future, where there would be no +oppression and no misery, the dream he had so often dreamed in the +solitude of his study. + +Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart +from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters +do their _matador_. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at +his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to +the venerable orator. + +He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence. What a strong, +sturdy spirit, as hard and cold and clear as ice! That veteran had +doubtless had his passions like other men. At moments, through his calm +impassive exterior, a romantic vehemence would seem to burn, a poetic +ardor, that politics had smothered, but which smouldered on as volcanic +fires lie dormant rumbling from time to time under the mantle of snow on +a mountain peak. But he had known how to adjust his life to duty; and +without belief in God, with the support of philosophy only, his virtue +had been strong enough to disarm his most violent enemies. + +And a weakling, a dawdler like himself, must reply to a hero like +that!... Rafael began to be afraid; and to recover his spirits he swept +the hall with his eyes. What the regular hangers-on of the sessions +would have called a medium-sized house! A few deputies scattered about +the benches! But the public galleries were filled with spectators, +workingmen mostly, absolutely quiet, and all ears, as if they were +drinking in every word of the old republican! In the reserved seats, +just previously packed with curiosity-seekers interested in the set-to +scheduled for the opening of the session, only a few foreign tourists +were left. They were taking in everything--even the fantastic uniforms +of the mace-bearers; and they were determined not to leave until they +were put out. A few women of the so-called "parliament set," who came +every afternoon when there was a squabble on the program, were munching +caramels and staring in wonderment at the old man. There he was, the +arch enemy of law and order! The man whose name it was bad form to +mention at their afternoon teas! Who would have supposed he had such a +kindly, harmless face? How easily, with what naturalness and grace, he +wore his frock coat! Incredible!... In the diplomatic gallery a solitary +lady! She was extravagantly attired in a huge picture hat with black +plumes. Almost hidden behind her was a fair haired youth, his hair +parted in the middle, his dress the height of correctness and foppery. +Some rich tourist-woman probably! She was directly opposite Rafael's +bench. He could see that her gloved hand rested on the railing, as she +moved her fan to and fro with an almost discourteous noise. The rest of +her body was lost in the darkness of the gallery. She bent back from +time to time to whisper and laugh with her escort. + +Somewhat reassured by the empty appearance of the house, Rafael scarcely +paid any further attention to the orator. He had guessed all that the +man would say, and he was satisfied. The outline of the long answer he +had prepared would not in the least be affected. + +The old man was inflexible and unchangeable. For thirty years he had +been saying the same thing over and over again. Rafael had read that +speech any number of times. The man had made a close study of national +evils and abuses, and had formulated a complete and pitiless criticism +of them in which the absurdities stood out by force of contrast. With +the conviction that truth is forever the same and that there is nothing +ever so novel as the truth, he had kept repeating his criticism year +after year in a pure, concise, sonorous style that seemed to scatter the +ripe perfume of the classics about the muggy Chamber. + +He spoke in the name of the future Spain, of a Spain that would have no +kings, because it would be governed by itself; that would pay no +priests, because, respecting freedom of conscience, it would recognize +all cults and give privileges to none. And with a simple, unaffected +urbanity, as if he were constructing rhyming verses, he would pair +statistics off, underscoring the absurd manner in which the nation was +taking leave of a century of revolution during which all peoples had +done things while Spain was lying stagnant. + +More money, he pointed out, was spent on the maintenance of the Royal +House than upon public education. Conclusion: the support of a single +family in idleness was worth more than the awakening of an entire people +to modern life! In Madrid, in the very capital, within sight of every +one of his hearers, the schools remained in filthy hovels, while +churches and convents rose overnight on the principal streets like +magic palaces. During twenty-odd years of Restoration, more than fifty +completely new, religious edifices, girding the capital with a belt of +glittering structures, had been built. On the other hand, only a single +modern school, at all comparable to the ordinary public schools of any +town in England or Switzerland! The young men of the nation were feeble, +unenthusiastic, selfish and--pious--in contrast with fathers, who had +adored the generous ideals of liberty and democracy and had stood for +action, revolt! The son was an old man at majority, his breast laden +with medals, with no other intellectual stimulus than the debates of his +religious fraternity, trusting his future and his thinking to the Jesuit +introduced into the family by the mother, while the father smiled +bitterly, realizing that he was a back-number, belonging to a different +world, to a dying generation--though to a generation which had +galvanized the nation for a moment with the spirit of revolutionary +protest! + +Here was the Church collecting pay for its services from the faithful, +and then over again from the State! Here was the Ministry of the +Interior appealing for a reduction in taxes--a program of strict +economy--while new bishoprics were being created and ecclesiastical +appropriations swelled for the benefit of the upper clergy; and with no +advantage at all, meanwhile, to the proletariat of the soutane, to the +poor curates who, to make a bare living, had to practice the most +impious worldliness and unscrupulously exploit the house of God! And +while this was going on public works could wait, towns could go without +roads, Districts without railroads, though the wildest savages of Asia +and Africa had both! Fields could continue to perish of drought while +nearby rivers continued to pour their unutilized waters into the sea! + +A thrill of conviction rippled through the Chamber. The silence was +absolute. Everybody was holding his breath so as not to lose a syllable +from that faint voice, which sounded like a cry from a distant tomb. It +was as though Truth in person were passing through those murky +precincts; and when the orator ended with an invocation to the future, +in which social absurdities and injustice should no longer exist, the +silence became deeper still, as if a glacial blast of death were blowing +upon those brains that had thought themselves deliberating in the best +of all possible worlds. + +It was now time for the reply. Rafael arose, pale, pulling at his cuffs, +waiting a few minutes for the excitement in the Chamber to subside. The +audience had relaxed and was whispering and stirring about, after the +sustained attention compelled by the concise style and the barely +audible voice of the old man. + +If Rafael was depending on the sympathy of an audience to encourage him, +things looked promising indeed! The hall began to empty. Why not? Who is +interested in a committee's reply to the Opposition? Besides, Brull had +a bundle of documents on hand. A long-winded affair! Let's escape! +Deputies filed by in line across the semi-circle in front of him; while +above, in the galleries, the desertion was general. The caramel-chewers, +noting that the display of celebrities was over for the day, rose from +their places. Their coaches were ready outside for a ride through the +Castellana. That strange woman in the diplomatic gallery had also risen +to go. But no: she was giving her hand to her companion, bidding him +good-bye. Now she had resumed her seat, continuing the busy movement of +her fan that annoyed Rafael so. Thanks for the compliment, my fair one I +Though as far as he was concerned, the whole audience might have gone, +leaving only the president and the mace-bearers. Then he could speak +without any fear at all! The public galleries, especially, unnerved him. +Nobody had moved there. Those workingmen were without doubt waiting for +the rebuttal of his answer from their venerable spokesman. Rafael felt +that the swarthy heads above all those dirty blouses and shirt-fronts +without collars or neckties were eyeing him with stony coldness. "Now +we'll see what this ninny has got to say!" + +Rafael began with a eulogy on the immaculate character, the political +importance and the profound learning of that venerable septuagenarian +who still had strength to battle consistently and nobly for the lost +cause of his youth. An exordium of this nature was the regular +procedure. That was how "the Chief" did things. And as he spoke, +Rafael's eyes turned anxiously upon the clock. He wanted to be long, +very long. If he did not talk for an hour and a half or two hours he +would feel disgraced. Two hours was the least to be expected from a man +of his promise. He had seen party chiefs and faction leaders go it for a +whole afternoon, from four to eight, hoarse and puffing, sweating like +diggers in a sewer, with their collars wilted to rags, watching the +great hall-clock with the intentness of a man waiting to be hanged. +"Still an hour left before closing time!" a speaker's friends would say. +And the great orator, like a wearied horse, but a thoroughbred, would +find new energy somewhere and start on another lap, round and round, +repeating what he had already said a dozen times, summarizing the two +ideas he had managed to produce in four hours of sonorous chatter. With +duration as the test of quality, no one on the government had yet +succeeded in equaling a certain redheaded deputy of the Opposition who +was forever heckling the Premier, and could talk, if need be, three days +in succession for four hours a day. + +Rafael had heard people praise the conciseness and the clarity of +new-fangled oratory in the parliaments of Europe. The speeches of party +leaders in Paris or in London took up never more than half a column in a +newspaper. Even the old man he was answering had adopted, to be original +in everything, that selfsame conciseness: every sentence of his +contained two or three ideas. But the member from Alcira would not be +led astray by such niggardly parsimony. He believed that ponderousness +and extension were qualities indispensable to eloquence. He must fill a +whole issue of the Congressional Record, to impress his friends back +home in the District. So he talked and talked on, trying deliberately to +avoid ideas. Those he had he would keep in reserve as long as possible, +certain that the longer he held them prisoner the longer and more solemn +would his oration be. + +He had gained a quarter of an hour without making any reply to the +previous speech whatever, and literally burying his illustrious +antagonist in flowers. _Su señoria_ was noteworthy firstly, because, +secondly, because, fourteenthly, because ... Nay more, he had +accomplished this, performed that, endeavored the other +thing--"But"--and with this _but_, alas, Rafael must begin to loosen up +on a little of what he had prepared in advance. _Su señoria_ was an +"ideologue" of immense talent, but ever removed from reality; he would +govern peoples in accordance with theories dug out of books, without +paying any attention to practical considerations, to the individual and +indestructible character possessed by every nation!... + +And it was worth sitting an afternoon even in that Chamber to hear the +slighting tone of scorn with which the member from Alcira emphasized +that word _ideologue_ and that phrase about "theories dug out of books" +and "living removed from reality!" + +"Good, fine. That's the way to give it to him," his comrades encouraged, +nodding their sleek bald-pates in indignation against anybody who tried +to live apart from reality. Those _ideologues_ needed somebody to tell +them what was what! + +And the minister, Rafael's friend, the only auditor left on the Blue +Bench, pressing his huge paunch against the desk, turned his head--an +owlish, hairy head with a sharp beak--to smile indulgently on the young +man. + +The orator continued, his confidence increasing as he went on, fortified +by these signs of approval. He spoke of the patient, deliberate study +the committee had made of this matter of the ecclesiastical bud-gets. He +was the most modest, the least among them, but there were his +comrades--they were there, in truth, solemn gentlemen in English +frock-coats, with their hair parted in the middle, from their foreheads +to the napes of their necks--studious young men--who had flattered him +with the honor of speaking for them--and if they had not been more +economical, it was because greater economy had been impossible. + +And the heads of the committee-men nodded as they murmured gratefully: + +"Say, this fellow Brull can make quite a speech!" + +The government was ready to exercise any economy that should prove +prudent and feasible, without prejudice to the dignity of the nation; +but Spain was an eminently religious country, favored by God in all her +crises; and no government loyal to the national genius could ever touch +a _céntimo_ of the ecclesiastical appropriation. Never! Never!... + +On the word _never_ his voice resounded with the melancholy echo that +rings in empty houses. Rafael looked in anguish at the clock. Half an +hour. Half an hour gained, and still he had not really damaged his +outline. His talk was going so well that he was sorry the Chamber was +far from crowded!... Before him, in the shadows of the diplomatic +gallery, that fan kept fluttering. Pesky woman! Why couldn't she keep +quiet and not spoil his speech! + +The president, so restless and vigilant, so ever-ready with watch and +bell in hand when any of the Opposition had the floor, was now sitting +back in his chair with his eyes shut, dozing away with the confidence of +a stage director who is sure the show will go off without a hitch. The +panes of the glass dome were glowing under the rays of the sun, but they +allowed only a diffuse, green light, a discreet, soft, crypt-like +clarity to seep through into the Chamber that lay below in monastic +calm. Through the windows over the president's chair, Rafael glimpsed +patches of the blue sky, drenched in the gentle light of an afternoon of +Springtime. A white dove was hovering in the perspective of those blue +squares. + +Rafael felt a slackening of his powers of endurance, as if an +irresistible languor were stealing over him. The sweet smile of Nature +peering at him through the transoms of that gloomy, parliamentary tomb +had taken him back to his orange-orchards, and to his Valencian meadows +covered with flowers. He felt a curious impulse to finish his speech in +a few hasty words, grab his hat and flee, losing himself out among the +groves of the Royal Gardens. With that sun and those flowers outside, +what was he doing in that hole, talking of things that did not concern +him in the least?... But he successfully passed this fleeting crisis. He +ceased rummaging among the bundles of documents piled up on the bench, +stopped thumbing papers so as to hide his perturbation, and waving the +first sheet that came to his hand, he went on. + +The intention of the gentleman in opposing this appropriation was not +hidden from him. On this matter he had his own, his private and personal +ideas. "I understand that _su señoria_, in here proposing retrenchment, +is really seeking to combat religious institutions, of which he is a +declared enemy." + +And as he reached this point, Rafael dashed wildly into the fray. He was +treading firm and familiar ground. All this part of the speech he had +prepared, paragraph by paragraph: a defense of Catholicism, an apology +_pro fide_, so intimately bound up with the history of Spain. He could +now use impassioned outbursts and tremors of lyric enthusiasm, as if he +were preaching a new crusade. + +On the Opposition benches he caught the ironic glitter of a pair of +spectacles, the convulsions of a white chin quivering over two folded +arms, as if a kindly, indulgent smile had greeted his parade of so many +musty and faded commonplaces. But Rafael was not to be intimidated. He +had gotten away with an hour almost! Forward, to "Section Two" of the +outline, the part about the great national and Christian epic! And he +began to reel off visions of the cave of Covadonga; the fantastic tree +of the Reconquest "where the warrior hung up his sword, the poet his +harp," and so on and so on, for everybody hung up something there; seven +centuries of wars for the cross, a rather long time, believe me, +gentlemen, during which Saracen impiety was expelled from Spanish soil! +Then came the great triumphs of Catholic unity. Spain mistress of almost +the whole world, the sun never allowed to set on Spanish domains; the +caravels of Columbus bearing the cross to virgin lands; the light of +Christianity blazing forth from the folds of the national banner to shed +its illuminating rays throughout the earth. + +And as if this hymn to enlightening Christianity, chanted by an orator +who could now hardly see across the gloomy hall, had been a signal, the +electric lights went on; and the statues, the escutcheons, and the +harsh, blatant figures painted on the cupola, sprang forth from +obscurity. + +Rafael could hardly contain his joy at the facility with which his +speech was developing. That wave of light which was shed over the hall, +in the middle of the afternoon, while the sun was still shining, seemed +to him like the sudden entrance of Glory, approaching to give him the +accolade of renown. + +Caught up now in the real torrent of his premeditated verbosity, he +continued to relieve himself of all that he had learned by cramming +during the past few days. "In vain does _su señoria_ fatigue his wits. +Spain is and will remain a profoundly religious country. Her history is +the history of Catholicism: she has survived in all her times of storm +and stress by tightly embracing the Cross." And he could now come to the +national wars; from the battles in which popular piety saw Saint James, +on his white steed, lopping off the heads of the Moors with his golden +cutlass, to the uprising of the people against Napoleon, behind the +banner of the parish and with their scapularies on their bosoms. He did +not have a word to say about the present. He left the pitiless criticism +of the old revolutionist intact. Why not? The dream of an ideologue! He +was absorbed in his song of the past, affirming for the hundredth time +that Spain had been great because she had been Catholic and that when +for a moment she had ceased to be Catholic, all the evils of the world +had descended upon her. He spoke of the excesses of the Revolution, of +the turbulent Republic of '73, (a cruel nightmare to all right-thinking +persons) and of the "canton" of Cartagena (the supreme recourse of +ministerial oratory),--a veritable cannibal feast, a horror that had +never been known even in this land of _pronunciamientos_ and civil wars. +He tried his best to make his hearers feel the terror of those +revolutions, whose chief defect had been that they had revolutionized +nothing.... And then came a panegyric on the Christian family, on the +Catholic home, a nest of virtues and blessings, whereas in nations where +Catholicism did not reign all homes were repulsive brothels or horrible +bandit caves. + +"Fine, Brull, very good," grunted the minister, his elbows stretched +forward over his desk, delighted to hear his own ideas echoing from the +young man's mouth. + +The orator rested for a moment, with his glance sweeping the galleries +now bright with the electric lighting. The woman in the diplomatic +section had stopped fanning herself. She was following him closely. Her +eyes met his. + +Of a sudden Rafael nearly fell to his seat. Those eyes!... Perhaps an +astonishing resemblance! But no; it was she--she was smiling to him with +that same jesting, mocking smile of their earlier acquaintance! + +He felt like the bird writhing on the tree unable to free itself from +the hypnotic stare of the serpent coiled near the trunk. Those +sarcastic, mischievous eyes had upset all his train of thought. He tried +to finish in some way or other, to end his speech as soon as possible. +Every minute was an added torment to him; he imagined he could hear the +mute gibes that mouth must be uttering at his expense. + +Again he looked at the clock; in fifteen minutes more he would be +through. And he spurted on at a mad pace, with a hurried voice, +forgetting the devices he had thought of to prolong the peroration, +dumping them out all in a heap--anything to get through! "The +Concordate... sacred obligations toward the clergy ... their services +of old ... promises of close friendship with the Pope ... the generous +father of Spain ... in short, we cannot reduce the budget by a _céntimo_ +and the committee stands, by its proposals without accepting a single +amendment." + +As he sat down, perspiring, excited, wiping his congested face +energetically, his bench companions gathered around him congratulating +him, shaking his hands. He was every inch an orator! He should have gone +deeper into the matter and taken even more time! He shouldn't have been +so modest! + +And from the bench below came the grunt of the minister: + +"Very good, very good. You said exactly what I would have said." + +The old revolutionist arose to make a short rebuttal, repeating the +contentions of his original speech, of which no denial had been +attempted. + +"I'm quite tired," sighed Rafael, in reply to the felicitations. + +"You can go out if you wish," said the minister. "I think I'll answer +the rebuttal myself. It's a courtesy due to so old a deputy." + +Rafael raised his eyes toward the diplomatic gallery. It was empty. But +he imagined he could still make out the plumes of a woman's hat in the +dark background. + +He left his bench hastily and hurried to the corridor, where a number of +deputies were waiting with their congratulations. + +Not one of them had heard him, but they were all profuse in their +flattering remarks. They shook his hand and detained him maddeningly. +Once more he thought he could descry at the end of the corridor, at the +foot of the gallery staircase, standing out against the glass exit-door, +those black, waving plumes. + +He elbowed his way through the crowds, deaf to all congratulations, +brushing aside the hands that were proferred to him. + +Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking +out with eyes radiant with admiration. + +"What a woman? Eh?" + +"She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!" + + + + +III + + +As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step +into a vehicle. An usher of the Congress was holding the carriage door +open, with the demonstrative respect inspired by the goldbraid shining +on the driver's hat. It was an embassy coach! + +Rafael approached, believing, from the carriage, that it still might +prove to be a case of an astonishing resemblance. But no; it was she; +the same woman she had always been, as if eight hours and not eight +years had passed: + +"Leonora! You here!..." + +She smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him +again. + +"I saw you and heard you. You did very well, Rafael: I enjoyed it." + +And grasping his hand in a frank, hearty clasp of friendship, she +entered the carriage with a rustle of silk and fine linen. + +"Come! Won't you step in too?" she asked, smiling. "Join me for a little +drive along the Castellana. It's a magnificent afternoon; a little fresh +air won't do any harm after that muggy room." + +Rafael, to the astonishment of the usher, who was surprised to see him +in such seductive company, got in; and the carriage rolled off. There +they were, together again, sitting side by side, swaying gently back and +forth with the motion of the soft springs. + +Rafael was at a loss for words. The cold, ironic smile of his former +lover chilled him. He was flushed with shame at the thought of how he +had treated that beautiful creature the last time they had seen each +other. He wanted to say something, and yet he could not find a way to +begin. The ceremonious, formal _usted_ she had employed in inviting him +into the carriage embarrassed him. At last he ventured, timidly, also +avoiding the intimate _tu_! + +"Imagine our meeting here! What a surprise!" + +"I got in yesterday; tomorrow I leave for Lisbon. A short stop, isn't +it! Just time for a word with the director of the _Real_; perhaps I'll +come next winter to sing _Die Walküre_ here. But let's talk about you, +illustrious orator.... But I may say _tu_ to you, mayn't I?" she +corrected--"for I believe we are still friends." + +"Yes, friends, Leonora.... I have never been able to forget you." + +But the feeling he put into the words vanished before the cold smile +with which she answered. + +"Friends; that's it," she said, slowly. "Friends, and nothing more. +Between us there lies a corpse that prevents us from getting very close +to each other again." + +"A corpse?" asked Rafael, not catching her meaning. + +"Yes; the love you murdered.... Friends, nothing more; comrades united +by complicity in a crime." + +And she laughed with cruel sarcasm, while the carriage turned into one +of the avenues of Recoletos. Leonora looked vacantly out upon the +central boulevard. The rows of iron benches were filled with people. +Groups of children in charge of governesses were playing gaily about in +the soft, golden splendor of the afternoon. + +"I read in the papers this morning that don Rafael Brull, 'of the +Finance Commission,' if you please, would undertake to speak for the +Ministry on the matter of the budget; so I got down on my knees to an +old friend of mine, the secretary of the English embassy, and begged him +to come and take me to the session. This coach is his.... Poor fellow! +He doesn't know you, but the moment he saw you stand up to speak, he +took to his heels.... He missed something though; for really, you +weren't half bad. I'm quite impressed. Say, Rafael, where do you dig up +all those things?" + +But Rafael looked uneasily at her cruel smile and refused to accept her +praise. Besides, what did he care about his speech? It seemed to him +that he had been for years and years in that coach; that a whole +lifetime had gone by since he left the halls of the Congress. His gaze +was fixed on her in admiration, and his astonished eyes were drinking in +the beauty of her face, and of her figure. + +"How beautiful you are!" he murmured in impulsive enchantment. "The same +as you were then. It seems impossible that eight years can have flown +by." + +"Yes; I admit that I bear up well. Time seems not to touch me. A little +longer at the dressing table--that's all. I'm one of the people who die +in harness, so to speak, making no concessions, so far as looks go, to +old age. Rather than surrender, I'd kill myself. I intend to put Ninon +de Lenclos in the shade!" + +It was true. Eight years had made not the slightest impression on her. +The same freshness, the same robust, energetic slenderness, the +identical flames of arrogant vitality in her green eyes. Instead of +withering under the incessant parching of passion's flame, she seemed to +grow stronger, hardier, in the crucible. + +She measured the deputy with sarcastic playfulness. + +"Poor Rafael! I'm sorry I can't say as much for you. How you've changed! +You look almost like a Knight of the Crown. You're fat! You're bald! And +those eyeglasses! Why, I could hardly recognize you in the Chamber. How +my romantic Moor has aged! You poor dear! You even have wrinkles!..." + +And she laughed, as if it filled her with intense joy, the joy of +vengeance, to see her former lover so crestfallen at her portrayal of +his decrepitude. + +"You're not happy, are you! I can see that. And yet, you ought to be. +You must have married that girl your mother picked for you. You +doubtless have children.... Don't try to fib to me, just to seem more... +what shall I say ... more interesting! I can see it from the looks of +you. You are the _pater familias_ all over. I am never mistaken in such +things!... Well, why aren't you happy? You have all the requisites for a +personage of note, and you will shortly be one. I'll bet you wear that +sash to hold your paunch in! You are rich, you make speeches in that +horrid, gloomy, cave. Your friends back home will go into ecstasies when +they read the oration their honorable deputy has delivered; and I +imagine they're already preparing fireworks and music for a reception +to you. What more could you ask for?" + +And with her eyes half-closed, smiling maliciously, she waited for his +reply, knowing in advance what it would be. + +"What more can I ask for? Love; Leonora, the love I once had ... with +you." + +And with the vehemence of other days, as if they were still among the +orange-trees of the old Blue House, the deputy gave way to his eight +years of longing. + +He told her of the image he nourished in his sadness. Love! The Love +that passes but once in a lifetime, crowned with flowers, and followed +by a retinue of kisses and laughter. And whosoever follows him in +obedience, finds happiness at the end of the joyous pathway; but +whosoever, through pride or selfishness, lags by the wayside, comes to +lament his folly and to expiate his cowardice in an everlasting life of +tedium and sorrow! He had sinned, grievously. That he would confess! But +could she not forgive him? He had paid for his deliquency with eight +long, monotonous, crushing, meaningless years, one suffocating stifling +night that never broke into morning. But they had met again! There was +still time, Leonora! They could still call back the Springtime of their +lives, make it burgeon anew, compel Love to retrace his footsteps, pass +their way again, stretching forth his sweet hands of youth to them! + +The actress was listening with a smile upon her lips, her eyes closed, +her head thrown back in the carriage. It was an expression of intense +pleasure, as if she were tasting with delight the fire of love that was +still burning in Rafael, and that, to her, meant vengeance. + +The horses were proceeding at a walk along la Castellana. Other +carriages were going by and the people in them peered back at the coach +with that beautiful, unknown woman. + +"What is your answer, Leonora? We can still be happy! Forget the past +and the wrong I did you! Imagine it was only yesterday that we said +good-bye in the orchard, and that we are meeting again today to begin +our lives over again from the beginning, to live together always, +always." + +"No," she replied coldly. "You yourself just said so: Love passes but +once in a lifetime. I know that from cruel experience. I have done my +best to forget. No, Love has passed us by! It would be sheer folly for +us to ask him to hunt us up again. He never comes back! Our most +desperate effort could revive barely the shadow of him. You let him +escape. Well, you must weep for your loss, just as I had to weep for +your baseness ... Besides, you don't realize the situation we are in +now! Don't you remember what we talked about on our first night there in +the moonlight? 'The arrogant month of May, the young warrior in an armor +of flowers, seeks out his beloved, Youth.' Well, where is our youth now? +Quite frankly, you can find mine on my dressing-table! I buy it at the +perfumer's; and though that gentleman is quite skilled at disguising me, +there's an oldness of the spirit underneath, a terrible thing I don't +dare think about, because it frightens me so. And yours, poor +Rafael--you just haven't any, not even the kind you can buy! Take a good +look at yourself! You're ugly, to put it mildly, my dear boy! You're +lost that attractive slimness of your younger days. Your dreams make me +laugh! A passion at this late date! The idyll of a middle-aged siren and +a bald-headed father of a litter of children, with a paunch, with a +paunch, with a paunch! Oh, Rafael! Ha, ha, ha!" + +The cruel mocker! How she laughed! How she was avenging herself. Rafael +grew angry at this cutting, ironic resistance. He began to flame with a +more excited passion.... The ravages of time made no difference. Could +not Love work miracles! He loved her more than he had ever loved her in +the olden days. He felt a mad hunger for her. Passion would give them +back the fires of youth. Love was like a springtime that brings new sap +to branches grown numb in the winter's cold. Let her say "Yes," and on +the instant she would behold the miracle, the resurrection of their +slumbering past, the awakening of their souls to the future of love! + +"And your wife? And your children?" Leonora asked, brutally, as if she +wished to bring him back to realities, with a smarting lash from a whip. + +But Rafael was now beside himself, drunk with the nearness of all that +beauty, and with the waves of perfume that filled the interior of the +carriage. + +Wife? Family? He would leave everything for her: family, future, +position. It was she he needed to live and be happy! + +"I will go with you; everybody is a stranger to me when I think of you. +You, you alone, are my life, my love!" + +"Many thanks," Leonora answered curtly. "I could not accept such a +sacrifice.... Besides, all that sanctity of the home you were just +talking about a few moments ago in the Chamber? And all that Christian +morality, without which civilization would go to the damnation bow wows! +How I laughed when I heard you say that. How you were stuffing those +poor ninkampoops!..." + +And again she laughed cruelly, at the contrast between his pious words +in Congress and his mad idea of forsaking everything to follow her +around the world. Oh, the hypocrite! She had felt, as she sat listening +to him, that his speech was a pack of lies, a mess of conventional +trumpery and platitudes! The only one there who had spoken with any real +sincerity, any real virtue, was that little old man, whom she had +listened to with veneration because he had been one of her father's +idols! + +Rafael was crushed with bitter shame. Leonora's flat refusal, her +pitiless mockery of his speech, had brought him to realize the enormity +of his baseness. She was avenging herself by bringing him face to face +with the abjectness of his mad, hopeless passion, which made him capable +of committing the lowest deeds! + +Dusk was gathering. Leonora ordered the driver to the Plaza de Oriente. +She was stopping in one of the houses near the Opera where many +theatrical people lodged. She was in a hurry! She had a dinner +engagement with that young man from the Embassy, and two musical critics +were to be introduced to her. + +"And I, Leonora? Are we not to see each other any longer?" + +"As far as my door, if you wish, and then ... till we meet again!" + +"Oh, please, Leonora, stay here a few days! Let me see you! Let me have +the consolation of talking to you, of feeling the bitter pleasure of +your ridicule, at least!" + +Stay a few days!... Her days did not belong to her. She traveled from +one end of the world to the other, with her life marked off to the tick +of the clock. From Madrid to Lisbon--an engagement at the San +Carlos--three performances of Wagner! Then, a jump to Stockholm! After +that she was not quite sure where she would go; to Odessa, or to Cairo. +She was the Wandering Jew, the Valkyrie galloping along on the clouds of +a musical tempest, from frontier to frontier, from pole to pole, +arrogant, victorious, suffering not the slightest harm to health or +beauty. + +"Oh, if you only would! If you would let me follow you! As your friend, +nothing more! As your servant, if necessary!" + +And he grasped her hand, passionately, thrusting his fingers up her +sleeve, fondling the delicate arm underneath her glove. She did not +resist. + +"There! Do you see, Rafael?" she said, smiling coldly. "You have touched +me, and it's useless; not the slightest thrill. You're as good as dead +to me. My flesh does not tingle at your fondling. In fact, I find it all +decidedly annoying!" + +Rafael realized that it was true. She had once trembled madly under his +caresses. Now she was quite insensible, quite cold! + +"Don't worry, Rafael. It's over, spelled with a capital _O_. It's not +worth wasting a moment's thought on. As I look at you now I feel the way +I do when I see one of my old dresses that, in its time, I went mad +over. I see nothing but the defects--the absurdities of the fashion that +is out of date. Our passion died as it should properly have died. +Perhaps your deserting me was for the best. It was better for you to +default in the full splendor of our honeymoon than to have broken with +me afterwards, when I should have moulded my nature forever to your +caresses. We were brought together ... oh, by the orange perfume, by +that cursed Springtime; but you were not meant for me, nor was I ever +meant for you. We are of different breeds. You were born a bourgeois. I +am an out-and-out bohemian! Love and the novelty of my kind quite, +dazzled you. You struggled hard, you beat your wings, to follow me, but +you fell to earth from the very weight of your inherited traits. You +have the appetites and the ambitions of people like you! Now you imagine +you are unhappy! But you'll find you're not when you see yourself become +a personage,' when you count the acreage of your orchards over, when you +see your children growing up to inherit papa's power and fortune. This +business of love for love's sake, mocking at law and morality, scorning +life and peacefulness, that is our privilege, the privilege of us +bohemians--the sole blessing left to us mad creatures whom society looks +upon--quite properly, I suppose--with disdainful mistrust. Each to his +own! The poultry to their quiet roost, where they can fatten in the sun; +the birds of passage to their wandering life of song, sometimes in a +flowering garden, sometimes in the cold and storm!" + +And smiling again, as if those words, uttered with such gravity and +conviction, had been too cruel in their effective summary of the whole +story of their love, she added in a jesting tone: + +"That was a fine little paragraph, wasn't it? What a pity you didn't +hear it in time to tack it on at the end of your speech!" + +The carriage had entered the _Plaza de Oriente_; and was drawing up in +front of Leonora's house. + +"May I go in with you?" the deputy asked anxiously, much as a child +might beg for a toy. + +"Why? You'll only be bored. It will be the same as here. Upstairs there +is no moon, and there are no orange-trees in bloom. You can't expect two +nights like that in a life like yours. Besides, I don't want Beppa to +see you. She has a vivid recollection of that afternoon in the Hôtel de +Roma when I got your note. I'd lose prestige with her if she saw me in +your company." + +With a commanding gesture she motioned him to the sidewalk. When the +carriage had gone they stood there together for a moment looking at each +other for the last time. + +"Farewell, Rafael. Take good care of yourself, and try not to grow old +so rapidly. I believe it's been a real pleasure, though, to see you +again. I needed just this to convince myself it was really all over!" + +"But are you going like this!... Is this the way you let a passion end +that still fills my life!... When shall we see each other again?" + +"I don't know: never ... perhaps when you least expect it. The world is +large, but when a person gads about it the way I do, you never can tell +whom you are going to meet." + +Rafael pointed to the Opera nearby. + +"And if you should come to sing ... here?... If I were actually to see +you again?...." + +Leonora smiled haughtily, guessing what he meant. + +"In that case, you will be one of my countless friends, I suppose, but +nothing more. Don't imagine that I'm a saint even now. I'm just as I was +before you knew me. The property of everybody--understand--and of +nobody! But of the janitor of the opera, if necessary, sooner than of +you. You are a corpse, in my eyes, Rafael.... Farewell!" + +He saw her vanish through the doorway; and he stood for a long time +there on the sidewalk, completely crushed, staring vacantly into the +last glow of twilight that was growing pale beyond the gables of the +Royal Palace. + +Some birds were twittering on the trees of the garden, shaking the +leaves with their mischievous playfulness, as if the fires of Springtime +were coursing in their veins. For Spring had come again, faithful and +punctual, as every year. + +He staggered off toward the center of the city, slowly, dejectedly, with +the thought of death in his mind, bidding farewell to all his dreams, +which that woman seemed to have destroyed forever in turning her back +implacably upon him. Yes! A corpse, indeed! He was a dead man dragging a +soulless body along under the sad glimmering of the first street-lamps. +Farewell! Farewell to Love! Farewell to Youth! For him Springtime would +never return again. Joyous Folly repelled him as an unworthy deserter. +His future was to grow a fatter and fatter paunch under the frock coat +of a "personage"! + +At the corner of the Calle del Arenal he heard his name called. It was +a deputy, a comrade of "the Party" who had just come from the session. + +"Let me congratulate you, Brull; you were simply monumental! The Chief +spoke enthusiastically of your speech to the Prime Minister! It's a +foregone conclusion. At the first new deal you'll be made +director-general or undersecretary at least! Again, my congratulations, +old fellow!" + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11674 *** diff --git a/11674-h/11674-h.htm b/11674-h/11674-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6cb79e --- /dev/null +++ b/11674-h/11674-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9360 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibañez. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + body { font-family: Verdana, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; + background-color: #ffffff; + color: #000000; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10% +} +a:link {color: #000000} +a:visited {color: #000000} +a:hover {color: #000000} +h1, h2, h3 {color: #666666; text-align: center} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11674 ***</div> + +<h1>THE TORRENT</h1> + +<h3>(ENTRE NARANJOS)</h3> + + +<h2>By VICENTE BLASCO IBAÑEZ</h2> +<br /> + +<h3>TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY</h3> + +<h2>ISAAC GOLDBERG</h2> + +<h3>AND</h3> + +<h2>ARTHUR LIVINGSTON</h2> + +<h3>1921</h3> + + + +<h1>THE TORRENT</h1> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART ONE</h2> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"Your friends are waiting for you at the Club. They saw you for a moment +only, this morning; they'll be wanting to hear all your stories about +life in Madrid."</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda fixed upon the young deputy a pair of deep, scrutinizing, +severely maternal eyes that recalled to Rafael all the roguish anxieties +of his childhood.</p> + +<p>"Are you going directly to the Club?..." she added. "Andrés will be +starting too, right away."</p> + +<p>Rafael, in reply, wished a blunt "good-afternoon" to his mother and don +Andrés, who were still at table sipping their coffee, and strode out of +the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Finding himself on the broad, red-marble staircase in the silence of +that ancient mansion, of such princely magnificence, he experienced the +sudden sense of comfort and wellbeing that a traveler feels on plunging +into a bath after a tedious journey.</p> + +<p>Ever since he had arrived, with the noisy reception at the station, the +hurrahs, the deafening music, handshakes here, crowding there, the +pushing and elbowing of more than a thousand people who had thronged +the streets of Alcira to get a close look at him, this was the first +moment he had found himself alone, his own master, able to do exactly as +he pleased, without needing to smile automatically in all directions and +welcome with demonstrations of affection persons whose faces he could +scarcely recall.</p> + +<p>What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted +staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the +<em>patio</em> was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains +flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of +his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding +behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the +powerful don Ramón Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard +workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving +their arms, and shouting <em>vivas</em> for their deputy—Alcira's "favorite +son."</p> + +<p>This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, +though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his +mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his +noisy reception, not to mention don Andrés, and numerous other friends, +ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, +<em>caciques</em>—political bosses—and leading citizens of the district.</p> + +<p>To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding +himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for +some time motionless in the <em>patio</em>, looking up at the balconies of the +first story, then at the attic windows—from which in mischievous years +gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his +mother's scolding voice—and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue +above—a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the +oranges to clusters of flaming gold.</p> + +<p>He thought he could still see his father—the imposing, solemn don +Ramón—sauntering about the <em>patio</em>, his hands behind his back, +answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his +party adherents, who followed him about with idolatrous eyes. If the old +man could only have come back to life that morning to see how his son +had been acclaimed by the entire city!...</p> + +<p>A barely perceptible sound like the buzzing of two flies broke the deep +silence of the mansion. The deputy looked toward the only balcony window +that was open, though but slightly. His mother and don Andrés were still +talking in the dining-room—and of him, as usual, without a doubt! And, +lest they should call him, and suddenly deprive him of his keen +enjoyment at being alone, he left the <em>patio</em> and went out into the +street.</p> + +<p>It was only the month of March; but at two in the afternoon the air was +almost uncomfortably hot. Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to +the winter rains, Rafael inhaled, with a sense of voluptuous pleasure, +the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards +through the narrow lanes of the ancient town.</p> + +<p>Once, years before, he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage, +entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia, who would +not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos. A +memory of a Venetian <em>calle</em> now came back to Rafael's mind as he +traversed the streets of old Alcira—shadowy, cramped, sunk deep as +wells between rows of high houses. With all the economy of a city built +on an island, Alcira rears its edifices higher and higher as its +population grows, leaving just enough space free for the bare needs of +traffic.</p> + +<p>The streets were deserted. The noisy, orchard workers who had welcomed +Rafael had gone back to the fields again. All the idlers had fled to the +cafés, and as the deputy walked smartly by in front of these, warm waves +of air came out upon him through the windows, with the clatter of poker +chips, the noise of billiard balls, and the uproar of heated argument.</p> + +<p>Rafael reached the Suburban Bridge, one of the two means of egress from +the Old City. The Júcar was combing its muddy, reddish waters on the +piles of the ancient structure. A number of row-boats, made fast to the +houses on the shore, were tugging at their moorings. Rafael recognized +among them the fine craft that he had once used for lonely trips on the +river. It lay there quite forgotten, gradually shedding its coat of +white paint out in the weather.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at the bridge itself; the Gothic-arched gate, a relic of +the old fortifications; the battlements of yellowish, chipped rock, +which looked as if all the rats of the river had come at night to nibble +at them; then two niches with a collection of mutilated, dust-laden +images—San Bernardo, patron Saint of Alcira, and his estimable sisters. +Dear old San Bernardo, <em>alias</em> Prince Hamete, son of the Moorish king +of Carlet, converted to Christ by the mystic poesy of the Christian +cult,—and still wearing in his mangled forehead the nail of martyrdom!</p> + +<p>As Rafael walked past the rude, disfigured statue he thought of all the +stories his mother, an uncompromising clerical and a woman of credulous +faith, had told him of the patron of Alcira, particularly the legend of +the enmity and struggle between San Vicente and San Bernardo, an +ingenuous fancy of popular superstition.</p> + +<p>Saint Vincent, who was an eloquent preacher arrived at Alcira on one of +his tours, and stopped at a blacksmith's shop near the bridge to get his +donkey shod. When the work was done the horseshoer asked for the usual +price for his labor; but San Vicente, accustomed to living on the bounty +of the faithful, waxed indignant, and looking at the Júcar, exclaimed, +vindictively:</p> + +<p>"Some day folks will say: 'This is where Alcira used to be'."</p> + +<p>"Not while Bernardo is here!" the statue of San Bernardo remarked from +its pedestal.</p> + +<p>And there the statue of the saint still stood, like an eternal sentinel, +watching over the Júcar to exorcise the curse of the rancorous Saint +Vincent! To be sure the river would rise and overflow its banks every +year, reaching to the very feet of San Bernardo sometimes, and coming +within an ace of pulling the wily saint down from his perch. It is also +true that every five or six years the flood would shake houses loose +from their foundations, destroy good farm land, drown people, and commit +other horrible depredations—all in obedience to the curse of Valencia's +patron; but the saint of Alcira was the better man of the two for all +of that! And, if you didn't believe it, there the city was, still +planted firmly on its feet and quite unscathed, except for a scratch +here and there from times when the rains were exceptionally heavy and +the waters came down from Cuenca in a great roaring torrent!</p> + +<p>With a smile and a nod to the powerful saint, as to an old friend of +childhood, Rafael crossed the bridge and entered the <em>arrabal</em>, the "New +City," ample, roomy, unobstructed, as if the close-packed houses of the +island, to get elbow-room and a breath of air, had stampeded in a flock +to the other bank of the river, scattering hither and thither in the +hilarious disorder of children let loose from school.</p> + +<p>The deputy paused at the head of the street on which his club was +located. Even from there he could hear the talking and laughing of the +many members, who had gathered in much greater number than usual because +of his arrival. What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! +A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the +orange crop, or cock-fighting. He would be expected to tell them what +kind of a man the Premier was—and then spend the afternoon analyzing +the character of every minister! Then don Andrés would be there, that +boresome Mentor who, at the instance of Rafael's mother, would never let +him out of sight for a moment. Bah! The Club could wait! He would have +plenty of time later in the day to stifle in that smoke-filled parlor +where, the moment he showed his face, everybody would be upon him and +pester the life out of him with questions and wire-pulling!</p> + +<p>And more and more yielding to the lure of the southern sunshine and to +those perfumes of May floating about him in wintertime, he turned off +into a lane that led to the fields.</p> + +<p>As he emerged from the ancient Ghetto and found himself in the open +country, he drew a deep breath, as if to imprison in his lungs all the +life, bloom and color of his native soil.</p> + +<p>The orange orchards lined both banks of the stream with straight rows of +green, round tree-tops. The sun glistened off the varnished leaves; the +wheels of irrigating machines sounded from the distance like humming +insects. The moisture rising from the canals, joined the clouds from the +chimneys of the motors, to form a thin veil of mist over the +countryside, that gave a pearly transparency to the golden light of the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>To one side rose the hill of San Salvador, its crest topped with the +Hermitage, and the pines, the cypresses, and the prickly pears around +that rough testimonial of popular piety. The sanctuary seemed to be +talking to him like an indiscreet friend, betraying the real motive that +had caused him to evade his appointment with his political friends and +disobey his mother into the bargain.</p> + +<p>Something more than the beauty of the fields had enticed him from the +city. When the rays of the rising sun had awakened him that morning on +the train, the first thing he had seen, before opening his eyes even, +was an orange orchard, the bank of the Júcar, and a house painted +blue,—the very one that was now in sight away off there, among the +round tree-tops along the river.</p> + +<p>How many times in past months his thoughts had lingered on the memory of +that same scene!</p> + +<p>Afternoons, in the Congress, while the Premier on the Blue Bench would +be answering the interpellations of the Opposition in sharp incisive +tones, Rafael's brain would begin to doze, reduced to jelly, as it were, +by the incessant hammering of words, words, words! Before his closed +eyes a dark veil would begin to unroll as if the moist, cellar-like +gloom in which the Chamber is always plunged, had thickened suddenly, +and against this curtain, like a cinema dream, rows of orange-trees +would come into view, and a blue house with open windows; and pouring +through the windows a stream of notes from a soft voice, ever so sweet, +singing <em>lieder</em> and ballads as an accompaniment to the hard, sonorous +paragraphs snapping from the Premier's teeth. Then applause and +disorder! The moment for voting had arrived, and the fading outlines of +the Blue House still hovering before his dreamy eyes, the member for +Alcira would ask his neighbor:</p> + +<p>"How do we vote? Yes or no?"</p> + +<p>The same it was at night at the Opera, where music served only to remind +him of a familiar voice winding like a thread of gold out across the +orchards through the orange trees; and the same again, after dinner with +his colleagues on committees, when the deputies, their cigars tilted +cockily upwards between their lips, and with all the voluptuous gaiety +inspired by good digestions, would troop off to see the night out in +some trustworthy house of assignation where their dignity as +representatives of the country would not be compromised!</p> + +<p>Now that blue house was actually before his eyes! And he was hurrying +toward it,—not without some hesitation; a vague uneasiness he could not +explain. His heart was in his mouth, it seemed, and he found it hard to +breathe.</p> + +<p>Orchard workers came along the road, occasionally, stepping aside to +make room for the famous man, though he answered their greeting +absent-mindedly. What a nuisance! They would all be sure to tell where +they had seen him! His mother would know all about it within half an +hour! And, that evening, a scene in the dining-room! As Rafael walked on +toward the Blue House, he thought bitterly of his situation. Why was he +going there anyhow? Why insist on living in a stew all the time? He had +had two or three short but violent scenes with his mother a few months +before. What a fury that stern, pious, and puritanic woman became when +she found out that her son had been calling down at the Blue House and +was on friendly terms with a strange lady, an outsider, whom the +respectable folk of the city would have nothing to do with, and of whom +not a good word was ever heard except from the men at the Club, when +they were sure their wives were not in hearing distance!</p> + +<p>Tempestuous scenes they had been! He was running for Congress at the +time. Was he trying—she wanted to know—to dishonor the family and +compromise his political future? Was that what his poor father had lived +for—a life of sacrifice and struggle, of service to "the Party," which, +many a time, had meant shouldering a gun? And a loose woman was to be +allowed to ruin the House of Brull, which for thirty years had been +putting every cent it owned into politics, for the benefit of My Lords +up in Madrid! And just when a Brull was about to reap the reward of so +many sacrifices at last, and become a deputy—the means perhaps of +clearing off the property, which was lousy with attachments and +mortgages!...</p> + +<p>Rafael had been no match for that energetic mother, the soul of "the +Party." Meekly he had promised never to return to the Blue House, never +to call again on that "loose woman"—doña Bernarda actually hissed as +she said the word.</p> + +<p>However, the upshot of it all had been that Rafael simply discovered how +weak he was. Despite his promise, he returned to the Blue House often, +but by round-about ways and over long detours, skulking from cover to +cover, as he had done in childhood days when stealing oranges from the +orchards. There he was, a man whose name was on the lips of the whole +county, and who at any moment might be invested with authority from the +people, thus realizing the life-long dream of his father! But the sight +of a woman in the fields, a child, a beggar, would make him blanch with +terror! And that was not the worst of it! Whenever he entered the Blue +House now he had to pretend he came openly, without any fear whatever. +And so things had gone on down to the very eve of his departure for +Madrid.</p> + +<p>As Rafael reached this point in his reminiscences, he asked himself what +hope had led him to disobey his mother and brook her truly formidable +wrath.</p> + +<p>In that blue house he had found only frank, disinterested friendship,—a +somewhat ironic comradeship, the condescending tolerance of a person +compelled by solitude to choose as her comrade the least repulsive among +a host of inferiors. Alas! How clearly he remembered and could again +foresee the sceptical, cold smile with which his words were always +received, though he was sure he had crammed them with burning passion! +What a laugh she had given,—as insolent and as cutting as a lash,—the +day he had dared to declare his love!</p> + +<p>"Now the soft-pedal on slush, eh, Rafaelito?... If you want us to go on +being friends, all right, but it's on condition you treat me as a man. +Comrades, eh, and nothing more."</p> + +<p>And with a look at him through those green, luminous, devilish eyes of +hers, she had taken her seat at the piano and begun one of her divine +songs, as if she thought the magic of her art might raise a barrier +between them.</p> + +<p>On another occasion, she was irritable rather; Rafael's appealing eyes, +his words of amorous adoration, seemed to provoke her, and she had said +with brutal frankness:</p> + +<p>"Don't waste your breath, please! I am through with love. I know men too +well! But even if anyone were to upset me again, it would not be you, +Rafaelito dear."</p> + +<p>And yet he had persisted, insensible to the irony and the scorn of this +terrible <em>amigo</em> in skirts, and indifferent as well to the conflicts +that his blind passion might provoke at home if his mother knew.</p> + +<p>He tried to free himself from his infatuation, but unsuccessfully. With +that in view he fixed his attention on the woman's past; it was said +that despite her beauty, her aristrocratic manners, the brilliancy of +mind with which she had dazzled him—a poor country boy—she was only an +adventuress who had made her way over half the globe from one pair of +arms to another. Well, in that case, it would be a great exploit to win +a woman whom princes and celebrated men had loved! But since that was +impossible, why go on, why continue endangering his career and having +trouble with his mother all the time?</p> + +<p>To forget her, he stressed, before his own mind, words and attitudes of +hers that might be judged defects; and he would taste the joy of duty +well done when, after such gymnastics of the will, he could think of her +without great emotion.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of his life in Madrid he imagined he had recovered. New +surroundings; continuous and petty satisfactions to vanity; the +kow-towing of doorkeepers in Congress; the flattery of visitors from +here, there and everywhere who came with requests for passes to admit +them to the galleries; the sense of being treated as a comrade by +celebrities, whose names his father had always mentioned with bated +breath; the "honorable" always written before his name; all Alcira +speaking to him with affectionate familiarity; this rubbing elbows, on +the benches of the conservative majority, with a battalion of dukes, +counts and marquises—young men who had become deputies to round out the +distinction conferred by beautiful sweethearts or winning +thoroughbreds,—all this had intoxicated him, filled his mind +completely, crowding out all other thoughts, and persuading him that he +had been completely cured.</p> + +<p>But as he grew familiar with his new life, and the novelty of all this +adulation wore off, tenacious recollections rose again in his memory. At +night, when sleep relaxed the will to forget, which his vigilance kept +at painful tension, that blue house, the green, diabolical eyes of its +principal denizen, that pair of fresh lips with their ironic smile that +seemed to quiver between two rows of gleaming white teeth, would become +the inevitable center of all his dreams.</p> + +<p>Why resist any longer? He could think of her as much as he +pleased—that, at least, his mother would never learn. And he gave +himself up to the imagination of love, where distance lent an ever +stronger enchantment to that woman.</p> + +<p>He felt a vehement longing to return to his city. Absence seemed to do +away with all the obstacles at home. His mother was not so formidable as +he had thought. Who could tell whether, when he went back—changed as he +felt himself to be by his new experiences—it would not be easier to +continue the old relations? After so much isolation and solitude she +might receive him in more cordial fashion!</p> + +<p>The Cortes were about to adjourn, so, in obedience to repeated urging +from his fellow-partisans, and from doña Bernarda, to <em>do +something</em>—anything at all—to show interest in the home town—he took +the floor one afternoon at the opening of the session, when only the +president, the sergeant-at-arms, and a few reporters asleep in the +press-gallery, were present, and, with his lunch rising in his throat +from emotion, asked the Minister of Internal Affairs to show a little +more despatch in the matter of flood protection at Alcira—a bill still +in its in-fancy, though it had been pending some seventy years.</p> + +<p>After this he was free to return with the halo of a "business-like" +deputy shining about his head—"a zealous defender of the region's +interests," the local weekly and party organ called him. And that +morning, as he stepped off the train, the deputy, deaf to the Royal +March and to the <em>vivas</em>, stood up on tiptoe, trying to descry through +the waving banners the Blue House nestling in the distance among the +orange-trees.</p> + +<p>As he approached the place that afternoon he was almost sick with +nervousness and emotion. For one last time he thought of his mother, so +intent upon maintaining her prestige and so fearful of hostile gossip; +of the demagogues who had thronged the doors of the cafes that morning, +making fun of the demonstration in his honor; but all his scruples +vanished at sight of the hedge of tall rose-bays and prickly hawthorns +and of the two blue pillars supporting a barrier of green wooden bars. +Resolutely he pushed the gate open, and entered the garden.</p> + +<p>Orange-trees stretched in rows along broad straight walks of red earth. +On either side of the approach to the house was a tangle of tall +rose-bushes on which the first buds, heralds of an early spring, were +already beginning to appear.</p> + +<p>Above the chattering of the sparrows and the rustle of the wind in the +trees, Rafael could hear the sound of a piano—the keys barely touched +by the player's fingers—and a soft, timid voice, as if the song were +meant for the singer alone.</p> + +<p>It was she. Rafael knew the music: a <em>Lied</em> by Schubert—the favorite +composer of the day; a master "whose best work was still unknown," as +she said in the cant she had learned from the critics, alluding to the +fact that only the least subtle of the melancholy composer's works had +thus far been popularized.</p> + +<p>The young man advanced slowly, cautiously, as if afraid lest the sound +of his footsteps break in upon that melody which seemed to be rocking +the garden lovingly to sleep in the afternoon's golden sunlight.</p> + +<p>He reached the open space in front of the house and once more found +there the same murmuring palms, the same rubblework benches with seats +and backs of flowered tile that he knew so well. There, in fact, she had +so often laughed at his feverish protestations.</p> + +<p>The door was closed; but through a half-opened window he could see a +patch of silk; a woman's back, bending slightly forward over the music.</p> + +<p>As Rafael came up a dog began to bark at the end of the garden. Some +hens that had been scratching about in sand of the drive, scampered off +cackling with fright. The music stopped. A chair scraped as it was +pushed back. The lady was rising to her feet.</p> + +<p>At the balcony a flowing gown of blue appeared; but all that Rafael saw +was a pair of eyes—green eyes, that seemed to fill the entire window +with a flood of light.</p> + +<p>"Beppa! Beppina!" cried a firm, a warm, a sonorous, soprano voice. +"<em>Apri la porta</em>. Open the door."</p> + +<p>And with a slight inclination of her splendid head of thick auburn hair +that seemed to crown her with a helmet of old gold, she smiled to him +with a friendly, somewhat mocking, intimacy:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Rafaelito. I don't know why, but I was expecting you this +afternoon. We have heard all about your triumphs; the music and the +tumult reached even to our desert. My congratulations to the Honorable +don Rafael Brull. Come right in, I <em>su señoría</em>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>From Valencia to Játiva, in all that immense territory covered with +rice-fields and orange groves which Valencians embrace under the general +and rather vague designation of <em>La Ribera</em>, there was no one unfamiliar +with the name of Brull and the political power it stood for.</p> + +<p>As if national unity had not yet been effected and the country were +still divided into <em>taifas</em> and <em>waliatos</em> as in the days when one +Moorish King reigned over Carlet, another over Denia, and a third over +Játiva, the election system maintained a sort of inviolable rulership in +every district; and when the Administration people came to Alcira in +forecasting their political prospects, they always said the same thing:</p> + +<p>"We're all right there. We can rely on Brull."</p> + +<p>The Brull dynasty had been bossing the district for thirty years, with +ever-increasing power.</p> + +<p>The founder of this sovereign house had been Rafael's grandfather, the +shrewd don Jaime, who had established the family fortune by fifty years +of slow exploitation of ignorance and poverty. He began life as a clerk +in the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> of Alcira; then he became secretary to the +municipal judge, then assistant to the city clerk, then +assistant-registrar of deeds. There was not a subordinate position in +those offices where the poor come in contact with the law that he did +not get his hands on; and from such points of vantage, by selling +justice as a favor and using power or adroitness to subdue the +refractory, he felt his way along, appropriating parcel after parcel of +that fertile soil which he adored with a miser's covetousness.</p> + +<p>A brazen charlatan he was, every moment talking of "Article Number +So-and-So" of the law that applied to the case. The poor orchard workers +came to have as much awe for his learning as fear of his malice, and in +all their controversies they sought his advice and paid for it, as if he +were a lawyer.</p> + +<p>When he had gotten a small fortune together, he continued holding his +menial posts in the city administration to retain the superstitious +respect which is inspired in peasant-folk by all who are on good terms +with the law; but not content with playing the eternal beggar, dependent +on the humble gratuities of the poor, he took to pulling them out of +their financial difficulties, lending them money on the collateral of +their future harvests.</p> + +<p>But six per cent seemed too petty a profit for him. The real plight of +these folk came when a horse died and they had to buy another. Don Jaime +became a dealer in dray horses, buying more or less defective animals +from gypsies in Valencia, praising their virtues to the skies, and +reselling them as thoroughbreds. And no sale on the instalment plan! +Cash down! The horses did not belong to him—as he vowed with his hand +pressed solemnly to his bosom—and their owners wished to realize on +their value at once. The best he could do in the circumstances prompted +by his greatness of heart, which always overflowed at the sight of +poverty was to borrow money for the purchase from a friend of his.</p> + +<p>The peasant in his desperate need would fall into the snare, and carry +off the horse after signing all kinds of notes and mortgages to cover +the loan of money he had not seen! For the don Jaime who spoke for the +unknown party in the deal transferred the cash to the same don Jaime who +spoke for the owner of the horse. Result: the rustic bought an animal, +without chaffering, at double its value, having in addition borrowed a +lot of money at cut-throat interest. In every turn-over of this sort don +Jaime doubled his principal. New straits inevitably developed for the +dupe; the interest kept piling up; hence new concessions, still more +ruinous than the first, that don Jaime might be placated and give the +purchaser a month's reprieve.</p> + +<p>Every Wednesday, which was market-day in Alcira and brought a great +crowd of orchard-folk to town, the street where don Jaime lived was the +busiest in the city. People came in droves to ask for renewal of their +notes, each leaving a tip of several <em>pesetas</em> usually, not to be +counted against the debt itself. Others, humbly, timidly, as if they had +come to rob the grasping Shylock, would ask for loans; and the strange +thing about it, as the malicious noted, was that all these people, after +leaving everything they owned in don Jaime's hands, went off content, +their faces beaming with satisfaction, as if they had just been rescued +from a danger.</p> + +<p>This was don Jaime's chief skill. He had the trick of making usury look +like kindness; he always spoke of <em>those fellows</em>, those hidden owners +of the money and the horses—heartless wretches who were "after him," +holding him responsible for the short-comings of all their debtors. The +burdens he thus supposedly assumed won him a reputation as a +kind-hearted soul, and such confidence was the wily old demon able to +instill in his victims that when mortgages were foreclosed on homes or +fields, many of the unfortunates despoiled, would say, resignedly:</p> + +<p>"It's not his fault. What could the poor man do if they forced him to +it? It's those <em>other fellows</em> who are sucking the blood of us poor +folks."</p> + +<p>And so, quietly, leisurely, tranquilly, don Jaime got possession of a +field here, then another there, then a third between the two; and in a +few years he had rounded out a beautiful orchard of orange-trees with +virtually no expenditure of capital at all. Thus his property went on +increasing, and, with his radiant smile, his spectacles on his forehead +and his paunch growing fatter and fatter, he could be seen surrounded by +new victims, addressing them with the affectionate <em>tu</em>, patting them on +the back, and vowing that this weakness he had for the doing of favors +would some day bring him to dying like a dog in the gutter.</p> + +<p>Thus he went on prospering. Nor was all the scoffing of city people of +any avail in shaking the confidence reposed in him by that flock of +rustics, who feared him as they feared the Law itself and believed in +him as they believed in God.</p> + +<p>A loan to a spendthrift eldest son made him the proprietor of the fine +city mansion, which came to be known as "the Brull place." From that +date he began to hob-nob with the large real-estate owners of the city, +who, though they despised this upstart, made a small place for him in +their midst with the instinctive solidarity that characterizes the +freemasonry of money. To gain a little more standing for his name, he +became a votary of San Bernardo, contributed to the funds for church +festivals, and danced attendance on the <em>alcalde</em>, whoever that "mayor" +might be. In his eyes now, the only people in Alcira were such as +collected thousands of <em>duros</em>, whenever harvest time came around. The +rest were rabble, rabble, sir!</p> + +<p>Then, at last he resigned the petty offices he had been filling; and +handing his usury business over to those who formerly had served him as +go-betweens, he set himself to the task of marrying off his son and sole +heir, Ramon, an idling ne'er-do-well, who was always getting into +trouble and upsetting the tranquil comfort that surrounded old Brull as +he rested from his plunderings.</p> + +<p>The father felt the satisfaction of a bully in having such a tall, +strong, daring and insolent son, a boy who compelled respect in cafes +and clubs more with his fists than with the special privileges conferred +in small towns by wealth. Let anyone dare make fun of the old usurer +when he had such a fire-eater to protect him!</p> + +<p>Ramon had wanted to join the Army; but every time he referred to what he +called his vocation, his father would fly into a rage. "Do you think +that is what I've worked for all these years?" He could remember the +time when, as a poor clerk, he had been forced to fawn on his superiors +and listen humbly, cringingly, to their reprimands. He did not want a +boy of his to be shoved about hither and thither like a mere machine. +"Plenty of brass buttons," he exclaimed with the scorn of a man never to +be taken in by external show, "and plenty of gold braid! But after all, +a slave, a slave!"</p> + +<p>No, he wanted to see his son free and influential, continuing the +conquest of the city, completing the family greatness of which he had +laid the foundations, getting power over people much as he himself had +gotten power over money. Ramón must become a lawyer, the only career for +a man destined to rule others. It was a passionate ambition the old +pettifogger had, to see his scion enter through the front door and with +head proudly erect, the precincts of the law, into which he had crawled +so cautiously and at the risk, more than once, of being dragged out with +a chain fastened to his ankle.</p> + +<p>Ramón spent several years in Valencia without getting beyond the +elementary courses in Common Law. The cursed classes were held in the +morning, you see, and he had to go to bed at dawn—the hour when the +lights in the pool-rooms went out. Besides, in his quarters at the hotel +he had a magnificent shotgun—a present from his father; and +homesickness for the orchards made him pass many an afternoon at the +pigeon traps where he was far better known than at the University.</p> + +<p>This fine specimen of masculine youth—tall, muscular, tanned, with a +pair of domineering eyes to which thick eyebrows gave a touch of +harshness—had been born for action, and excitement; Ramón simply +couldn't concentrate on books!</p> + +<p>Old Brull, who through niggardliness and prudence had placed his son on +"half rations," as he put it, sent the boy just money enough to keep him +going; but dupe, in turn, of the wiles he had formerly practiced on the +rustics of Alcira, he was compelled to make frequent trips to Valencia, +to come to some understanding with money lenders there, who had +advanced loans to his son on such terms that insolvency might lead Ramón +to a prison cell.</p> + +<p>Home to Alcira came rumors of other exploits by the "Prince," as don +Jaime called his boy in view of the latter's ability to run through +money. In parties with friends of the family, don Ramón's doings were +spoken of as scandalous actually—a duel after a quarrel at cards; then +a father and a brother—common workingmen in flannel shirts!--who had +sworn they would kill him if he didn't marry a certain girl he had been +taking to her shop by day and to dance-halls by night.</p> + +<p>Old Brull made up his mind to tolerate these escapades of his son no +longer; and he made him give up his studies. Ramón would not be a +lawyer; well, after all, one didn't have to have a degree to be a man of +importance. Besides the father felt he was getting old; it was hard for +him to look after the working of his orchards personally. He could make +good use of that son who seemed to have been born to impose his will +upon everybody around him.</p> + +<p>For some time past don Jaime had had his eye on the daughter of a friend +of his. The Brull house showed noticeable lack of a woman's presence. +His wife had died shortly after his retirement from business, and the +old codger stamped in rage at the slovenliness and laziness displayed by +his servants. He would marry Ramón to Bernarda—an ugly, ill-humored, +yellowish, skinny creature—but sole heiress to her father's three +beautiful orchards. Besides, she was conspicuous for her industrious, +economical ways, and a parsimony in her expenditures that came pretty +close to stinginess.</p> + +<p>Ramón did as his father bade him. Brought up with all the ideas of a +rural skinflint, he thought no decent person could object to marrying an +ugly bad-tempered woman, so long as she had plenty of money.</p> + +<p>The father-in-law and the daughter-in-law understood each other +perfectly. The old man's eyes would water at sight of that stern, +long-faced puritan, who never had much to say in the house, but went +into high dudgeon over the slightest waste on the part of the domestics, +scolding the farmhands for the merest oversight in the orchards, +haggling and wrangling with the orange drummers for a <em>centime</em> more or +less per hundredweight. That new daughter of his was to be the solace of +his old age!</p> + +<p>Meantime, the "prince" would be off hunting every morning in the nearby +mountains and lounging every afternoon in the cafe; but he was no longer +content with the admiration of the idlers hanging around a billiard +table, nor was he taking part in the game upstairs. He was frequenting +the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with the <em>alcalde</em> +and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all "decent" +folk together to take the "rabble" in hand!</p> + +<p>"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his +daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get +there... That's the way I like to see him."</p> + +<p>Ramón began by winning a seat in the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>, and soon was an +outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded +as a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the +streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest +glory was to have his enemies say of him:</p> + +<p>"Look out for that Ramón ... He's a tough proposition."</p> + +<p>Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish +hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living, +that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched" +by anyone who could serve, in tavern and café, as advertising agent of +his rising fame.</p> + +<p>And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward +with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a +short time he had become <em>alcalde;</em> his prestige outgrew the limits of +the city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the +capital of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from +military service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that +backed him, although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw +to it that the constabulary was not too energetic in running down the +<em>roders</em>, the "wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election +time, would be forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole +country dared make a move without the previous consent of don Ramón, +whom his adherents always respectfully called their <em>quefe</em>, their +"chief."</p> + +<p>Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramón reach the zenith of his fame. +That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the +city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in +addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty +assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who +had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and +ambition.</p> + +<p>Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation +of all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his +soul heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And, +though the rabble—the political opponents of the son, that is—recalled +those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would come +to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and sane +people—people who had something in this world to lose—mourned the +death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen from the +lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune by hard +work, honest hard work!</p> + +<p>In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had +caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings with +peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the <em>cacique's</em> power stifled +all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women cost very +little money, doña Bernarda pretended to know nothing about them. She +did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow, +self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties +are fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving +money.</p> + +<p>By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to +start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money +against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the +lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political +sovereignty over the region.</p> + +<p>Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramón +would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who +might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who governed +yonder in Madrid had ordered—and orders must be obeyed. In every town +whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern wine would +flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of <em>pesetas</em> +would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don Ramón's +expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper to save on +clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly anything left +for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when the day for +the contest came around, ready in her excitement to help her husband +throw the entire house through the window, if need be.</p> + +<p>This, however, was all pure speculation on her part. The money that was +being scattered so madly broadcast was a "loan" simply. Some day she +would get it back with interest. Already her piercing eyes were +caressing the tiny, dark-complexioned, restless little creature that lay +across her knees, seeing in him the privileged heir-apparent who would +one day reap the harvest from all such family sacrifices.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda had taken refuge in religion as in a cool, refreshing +oasis in the desert of vulgarity and monotony in her life. Her heart +would swell with pride every time a priest would say to her in the +church:</p> + +<p>"Take good care of don Ramón. Thanks to him the wave of demagogy halts +at the temple door and evil fails to triumph in the District. He is the +bulwark of the Lord against the impious!"</p> + +<p>And when, after such a declaration, which flattered her worldly vanity +and assured her of a mansion in Heaven, she would pass through the +streets of Alcira in her calico wrapper and a shawl not over-clean, +greeted affectionately, effusively, by the leading citizens, she would +pardon don Ramón all the infidelities she knew about and consider the +sacrifice of her fortune a good investment.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for what we do, what would happen to the District.... +The lower scum would conquer—those wild-eyed mechanics and common +laborers who read the Valencian newspapers and talk about equality all +the time. And they would divide up the orchards, and demand that the +product of the harvests—thousands and thousands of <em>duros</em> paid for +oranges by the Englishmen and the French—should belong to all." But to +stave off such a cataclysm, there stood don Ramón, the scourge of the +wicked, the champion of "the cause" which he led to triumph, gun in +hand, at election time; and just as he was able to send any rebellious +trouble-maker off to the penal settlement, so he found it easy to keep +at liberty all those who, despite the various murders that figured in +their biographies, lent themselves to the service of the government in +this support of "law and order!"</p> + +<p>The patrimony of the House of Brull went down and down, but its prestige +rose higher and higher. The sacks of money filled by the old man at the +cost of so much roguery were shaken empty over all the District; nor +were several assaults upon the municipal treasury sufficient to bring +them back to normal roundness. Don Ramón contemplated this squandering +impassively, proud that people should be talking of his generosity as +much as of his power.</p> + +<p>The whole District worshipped as a sacred flagstaff that bronzed, +muscular, massive figure, which floated a huge, flowing, gray-flecked +mustache from its upper end.</p> + +<p>"Don Ramón, you ought to remove that bush," his clerical friends would +say to him with a smile of affectionate banter. "Why, man, you look just +like Victor Emmanuel himself, the Pope's jailer."</p> + +<p>But though don Ramón was a fervent Catholic (who never went to mass), +and hated all the infidel turnkeys of the Holy Father, he would grin and +give a satisfied twirl at the offending mouth-piece, quite flattered at +bottom to be likened to a king.</p> + +<p>The <em>patio</em> of the Brull mansion was the throne of his sovereignty. His +partisans would find him there, pacing up and down among the green boxes +of plantain trees, his hands clasped behind his broad, strong, but now +somewhat stooping back—a majestic back withal, capable of supporting +hosts and hosts of friends.</p> + +<p>There he "administered justice," decided the fate of families, settled +the affairs of towns—all in a few off-hand but short and decisive +words, like one of those ancient Moorish kings who, in that selfsame +territory, centuries before, legislated for their subjects under the +open sky. On market-days the <em>patio</em> would be thronged. Carts would stop +in long lines on either side of the door. All the hitching-posts along +the streets would have horses tied to them, and inside, the house would +be buzzing like a bee-hive with the chatter of that rustic gentry.</p> + +<p>Don Ramón would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his +chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his +side—a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown +Prince.</p> + +<p>On afternoons when the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> was in session, the chief could +never leave his <em>patio</em>. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be +dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible, +like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it +spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the +City Hall to the Brull <em>patio.</em> The few enemies don Ramón had in the +Council—meddlers, doña Bernarda called them—idiots who swallowed +everything in print provided it were against the King and +religion—attacked the <em>cacique</em> persistently, censuring everything he +did. Don Ramón's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge +must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!"</p> + +<p>And a <em>regidor</em> would be off to don Ramón's like a greyhound; and +arriving at the <em>patio</em> panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of +relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down +as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the +limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said +this-and-that!" Don Ramón would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and +finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put +this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape, +would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would +gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramón's wisdom had +deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to +have the privilege of annihilating the enemy with the magic words—all +talking at the same time like magpies suddenly set chattering by the +dawn of a new light.</p> + +<p>If the opposition held its ground, again stupefaction would come over +them. Another mad dash in quest of a new consultation. Thus the sessions +would go by, to the great delight of the barber Cupido—the sharpest and +meanest tongue in the city—who, whenever the Council met, would observe +to his early morning shaves:</p> + +<p>"Holiday today: the usual race of councilors bare-back."</p> + +<p>When party exigencies forced don Ramón to be out of town, it was his +wife, the energetic doña Bernarda, who attended to the consultations, +issuing statements on party policy, as wise and apt as those of "the +chief" himself.</p> + +<p>This collaboration in the upbuilding and the up-holding of the family +influence was the single bond of union between husband and wife. This +cold woman, a complete stranger to tenderness, would flush with pleasure +every time the chief approved her ideas. If only she were "boss" of "the +Party!" ...Don Andrés had often said as much himself!</p> + +<p>This don Andrés was her husband's most intimate friend, one of those men +who are born to be second everywhere and in everything. Loyal to the +family to the point of sacrifice, he served, with the couple itself, to +fill out the Holy Trinity of the Brull religion that was the faith of +all the District. Where don Ramón could not go in person, don Andrés +would be present for him, as the chief's <em>alter ego</em>. In the towns he +was respected as the supreme vicar of that god whose throne was in the +<em>patio</em> of the plantain trees; and people too shy to lay their +supplications before the god himself, would seek out that jolly +advocate,—a very approachable bachelor, who always had a smile on his +tanned, wrinkled face, and a story under his stiff cigar-stained +mustache.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés had no relatives, and spent almost all his time at the +Brull's. He was like a piece of furniture that seems always to be +getting in the way at first; but when all were once accustomed to him, +he became an indispensable fixture in the family. In the days when don +Ramón had been a young subordinate of the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>, he had met and +liked the man, and taking him into the ranks of his "heelers," had +promoted him rapidly to be chief of staff. In the opinion of the "boss," +there wasn't a cleverer, shrewder fellow in the world than don Andrés, +nor one with a better memory for names and faces. Brull was the +strategist who directed the campaign; don Andrés the tactician who +commanded actual operations and cleaned up behind the lines when the +enemy was divided and undone. Don Ramón was given to settling everything +in a violent manner, and drew his gun at the slightest provocation. If +his methods had been followed, "the Party" would have murdered someone +every day. Don Andrés had a smooth tongue and a seraphic smile that +simply wound <em>alcaldes</em> or rebellious electors around his little +finger, and his specialty was the art of letting loose a rain of sealed +documents over the District that started complicated and never-ending +prosecutions against troublesome opponents.</p> + +<p>He attended to "the chief's" correspondence, and was tutor and playmate +to the little Rafael, taking the boy on long walks through the orchard +country. To doña Bernarda he was confidential adviser.</p> + +<p>That surly, severe woman showed her bare heart to no one in the world +save don Andrés. Whenever he called her his "señora," or his "worthy +mistress," she could not restrain a gesture of satisfaction; and it was +to him that she poured out her complaints against her husband's +misdeeds. Her affection for him was that of a dame of ancient chivalry +for her private squire. Enthusiasm for the glory of the house united +them in such intimacy that the opposition wagged its tongues, asserting +that doña Bernarda was getting even for her husband's waywardness. But +don Andrés, who smiled scornfully when accused of taking advantage of +the chief's influence to drive hard bargains to his own advantage, was +not the man to be trifled with if gossip ventured to smirch his +friendship with the <em>señora</em>.</p> + +<p>Their Trinity was most closely cemented, however, by their fondness for +Rafael, the little tot destined to bring fame to the name of Brull and +realize the ambitions of both his grandfather and his father.</p> + +<p>Rafael was a quiet, morose little boy, whose gentleness of disposition +seemed to irritate the hard-hearted doña Bernarda. He was always hanging +on to her skirts. Every time she raised her eyes she would find the +little fellow's gaze fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>"Go out and play in <em>the patio</em>," the mother would say.</p> + +<p>And the little fellow, moody and resigned, would leave the room, as if +in obedience to a disagreeable command.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés alone was successful in amusing the child, with his tales and +his strolls through the orchards, picking flowers for him, making +whistles for him out of reeds. It was don Andrés who took him to school, +also, and who advertised the boy's fondness for study everywhere.</p> + +<p>If don Rafael were a serious, melancholy lad, that defect was chargeable +to his interest in books, and at the Casino, the "Party's" Club, he +would say to his fellow-worshippers:</p> + +<p>"You'll see something doing when Rafaelito grows up. That kid is going +to be another Canovas."</p> + +<p>And before all those rustic minds the vision of a Brull at the head of +the Government would suddenly flash, filling the first page of the +newspapers with speeches six columns long, and a <em>To Be Continued</em> at +the end; and they could see themselves rolling in money and running all +Spain, just as they now ran their District, to their own sweet wills.</p> + +<p>Never did a Prince of Wales grow up amid the respect and the adulation +heaped upon little Brull. At school, the children regarded him as a +superior being who had condescended to come down among them for his +education. A well-scribbled sheet, a lesson fluently repeated, were +enough for the teacher, who belonged to "the Party" (just to collect his +wages on time and without trouble,) to declare in prophetic tones:</p> + +<p>"Go on working like that, señor de Brull. You are destined to great +things."</p> + +<p>At the <em>tertulias</em> his mother attended evenings in his company, it was +enough for him to recite a fable or get off some piece of learning +characteristic of a studious child eager to bring his school work into +the conversation, for the women to rush upon him and smother him with +kisses.</p> + +<p>"But how much that child knows!... How brilliant he is!"</p> + +<p>And some old woman would add, sententiously:</p> + +<p>"Bernarda, take good care of the child; don't let him use his brain so +much. It's bad for him. See how peaked he looks!..."</p> + +<p>He finished his preparatory education with the Dominicans, taking the +leading rôle in all the plays given in the tiny theatre of the friars, +and always with a place in the first line on prize days. The Party organ +dedicated an annual article to the scholastic prodigies of the "gifted +son of our distinguished chief don Ramón Brull, the country's hope, who +already merits title as the shining light of the future!"</p> + +<p>When Rafael, escorted by his mother and half a dozen women who had +witnessed the exercises, would come home, gleaming with medals and his +arms full of diplomas, he would stoop and kiss his father's hard, +bristly hand; and that claw would caress the boy's head and +absent-mindedly sink into the old man's vest pocket—for don Ramón +expected to pay for all welcome favors.</p> + +<p>"Very good," the hoarse voice would murmur. "That's the way I like to +see you do ...Here's a <em>duro</em>."</p> + +<p>And not till the following year would the boy again know what a caress +from his father meant. On certain occasions, playing in the <em>patio</em>, he +had surprised the austere old man gazing at him fixedly, as if trying to +foresee his future.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés took charge of settling Rafael in Valencia when he began his +university studies. The dream of old don Jaime, disillusioned in the +son, would be fulfilled in the third generation!</p> + +<p>"This one at least will be a lawyer!" said doña Bernarda, who in the old +days had imbibed don Jaime's eagerness for the university degree, which +to her seemed like a title of nobility for the family.</p> + +<p>And lest the corruption of the city should lead the son astray as it had +done Ramón in his student days, she would send don Andrés frequently to +the capital, and write letter after letter to her Valencian friends, +particularly to a canon of her intimate acquaintance, asking them not to +lose sight of the boy.</p> + +<p>But Rafael was good behavior itself; a model boy, a "serious" young man, +the good canon assured the mother. The distinctions and the prizes that +came to him in Alcira continued to pursue him in Valencia; and besides, +don Ramón and his wife learned from the papers of the triumphs achieved +by their son in the debating society, a nightly gathering of law +students in a university hall, where future Solons wrangled on such +themes as "Resolved: that the French Revolution was more of a good than +an evil," or "Resolved, that Socialism is superior to Christianity."</p> + +<p>Some terrible youths, who had to get home before ten o'clock to escape a +whipping, declared themselves rabid socialists and frightened the +beadles with curses on the institution of property—all rights reserved, +of course, to apply, as soon as they got out of college, for some +position under the government as registrar of deeds or secretary of +prefecture! But Rafael, ever sane and a congenital "moderate," was not +of those fire-brands; he sat on "the Right" of the august assembly of +Wranglers, maintaining a "sound" attitude on all questions, thinking +what he thought "with" Saint Thomas and "with" other orthodox sages whom +his clerical Mentor pointed out to him.</p> + +<p>These triumphs were announced by telegraph in the Party papers, which, +to garnish the chief's glory and avoid suspicion of "inspiration," +always began the article with: "According to a despatch printed in the +Metropolitan press ..."</p> + +<p>"What a boy!" the priests of Alcira would say to doña Bernarda. "What a +silver tongue! You'll see; he'll be a second Manterola!"</p> + +<p>And whenever Rafael came home for the holidays or on vacation, each time +taller than before, dressed like a fashion-plate and with mannerisms +that she took for the height of distinction, the saintly mother would +say to herself with the satisfaction of a woman who knows what it means +to be homely:</p> + +<p>"What a handsome chap he's getting to be. All the rich girls in town +will be after him. He'll have his pick of them."</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda felt proud of her Rafael, a tall youth, with delicate yet +powerful hands, large eyes, an aquiline nose, a curly beard and a +certain leisurely, undulating grace of movement that suggested one of +those young Arabs of the white cloak and elegant babooshes, who +constitute the native aristocracy of Spain's African colonies.</p> + +<p>Every time the student came home, his father gave him the same silent +caress. In course of time the <em>duro</em> had been replaced by a hundred +<em>peseta</em> note; but the rough claw that grazed his head was falling now +with an energy ever weaker and seemed to grow lighter with the years.</p> + +<p>Rafael, from long periods of absence, noted his father's condition +better than the rest. The old man was ill, very ill. As tall as ever, as +austere and imposing, and as little given to words. But he was growing +thinner. His fierce eyes were sinking deeper into their sockets. There +was little left to him now except his massive frame. His neck, once as +sturdy as a bull's, showed the tendons and the arteries under the loose, +wrinkled skin; and his mustache, once so arrogant, but now withering +with each successive day, drooped dispiritedly like the banner of a +defeated army wet with rain.</p> + +<p>The boy was surprised at the gestures and tears of anger with which his +mother welcomed expression of his fears.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope he'll die as soon as possible ... Lot's of use he is to +us!... May the Lord be merciful and take him off right now."</p> + +<p>Rafael said nothing, not caring to pry into the conjugal drama that was +secretly and silently playing its last act before his eyes.</p> + +<p>Don Ramón, that somber libertine of insatiable appetites, prey to a +sinister, mysterious inebriation, was tossing in a last whirlwind of +tempestuous desire, as though the blaze of sunset had set fire to what +remained of his vitality.</p> + +<p>With a deliberate, determined lustfulness, he went scouring the +District like a wild satyr, and his brutish assaults, his terrorism and +abuse of authority, were reported back by scurrilous tongues to the +seignorial mansion, where his friend don Andrés was trying in vain to +pacify the wife.</p> + +<p>"That man!" doña Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going +to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?"</p> + +<p>His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional +respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at +night, when don Ramón, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable +demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a +disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to +sleep, doña Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded +across her bosom, and pray to herself:</p> + +<p>"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this +come to an end soon, oh Lord!"</p> + +<p>And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got +rapidly worse.</p> + +<p>"Take care of yourself, don Ramón," his curate friends would say to him. +They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're +getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!"</p> + +<p>The <em>cacique</em> would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know +that such exploits were possible for a man at his age.</p> + +<p>He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted +by don Andrés, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He +gave the boy his shotgun—a veritable jewel, the admiration of the +entire District—and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting +around just to see the realization of old Don Jaime's ambition, which he +himself had not been able to fulfill, he passed away.</p> + +<p>All the bells of the city tolled mournfully.</p> + +<p>The Party weekly came out with a black border a palm wide; and from all +over the District folks came in droves to see whether the powerful don +Ramón Brull, who had been able to rain upon the just and unjust alike on +this earth, could possibly have died the same as any other human being.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>III</h3> + + +<p>When doña Bernarda found herself alone, and absolute mistress of her +home, she could not conceal her satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Now they would see what a woman could do.</p> + +<p>She counted on the advice and experience of don Andrés, who was closer +than ever to her now; and on the prestige of Rafael, the young lawyer, +who bade fair to sustain the reputation of the Brulls.</p> + +<p>The power of the family continued unchanged. Don Andrés, who, at the +death of his master, had succeeded to the authority of a second father +in the Brull house, saw to the maintenance of relations with the +authorities at the provincial capital and with the still bigger fish in +Madrid. Petitions were heard in the <em>patio</em> the same as ever. Loyal +party adherents were received as cordially as before and the same favors +were done, nor was there any decline of influence in places that don +Andrés referred to as "the spheres of public administration."</p> + +<p>There came an election for Parliament, and as usual, doña Bernarda +secured the triumph of the individual whose nomination had been dictated +from Madrid. Don Ramón had left the party machine in perfect condition; +all it needed was enough "grease" to keep it running smoothly; and there +his widow was besides, ever alert at the slightest suggestion of a creak +in the gearing.</p> + +<p>At provincial headquarters they spoke of the District with the usual +confidence:</p> + +<p>"It's ours. Brull's son is as powerful as the old man himself."</p> + +<p>The truth was that Rafael took little interest in "the Party." He looked +upon it as one of the family properties, the title to which no one could +dispute. He confined his personal activities to obeying his mother. "Go +to Riola with don Andrés. Our friends there will be happy to see you." +And he would go on the trip, to suffer the torment of an interminable +rally, a <em>paella</em>, during which his fellow partisans would bore him with +their uncouth merriment and ill-mannered flattery. "You really ought to +give your horse a couple of days' rest. Instead of going out for a ride, +spend your afternoon at the Club! Our fellows are complaining they never +get a sight of you." Whereupon Rafael would give up his rides—his sole +pleasure practically—and plunge into a thick smoke-laden atmosphere of +noise and shouting, where he would have to answer questions of the most +illustrious members of the party. They would sit around, filling their +coffee-saucers with cigar-ash, disputing as to which was the better +orator, Castelar or Canovas, and, in case of a war between France and +Germany, which of the two would win—idle subjects that always provoked +disagreements and led to quarrels.</p> + +<p>The only time he entered into voluntary relations with "the Party" was +when he took his pen in hand and manufactured for the Brull weekly a +series of articles on "Law and Morality" and "Liberty and Faith,"—the +rehashings of a faithful, industrious plodder at school, prolix +commonplaces seasoned with what metaphysical terminology he remembered, +and which, from the very reason that nobody understood them, excited +the admiration of his fellow partisans. They would blink at the articles +and say to don Andrés:</p> + +<p>"What a pen, eh? Just let anyone dare to argue with him.... Deep, that +noodle, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>Nights, when his mother did not oblige him to visit the home of some +influential voter who must be kept content, he would spend reading, no +longer, however, as in Valencia, books lent him by the canon, but works +that he bought himself, following the recommendations of the press, and +that his mother respected with the veneration always inspired in her by +printed paper sewed and bound, an awe comparable only to the scorn she +felt for newspapers, dedicated, every one of them, as she averred, to +the purpose of insulting holy things and stirring up the brutal passions +of "the rabble."</p> + +<p>These years of random reading, unrestrained by the scruples and the +fears of a student, gradually and quietly shattered many of Rafael's +firm beliefs. They broke the mould in which the friends of his mother +had cast his mind and made him dream of a broader life than the one +known to those about him. French novels transported him to a Paris that +far outshone the Madrid he had known for a moment in his graduate days. +Love stories awoke in his youthful imagination an ardor for adventure +and involved passions in which there was something of the intense love +of indulgence that had been his father's besetting sin. He came to dwell +more and more in the fictitious world of his readings, where there were +elegant, perfumed, clever women, practicing a certain art in the +refinement of their vices.</p> + +<p>The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if +they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The +young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the +narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact +market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each +aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of +the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable +toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of +prejudice and tradition.</p> + +<p>For that reason he was deeply bored by his colorless, humdrum existence, +so far removed from that other purely imaginative life which rose from +the pages of his books and enveloped him with an exotic, exciting +perfume.</p> + +<p>Some day he would be free, and take flight on his own wings; and that +day of liberation would come when he got to be deputy. He waited for his +coming of age much as an heir-apparent waits for the moment of his +coronation.</p> + +<p>From early boyhood he had been taught to look forward to the great event +which would cut his life in two, opening out new pathways for a "forward +march" to fame and fortune.</p> + +<p>"When my little boy gets to be deputy," his mother would say in her rare +moments of affectionate expansiveness, "the girls will fight for him +because he is so handsome! And he'll marry a millionairess!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in long years of impatient anticipation, his life went on, +with no special circumstance to break its dull monotony—the life of an +aspirant certain of his lot, "killing time" till the call should come +to enter on his heritage. He was like those noble youngsters of bygone +centuries who, graced in their cradles by the rank of colonel from the +monarch, played around with hoop and top till they were old enough to +join their regiments. He had been born a deputy, and a deputy he was +sure to be: for the moment, he was waiting for his cue in the wings of +the theatre of life.</p> + +<p>His trip to Italy on a pilgrimage to see the Pope was the one event that +had disturbed the dreary course of his existence. But in that country of +marvels, with a pious canon for a guide, he visited churches rather than +museums. Of theatres he saw only two—larks permitted by his tutor, +whose austerity was somewhat mollified in those changing scenes. +Indifferently they passed the famous artistic works of the Italian +churches, but paused always to venerate some relic with miracles as +famous as absurd. Even so, Rafael managed to catch a confused and +passing glimpse of a world different from the one in which he was +predestined to pass his life. From a distance he sensed something of the +love of pleasure and romance he had drunk in like an intoxicating wine +from his reading. In Milan he admired a gilded, adventurous bohemia of +opera; in Rome, the splendor of a refined, artistic aristocracy in +perpetual rivalry with that of Paris and London; and in Florence, an +English nobility that had come in quest of sunlight and a chance to air +its straw hats, show off the fair hair of its ladies, and chatter its +own language in gardens where once upon a time the somber Dante dreamed +and Boccaccio told his merry tales to drive fear of plague away.</p> + +<p>That journey, of impressions as rapid and as fleeting as a reel of +moving-pictures, leaving in Rafael's mind a maze of names, buildings, +paintings and cities, served to give greater breadth to his thinking, as +well as added stimulus to his imagination. Wider still became the gulf +that separated him from the people and ideas he met in his common +everyday life. He felt a longing for the extraordinary, for the +original, for the adventuresomeness of artistic youth; and political +master of a county, heir of a feudal dominion virtually, he nevertheless +would read the name of any writer or painter whatsoever with the +superstitious respect of a rustic churl. "A wretched, ruined lot who +haven't even a bed to die on," his mother viewed such people; but Rafael +nourished a secret envy for all who lived in that ideal world, which he +was certain must be filled with pleasures and exciting things he had +scarcely dared to dream of. What would he not give to be a bohemian like +the personages he met in the books of Murger, member of a merry band of +"intellectuals," leading a life of joy and proud devotion to higher +things in a bourgeois age that knew only thirst for money and prejudice +of class! Talent for saying pretty things, for writing winged verses +that soared like larks to heaven! A garret underneath the roof, off +there in Paris, in the Latin Quarter! A Mimí poor but spiritual, who +would love him, and—between one kiss and another—be able to +discuss—not the price of oranges, like the girls who followed him with +tender eyes at home—but serious "elevated" things! In exchange for all +that he would gladly have given his future deputyship and all the +orchards he had inherited, which, though encumbered by mortgages not to +mention moral debts left by the rascality of his father and +grandfather—still would bring him a tidy annuity for realizing his +bohemian dreams.</p> + +<p>Such preoccupations made life as a party leader, tied down to the petty +interests of a constituency, quite unthinkable! At the risk of angering +his mother, he fled the Club, to court the solitude of the hills and +fields. There his imagination could range in greater freedom, peopling +the roads, the meadows, the orange groves with creatures of his fancy, +often conversing aloud with the heroines of some "grand passion," +carried on along the lines laid down by the latest novel he had read.</p> + +<p>One afternoon toward the close of summer Rafael climbed the little +mountain of San Salvador, which lies close to the city. From the +eminence he was fond of looking out over the vast domains of his family. +For all the inhabitants of that fertile plain were—as don Andrés said +whenever he wished to emphasize the party's greatness—like so many +cattle branded with the name of Brull.</p> + +<p>As he went up the winding, stony trail, Rafael thought of the mountains +of Assisi, which he had visited with his friend the canon, a great +admirer of the Saint of Umbria. It was a landscape that suggested +asceticism. Crags of bluish or reddish rock lined the roadway on either +side, with pines and cypresses rising from the hollows, and extending +black, winding, snaky roots out over the fallow soil. At intervals, +white shrines with tiny roofs harbored mosaics of glazed tiles depicting +the Stations on the <em>Via Dolorosa</em>. The pointed green caps of the +cypresses, as they waved, seemed bent on frightening away the white +butterflies that were fluttering about over the rosemary and the +nettles. The parasol-pines projected patches of shade across the burning +road, where the sun-baked earth crackled and crumbled to dead dust under +every footstep.</p> + +<p>Reaching the little square in front of the Hermitage, he rested from the +ascent, stretching out full length on the crescent of rubblework that +formed a bench near the sanctuary. There silence reigned, the silence of +high hill-tops. From below, the noises of the restless life and labor of +the plain came weakened, softened, by the wind, like the murmuring of +waves breaking on a distant shore. Among the prickly-pears that grew in +close thicket behind the bench, insects were buzzing about, shining in +the sun like buds of gold. Some hens, belonging to the Hermitage, were +pecking away in one corner of the square, clucking, and dusting their +feathers in the gravel.</p> + +<p>Rafael surrendered to the charm of the exquisite scene. With reason had +it been called "Paradise" by its ancient owners, Moors from the magic +gardens of Bagdad, accustomed to the splendors of <em>The Thousand and One +Nights</em>, but who went into ecstacies nevertheless on beholding for the +first time the wondrous <em>ribera</em> of Valencia!</p> + +<p>Throughout the great valley, orange groves, extending like shimmering +waves of velvet; hedges and enclosures of lighter green, cutting the +crimson earth into geometric figures; clumps of palms spurting like jets +of verdure upward toward the sky, and falling off again in languorous +swoons; villas blue and rose-colored, nestling in flowering gardens; +white farmhouses half concealed behind green swirls of forest; spindling +smokestacks of irrigation engines, with yellow sooty tops; Alcira, its +houses clustered on the island and overflowing to the opposite bank, all +of whitish, bony hue, pock-marked with tiny windows; beyond, Carcagente, +the rival city, girdled in its belt of leafy orchards; off toward the +sea, sharp, angular mountains, with outlines that from afar suggested +the fantastic castles imagined by Doré; and inland, the towns of the +upper <em>ribera</em> floating in an emerald lake of orchard, the distant +mountains taking on a violet hue from the setting sun that was creeping +like a bristly porcupine of gold into the hot vapors of the horizon.</p> + +<p>Behind the Hermitage all the lower <em>ribera</em> stretched, one expanse of +rice-fields drowned under an artificial flood; then, Sueca and Cullera, +their white houses perched on those fecund lagoons like towns in +landscapes of India; then, Albufera, with its lake, a sheet of silver +glistening in the sunlight; then, Valencia, like a cloud of smoke +drifting along the base of a mountain range of hazy blue; and, at last, +in the background, the halo, as it were, of this apotheosis of light and +color, the Mediterranean—the palpitant azure Gulf bounded by the cape +of San Antonio and the peaks of Sagunto and Almenara, that jutted up +against the sky-line like the black fins of giant whales.</p> + +<p>As Rafael looked down upon the towers of the crumbling convent of La +Murta, almost hidden in its pine-groves, he thought of all the tragedy +of the Reconquest; and almost mourned the fate of those farmer-warriors +whose white cloaks he could imagine as still floating among the groves +of those magic trees of Asia's paradise. It was the influence of the +Moor in his Spanish ancestry. Christian, clerical even, though he was, +he had inherited a melancholy, dreamy turn of mind from the very Arabs +who had created all that Eden.</p> + +<p>He pictured to himself the tiny kingdoms of those old <em>walis</em>; vassal +districts very like the one his family ruled. But instead of resting on +influence, bribery, intimidation, and the abuse of law, they lived by +the lances of horsemen as apt at tilling the soil as at capering in +tournaments with an elegance never equalled by any chevaliers of the +North. He could see the court of Valencia, with the romantic gardens of +Ruzafa, where poets sang mournful strophes over the wane of the +Valencian Moor, while beautiful maidens listened from behind the +blossoming rose-bushes. And then the catastrophe came. In a torrent of +steel, barbarians swept down from the arid hills of Aragon to appease +their hunger in the bounty of the plain—the <em>almogávares</em>—naked, wild, +bloodthirsty savages, who never washed. And as allies of this horde, +bankrupt Christian noblemen, their worn-out lands mortgaged to the +Israelite, but good cavalrymen, withal, armored, and with dragonwings on +their helmets; and among the Christians, adventurers of various tongues, +soldiers of fortune out for plunder and booty in the name of the Cross +—the "black sheep" of every Christian family. And they seized the great +garden of Valencia, installed themselves in the Moorish palaces, called +themselves counts and marquises, and with their swords held that +privileged country for the King of Aragon, while the conquered Saracens +continued to fertilize it with their toil.</p> + +<p>"Valencia, Valencia, Valencia! Thy walls are ruins, thy gardens +grave-yards, thy sons slaves unto the Christian ..." groaned the poet, +covering his eyes with his cloak. And Rafael could see, passing like +phantoms before his eyes, leaning forward on the necks of small, sleek, +sinewy horses, that seemed to fly over the ground, their legs +horizontal, their nostrils belching smoke, the Moors, the real people of +Valencia, conquered, degenerated by the very abundance of their soil, +abandoning their gardens before the onrush of brutal, primitive +invaders, speeding on their way toward the unending night of African +barbarism. At this eternal exile of the first Valencians who left to +oblivion and decay a civilization, the last vestiges of which today +survive in the universities of Fez, Rafael felt the sorrow he would have +experienced had it all been a disaster to his family or his party.</p> + +<p>While he was thinking of all these dead things, life in its feverish +agitation surrounded him. A cloud of sparrows was darting about the roof +of the Hermitage. On the mountain side a flock of dark-fleeced sheep was +grazing; and when any of them discovered a blade of grass among the +rocks, they would begin calling to one another with a melancholy +bleating.</p> + +<p>Rafael could hear the voices of some women who seemed to be climbing the +road, and from his reclining position he finally made out two parasols +that were gradually rising to view over the edge of his bench. One was +of flaming red silk, skilfully embroidered and suggesting the filigreed +dome of a mosque; the second, of flowered calico, was apparently keeping +at a respectful distance behind the first.</p> + +<p>Two women entered the little square, and as Rafael sat up and removed +his hat, the taller, who seemed to be the mistress, acknowledged his +courtesy with a slight bow, went on to the other end of the esplanade, +and stood, with her back turned toward him, looking at the view. The +other sat down some distance off, breathing laboriously from the +exertion of the climb.</p> + +<p>Who were those women?... Rafael knew the whole city, and had never seen +them.</p> + +<p>The one seated near him was doubtless the servant of the other—her maid +or her companion. She was dressed in black, simply but with a certain +charm, like the French soubrettes he had seen in illustrated novels. But +rustic origin and lack of cultivation were evident from the stains on +the backs of her unshapely hands; from her broad, flat, finger-nails; +and from her large ungainly feet, quite out of harmony with the pair of +stylish boots she was wearing—cast-off articles, doubtless, of the +lady. She was pretty, nevertheless, with a fresh exuberance of youth. +Her large, gray, credulous eyes were those of a stupid but playful lamb; +her hair, straight, and a very light blond, hung loosely here and there +over a freckled face, dark with sunburn. She handled her closed parasol +somewhat awkwardly and kept looking anxiously at the doubled gold chain +that drooped from her neck to her waist, as if to reassure herself that +a gift long-coveted had not been lost.</p> + +<p>Rafael's interest drifted to the lady. His eyes rested on the back of a +head of tightly-gathered golden hair, as luminous as a burnished helmet; +on a white neck, plump, rounded; on a pair of broad, lithe shoulders, +hidden under a blue silk blouse, the lines tapering rapidly, gracefully +toward the waist; on a gray skirt, finally, falling in harmonious folds +like the draping of a statue, and under the hem the solid heels of two +shoes of English style encasing feet that must have been as agile and as +strong as they were tiny.</p> + +<p>The lady called to her maid in a voice that was sonorous, vibrant, +velvety, though Rafael could catch only the accented syllables of her +words, that seemed to melt together in the melodious silence of the +mountain top. The young man was sure she had not spoken Spanish. A +foreigner, almost certainly!...</p> + +<p>She was expressing admiration and enthusiasm for the view, talking +rapidly, pointing out the principal towns that could be seen, calling +them by their names,—the only words that Rafael could make out clearly. +Who was this woman whom he had never seen, who spoke a foreign language +and yet knew the <em>ribera</em> well? Perhaps the wife of one of the French or +English orange-dealers established in the city! Meanwhile his eyes were +devouring that superb, that opulent, that elegant beauty which seemed to +be challenging him with its indifference to his presence.</p> + +<p>The keeper of the Hermitage issued cautiously from the house—a peasant +who made his living from visitors to the heights. Attracted by the +promising appearance of the strange lady, the hermit came forward to +greet her, offering to fetch water from the cistern, and to unveil the +image of the miraculous virgin, in her honor.</p> + +<p>The woman turned around to answer the man, and that gave Rafael an +opportunity to study her at his leisure. She was tall, ever so tall, as +tall as he perhaps. But the impression her height of stature made was +softened by a grace of figure that revealed strength allied to elegance. +A strong bust, sculpturesque, supporting a head that engaged the young +man's wrapt attention. A hot mist of emotion seemed to cloud his vision +as he looked into her large eyes, so green, so luminous! The golden hair +fell forward upon a forehead of pearly whiteness, veined at the temples +with delicate lines of blue. Viewed in profile her gracefully moulded +nose, quivering with vitality at the nostrils, filled out a beauty that +was distinctly modern, piquantly charming. In those lineaments, Rafael +thought he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen +her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated +weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the +cover of some match-box—a common medium of publicity for famous +European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful +face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long +absence.</p> + +<p>The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door +of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast +their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange +lady.</p> + +<p>"Enter, <em>siñorita</em>" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the +Virgin <em>del Lluch</em>, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here +alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the +real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous +because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's +the real one by the miracles she works."</p> + +<p>He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a +cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the +little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face.</p> + +<p>Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image. +The Virgin <em>del Lluch</em> was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been +compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to +discover—perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting, +war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her +to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca +came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a +liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even +wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep +what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just +like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the +original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the +Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her +miraculous voyage over the sea.</p> + +<p>The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all +ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her +credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from +the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling +at such a portentous miracle. Rafael had followed the party into the +shrine and taken a position near the fascinating stranger. She, however, +pretended not to see him.</p> + +<p>"That is only a legend," he ventured to remark, when the rustic had +finished his story. "You understand, of course, that nobody hereabouts +accepts such tales as true."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," the lady answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"Legend or no legend, don Rafael," the recluse grumbled, somewhat +peeved, "that's what my grandfather and all the folk of his day used to +say; and that's what people still believe. If the story has been handed +down so long, there must be something to it."</p> + +<p>The patch of sunlight that shone through the doorway upon the flagstones +was darkened by the shadow of a woman. It was a poorly clad orchard +worker, young, it seemed, but with a face pale, and as rough as wrinkled +paper, all the crevices and hollows of her cranium showing, her eyes +sunken and dull, her unkempt hair escaping from beneath her knotted +kerchief. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. She stood +with her legs wide apart, as if in an effort to keep her balance. She +seemed to feel intense pain whenever she stepped upon the ground. +Illness and poverty were written on every feature of her person.</p> + +<p>The recluse knew her well; and as the unfortunate creature, panting with +the effort of the climb, sank upon a little bench to rest her feet, he +told her story briefly to the visitors.</p> + +<p>She was ill, very, very ill. With no faith in doctors, who, according to +her, "treated her with nothing but words"; she believed that the Virgin +<em>del Lluch</em> would ultimately cure her. And, though at home she could +scarcely move from her chair and was always being scolded by her husband +for neglecting the housework, every week she would climb the steep +mountain-side, barefoot, her shoes in her hand.</p> + +<p>The hermit approached the sick woman, accepting a copper coin she +offered. A few couplets to the Virgin, as usual, he supposed!</p> + +<p>"Visanteta, a few <em>gochos</em>!" shouted the rustic, going to the door. And +his daughter came into the chapel—a dirty, dark-skinned creature with +African eyes, who might just have escaped from a gipsy band.</p> + +<p>She took a seat upon a bench, turning her back upon the Virgin with the +bored ill-humored expression of a person compelled to do a dull task day +after day; and in a hoarse, harsh, almost frantic voice, which echoed +deafeningly in that small enclosure, she began a drawling chant that +rehearsed the story of the statue and the portentous miracles it had +wrought.</p> + +<p>The sick woman, kneeling before the altar without releasing her hold +upon her shoes, the heels of her feet, which were bruised and bleeding +from the stones, showing from under her skirts, repeated a refrain at +the end of each stanza, imploring the protection of the Virgin. Her +voice had a weak and hollow sound, like the wail of a child. Her sunken +eyes, misty with tears, were fixed upon the Virgin with a dolorous +expression of supplication. Her words came more tremulous and more +distant at each couplet.</p> + +<p>The beautiful stranger was plainly affected at the pitiful sight. Her +maid had knelt and was following the sing-song rhythm of the chant, with +prayers in a language that Rafael recognized at last. It was Italian.</p> + +<p>"What a great thing faith is!" the lady murmured with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <em>señora</em>; a beautiful thing!"</p> + +<p>Rafael tried to think of something "brilliant" on the grandeur of faith, +from Saint Thomas, or one of the other "sound" authors he had studied. +But he ransacked his memory in vain. Nothing! That charming woman had +filled his mind with thoughts far other than quotations from the +Fathers!</p> + +<p>The couplets to the Virgin came to an end. With the last stanza the wild +singer disappeared; and the sick woman, after several abortive efforts, +rose painfully to her feet. The recluse approached her with the +solicitude of a shopkeeper concerned for the quality of his wares. Were +things going any better? Were the visits to the Virgin doing good?... +The unfortunate woman did not dare to answer, for fear of offending the +miraculous Lady. She did not know!... Yes ... she really must be a +little better ... But that climb!... This offering had not had such good +results as the previous ones, she thought; but she had faith: the Virgin +would be good to her and cure her in the end. At the church door she +collapsed from pain. The recluse placed her on his chair and ran to the +cistern to get a glass of water. The Italian maid, her eyes bulging with +fright, leaned over the poor woman, petting her:</p> + +<p>"<em>Poverina! Poverina!... Coraggio</em>!" The invalid, rallying from her +swoon, opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at the stranger, not +understanding her words but guessing their kindly intention.</p> + +<p>The lady stepped out to the <em>plazoleta</em>, deeply moved, it seemed, by +what she had been witnessing. Rafael followed, with affected +absent-mindedness, somewhat ashamed of his insistence, yet at the same +time looking for an opportunity to renew their conversation.</p> + +<p>On finding herself once more in the presence of that wonderful panorama, +where the eye ran unobstructed to the very limit of the horizon, the +charming creature seemed to breathe more freely.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" she exclaimed, as if speaking to herself. "How sad and yet +how wonderful! This view is ever so beautiful. But that woman!... That +poor woman!"</p> + +<p>"She's been that way for years, to my personal knowledge," Rafael +remarked, pretending to have known the invalid for a long time, though +he had scarcely ever deigned to notice her before. "Our peasants are +queer people. They despise doctors, and refuse their help, preferring to +kill themselves with these barbarous prayers and devotions, which they +expect will do them good."</p> + +<p>"But they may be right, after all!" the lady replied. "Disease is often +incurable, and science can do for it about as much as faith—sometimes, +even less.... But here we are laughing and enjoying ourselves while +suffering passes us by, rubs elbows with us even, without our noticing!"...</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for reply. What sort of woman was this? What a way +she had of talking! Accustomed as he was to the commonplace chatter of +his mother's friends, and still under the influence of this meeting, +which had so deeply disturbed him, the poor boy imagined himself in the +presence of a sage in skirts—a philosopher under the disguise of +female beauty come from beyond the Pyrenees, from some gloomy German +alehouse perhaps, to upset his peace of mind.</p> + +<p>The stranger was silent for a time, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. +Then around her attractive sensuous lips, through which two rows of +shining, dazzling teeth were gleaming, the suggestion of a smile began +to play, a smile of joy at the landscape.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful this all is!" she exclaimed, without turning toward her +companion. "How I have longed to see it again!"</p> + +<p>At last the opportunity had come to ask the question he had been so +eager to put: and she herself had offered the opportunity!</p> + +<p>"Do you come from here?" he asked, in a tremulous voice, fearing lest +his inquisitiveness be scornfully repelled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the lady replied, curtly.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's strange. I have never seen you...."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing strange about that. I arrived only yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Just as I said!... I know everyone in the city. My name is Rafael +Brull. I'm the son of don Ramón, who was mayor of Alcira many times."</p> + +<p>At last he had let it out! The poor fellow had been dying to reveal his +name, tell who he was, pronounce that magic word so influential in the +District, certain it would be the "Open Sesame" to that wonderful +stranger's grace! After that, perhaps, she would tell him who she was! +But the lady commented on his declaration with an "Ah!" of cold +indifference. She did not show that his name was even known to her, +though she did sweep him with a rapid, scrutinizing, half-mocking glance +that seemed to betray a hidden thought:</p> + +<p>"Not bad-looking, but what a dunce!"</p> + +<p>Rafael blushed, feeling he had made a false step in volunteering his +name with the pompousness he would have used toward some bumpkin of the +region.</p> + +<p>A painful silence followed. Rafael was anxious to get out of his plight. +That glacial indifference, that disdainful courtesy, which, without a +trace of rudeness, still kept him at a distance, hurt his vanity to the +quick. But since there was no stopping now, he ventured a second +question:</p> + +<p>"And are you thinking of remaining in Alcira very long?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael thought the ground was giving way beneath his feet. Another +glance from those green eyes! But, alas, this time it was cold and +menacing, a livid flash of lightning refracted from a mirror of ice.</p> + +<p>"I don't know ..." she answered, with a deliberateness intended to +accentuate unmistakable scorn. "I usually leave places the moment they +begin to bore me." And looking Rafael squarely in the face she added, +with freezing formality, after a pause:</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, sir."</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed. He saw her turn toward the doorway of the sanctuary +and call her maid. Every step of hers, every movement of her proud +figure, seemed to raise a barrier in front of him. He saw her bend +affectionately over the sick orchard-woman, open a little pink bag that +her maid handed her, and, rummaging about among some sparkling trinkets +and embroidered handkerchiefs, draw out a hand filled with shining +silver coins. She emptied the money into the apron of the astonished +peasant girl, gave something as well to the recluse, who was no less +astounded, and then, opening her red parasol, walked off, followed by +her maid.</p> + +<p>As she passed Rafael, she answered the doffing of his hat with a barely +perceptible inclination of her head; and, without looking at him, +started on her way down the stony mountain path.</p> + +<p>The young man stood gazing after her through the pines and the cypresses +as her proud athletic figure grew smaller in the distance.</p> + +<p>The perfume of her presence seemed to linger about him when she had +gone, obsessing him with the atmosphere of superiority and exotic +elegance that emanated from her whole being.</p> + +<p>Rafael noticed finally that the recluse was approaching, unable to +restrain a desire to communicate his admiration to someone.</p> + +<p>"What a woman!" the man cried, rolling his eyes to express his full +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>She had given him a <em>duro</em>, one of those white discs which, in that +atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the +poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron +blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! <em>Duros, pesetas</em>, +two-<em>pesetas</em>, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold +button, which must have come from her glove!</p> + +<p>Rafael shared in the general astonishment. But who the devil was that +woman?</p> + +<p>"How do I know!" the rustic answered. "But judging from the language of +the maid," he went on with great conviction: "I should say she was some +Frenchwoman ... some Frenchwoman ... with a pile of money!"</p> + +<p>Rafael turned once more in the direction of the two parasols that were +slowly winding down the slope. They were barely visible now. The larger +of the two, a mere speck of red, was already blending into the green of +the first orchards on the plain ... At last it had disappeared +completely.</p> + +<p>Left alone, Rafael burst into rage! The place where he had made such a +sorry exhibition of himself seemed odious to him now. He fumed with +vexation at the memory of that cold glance, which had checked any +advance toward familiarity, repelled him, crushed him! The thought of +his stupid questions filled him with hot shame.</p> + +<p>Without replying to the "good-evening" from the recluse and his family, +he started down the mountain, in hopes of meeting the woman again, +somewhere, some time, he knew not when nor how. The heir of don Ramón, +the hope of the District, strode furiously on, his arms aquiver with a +nervous tremor. And aggressively, menacingly, addressing his own ego as +though it were a henchman cringing terror-stricken in front of him, he +muttered:</p> + +<p>"You imbecile!... You lout!... You peasant! You provincial ass! You ... +rube!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>IV</h3> + + +<p>Doña Bernarda did not suspect the reason why her son rose on the +following morning pale, and with dark rings under his eyes, as if he had +spent a bad night. Nor could his political friends guess, that +afternoon, why in such fine weather, Rafael should come and shut himself +up in the stifling atmosphere of the Club.</p> + +<p>When he came in, a crowd of noisy henchmen gathered round him to discuss +all over again the great news that had been keeping "the Party" in +feverish excitement for a week past: the Cortes were to be dissolved! +The newspapers had been talking of nothing else. Within two or three +months, before the close of the year at the latest, there would be a new +election, and therewith, as all averred, a landslide for don Rafael +Brull. The intimate friend and lieutenant of the House of Brull was the +best informed. If the elections took place on the date indicated by the +newspapers, Rafael would still be five or six months short of his +twenty-fifth birth-day. But don Andrés had written to Madrid to consult +the Party leaders. The prime minister was agreeable—"there were +precedents!"—and even though Rafael should be a few weeks short of the +legal age, the seat would go to him just the same. They would send no +more "foundlings" from Madrid! Alcira would have no more "unknowns" +foisted upon her! And the whole Tribe of Brull dependents was preparing +for the contest with the enthusiasm of a prize-fighter sure of victory +beforehand.</p> + +<p>All this bustling expectation left Rafael cold. For years he had been +looking forward to that election time, when the chance would come for +his free life in Madrid. Now that it was at hand he was completely +indifferent to the whole matter, as if he were the last person in the +world concerned.</p> + +<p>He looked impatiently at the table where don Andrés, with three other +leading citizens, was having his daily hand at cards before coming to +sit down at Rafael's side. That was a canny habit of don Andrés. He +liked to be seen in his capacity of Regent, sheltering the heir-apparent +under the wing of his prestige and experienced wisdom.</p> + +<p>Well along in the afternoon, when the Club parlor was less crowded with +members, the atmosphere freer of smoke, and the ivory balls less noisy +on the green cloth, don Andrés considered his game at an end, and took a +chair in his disciple's circle, where as usual Rafael was sitting with +the most parasitic and adulatory of his partisans.</p> + +<p>The boy pretended to be listening to their conversation, but all the +while he was preparing mentally a question he had decided to put to don +Andrés the day before.</p> + +<p>At last he made up his mind.</p> + +<p>"You know everybody, don Andrés. Well, yesterday, up on San Salvador, I +met a fine-looking woman who seems to be a foreigner. She says she's +living here. Who is she?"</p> + +<p>The old man burst into a loud laugh, and pushed his chair back from the +table, so that his big paunch would have room to shake in.</p> + +<p>"So you've seen her, too!" he exclaimed between one guffaw and another. +"Well, sir, what a city this is! That woman got in the day before +yesterday, and everybody's seen her already. She's the talk of the town. +You were the only one who hadn't asked me about her so far. And now +you've bitten!... Ho! Ho! Ho! What a place this is!"</p> + +<p>When he had had his laugh out—Rafael, meanwhile, did not see the +joke—he continued in more measured style:</p> + +<p>"That 'foreign woman,' as you call her, boy, comes from Alcira. In fact, +she was born about two doors from you. Don't you know doña Pepa, 'the +doctor's woman,' they call her—a little lady who has an orchard close +by the river and lives in the Blue House, that's always under water when +the Júcar floods? She once owned the place you have just beyond where +you live, and she's the one who sold it to your father—the only +property don Ramón ever bought, so far as I know. Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>Rafael thought he did. As he went back in his memory, the picture of an +old wrinkled woman rose before his mind, a woman round-shouldered, bent +with age, but with a kindly face smiling with simple-mindedness and good +nature. He could see her now, with a rosary usually in her hand, a +camp-stool under her arm, and her <em>mantilla</em> drawn down over her face. +As she passed the Brull door on her way to church, she would greet his +mother; and doña Bernarda would remark in a patronizing way: "Doña Pepa +is a very fine woman; one of God's own souls.... The only decent person +in her family."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember; I remember doña Pepa," said Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Well, your 'foreigner,'" don Andrés continued, "is doña Pepa's niece, +daughter of her brother, the doctor. The girl has been all over the +world singing grand opera. You were probably too young to remember +Doctor Moreno, who was the scandal of the province in those days...."</p> + +<p>But Rafael certainly did remember Doctor Moreno! That name was one of +the freshest of his childhood recollections, the bugaboo of many nights +of terror and alarm, when he would hide his trembling head under the +clothes. If he cried about going to bed so early, his mother would say +to him in a mysterious voice:</p> + +<p>"If you don't keep quiet and go right to sleep I'll send for Doctor +Moreno!"</p> + +<p>A weird, a formidable personage, the Doctor! Rafael could see him as +clearly as if he were sitting there in front of him; with that huge, +black, curly beard; those large, burning eyes that always shone with an +inner fire; and that tall, angular figure that seemed taller than ever +as young Brull evoked it from the hazes of his early years. Perhaps the +Doctor had been a good fellow, who knows! At any rate Rafael thought so, +as his mind now reverted to that distant period of his life; but he +could still remember the fright he had felt as a child, when once in a +narrow street he met the terrible Doctor, who had looked at him through +those glowing pupils and caressed his cheeks gently and kindly with a +hand that seemed to the youngster as hot as a live coal! He had fled in +terror, as almost all good boys did when the Doctor petted them.</p> + +<p>What a horrible reputation Doctor Moreno had! The curates of the town +spoke of him in terms of hair-raising horror. An infidel! A man cut off +from Mother Church! Nobody knew for certain just what high authority had +excommunicated him, but he was, no doubt, outside the pale of decent, +Christian folks. Proof of that there was, a-plenty. His whole attic was +filled with mysterious books in foreign languages, all containing +horrible doctrines against God and the authority of His representatives +on earth. He defended a certain fellow by the name of Darwin, who +claimed than men were related to monkeys, a view that gave much +amusement to the indignant doña Bernarda, who repeated all the jokes on +the crazy notion her favorite preacher cracked of a Sunday in the +pulpit. And such a sorcerer! Hardly a disease could resist Doctor +Moreno. He worked wonders in the suburbs, among the lower scum; and +those laborers adored him with as much fear as affection. He succeeded +with people who had been given up by the older doctors, wiseacres in +long frocks and with gold-headed canes, who trusted more in God than in +science, as Rafael's mother would say in praise of them. That devil of a +physician used new and unheard-of treatments he learned from atheistic +reviews and suspicious books he imported from abroad. His competitors +grumbled also because the Doctor had a mania for treating poor folk +gratis, actually leaving money, sometimes, into the bargain; and he +often refused to attend wealthy people of "sound principles" who had +been obliged to get their confessor's permission before placing +themselves in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Rascal!... Heretic!... Lower scum!..." doña Bernarda would exclaim.</p> + +<p>But she said such things in a very low voice and with a certain fear, +for those days were bad ones for the House of Brull. Rafael remembered +how gloomy his father had been about that time, hardly even leaving the +<em>patio</em>. Had it not been for the respect his hairy claws and his +frowning eye-brows inspired, the rabble would have eaten him alive. +"Others" were in command, ... "others" ... everybody, in fact, except +the House of Brull.</p> + +<p>The monarchy had been treasonably overturned; the men of the Revolution +of September were legislating in Madrid. The petty tradesmen of the +city, ever rebellious against the tyranny of don Ramón, had taken guns +in their hands and formed a little militia, ready to send a fusilade +into the <em>cacique</em> who had formerly trodden them under foot. In the +streets people were singing the <em>Marseillaise</em>, waving tricolored +bunting, and hurrahing for the Republic. Candles were being burned +before pictures of Castelar. And meantime that fanatical Doctor, a +Republican, was preaching on the public squares, explaining the "rights +of man" at daytime meetings in the country and at night meetings in +town. Wild with enthusiasm he repeated, in different words, the orations +of the portentous Tribune who in those days was traveling from one end +of Spain to the other, administering to the people the sacrament of +democracy to the music of his eloquence, which raised all the grandeurs +of History from the tomb.</p> + +<p>Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her +angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting, +would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors +away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer. +"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked +her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country. +Those people demanded a Republic—they belonged, as she said, to the +"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning; +and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and +strangle the baby!</p> + +<p>"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen <em>cacique</em> would reply, +with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll +sing their <em>Marseillaise</em> for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why +shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are +coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs."</p> + +<p>In don Ramón's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may +have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been +schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the +hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother +him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's +friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly +of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so +many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for +himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it! +The end of the world was surely coming!</p> + +<p>But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid, +what would become of the poor people who depended on him for health and +protection? Besides, he liked a quiet, sedentary life, with his books +and his studies, where he could satisfy his desires without quarrels and +fighting. His deep convictions impelled him to mingle with the masses, +and speak in public places—where he proved to be a successful agitator, +but he refused to join party organizations; and after a lecture or an +oration, he would spend days and days with his books and magazines, +alone save for his sister—a docile, pious woman who worshipped him, +though she bewailed his irreligion—and for his little daughter, a +blonde girl whom Rafael could scarcely remember, because her father's +unpopularity with the "best people" kept the little child away from +"good society."</p> + +<p>The Doctor had one passion—music; and everybody admired his talent for +that art. What didn't the man know, anyhow? According to doña Bernarda +and her friends, that remarkable skill had been acquired through "evil +arts." It was another fruit of his impiety! But that did not prevent +crowds from thronging the streets at night, cautioning pedestrians to +walk more softly as they approached his house; nor from opening their +windows to hear better when that devil of a doctor would be playing his +violoncello. This he did when certain friends of his came up from +Valencia to spend a few days with him—a queer, long-haired crew that +talked a strange language and referred to a fellow called Beethoven +with as much respect as if he were San Bernardo himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, don Andrés," said Rafael. "I remember Doctor Moreno very well." +And his ears seemed to tingle again with the diabolical melodies that +had floated in to the side of his little bed on terrible nights still +fresh in his memory.</p> + +<p>"Very well," continued the old man. "That lady is the Doctor's daughter. +What a man he was! How he made your father and me fume in the days of +'73! Now that all that is so far in the past, I'll say he was a fine +fellow. His brain had gone somewhat bad from reading too much, like don +Quixote; and he was crazy over music. Most charming manners he had, +however. He married a beautiful orchard-girl, who happened to be very +poor. He said the marriage was ... for the purpose of perpetuating the +species—those were his very words—of having strong, sound, healthy +children. For that he didn't need to bother about his wife's social +position. What he was looking for was health. So he picked out that +Teresa of his, as strong as an ox, and as fresh as an apple. But little +good it did the poor woman. She had one baby and died a few days +afterward, despite the science and the desperate efforts of her husband. +They had lived together less than a year."</p> + +<p>Rafael's companions were listening with as much attention as he; for +morbid curiosity is the characteristic of the people of small places, +where the keenest pleasure available is that of knowing the private +affairs of others intimately.</p> + +<p>"And now comes the good part," don Andrés continued. "The mad Doctor +had two saints: Castelar and Beethoven. The pictures of those fellows +were scattered in every room of the house, even in the attic. This +Beethoven (in case you don't know it), was an Italian or an Englishman, +I'm not sure which—one of those fellows who makes music up out of his +head for people to play in theatres or for lunatics like Moreno to amuse +themselves with. Well, when his daughter was born the Doctor wondered +what name to give her. As a tribute to Emilio Castelar, his idol, he +felt he ought to call her Emilia: but he liked the sound of Leonora +better (no, not Lenor, but Leonora!). According to what he told us, that +was the title of the only opera Beethoven ever wrote—an opera he could +read, for that matter, the way I read the paper. Anyhow, the foreigner +won out; and the Doctor packed the child off to church with his sister, +who took a few neighbors of the poorer sort along to see Leonora +baptized.</p> + +<p>"You can imagine what the priest said after he had looked in vain +through the catalogue of saints for that name. At the time I was +employed in the municipal offices, and I had to intervene. This was all +before the Revolution; Gonzalez Brabo was boss in those days—and good +old days they were! Let an enemy of law and order or sound religion just +raise his voice and he was off on his way to Fernando Pio in no time. +Well, what a racket the Doctor raised! He sat himself down in that +church—first time he'd ever been in the place—and insisted that his +daughter be labeled as he directed. Later he thought he would take her +home without any baptism at all, saying he had no use for the ceremony +anyhow, and that he put up with it only to please his sister. During +the argument, he called all the curates and acolytes assembled in the +sacristy there, a pack of 'brahmans.'"</p> + +<p>"He must have said Brahmins," interrupted Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it: and Bonzes, too—just joking, of course—I remember +very well. But finally he compromised and let her be baptized with the +orthodox name of 'Leonor.' Not that he cared what they called her in the +church. As he went out he said to the priest: "She will be 'Leonora' for +reasons that please her father, and which you wouldn't understand even +if I were to explain them to you." What a hubbub followed! Don Ramón and +I had to interfere to calm the good curates; they were for sending him +up for sacrilege, insult to religion, what not! We had to go some to +quiet things down. In those days, boy, a matter of that sort was more +serious than killing a man."</p> + +<p>"Which name did she keep?" asked a friend of Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Leonora, as her father wished. That girl always took after the old man. +Just as queer as he was. The Doctor all over again! I haven't seen her +yet. They say she's a stunning beauty, like her mother, who was a +blonde, and the handsomest girl in all these parts. When the Doctor had +dressed his wife up like a lady, she wasn't much for manners, but she +certainly was something to look at...."</p> + +<p>"And what became of Moreno?" asked another. "Is it true, as they said +years ago, that he shot himself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, some say one thing, some another. Perhaps it's all a lie. Who +knows! It all happened so far away.... After the Republic fell, it was +the turn of decent people again. Poor Moreno took it all harder than he +did the death of his Teresa, and kept himself locked up in his house day +in, day out. Your father was stronger than before and we ran things in a +way that was a sight for sore eyes! Don Antonio up in Madrid gave orders +to the Governors to give us a free hand in cleaning up everything that +was left of the Revolution. The people who before had been cheering for +the Doctor all the time, now kept away from him for fear we should catch +them. Some afternoons he would go for a walk in the suburbs, or a stroll +over to his sister's orchard, near the river—always with Leonora at his +side. She was now about eleven years old. All his affection was centered +on her. Poor Doctor! How things had changed from the days when his mobs +would meet the troops shot for shot in the streets of Alcira, shouting +<em>vivas</em> for the Federal Republic!... In his solitude and in all the +dejection coming from the defeat of his perverted ideas, he took more +than ever to music. He had but one joy left him. Leonora loved music as +much as he. She learned her lessons rapidly; and soon could accompany +her father's violoncello on the piano. They would spend the days playing +together, going through the whole pile of music sheets they kept stored +in the attic along with those accursed medical books. Besides, the +little girl showed she had a voice, and it seemed to grow fuller and +more beautiful every day. 'She will be a singer, a great singer,' her +father proclaimed enthusiastically. And when some tenant of his or one +of his dependents came into the house and could hardly believe his ears +at the sweetness of the little angel's voice, the Doctor would rub his +hands and gleefully exclaim: 'What do you think of the little lady, +eh?... Some day people in Alcira will be proud she was born here.'"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés paused to sift his recollections, and after a long silence +added:</p> + +<p>"The truth is, I can't tell you any more. At that time, we were in power +again, and I had very little to do with the Doctor. We gradually lost +sight of him, forgot him, practically. The music we heard when going by +the house was all there was to remind us of him. We learned one day, +through his sister, doña Pepa, that he had gone way off with the little +girl somewhere—what was that city you visited, Rafael?—Milan, yes, +Milan, that's it! I've been told that's the market for singers. He +wanted his Leonora to become a prima donna. He never came back, poor +fellow!... Things must have gone badly with them. Every year he would +write home to his sister to sell another piece of land. It is known that +over there they lived in real poverty. In a few years the little fortune +the Doctor got from his parents was gone. Poor doña Pepa, kind old soul, +even disposed of the house—which belonged half to the Doctor and half +to her—sent him every cent of the money, and moved to the orchard. Ever +since then she's been coming in to mass and to Forty Hours in all sorts +of weather. I could learn nothing for certain after that. People lie so, +you see. Some say poor Moreno shot himself because his daughter left him +when she got placed on the stage; others say that he died like a dog in +a poorhouse. The only sure thing is that he died and that his daughter +went on having a great time all over those countries over there. The +way she went it! They even say she had a king or two. As for money! Say, +boys, there are ways and ways of earning it, and ways and ways of +spending it! The fellow who knows all about that side of her is the +barber Cupido. He imagines he's an artist, because he plays the guitar; +and besides he has a Republican grouch, and was a great admirer of her +father's. He's the only one in town who followed all she was up to, in +the papers. They say she doesn't sing under her own name, but uses some +prettier sounding one—foreign, I believe. Cupido is a regular busybody +and you can get all the latest news in his barbershop. Only yesterday he +went to doña Pepa's farmhouse to greet the '<em>eminent artist</em>,' as he +calls her. There's no end to what he tells. Trunks in every corner, +enough to pack a house-full of things into, and silk dresses ... +shopfuls of them! Hats, I can't say how many; jewelry-boxes on every +table with diamonds that strike you blind. And she told Cupido to have +the station-agent get a move on and send what was still missing—the +heavier luggage—boxes and boxes that come from way off somewhere—the +other end of the world, and that cost a fortune just to ship.... There +you are!... And why not? The way she earned it!"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés winking maliciously and laughing like an old faun, gave a sly +nudge at Rafael, who was listening in deep abstraction to the story.</p> + +<p>"But is she going to live on here?" asked the young man. "Accustomed as +she is to flitting about the world, do you think she'll be able to stand +this place?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody can tell," don Andrés replied. "Not even Cupido can find that +out. She'll stay until she gets bored, he says. And to be in less danger +of that, she has brought her whole establishment along on her back, like +a snail."</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be bored soon enough," one of Rafael's friends observed. +"I suppose she thinks she's going to be admired and stared at as she was +abroad! Moreno's girl! Did you ever hear of such a family?... Daughter +of that <em>descamisado</em>, as my father calls him because he died without a +stitch on his back! And all people say of them! Last night her arrival +was the subject of conversation in every decent home in town, and there +wasn't a man who did not promise to fight shy of her. If she thinks +Alcira is anything like the places where they dance the razzle-dazzle +and there's no shame, she'll be sadly disappointed."</p> + +<p>Don Andrés laughed slyly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, boys! She'll be disappointed. There's a plenty of morality in this +town, and much wholesome fear of scandal. We're probably as bad as +people in other places, but we don't want anybody to find us out. I'm +afraid this Leonora is going to spend most of her time with her aunt—a +silly old thing, whatever her many virtues may be. They say she's +brought a French maid along.... But she's beginning to cry 'sour grapes' +already. Do you know what she said to Cupido yesterday? That she had +come here with the idea of living all by herself, just to get away from +people; and when the barber spoke to her of society in Alcira, she made +a wry face, as much as to say the place was filled with no-accounts. +That's what the women were talking most about last night. You can see +why! She has always been the favorite of so many big guns!"</p> + +<p>An idea seemed to flit across the wrinkled forehead of don Andrés, +tracing a wicked smile around his lips:</p> + +<p>"You know what I think, Rafael? You're young and you're handsome, and +you've been abroad. Why don't you make a try for her, if only to prick +the bubble of her conceit and show her there are people here, too. They +say she's mighty good-looking, and, what the deuce! It wouldn't be so +hard. When she finds out who you are!..."</p> + +<p>The old man said this with the idea of flattering Rafael, certain that +the prestige of his "prince" was such that no woman could resist him. +But Rafael had lived through the previous afternoon, and the words +seemed very bitter pills. Don Andrés at once grew serious, as if a +frightful vision had suddenly passed before his eyes; and he added in a +respectful tone:</p> + +<p>"But no: that was only a jest. Don't pay any attention to what I say. +Your mother would be terribly provoked."</p> + +<p>The thought of doña Bernarda, the personification of austere, +uncompromising virtue, chased the mirth from every face in the company.</p> + +<p>"The strange thing about all this," said Rafael, who was anxious to turn +the conversation in a different direction, "is that now everybody +remembers the Doctor's daughter. But years and years went by without her +name being mentioned, in my hearing at least."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man +answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your +day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always +been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as +Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we +got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers +and spread all over town, or something that that silly doña Pepa would +let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece +was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I +don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire, +so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to +Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here, +and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life, +digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take +my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself, +but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to +them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow +everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramón the greatest man the +District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..."</p> + +<p>And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael +had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few +hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood +years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in +their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other.</p> + +<p>This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city, +lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would +not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her.</p> + +<p>How get to know her better, then?... Rafael was tempted as he walked +aimlessly about the streets, to look up the barber Cupido in his shop +that very afternoon. That merry rogue was the only person in all Alcira +who entered her house. But Brull did not dare, for fear of gossip. His +dignity as a party leader forbade his entering that barbershop where the +walls were papered with copies of "Revolution" and where a picture of Pi +y Margall reigned in place of the King's. How could he justify his +presence in a place he had never visited before? How explain to Cupido +his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it +before sundown?</p> + +<p>Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the +barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch. Finally he +sauntered off toward the orchards, following the riverbank slowly along, +with his gaze fixed on that blue house, which had never before attracted +his attention, but which now seemed the most beautiful detail in that +ample paradise of orange-trees.</p> + +<p>Through the groves he could see the balcony of the house, and on it a +woman unfolding shining gowns of delicate colors. She was shaking the +prima donna's skirts to straighten out the wrinkles and the folds caused +by the packing in the trunks.</p> + +<p>It was the Italian maid—that Beppa of the reddish hair whom he had seen +the previous afternoon with her mistress.</p> + +<p>He thought the girl was looking at him, and that she even recognized +him through the foliage, despite the distance. He felt a sudden +timorousness, like a child caught redhanded doing something wrong. He +turned in his tracks and strode rapidly off toward the city.</p> + +<p>But later, he felt quite comforted. Merely to have approached the Blue +House seemed like progress toward acquaintance with the beautiful +Leonora.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>All work had stopped on the rich lands of the <em>ribera</em>.</p> + +<p>The first winter rains were falling over the entire District. Day after +day the gray sky, heavy with clouds, seemed to reach down and touch the +very tops of the trees. The reddish soil of the fields grew dark under +the continuous downpour; the roads, winding deep between the mudwalls +and the fences of the orchards, were changed to rushing streams. The +weeping orange-trees seemed to shrink and cringe under the deluge, as if +in aggrieved protest at the sudden anger of that kindly, friendly land +of sunshine.</p> + +<p>The Júcar was rising. The waters, turned to so much liquid clay, lashed +red and slimy against the buttresses of the bridges. People living along +the banks followed the swelling of the river with anxious eyes, studying +the markers placed along the shores to note how the water was coming up.</p> + +<p><em>"Munta?"</em> ... asked the people from the interior, in their quaint +dialect.</p> + +<p><em>"Munta!"</em> answered the river dwellers.</p> + +<p>And the water was indeed slowly rising, already threatening the city +that had so audaciously taken root in the very middle of its bed.</p> + +<p>But despite the danger, the townspeople seemed to be feeling nothing +more than uneasy curiosity. No one thought of moving across the bridges +to take refuge on the high land. Nonsense! The Júcar was always +flooding. You had to expect something of the sort every once in a while. +Thank heaven there was something to break the monotony of life in that +sleepy town! Why complain at a week's vacation? It was hard to disturb +the placid complacency of those descendants of the Moors. Floods had +been coming since the days of their fathers, their grandfathers and +their great-grandfathers, and never had the town been carried off. A few +houses at the worst. Why suppose the catastrophe would be due now?... +The Júcar was a sort of husband to Alcira. As happens in any decent +family, there would be a quarrel now and then—a thrashing followed by +kisses and reconciliation. Just imagine—living seven or eight centuries +together! Besides,—and this the lesser people thought—there was Father +San Bernardo, as powerful as God Himself in all that concerned Alcira. +He was able, single-handed, to tame the writhing monster that wound its +coiling way underneath the bridges.</p> + +<p>It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to +be having a holiday. The young ones, sent home from school because of +the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the +water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close +to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the +ever-broadening torrent to reach them.</p> + +<p>Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts +were belching streams as thick as a man's arm, loungers in the cafés +would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing +at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make +their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their +opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous +inspection.</p> + +<p>The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically +"Southern" argument and prophecy. Friendships were being made and +broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the +past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more +important than the one five years before.</p> + +<p>Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, +roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the +low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the +shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges +and the mudwalls.</p> + +<p>The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the +mountains of Cuenca. If much water came down from there, the flood would +become serious. And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters +carefully. If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the +upper provinces.</p> + +<p>The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days. The night of the second day +closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness. +On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless +flashes of flame—candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen +on guard along the banks.</p> + +<p>In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the +houses. Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the +men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about +in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or +tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the +water.</p> + +<p>All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the +darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully +displayed during the daytime. Now fear of the supernatural came over +them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher +Power to avert the danger. Perhaps this freshet was the final one! +Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall +of the city!... Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their +wretched lanes converted into deep canals.</p> + +<p>"<em>El pare San Bernat!... Que traguen al pare San Bernat</em>! Father Saint +Bernard!... Let them fetch father Saint Bernard!"</p> + +<p>The men looked at each other uneasily. Nobody could handle a matter like +this so well as the glorious patron. It was now high time to have +recourse to him, as had so often been done before, and get him to +perform his miracle.</p> + +<p>They ought to go to the City Council, and compel the big guns there, in +spite of their scepticism, to bring the saint out for the consolation of +the poor.</p> + +<p>In an hour a veritable army was formed. Mobs issued from the dark lanes, +paddling in the water like frogs, and raising their war-cry: "<em>San +Bernat! San Bernat</em>!"; the men, with their sleeves and trousers rolled +up, or even entirely naked save for the sash that is never removed from +the skin of a Valencian peasant; the women, with their skirts raised +over their heads for protection, sinking their tanned, skinny, +over-worked legs into the slime, and all drenched from head to foot, the +wet clothes sticking to their bodies; and at the head, a number of +strong young men with four-wicked tapers lighted, sputtering and +crackling in the rain and casting a weird flickering radiance back over +the clamoring multitude.</p> + +<p>"<em>San Bernat! San Bernat!... Viva el pare San Bernat!</em> Father Saint +Bernard, <em>viva</em>!"</p> + +<p>Under the drizzle pouring from the sky and the streams tumbling from the +eavespouts, the mob rushed along through the streets in a wild riot. +Doors and windows flew open, and new voices were added to the delirious +uproar, while at every crossing recruits would come to swell the +on-rushing avalanche headed for the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>. Muskets, ancient +blunderbusses, and horse-pistols as big as guns, could be seen in the +menacing throng, as though those wild forms were to compel the granting +of a petition that might be denied, or to slay the river, perhaps.</p> + +<p>The <em>alcalde</em>, with all the members of the council, was waiting at the +door of the City Hall. They had come running to the place, marshalling +the <em>alguacils</em> and the patrols, to face and quell the mutiny.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" the Mayor asked the crowd.</p> + +<p>What did they want! They wanted the one remedy, the one salvation, for +the city: they wanted to take the omnipotent saint to the bank of the +river that he might awe it with his presence, just as their ancestors +had been doing for centuries and centuries, and thanks to which the city +was still standing!</p> + +<p>Some of the city people, whom the peasants regarded as atheists, began +to smile at the strange request. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time +getting all the valuables out of the houses on the bank? A tempest of +protests followed this proposal. "Out with the saint! Out with <em>San +Bernat!</em> We want the miracle! The miracle!" Those simple people were +thinking of the wonders they had learned in their childhood at their +mothers' knees; times in former centuries, when it had been enough for +San Bernardo to appear on a river road, to start the flood down again, +draining off from the orchard lands as water leaks from a broken +pitcher.</p> + +<p>The <em>alcalde</em>, a liegeman of the Brull dynasty, was in a quandary. He +was afraid of that ugly mob and was anxious to yield, as usual; but it +would be a serious breach of etiquette not to consult "the chief." +Fortunately, just as the huge, dark mass of human beings was beginning +to surge in indignation at his silence, and hisses and shouts of anger +were being raised, Rafael appeared.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda had sent him out at the first sign of uneasiness in the +populace. It was in circumstances such as these that her husband used to +shine, taking the helm in every crisis, giving orders and settling +questions, though to no avail at all. But when the river returned to its +normal level, and danger was past, the peasant would remember don +Ramón's "sacrifices" and call him the father of the poor. If the +miraculous saint must come out, let Rafael be the one to produce him! +The elections were at hand. The flood could not have come in better +time. There must be no false steps, no frightening opportunity away. +Something rather must be done to get people to talking about him as they +used to talk about his father on similar occasions.</p> + +<p>So Rafael, after having the purpose of this demonstration explained to +him by the most ardent of the leaders, gave a magnificent gesture of +consent:</p> + +<p>"Granted; have <em>San Bernat</em> brought out!"</p> + +<p>With a thunder of applause and <em>vivas</em> for young Brull, the black +avalanche headed rumbling for the church.</p> + +<p>They must now persuade the curate to take the saint out, and that good +priest—a fat, kindly, but rather shrewd fellow—always objected to what +he called a bit of old-fashioned mummery. The truth was he looked +forward with little pleasure to a tramp out in the rain at the head of a +procession, trying to keep dry under an umbrella, with his <em>soutane</em> +rolled up to his knees, and his shoes coming off at every step in the +mire. Besides, some day, in the very face of San Bernardo, the river +might carry half the city off, and then what a fix, what a fix, religion +would be in, all on account of those disturbers of the peace!</p> + +<p>Rafael and his henchmen of the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> tried their hardest to +convince the curate; but his only reply was to ask whether water was +coming down from Cuenca.</p> + +<p>"I believe it is," said the <em>alcalde</em>. "You can see that makes the +danger worse. It's more than ever necessary to bring out the saint."</p> + +<p>"Well, if there's water coming down from Cuenca," the priest answered, +"we'd better let it come, and San Bernardo also had better keep +indoors, at home. Matters concerning saints must be treated with great +discretion, take my word for that.... And, if you don't agree with me, +just remember that freshet when the river got above the bridges. We +brought the saint out, and the river almost carried him off downstream."</p> + +<p>The crowd, growing restless at the delay, began to shout against the +priest. The good sense of that canny churchman was powerless in the face +of superstitions instilled by centuries of fanaticism.</p> + +<p>"Since you will it so, so let it be," he said gravely. "Let the Saint +come forth, and may the Lord have mercy on us!"</p> + +<p>A frenzied acclamation burst from the crowd, which now filled the whole +square in front of the church. The rain continued falling, and above the +serried ranks of heads covered with skirts, cloaks, and an occasional +umbrella, the flames of the tapers flickered, staining the wet faces +red.</p> + +<p>The people smiled happily in all their discomfort from the downpour. +Confident of success, they were foretasting gleefully the terror of the +stream at sight of the blessed image entering its waters. What could not +San Bernardo do? His marvelous history, a blend of Moorish and Christian +romance, flamed in all those credulous imaginations. He was a saint +native to that region—the second son of the Moorish king of Carlet. +Through his talent, courtesy and beauty he won such success at court in +Valencia, that he rose to the post of prime minister.</p> + +<p>Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of +Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete, +to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of +the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting +mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to +the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by +the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of +Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of +Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen +monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two +sisters—beautiful Mooresses they were—and they took the names of +Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go +with their brother on his tour of preachment.</p> + +<p>But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born—the arrogant +Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor—succeeded to the rulership of the +tiny state—a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended +in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the +roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called +a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He +came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of +his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he +crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred +preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here +was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering +mendicant even—a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his +votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted +<em>vivas</em> to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had +been of the pagan king of Valencia.</p> + +<p>The procession was rapidly organized. Along the narrow lanes of the +island where the rain coursed in streams, people kept coming in droves. +They were barefoot for the most part, but some were sinking shoes +indifferently into the water. Most of them had tapers or shotguns. The +women did their best to shelter little ones under the skirts they had +gathered about their heads. The musicians, all barefoot, were in regular +uniform—gold braided jackets and plumed hats—looking for all the world +like Malay chiefs who beautify their nakedness with castoff coats and +three-cornered hats the missionaries give them.</p> + +<p>In front of the church the lights of the tapers blended into one great +flare. Through the wide doorway the candles on the altars gleamed like a +distant constellation.</p> + +<p>The whole neighborhood, almost, had assembled in the square, despite the +increasing rain. Many had come to scoff. What a farce it all would be! +They did well, however, to wait two days! The rain was almost over. It +would probably stop by the time they got the Saint out!</p> + +<p>In double file of tapers the procession began to move between two lines +of tightly jammed spectators.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat!</em> Hurrah for father San Bernardo!" a +multitude of hoarse voices cried.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol les chermanetes</em>! Hurrah for his sisters!" others added, to +correct the lack of gallantry displayed by the most enthusiastic of the +idolators in putting ladies last.</p> + +<p>For the sisters, the holy martyrs, Gracia and Maria, also figured in +the procession. San Bernardo never went anywhere alone. As even children +in baby-school knew, not a power on earth, not all the men and horses in +the orchards put together, could lift the saint from his altar unless +his sisters went first. That was one of his miracles long accredited by +tradition. He had very little confidence in women—less pious +commentators said—and not willing to trust his sisters out of sight, he +insisted that they precede him whenever he left his pedestal.</p> + +<p>The holy sisters appeared in the church doorway, swaying on their +litters above the heads of the worshippers.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol les chermanetes!</em>"</p> + +<p>And the poor <em>chermanetes</em>, dripping from every fold of their vestments, +came out into that dark, tempestuous, rain-soaked atmosphere that was +rent by sheaves of crude light from the tapers.</p> + +<p>The musicians tuned their instruments, ready to break into the Royal +March! In the brilliantly lighted doorway something shining could be +seen laboriously advancing, swaying this way and that, as if the waves +of an angry sea were rocking it.</p> + +<p>The crowd again began to cheer, and the music sounded.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat!</em>"</p> + +<p>But the music and the acclamations were drowned by a deafening crash, as +if the island had suddenly burst into a thousand pieces, dragging the +city to the depths of the Abyss. The square was shooting a fusillade of +lightning flashes, a veritable cannonade. Those ancient arms, +blunderbusses, muzzle-loaders, pistols, crammed full of powder, could +roar like artillery. All the guns in the neighborhood were saluting the +appearance of the Saint. And the crowd, drunk with the smell of powder, +began to shout and gesticulate in the presence of that bronze image, +whose round, kindly face—that of a healthy well-fed friar—seemed to +quiver with life in the light of the torches.</p> + +<p>Eight strong men, almost naked, came forward staggering under the weight +of the metal saint. The crowd surged against them, threatening to upset +the statue. But two bare-breasted strong-armed boys, devotees of the +patron, were marching on either side, and they fought the multitude +back.</p> + +<p>The women, shoved hither and thither and almost suffocated in the jam, +burst into tears as their gaze fell upon the miraculous image.</p> + +<p>"<em>Ay</em>, father San Bernardo! Father San Bernardo! Save us! Save us!"</p> + +<p>Others dragged children out from the folds of their skirts, and held +them out above their heads toward the powerful guards.</p> + +<p>"Lift him up! Let him kiss the Saint!"</p> + +<p>And those muscular peasants would pick the children up like dolls, now +by an arm, now by a leg, now by the nape of the neck, raise them to a +level with the saint, that they might kiss the bronze face, and then +toss them back into the arms of their mothers, working like automatons, +dropping one child to seize another, with the regularity of machines in +action. Many times the impact was too rough; the noses of the children +would flatten against the folds of the metallic garb; but the fervor of +the crowd seemed to infect the little ones. They were the future adorers +of the Moorish monk. Rubbing their bruises with their soft little hands +they would swallow their tears and return to their snug places in their +mothers' skirts.</p> + +<p>Behind the glorious saint marched Rafael and the gentlemen of the +<em>Ayuntamiento</em> with long wax tapers; and after them the curate, +grumbling as he heard the first dashes of rain beat on the large red +silk umbrella which the sacristan held over him, and felt the impact of +the crowd of orchard-folk, that was mixed at random with the musicians. +The latter, paying more attention to where they stepped than to their +instruments, played a rather discordant march. Guns, meanwhile, +continued to blaze away. The wild cheering for San Bernardo and his +sisters went on; and, framed in a red nimbus of torch-light, greeted at +every street-corner by a new fusillade, the image sailed along over that +sea of heads, pelted by the rain, which, in the light of the candles, +looked like a maze of transparent crystal threads. Around the saint the +arms of the athletes kept ever moving, lifting children up to bump their +drooling noses on the bronze of father San Bernardo. Balconies and +windows along the way were filled with women, their heads protected by +their skirts.</p> + +<p>Sighs, wails, exclamations of entreaty welcomed the passing saint in a +chorus of despair and hope.</p> + +<p>"Save us, father San Bernardo!... Save us!..."</p> + +<p>The procession reached the river, crossing and recrossing the bridges +that led to the suburbs. The flickering torches were mirrored in the +dark edges of the stream, which was growing momentarily more terrifying +and clamorous. The water had not yet reached the railing, as at other +times. Miracle! San Bernardo was at work already!</p> + +<p>Then the procession marched to points where the river had flooded the +lanes near the bank, and turned them to virtual ponds. The more +fanatical of the devotees, lifting their tapers above their heads, went +out fearlessly neck high into the water: for surely the Saint must not +go in alone.</p> + +<p>One old man, shaking with malaria, caught in the rice-fields, and hardly +able to hold the taper in his trembling hands, hesitated at the brink of +the stream.</p> + +<p>"Go on in, <em>agüelo</em>!" the women encouraged affectionately. "Father San +Bernardo will cure you. Don't lose such a chance!"</p> + +<p>When the saint was out performing miracles, he might remember the old +man, too. So <em>agüelo</em>—"grandaddy"—shivering in his drenched clothes +and his teeth chattering, walked resolutely in.</p> + +<p>The statue was making its way very slowly along the inundated streets, +for the feet of the bearers sank deep into the water under their load; +and they could advance at all only with the aid of the faithful, who +gathered about the litter on all sides to help. A writhing mass of bare, +sinewy arms rose from the water like tentacles of a human octopus to +carry the Saint along.</p> + +<p>Just behind the image came the curate and the political dignitaries, +riding astride the shoulders of some enthusiasts who, for the greater +pomp of the ceremony, were willing to serve as mounts, though the tapers +of their riders kept getting into their faces.</p> + +<p>The curate began to feel the cold water creeping up his back, and +ordered the Saint inshore again. In fact San Bernardo was already at +the end of the lane, and actually in the river itself. His guards of +honor were having a time of it to keep their feet in the face of the +current, but they were still willing to go on, believing that the +farther the statue went into the stream, the sooner the waters would go +down. At last, however, the most foolhardy withdrew. The Saint came +back. Though the procession at once went on to the next road and to the +next, repeating the same performance.</p> + +<p>And suddenly it stopped raining.</p> + +<p>A wild cheer, a shout of joy and triumph, shook the multitude.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat</em>!..." Now would the people of the neighboring +towns dare dispute his immense power?... There was the proof! Two days +of incessant downpour, and then, the moment the Saint showed his face +out of doors—fair weather! Excuse me!</p> + +<p>In fervent thanksgiving weeping women rushed upon the saint and began to +kiss whatever part of the image was within reach—the handles of the +litter, the decorations of the pedestal, the bronze body itself. The +tottering structure of wood and metal began to stagger and reel like a +frail bark tossing over a sea of shrieking heads and extended arms that +trembled with exaltation.</p> + +<p>The procession marched on for more than an hour still along the river. +Then the priest, who was dripping wet and had exhausted more than a +dozen "horses" under him, forbade it to continue. Leave it to those +peasants, and the nonsense would go on till dawn! So the curate observed +that the Saint had already done what was required of him. Now it was +time to go home!</p> + +<p>Rafael handed his taper to one of his henchmen and stopped on the bridge +with a number of experienced observers, who were lamenting the damage +done by the flood. At every moment, no one could say just how, alarming +reports of the destruction wrought by the river were coming in. Now a +mill had been isolated by the waters, and the people there had taken +refuge on the roof, firing their shotguns as signals of distress. Many +orchards had been completely submerged. The few boats available in the +city were doing the best they could in the work of rescue. The valley +had become one vast lake. Rowboats caught in the shifting currents were +in danger of smashing against hidden obstructions; and it was +practically impossible to push a punt upstream with oars.</p> + +<p>Yet the people spoke with relative calmness. They were accustomed to +this almost annual visitation, and accepted it resignedly as an +inevitable evil. Besides, they referred hopefully to telegrams received +by the <em>alcalde</em>. By dawn help would be coming in. The governor in +Valencia was sending a detachment of marines, and the lagoon would be +filled with navy boats. Everything would be all right in a few hours. +But if the water got much higher meanwhile ...!</p> + +<p>They consulted stakes and other water marks along the river, and violent +disputes arose. Rafael, for his part, could see the flood was still +rising, though but slowly.</p> + +<p>The peasants refused to believe it. How could the river rise after +Father San Bernardo had gone into it? No, sir! it was <em>not</em> rising. That +was all a lie intended to discredit the patron. And a sturdy youth with +flashing eyes threatened to disembowel with one stroke of his +knife—like that!--a certain scoffer who maintained that the river would +go on rising if only for the pleasure of refuting that charlatan of a +friar.</p> + +<p>Rafael approached the brawlers, and by the dim lantern light recognized +Cupido—the barber—a sarcastic fellow, with curly side-whiskers and an +aquiline nose, who took great pleasure in poking fun at the barbarous, +unshakable faith of the illiterate peasants.</p> + +<p>Brull knew the barber very well. The man was one of his childhood +favorites. Fear of his mother was the only thing that had kept him from +frequenting Cupido's shop—the rendezvous of the city's gayest set, a +hotbed of gossip and practical jokes, a school of guitar playing and +love songs that kept the whole neighborhood astir. Besides, Cupido was +the freak of the city, the sharp-tongued but irresponsible practical +joker, who was forgiven everything in advance, and could enjoy his +idiosyncrasies and speak his mind about people without starting a riot +against him. He was, for instance, the one person in Alcira who scoffed +at the tyranny of the Brulls without thereby losing entrance to the +Party Club, where the young men admired his wit and his eccentric way of +dressing.</p> + +<p>Rafael was still fond of Cupido, though not very intimate with him. In +all the sedate, conservative world around him, the barber seemed the +only person really worth while talking with. Cupido was almost an +artist. In winter he would go to Valencia to hear the operas praised by +the newspapers, and in one corner of his shop he had heaps of novels and +illustrated magazines, much mildewed and softened by the damp, and their +leaves worn through from continual thumbing by customers.</p> + +<p>He had very little to do with Rafael, guessing that the youth's mother +would not regard such a friendship with any too much favor; but he +displayed a certain liking for the boy; and addressed him familiarly, +having known him as a child. Of Rafael he said everywhere:</p> + +<p>"He's the best one in the family; the only Brull with more brains than +crookedness."</p> + +<p>Nothing too small for Cupido to notice ever happened in Alcira. Every +weakness, every foible of the city's celebrities was made public by him +in his barbershop, to the delight of the Opposition, whose members +gathered there to read their party organ. The gentlemen of the +<em>Ayuntamiento</em> feared the barber more than any ten newspapers combined, +and whenever some famous Conservative minister referred in parliament to +a "revolutionary hydra" or a "hotbed of anarchy," they pictured to +themselves a barbershop like that of Cupido, but much larger perhaps, +scattering a poisonous atmosphere of cruel gibe and perverse effrontery +all through the nation.</p> + +<p>The barber was inevitably on hand where anything was going on. It might +be at the very end of the suburbs, or away out in the country. In a few +moments Cupido would put in an appearance to learn all about it, give +advice to those who might need it, arbitrate between disputants and +afterward tell the whole story with a thousand embellishments.</p> + +<p>He had plenty of time on his hands for leading such a life. Two young +fellows, as crazy as their employer, tended shop. Cupido paid them with +music-lessons and meals—better or worse these latter, according to the +day's receipts, which were divided fraternally among the three. And if +the "boss" sometimes astonished the city by going out for a walk in +midwinter in a suit of white duck, they, not to be outdone, would shave +off their hair and eyebrows and show heads as smooth as billiard-balls +behind the shop windows, to the great commotion of the city, which would +flock <em>en masse</em> to see "Cupido's Chinamen."</p> + +<p>A flood was always a great day for the barber. He closed shop and +planted himself out on a bridge, oblivious to wind and rain, haranguing +the crowds of spectators, terrifying the stupid with his exaggerations +and inventions, and announcing hair-raising news which he asserted he +had just received from the Governor by telegraph, and according to +which, in two hours, there would not be a cellar-hole left of the place. +Even the miracle-working San Bernardo would be washed into the sea!</p> + +<p>When Rafael found him upon the bridge that night, after the procession, +Cupido was on the point of coming to blows with several rustics, who had +grown indignant at his heresies.</p> + +<p>Stepping aside from the crowd, the two began a conversation about the +dangers of the flood. Cupido, as usual, was well-informed. He had been +told a poor old man had been cut off in an orchard and drowned. That was +probably not the only accident that had taken place. Horses and pigs in +large numbers had drifted past under the bridge, early in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>The barber talked earnestly and with some sadness, it seemed. Rafael +listened in silence, scanning his face anxiously, as if looking for a +chance to speak of something which he dared not broach.</p> + +<p>"And how about the Blue House," he ventured finally, "that farm of doña +Pepa's where you go sometimes? Will anything be wrong down there?"</p> + +<p>"It's a good solid place," the barber replied, "and this isn't the first +flood it's been through.... But it's right on the river, and by this +time the garden must be a lake; the water will surely be up to the +second story. I'll bet doña Pepa's poor niece is scared out of her wits... +Just imagine—coming from so far away and from such pretty places, +and running into a mess like this ..."</p> + +<p>Rafael seemed to meditate for a moment. Then as if an idea that had been +dancing about in his head all day had just occurred to him, he said:</p> + +<p>"Suppose we take a run down there!... What do you say, Cupido?"</p> + +<p>"Down there!... And how'll we get there?"</p> + +<p>But the proposal, from its very rashness, was bound to appeal to a man +like the barber, who at length began to laugh, as if the adventure were +a highly amusing one.</p> + +<p>"You're right! We could get through! It will look funny, all right! Us +two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a +celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home +and fetch my guitar along ..."</p> + +<p>"What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our +job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we +don't."</p> + +<p>The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes +on Rafael.</p> + +<p>"I see! So you're interested in the illustrious <em>artiste</em>, too ... You +rascal! You're smitten on her reputation for good looks ... But no ... I +remember ... you've seen her; she told me so herself."</p> + +<p>"She!... She spoke to you about me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing important! She told me she saw you one afternoon up at the +Hermitage."</p> + +<p>Cupido kept the rest to himself. He did not say that Leonora, on +mentioning Rafael's name, had added that he looked like an "idiot."</p> + +<p>Rafael's heart leaped with joy! She had talked of him! She had not +forgotten that meeting which had left such a painful memory in him!... +What was he doing, then, standing like a fool there on that bridge, when +down at the Blue House they might be needing a man's help?</p> + +<p>"Listen, Cupido; I have my boat right handy here; you know, the boat +father had made to order in Valencia as a present for me. Steel frame; +hard wood; safe as a warship. You know the river ... I've seen you +handle an oar more than once; and I've got a pair of arms myself ... +What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say, let's go," the barber answered resolutely.</p> + +<p>They asked for a torch, and with the help of several men dragged +Rafael's boat toward a stairway on the riverbank.</p> + +<p>Above, through the crowds on the bridge, the news of the expedition +flashed, but exaggerated and much idealized by the curious. The men were +going to save a poor family that had taken refuge on the roof of a +house—poor devils in danger of being swept off at any moment. Rafael +had learned of their plight, and he was starting to save them at the +risk of his own skin. And a wealthy, powerful man like him, with so much +to live for! Damn it, those Brulls were all men, anyhow!... And yet see +how people talked against them! What a heart! And the peasants followed +the blood-red glow of the torch in the boat as it mirrored across the +waters, gazing adoringly at Rafael, who was sitting in the stern. Out of +the dark entreating voices called. Many loyal followers of the Brulls +were eager to go with the chief—drown with him, if need be.</p> + +<p>Cupido protested. No; for a job like that, the fewer the better; the +boat had to be light; he would do for the oars and Rafael could steer.</p> + +<p>"Let her go! Let her go!" called Rafael.</p> + +<p>And the boat, after hesitating a second, shot off on the current.</p> + +<p>In the narrow gorge between the Old City and the New, the swollen +torrent swept them along like lightning. The barber used his oars just +to keep the boat away from the shore. Submerged rocks sent great +whirlpools to the surface and pulled the boat this way and that. The +light of the torch cast a dull reddish glow out over the muddy eddies. +Tree trunks, refuse, dead animals, went floating by, shapeless masses +with only a few dark points visible above the surface, as though some +dead man covered with mud were swimming under water. Out on that +swirling current, with the slimy vapors of the river rising to his +nostrils and the eddies sucking and boiling all around, Rafael thought +himself the victim of a weird nightmare and began even to repent of his +rashness. Cries kept coming from houses close to the river; windows were +suddenly lighted up; and from them great shadowy arms like the wings of +a windmill waved in greeting to that red flame which people saw gliding +past along the river, bringing the outlines of the boat and the two men +into distinct view. The news of their expedition had spread throughout +the city and people were on the watch for them as they sped by: "<em>Viva</em> +don Rafael! <em>Viva</em> Brull!"</p> + +<p>But the hero who was risking his life to save a family of poor folks out +there in the darkness of that sticky, murky, sepulchral night, had in +mind only one thing—a blue house, into which he was to penetrate at +last, in so strange and romantic a fashion.</p> + +<p>From time to time a scraping sound or a jolt of the boat would bring him +back to reality.</p> + +<p>"Your tiller there!" Cupido would shout, without, however, taking his +eyes from the water ahead. "Look out, Rafaelito, or we'll get smashed!"</p> + +<p>The boat was indeed a good one, for any other, would long before have +come to grief in those rapids jammed with rocks and debris.</p> + +<p>They were around the city in no time. Few lighted windows were now to be +seen. High, steep banks of slippery mud—quite unscalable—crested with +walls, were slipping past on either hand, with an occasional palisade, +the piles just emerging from the water. Somewhat ahead, the open river, +where the two arms that girt the Old City reunited in what was now a +vast lake!</p> + +<p>The two men went on blindly. All normal landmarks were gone. The banks +had disappeared, and in the blackness, beyond the red circle of torch +light, they could make out only water and then more water—an immense +incessantly rolling sheet that was taking them they knew not where. From +time to time a black spot would show above the muddy surface; the crest +of some submerged canebrake; the top of a tree; a strange, fantastic +vegetation that seemed to be writhing in the gloom. The river, free now +from the gorges and shallows around the city, had ceased its roaring. It +seethed and swirled along in absolute silence, effacing all trace of the +land. The two men felt like a couple of shipwrecked sailors adrift on a +shoreless, sunless ocean, alone save for the reddish flame flickering at +the prow, and the submerged treetops that appeared and vanished rapidly.</p> + +<p>"Better begin to row, Cupido," said Rafael. "The current is very strong. +We must be still in the river. Let's turn to the right and see if we can +get into the orchards."</p> + +<p>The barber bent to the oars, and the boat, slowly, on account of the +current, came around and headed for a line of tree-tops that peered +above the surface of the flood like seaweed floating on the ocean. +Shortly the bottom began to scrape on invisible obstacles. Entanglements +below were clutching at the keel, and it took some effort occasionally +to get free. The lake was still dark and apparently shoreless, but the +current was not so strong and the surface had stopped rolling. The two +men knew they had reached dead water. What looked like dark, gigantic +mushrooms, huge umbrellas, or lustrous domes, caught the reflection of +the torch, at times. Those were orange-trees. The rescuers were in the +orchards. But in which? How find the way in the darkness? Here and there +the branches were too thick to break through and the boat would tip as +if it were going over. They would back water, make a detour, or try +another route.</p> + +<p>They were going very slowly for fear of striking something, zig-zagging +meanwhile to avoid snags. As a result they lost direction altogether, +and could no longer say which way the river lay. Darkness and water +everywhere! The submerged orange-trees, all alike, formed complicated +lanes over the inundation, a labyrinth in which they grew momentarily +more confused. They were now rowing about quite aimlessly.</p> + +<p>Cupido was perspiring freely, under the hard work. The boat was moving +slower and slower because of the branches catching at the keel.</p> + +<p>"This is worse than the river," he murmured. "Rafael, you're facing +forward. Can't you make out any light ahead?"</p> + +<p>"Not a one!"</p> + +<p>The torch would throw some huge clump of leaves into relief for a +moment. When that was gone, the light would be swallowed up into damp, +thick, empty space.</p> + +<p>Thus they wandered about and about the flooded countryside. The barber's +strength had given out and he passed the oars over to Rafael, who was +also nearly exhausted.</p> + +<p>How long had they been gone? Were they to stay there forever? And their +minds dulled by fatigue and the sense of being lost, they imagined the +night would never end—that the torch would go out and leave the boat a +black coffin, for their corpses to float in eternally.</p> + +<p>Rafael, who was now facing astern suddenly noticed a light on his left. +They were going away from it; perhaps that was the house they had been +so painfully searching for.</p> + +<p>"It may be," Cupido agreed. "Perhaps we went by without seeing it, and +now we're downstream, toward the sea.... But even if it is not the Blue +House, what of it? The main thing is to find someone there. That's far +better than wandering around here in the dark. Give me the oars, again +Rafael. If that isn't doña Pepita's place, at least we'll find out where +we are."</p> + +<p>He pulled the boat around, and gradually they made their way through the +treetops toward the light. They struck several snags, orchard fences, +perhaps, or submerged walls—but the light kept growing brighter. +Finally it had become a large red square across which dark forms were +moving. Over the waters a golden, shimmering wake of light was +streaming.</p> + +<p>The torch from the boat brought out the lines of a broad house with a +low roof that seemed to be floating on the water. It was the upper story +of a building that had been swamped by the inundation. The lower story +was under water. The flood, indeed, was getting closer to the upper +rooms. The balconies and windows looked like landings of a pier in an +immense lake.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me as if we'd struck the place," the barber said.</p> + +<p>A warm, resonant voice, that of a woman, vibrant, but with a deep, +melodious softness, broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"Hey, you in the boat there!... Here, here!"</p> + +<p>The voice betrayed no fear. It showed not a trace of emotion.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you so I ..." the barber exclaimed. "The very place we +were looking for. Doña Leonora!... It's I! It's I!"</p> + +<p>A rippling laugh came out into gloom.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Cupido! It's Cupido!... I can tell him by his voice. Auntie, +auntie! Don't cry any more. Don't be afraid; and stop your praying, +please! Here comes the God of Love in a pearl shallop to rescue us!"</p> + +<p>Rafael shrank at the sound of that somewhat mocking voice, which seemed +to people the darkness with brilliantly colored butterflies.</p> + +<p>Now in the luminous square of a window he could make out the haughty +profile of a woman among other black forms that were going to and fro +past the light inside, in agreeable surprise at the unexpected visit.</p> + +<p>The craft drew up to the balcony. The men rose to their feet and were +able to reach an iron railing. The barber, from the prow, was looking +for something strong where he could make the boat fast.</p> + +<p>Leonora was leaning over the balustrade while the light from the torch +lit up the golden helmet of her thick, luxuriant hair. She was trying to +identify that other man down there who had bashfully sat down again in +the stern.</p> + +<p>"You're a real friend, Cupido!... Thank you, thank you, ever and ever +so much. This is one of the favors we never forget.... But who has come +along with you?..."</p> + +<p>The barber was already fastening the boat to the iron railing.</p> + +<p>"It's don Rafael Brull," he answered slowly. "A gentleman you have met +already, I believe. You must thank him for this visit. The boat is his, +and it was he who got me out on this adventure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Señor Brull," said Leonora, greeting the man with the +wave of a hand that flashed blue and red from the rings on its fingers. +"I must repeat what I said to our friend Cupido. Come right in, and I +hope you'll excuse my introducing you through a second-story window."</p> + +<p>Rafael had jumped to his feet and was answering her greeting with an +awkward bow, clasping the iron railing in order not to fall. Cupido +jumped into the house and was followed by the young man, who took pains +to make the climb gracefully and sprightly.</p> + +<p>He was not sure how well he succeeded. That had been too much excitement +for a single night: first the wild trip through the gorges near the +city; then those hours of desperate aimless rowing over the winding +lanes of the flooded countryside; and now, all at once, a solid floor +under his feet, a roof over his head, warmth, and the society of that +madly beautiful woman, who seemed to intoxicate him with her perfume, +and whose eyes he did not dare meet with his own for fear of fainting +from embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Come right in, <em>caballero</em>," she said to him. "You surely need +something after this escapade of yours. You are sopping wet, both of +you.... Poor boys! Just look at them!... Beppa!... Auntie! But do come +in, sir!"</p> + +<p>And she fairly pushed Rafael forward with a sort of maternal +authoritativeness, much as a kindly woman might take her child in hand +after he has done some naughty prank of which she is secretly proud.</p> + +<p>The rooms were in disorder. Clothes everywhere and heaps of rustic +furniture that contrasted with the other pieces arranged along the +walls! The household belongings of the gardener had been brought +upstairs as soon as the flood started. An old farmer, his wife—who was +beside herself with fear—and several children, who were slinking in the +corners, had taken refuge in the upper story with the ladies, as soon as +the water began seeping into their humble home.</p> + +<p>Rafael entered the dining-room, and there sat doña Pepita, poor old +woman, heaped in an armchair, the wrinkles of her features moistened +with tears and her two hands clutching a rosary. Cupido was trying +vainly to cheer her with jokes about the inundation.</p> + +<p>"Look, auntie! This gentleman is the son of your friend, doña Bernarda. +He came over here in a boat to help us out. It was very nice of him, +wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The old woman seemed quite to have lost her mind from terror. She looked +vacantly at the new arrivals, as if they had been there all their lives. +At last she seemed to realize what they were saying.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Rafael!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Rafaelito.... And you +came to see us in such weather! Suppose you get drowned? What will your +mother say?... Lord, how crazy of you! Lord!"</p> + +<p>But it was not madness, and even if it were, it was very sweet of him! +That, at least, was what Rafael seemed to read in those clear, luminous +eyes of the golden sparkles that caressed him with their velvety touch +every time he dared to look at them. Leonora was staring at him: +studying him in the lamplight, as if trying to understand the difference +between the man in front of her and the boy she had met on her walk to +the Hermitage.</p> + +<p>Doña Pepa's spirits rallied now that men were in the house; and with a +supreme effort of will, the old lady decided to leave her armchair for a +look at the flood, which had stopped rising, if, indeed, it were not +actually receding.</p> + +<p>"How much water, oh Lord our God!... How many terrible things we'll +learn of tomorrow! This must be a punishment from Heaven ... a warning +to us to think of our many sins."</p> + +<p>Leonora meanwhile was bustling busily about, hurrying the refreshments. +Those gentlemen couldn't be left like that—she kept cautioning to her +maid and the peasant woman. Just imagine, with their clothes wet +through! How tired they must be after that all night struggle! Poor +fellows! It was enough just to look at them! And she set biscuits on the +table, cakes, a bottle of rum—everything, including a box of Russian +cigarettes with gilded tips—to the shocked surprise of the gardener's +wife.</p> + +<p>"Let them come here, auntie," she said to the old lady. "Don't make them +talk any more now.... They need to eat and drink a little, and get +warm.... I'm sorry I have so little to offer you. What in the world can +I get for them? Let's see! Let's see!"</p> + +<p>And while the two men were being forced, by that somewhat despotic +attentiveness, to take seats at the table, Leonora and her maid went +into the adjoining room, where keys began to rattle and tops of chests +to rise and fall.</p> + +<p>Rafael, in his deep emotion, could scarcely manage a few drops of rum; +but the barber chewed away for all he was worth, downing glass after +glass of liquor, and talking on and on through a mouth crammed with food +while his face grew redder and redder.</p> + +<p>When Leonora reappeared, her maid was following her with a great bundle +of clothes in her arms.</p> + +<p>"You understand, of course, we haven't a stitch of men's clothes in the +house. But in war-time we get along as best we can, eh? We're in what +you might call a state of siege here."</p> + +<p>Rafael noted the dimples that a charming smile traced in those wonderful +cheeks! And what perfect teeth—jewels in a casket of red velvet!</p> + +<p>"Now, Cupido; off with those wet things of yours; you're not going to +catch pneumonia on my account, and thus deprive the city of its one +bright spot. Here's something to put on while we are drying your +clothes."</p> + +<p>And she offered the barber a magnificent gown of blue velvet, with +veritable cascades of lace at the breast and on the sleeves.</p> + +<p>Cupido nearly fell off his chair.... Was he going to dress in top style +for once in his life? And with those side-whiskers?... How the people in +Alcira would howl if they could only see him now! And entering at once +into the fun of the situation, he hastened into the next room to don his +gown.</p> + +<p>"For you," Leonora said to Rafael with a motherly smile, "I could find +only this fur cloak. Come, now, take off that jacket of yours; it's +dripping wet."</p> + +<p>With a blush, the young man refused. No, he was all right! Nothing would +happen to him! He had been wetter than that many times.</p> + +<p>Leonora without losing her smile, seemed to grow impatient. No one in +that house ever talked back to her.</p> + +<p>"Come, Rafael, don't be so silly. We'll have to treat you like a child."</p> + +<p>And taking him by a sleeve, as if he were a refractory baby, she began +to pull at his jacket.</p> + +<p>The young man, in his confusion, was hardly aware of what was taking +place. He seemed to be traveling along on an endless horizon, at greater +speed than he had been swept down the river just before. She had called +him by his first name; he was a pampered guest in a house he had for +months been trying in vain to enter, and she, Leonora, was calling him +"child" and treating him like a child, as if they had been friends all +their lives. What sort of woman was this? Was he not lost in some +strange world? The women of the city—the girls he met at the parties at +his home, seemed to be creatures of another race, living far, ever so +far, away, at the other end of the earth, cut off from him forever by +that immense sheet of water.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we'll have to undress you like a doll."</p> + +<p>She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and +the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious +intoxication swept over him.</p> + +<p>The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders. It was a rare +garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the +plumes of some fantastic bird. Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its +edges touched the floor. The young man realized that thousands of francs +had suddenly be«n thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the +bottom up, lest he should step upon it.</p> + +<p>Leonora laughed at his embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it. One would think you +were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat. It isn't +worth much. I use it only to travel in. A grandduke gave it to me in +Saint Petersburg."</p> + +<p>And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she +wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it +more tightly to him.</p> + +<p>Slowly they walked back into the front room. Meanwhile, the appearance +of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of +laughter in the dining-room. Cupido was taking full advantage of the +occasion. The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the +other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and +singing in a falsetto soprano voice. The peasant family laughed like +mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened +her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace +with which he pronounced the Italian verses. Even poor doña Pepa hitched +around in her armchair and applauded. The barber, according to her, was +the most charming devil in the world.</p> + +<p>Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora's side, his gaze lost in +the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his +body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have +retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders. With +marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate +trip down the river.</p> + +<p>Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath.</p> + +<p>"What you have done," the prima donna was saying, "deserves my deep, +deep gratitude! It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times. +Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa! Only the swan is +lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan...."</p> + +<p>"And suppose you had been carried off—drowned!..." the youth exclaimed +in justification of his rashness.</p> + +<p>"Drowned!...I must confess that at first I was somewhat afraid. Not so +much of dying, for I'm somewhat tired of life—as you will realize after +you've known me a little longer. But a death like that, suffocated in +that mud, that filthy, dirty water that smells so bad, doesn't at all +appeal to me. If it were some green, transparent Swiss lake!... I want +beauty even in death; I'm concerned with the 'final posture,' like the +Romans, and I was afraid of perishing here like a rat in a sewer.... And +nevertheless, I couldn't help laughing at my aunt and our poor servants +to see the fright they were in!... Now the water is no longer rising, +and the house is strong. Our only trouble is that we're cut off, and +I'm waiting for daylight to come so that we can see where we are. The +sight of all this country changed into a lake must be very beautiful, +isn't it, Rafael?"</p> + +<p>"You've probably seen far more interesting things," the young man +replied.</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that; but I'm always most impressed by the sensation of +the moment."</p> + +<p>And she fell silent, showing by her sudden seriousness the vexation that +his distant allusion to her past had caused.</p> + +<p>For some moments neither of them spoke; and it was Leonora who finally +broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, if the water had gone on rising, we would have owed our +lives to you.... Let's see, now, frankly: why did you come? What kind +inspiration made you think of me. You hardly know me!"</p> + +<p>Rafael blushed with embarrassment, and trembled from head to foot, as if +she had asked him for a mortal confession. He was on the point of +uttering the great truth, baring in one great explosion all his thoughts +and dreams and dreads of past days. But he restrained himself and +grasped wildly for an answer.</p> + +<p>"My enthusiasm for the artist," he replied timidly. "I admire your +talent very much."</p> + +<p>Leonora burst into a noisy laugh.</p> + +<p>"But you don't know me! You've never heard me sing!... What do you know +about my "talent," as they call it? If it weren't for that chatterbox of +a Cupido, Alcira would never dream that I am a singer and that I'm +somewhat well-known—except in my own country."</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed by the reply; he did not dare protest.</p> + +<p>"Come, Rafael," the woman continued affectionately, "don't be a child +and try to pass off the fibs boys use to deceive mama with. I know why +you came here. Do you imagine you haven't been seen from this very +balcony hovering about here every afternoon, lurking in the road like a +spy? You are discovered, sir."</p> + +<p>The shy Rafael thought the balcony was collapsing underneath his feet. +He shivered in abject terror, drew the fur cloak tighter around him, +without knowing what he was about, and shook his head in energetic +denial.</p> + +<p>"So it's not true, you fraud?" she said, with comic indignation. "You +deny that since we met up at the Hermitage you have been taking all your +walks in this neighborhood? <em>Dios mío</em>! What a monster of falsehood have +we here? And how brazenly he lies."</p> + +<p>And Rafael, vanquished by her frank merriment, had finally to smile, +confessing his crime with a loud laugh.</p> + +<p>"You're probably surprised at what I do and say," continued Leonora +drawing closer to him, leaning a shoulder against his with unaffected +carelessness, as if she were with a girl friend. "I'm not like most +women. A fine thing it would be for me, with the life I lead, to play +the hypocrite!... My poor aunt thinks I'm crazy because I say just what +I feel; in my time I've been much liked and much disliked on account of +the mania I have for not concealing anything.... Do you want me to tell +you the real truth?... Very well; you've come here because you love me, +or, at least, because you think you love me: a failing all boys of your +age have, as soon as they find a woman different from the others they +know."</p> + +<p>Rafael bowed his head and said nothing; he did not dare look up. He felt +the gaze of those green eyes upon the back of his head and they seemed +to reach right into his soul.</p> + +<p>"Let's see your face. Raise that head of yours a little. Why don't you +say it isn't so, as you did before? Am I right or not?"</p> + +<p>"And supposing you were right?..." Rafael ventured to murmur, finding +himself thus suddenly discovered.</p> + +<p>"Since I know I am, I thought it best to provoke this explanation, so as +to avoid any misunderstandings. After what has happened to-night, I want +to have you for a friend; friend you understand, and nothing more; a +comradeship based on gratitude. We ought to know in advance exactly +where we stand. We'll be friends, won't we?... You must feel quite at +home here; and I'm sure I shall find you a very agreeable chum. What +you've done to-night has given you a greater hold on my affection than +you could ever have gained in any ordinary social way; but you're going +to promise me that you won't drift into any of that silly love-making +that has always been the bane of my existence."</p> + +<p>"And if I can't help myself?" murmured Rafael.</p> + +<p>"'And if I can't help myself'," said Leonora, laughing and mimicking +the voice of the young man and the expression on his face. "'And if I +can't help myself'! That's what they all say! And why can't you help +yourself? How can one take seriously a love for a woman you are now +seeing for the second time? These sudden passions are all inventions of +you men. They're not genuine. You get them out of the novels you read, +or out of the operas we sing. Nonsense that poets write and callow boys +swallow like so many boobies and try to transplant into real life! The +trouble is we singers are in the secret, and laugh at such bosh. Well, +now you know—good friends, and the soft pedal on sentiment and drama, +eh? In that way we'll get along very well and the house will be yours."</p> + +<p>Leonora paused and, threatening him playfully with her forefinger, +added:</p> + +<p>"Otherwise, you may consider me just as ungrateful and cruel as you +please, but your gallant conduct of to-night won't count. You'll not be +permitted to enter this place again. I want no adorers; I have come here +looking for rest, friendship, peace ... Love! A beautiful, cruel +hoax!..."</p> + +<p>She was speaking very earnestly, without moving, her gaze lost on that +immense sheet of water.</p> + +<p>Rafael dared to look at her squarely now. He had raised his head and was +studying her as she stood there thinking. Her beautiful face was tinted +with a bluish light, that seemed to surround her with a halo of romance. +Morning was coming on, and the leaden curtains of the sky were rent in +the direction of the sea, allowing a livid light to filter through.</p> + +<p>Leonora shivered as if from cold, and snuggled instinctively against +Rafael. With a shake of her head she seemed to rout a troop of painful +thoughts, and stretching out a hand to him she said:</p> + +<p>"Which shall it be? Friends, or distant acquaintances? Do you promise to +be good, be a real comrade?"</p> + +<p>Rafael eagerly clasped that soft, muscular hand, and felt her rings cut +deliciously into his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Very well—friends then!... I'll resign myself, since there's no help +for it."</p> + +<p>"In that case you will find what you now believe a sacrifice something +quite tolerable and quite consoling; you don't know me, but I know +myself. Believe me, even should I come to love you—as I never +shall—you would be the loser by it. I am worth much more as a friend +than as a lover. And more than one man in the world has found that out."</p> + +<p>"I will be a friend, ready to do much more for you than I've done +to-night. I hope you will come to know me too."</p> + +<p>"No promises now! What more can you do for me? The river doesn't flood +every day. You can't expect to be a hero every other moment. No, I'm +satisfied with to-night's exploit. You can't imagine how grateful I am. +It has made a very deep impression on my—friendly—heart.... May I be +quite frank? Well, when I met you there at the Hermitage, I took you for +one of these local <em>señoritos</em> who have such an easy time of it in town, +and so, look upon every woman they meet as their property for the +asking. Afterwards, when I saw you lurking about the house, my scorn +increased. 'Who does that little dandy think he is?' I said to myself. +And how Beppa and I laughed over it! I hadn't even noticed your face +and your figure: I hadn't realized how handsome you were...."</p> + +<p>Leonora laughed at the thought of how angry she had been, and Rafael, +overwhelmed by such candor, likewise smiled to conceal his +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"But after what happened to-night I am fond of you ... as people are +fond of friends. I am alone here: the friendship of a good and noble boy +like yourself, capable of sacrifice for a woman whom he hardly knows, is +a very comforting thing to have. Besides, that much doesn't compromise +me. I am a bird of passage, you see; I have alighted here because I'm +tired, ill—I don't just know what's the matter, but deeply broken in +spirit anyhow. I need rest, just plain existence—a plunge into sweet +nothingness, where I can forget everything; and I gratefully accept your +friendship. Later on, when you least expect it, probably, I'll fly away. +The very first morning when I wake up, feel quite myself again—and hear +inside my head the song of the mischievous bird that has advised me to +do so many foolish things in my life—I'll pack up my trunk and take +flight! I'll drop you a line of course; I'll send you newspaper +clippings that speak of me, and you'll see you have a friend who does +not forget you and who sends you greetings from London, Saint +Petersburg, or New York—any one of the corners of this world which many +believe so large yet where I am unable to stir without encountering +things that bore me."</p> + +<p>"May that moment be long delayed!" said Rafael. "May it never come!"</p> + +<p>"Rash boy!" Leonora exclaimed. "You don't know me. If I were to stay +here very long, we'd finish by quarreling and coming to blows. At bottom +I hate men: I have always been their most terrible enemy."</p> + +<p>Behind their backs they heard the rustle of the gown that Cupido was +dragging along behind him with absurd antics. He was coming to the +balcony with doña Pepita to see the sunrise.</p> + +<p>Through its dense clouds the sky was beginning to shed a gray, wan +light, under which the vast, watery plain took on the whitish color of +absinthe. Down the stream the debris of the inundation was floating, +sweepings of wretched poverty, uprooted trees, clumps of reeds, thatched +roofs from huts, all dirty, slimy, nauseating. Bits of flotsam and +jetsam became entangled between the orange-trees and formed dams that +little by little grew with the new spoils brought along by the current.</p> + +<p>In the distance at the very end of the lake, a number of black points +could be seen in regular rhythmic motion, stirring their legs like +aquatic flies around some roofs barely protruding above the immense +field of water. The rescuers had arrived from Valencia—with whale-boats +of the Fleet, brought overland by rail to the scene of the flood.</p> + +<p>The provincial authorities would soon be arriving in Alcira; and the +presence of Rafael was indispensable. Cupido himself, with sudden +gravity, advised him to go and meet those boats.</p> + +<p>While the barber was putting on his own clothes, Rafael, with intense +regret, removed his fur cloak. It seemed that in taking it off he was +losing the warmth of that night of sweet intimacy, the contact of that +soft shoulder that had for hours long been leaning against him.</p> + +<p>Leonora meanwhile looked at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>"We understand each other, don't we?" she asked, slowly. "Friends, with +no hope of anything more than that. If you break the pact, you'll not +enter this place again, not even by the second-story window, as you did +last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, friends and nothing more," Rafael murmured with a tone of sincere +sadness, that seemed to move Leonora.</p> + +<p>Her green eyes lighted up: her pupils seemed to glitter with spangles of +gold. She stepped nearer and held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"You're a good boy; that's the way I like you: resignation and +obedience. For this time, and in reward for your good sense, we'll make +just one exception. Let's not part thus coldly.... So,—you may kiss +me,—as they do it on the stage—here!"</p> + +<p>And she raised her hand up toward his lips. Rafael seized it hungrily +and kissed it over and over again, until Leonora, tearing it away with a +violence that showed extraordinary strength, reprimanded him sharply.</p> + +<p>"You rogue!... Up to mischief so soon! What an abuse of confidence? +Good-bye! Cupido is calling you.... Good-bye."</p> + +<p>And she pushed him toward the balcony, where the barber was already +holding the boat against the railing.</p> + +<p>"Hop in, Rafael," said Cupido. "Better lean on me; the water's going +down and the boat's very low," Rafael jumped into his white craft, +which was now dirty and stained from the red water. The barber took the +oars. They began to move away.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye! Good-bye! Many thanks!" cried doña Pepa. The maid and the +whole family of the gardener had come out on the balcony.</p> + +<p>Rafael let go the tiller, and turned toward the house. He could see +nothing, however, but that proud beauty, who was waving her handkerchief +to them. He watched her for a long time, and when the crests of the +submerged trees hid the balcony from view, he bowed his head, giving +himself up entirely to the silent pleasure of tasting the sweetness that +he could still feel upon his burning lips.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>The elections set the whole District agog. The crucial moment for the +House of Brull had come, and all its loyal henchmen, as though still +uncertain of the Party's omnipotence, and fearing the sudden appearance +of hidden enemies, were running this way and that about the city and the +outlying towns, shouting Rafael's name as a clarion call to victory.</p> + +<p>The inundation was something of the forgotten past. The beneficent sun +had dried the fields. The orchards fertilized by the silt of the recent +flood looked more beautiful than ever. A magnificent harvest was +forecasted, and, as sole reminders of the catastrophe, there remained +only a shattered enclosure here, a fallen fence there, or some sunken +road with the banks washed away. Most of the damage had been repaired in +a few days, and people were quite content, referring to the past danger +jokingly. Until next time!</p> + +<p>Besides, plenty of relief money had been given out. Help had come from +Valencia, from Madrid, from every corner of Spain, thanks to the +whimpering publicity given the inundation in the local press; and since +the pious believer must attribute all his boons to the protection of +some patron saint, the peasants thanked Rafael and his mother for this +alms, resolving to be more faithful than ever to the powerful family. +So—long live the Father of the Poor!</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda's ambitious dreams were on the point of realization, and +she could not give herself a moment's rest. Her son's cool indifference +was something she could not understand for the life of her! The District +was his all right, but was that a reason for falling asleep on the job? +Who could tell what the "enemies of law and order"—there was more than +one of them in the city—might spring at the very last moment? No, he +must wake up—go and make a speech—now at this town, now at that—and +say a few words of encouragement to the people of property, especially. +And why not visit the <em>alcalde</em>, down in X---, just to show that poor +devil he was being taken seriously. Rafael must show himself in public, +keep everybody talking about him and thinking about him!</p> + +<p>And Rafael obeyed, but taking good care to avoid the company of don +Andrés on such trips, in order to spend a few hours at the Blue House on +the way out or back, or else, to cut his engagement altogether and pass +the day with Leonora, trembling to return home lest his mother should +have learned what he had been up to.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda, in fact, had not been slow in detecting her son's new +friendship. To begin with, her one concern in life was Rafael's health +and conduct. And in that gossipy inquisitive country-town, her son could +do virtually nothing which she did not know all about in the course of a +few hours. An indiscreet remark of Cupido had even brought her to the +bottom of that mysterious and perilous night trip down the flooded +river—not to rescue a "poor family," but to call on that +<em>comica</em>—that "chorus girl"—as doña Bernarda called Leonora in a +furious burst of scorn. Stormy scenes occurred that were to leave a +strong undercurrent of bitterness and fear in Rafael's character. Doña +Bernarda's harshness of disposition broke the young man's spirit, making +him realize with what good reason he had always feared his mother. That +uncompromising pietist, with her armorplate of impeccable virtue and +"sound principles" about her, crushed him flat with her very first +words. What in the world was he thinking of? Was he bound to dishonor +the name of Brull? Now after so many, many years of family sacrifice, +was he going to make a fool of himself, and give his enemies a hold on +him, just because of the first ballet-skirt that came along? And in her +rage she did not hesitate to rend the veil of reticence behind which her +conjugal fury and her conjugal unhappiness had run their parallel +courses.</p> + +<p>"The same as your father!" doña Bernarda exclaimed. "There's no escaping +blood: a woman-chaser, a friend of low-lives, ready to drive me out of +house and home for the sake of any one of them ... and I, big fool that +I am, work for men like that! Forgetting the salvation of my soul in the +next world to see you get farther along in this than your father did!... +And how do you repay me? Just as he did; with one disappointment, one +irritation, after another!"</p> + +<p>Then softening somewhat and feeling the need of imparting her great +plans for the future, she would pass from anger to friendly confidence, +and give Rafael insight into the condition of the family. He was so busy +with Party affairs, and thumbing his big books upstairs, that he did +not know how things were going at home. And he didn't need to know for +that matter: she was there to take care of that. But Rafael must realize +the gaps that had been opened in their fortune by his father's wild +conduct just before he died. She was performing miracles of economy. +Thanks to her efficient administration of affairs, and to the loyal aid +of don Andrés, many debts had already been paid off, and she had +redeemed several mortgages. But the burden was a heavy one and it would +still be many years before she could call herself quite free of it.</p> + +<p>Besides—and as doña Bernarda came to this part of her talk she grew +tenderer and more insinuating still—he was now the leading man of the +District and so he must be the wealthiest. Now that wouldn't be a +difficult thing to manage. All he had to do was, be a good son, and +follow the advice of his mama, who loved him more than anything else in +the world... A deputy now, and later on, when he came back from Madrid, +marry! There were plenty of good girls around—well brought up, educated +in the fear of the Lord—and millionairesses besides—who would be more +than glad to be his wife.</p> + +<p>Rafael smiled faintly at this harangue. He knew whom his mother had in +mind—Remedios, the daughter of the richest man in town—a rustic, the +latter, with more luck than brains, who flooded the English markets with +oranges and made enormous profits, circumventing by instinctive +shrewdness all the commercial combinations made against him.</p> + +<p>That was why Rafael's mother was always insistently urging her son to +visit the house of Remedios, inventing all sorts of pretexts to get him +there. Besides, doña Bernarda invited Remedios to the Brull place +frequently, and rarely indeed did Rafael come home of an afternoon +without finding that timid maiden there—a dull, handsomish sort of +girl, dressed up in clothes that did cruel injustice to a peasant beauty +rapidly transformed, by her father's good luck, into a young "society" +girl.</p> + +<p>"But, mama," said Rafael, smiling. "I'm not thinking of marriage!... And +when I do, I'll have to consider my own feelings."</p> + +<p>After that interview a moral gulf had opened between mother and son. As +a child, Rafael had known his mother to frown and sulk after some +mischievous prank of his. But now, her aggressive, menacing, +uncommunicative glumness was prolonged for days and days.</p> + +<p>On returning home at night he would find himself subjected to a +searching cross-examination that would last all during supper. Don +Andrés would usually be present, though he did not dare raise his head +when that masterful woman spoke. Where had he been? Whom had he seen?... +Rafael felt himself surrounded by a system of espionage that followed +him wherever he went in the city or in the country.</p> + +<p>"No sir, today you were at the chorus-girl's house again!... Take care, +Rafael! Mark my word! You're killing me, you're killing me ...!"</p> + +<p>And then those absurd clandestine trips to the Blue House began, the +leading man of the district, the advocate of Alcira's fortunes, creeping +on his stomach, skulking from bush to bush, in order not to be seen by +telltale observers!</p> + +<p>Don Andrés did his best to console the irate woman. It was just a +passing whim of Rafael's! Boys will be boys! You've got to let them have +a good time now and then! What do you expect with a handsome fellow like +that and from the best family in the region! And the cynical old man, +accustomed to easy conquests in the suburbs, blinked maliciously, taking +it for granted that Rafael had won a complete triumph down at the Blue +House. How else explain the youth's assiduity in his visits there, and +his timid though tenacious rebelliousness against his mother's +authority?</p> + +<p>"Such affairs, oh you enjoy them—what's the use! But in the end they +weary a fellow, doña Bernarda," the old man said sententiously. "She'll +be clearing out some fine day. Besides, just let Rafael go to Madrid as +deputy, and see the society there! When he comes back he'll have +forgotten this woman ever existed!"</p> + +<p>The faithful lieutenant of the Brulls would have been astonished to know +how little Rafael was progressing with his suit.</p> + +<p>Leonora was not the woman that she had shown herself on the night of the +flood. With the fascination of danger gone, the novelty of the +adventure, and the extraordinary circumstances of their second +interview, she treated Rafael with a kindly indifference like any other +of the adorers who had flocked about her in her day. She had come to +look upon him as a new piece of furniture that she found in place in +front of her every afternoon; an automaton, who appeared as regularly as +a clock strikes, to spend hours and hours staring at her, pale, +shrinking with an absurd consciousness of inferiority, and often +answering her questions with stupid phrases that made her laugh.</p> + +<p>Her irony and deliberate frankness wounded Rafael cruelly. "Hello, +Rafaelito," she would say sometimes as he came in. "You here again? +Better look out! People will be talking about us before long. Then what +will mama say to you?" And Rafael would be stung to the quick. What a +disgrace, to be tied to a mother's apron-strings, and have to stoop to +all those subterfuges to visit this place without raising a rumpus at +home!</p> + +<p>But try as he would, meanwhile, he could not shake off the spell that +Leonora was exercising over him.</p> + +<p>Besides, what wonderful afternoons when she deigned to be good! +Sometimes, wearied with walks about the open country, and bored, as +might have been expected of a frivolous, fickle character like hers, +with the monotony of the landscape of orange-trees and palms, she would +take refuge in her parlor, and sit down at the piano! With the hushed +awe of a pious worshipper, Rafael would take a chair in a corner, and +gluing his eyes upon those two majestic shoulders over which curly +tresses fell like golden plumes, he would listen to her rich, sweet, +mellow voice as it blended with the languishing chords of the piano; +while through the open windows the breath of the murmurous orchard made +its way drenched in the golden light of autumn, saturated with the +seasoned perfume of the ripe oranges that peered with faces of fire +through the festoons of leaves.</p> + +<p>Shubert, with his moody romances, was her favorite composer. The +melancholy of that sad music had a peculiar fascination for her in her +solitude. Her passionate, tumultuous soul seemed to fall into a +languorous enervation under the fragrance of the orange blossoms. At +times, she would be assailed by sudden recollections of triumphs on the +stage, and on such occasions, setting the piano ringing with the sublime +fury of the Valkyries' Ride, she would begin to shout Brunhilde's +"Hojotojo," the impetuous, savage war-cry of Wotan's daughter—a +melodious scream with which she had brought many an audience to its +feet, and which, in that deserted paradise, made Rafael shudder and +admire, as if the singer were some strange divinity—a blond goddess +with green eyes, wont to charge across the ice-fields through whirlwinds +of driving snow, but who, there, in a land of sunshine, had deigned to +become a simple, an entrancing woman!</p> + +<p>And then again, throwing her beautiful body back in her chair, as if in +her mind's eye she could see some old palatial hall festooned with +roses, and in it a maze of hoop skirts, powdered wigs, and red heels, +whirling in the dance, she would brush the keys with a minuet by Mozart, +as subtly fragrant as priceless perfume, as seductive as the smile of a +painted princess with beauty-patches and false dimples!</p> + +<p>Rafael had not forgotten the first night of their friendship, nor the +fingers that had been offered to his lips in that selfsame parlor. Once +he was moved to repeat the scene, and bending low over the keys, had +tried to kiss Leonora's hand.</p> + +<p>The actress started, as if awakening from a dream. Her eyes flashed +angrily, though her lips did not lose their smile; and she raised her +hand threateningly, with all its fantastic glitter of jewelry, and +pretended to strike at him:</p> + +<p>"Take care, Rafael; you're a child and I'll treat you as such. You +already know that I don't like to be annoyed. I won't send you away this +time, but if you do it again, you'll get a good cuffing. Don't forget +that when I want my hand kissed I begin by giving it voluntarily. What a +nuisance! Such a thing happens only once in a life-time.... But, I +understand: no more music for today; it's all over! I'll have to +entertain the little boy so's he won't fuss."</p> + +<p>And she began to tell him stories of her professional career, which +Rafael at once appraised as new progress toward intimacy with the divine +beauty.</p> + +<p>He looked over her pictures for the various operas in which she had +sung; a rich collection of beautiful photographs, with studio signatures +in almost every European tongue, some of them in strange alphabets that +Rafael could not identify. That pale, mystic Elizabeth of <em>Tannhäuser</em> +had been taken in Milan; that ideal, romantic Elsa of <em>Lohengrin</em>, in +Munich; here was a wide-eyed, bourgeois Eva from <em>die Meistersinger</em>, +photographed in Vienna; there a proud arrogant Brunhilde, with hostile, +flashing eyes, that bore the imprint of St. Petersburg. And there were +other souvenirs of seasons at Covent Garden, at the San Carlos of +Lisbon, the Scala of Milan, and opera houses of New York and Rio de +Janeiro.</p> + +<p>As Rafael handled the large pasteboard mountings, he felt much like a +boy watching strange steamers entering a harbor and scattering the +perfumes of distant, mysterious lands all around. Each picture seemed +to wrap him in the atmosphere of its country, and from that peaceful +salon, murmuring with the breathing of the silent orchard, he seemed to +be traveling all over the earth.</p> + +<p>The photographs were all of the same characters—heroines of Wagner. +Leonora, a fanatic worshipper of the German genius, was ever speaking of +him in terms of intimate familiarity, as if she had known him +personally, and wished to sing no operas but his. And in her eager +desire to compass all the Master's work, she did not hesitate to +compromise her reputation for power and vigor by attempting roles of +lighter or tenderer vein.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed at the portraits one by one; here she seemed emaciated, +wan, as if she had just recovered from an illness; there, she was strong +and proud, as if challenging the world with her beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rafael!" she murmured pensively. "Life isn't all gaiety. I have had +my stormy times like everybody else. I have lived centuries, it seems, +and these strips of cardboard are chapters of my life-story."</p> + +<p>And while she surrendered to a dreamy re-living of the past, Rafael +would go into ecstasies over a picture of Brunhilde, a beautiful +photograph which he had more than once thought of stealing.</p> + +<p>That Brunhilde was Leonora herself; the arrogant Valkyrie, the strong, +the valiant Amazon, capable of trying to beat him for the slightest +unwarranted liberty he took—and of doing it besides. Beneath the helmet +of polished steel, with its two wings of white plumes, her blond locks +fell, while a savage flash glittered in her green eyes, and her +nostrils seemed to palpitate with indomitable fierceness. A cloak fell +from her shoulders that were round, muscular, powerful. A steel coat of +mail curved outward around her magnificent bust, and her bare arms, one +holding the lance, and the other resting on a burnished shield, as +shining and luminous as a sheet of crystal, showed vigor and strength +under feminine grace of line. There she was in all her goddess-like +majesty—the Pallas of a mythology of the North, as beautiful as +heroism, as terrible as war. Rafael could understand the mad enthusiasm, +the electrified commotion of her audiences as they saw her stepping out +among the rocks of painted canvas, setting the boards a-tremble with her +lithe footsteps, rudely raising her lance and shield above the white +wings of her helmet and shouting the cry of the Valkyries—"<em>Hojotoho!</em>" +which, repeated in the green tranquility of that Valencian orchard, +seemed to make the lanes of foliage quiver with a tremor of admiring +ecstasy.</p> + +<p>Across the whole world, and everywhere in triumph, that whimsical, +adventuresome, madcap woman, of whose life as an actress so many stories +were told, had carried the arrogance of the virgin warrior-maid +conceived by the master Wagner. In a bulky book, of uneven irregular +pages, where the singer with the minute conscientiousness of a child, +had preserved everything the newspapers of the globe had written about +her, Rafael found echos of her stormy ovations. Many of the printed +clippings were yellow with age, but they could still evoke before his +dazzled eyes, visions of theaters packed with elegant, sensuous women, +as beautiful as Wotan's daughter in the coat-of-mail; atmospheres hot +with light and enthusiasm, a-glitter with sparkling jewels and +sparkling eyes; and in the background, with her helmet and her lance, +the dominating Valkyrie herself greeted with frantic applause and +limitless admiration.</p> + +<p>In the collection were newspaper reproductions of the singer's +photographs, biographical notices, critical articles relating to the +triumphs of the celebrated <em>diva</em> Leonora Brunna—for such was the stage +name adopted by Doctor Moreno's daughter—clipping after clipping +printed in Castilian or South American Spanish; columns of the clear, +close print of English papers; paragraphs on the coarse, thin paper of +the French and Italian press; compact masses of Gothic characters, which +troubled Rafael's eyes, and unintelligible Russian letters, that, to +him, looked like whimsical scrawls of a childish hand. And all in praise +of Leonora, one universal tribute to the talent of that woman, who was +looked upon so scornfully by the citified peasants of the boy's native +town. A divinity, indeed! And Rafael felt a growing hatred and contempt +for the gross, uncouth virtue of those who had left her in a social +vacuum. Why had she come to Alcira, anyway? What could possibly have led +her to abandon a world of triumphs, where she was admired by everyone, +for the life, virtually, of a barnyard?</p> + +<p>Later she showed him some of her more personal mementoes; jewels of rare +beauty, expensive baubles, "testimonials," reminiscent of "evenings of +honor," when admirers had surprised her in the green room while outside +the audience was applauding wildly, and she, lowering her lance, and +surrounded by ushers with huge bouquets, would step forward to the +footlights and make her bow of acknowledgment, under a deluge of tinsel +and flowers. One medallion bore the portrait of the venerable don Pedro +of Brazil, the artist-emperor, who paid tribute to the singer in a +greeting written in diamonds. Gem-incrusted frames of gold spoke of +enthusiasts who perhaps had begun by desiring the woman to resign +themselves in the end to admiration for the artist. Here was a +collection of illuminated diplomas from charitable societies thanking +her for assistance at benefits. Queen Victoria of England had given her +a fan with an autograph dated from a concert at Windsor Castle. From +Isabel II came a royal bracelet, as a souvenir of various evenings at +the Castilla Palace in Paris. Millionaires, princes, grand-dukes, +presidents of Spanish-American republics, had left a whole museum of +costly trinkets at her feet. Characteristic of adorers from the United +States, where people always temper enthusiasm with usefulness, were a +number of portfolios, their bindings much worn by time, containing +railroad shares, land titles, stocks in enterprises of varying +stability, suggesting the rambles of the American promotor from the +prairies of Canada to the pampas of the Argentine.</p> + +<p>In the presence of all the trophies that the arrogant Valkyrie had +gathered in on her triumphal passage through the world, Rafael felt +pride, first of all, at being friends with such a woman; but at the same +time a sense of his own insignificance, exaggerating, if anything, the +difference that separated them. How in the world had he ever dared make +love to a person like Leonora Brunna?</p> + +<p>Finally came the most interesting, the most intimate of all her +treasures—an album which she allowed him hurriedly to glimpse through, +forbidding him, however, even to look at certain of the pages. It was a +volume modestly bound in dark leather with silver clasps; but Rafael +gazed upon it as on a wonderful fetish, and with all the awe-struck +adoration inspired by great names. Kings and emperors were the least +among the celebrities who had knelt in homage before the goddess. The +overshadowing geniuses of art were there, dedicating a word of +affection, a line of verse, a bar of music, to the beautiful songstress. +Rafael stared in open-mouthed wonderment at the signatures of the old +Verdi and of Boito. Then came the younger masters, of the new Italian +school, noisy and triumphant with the clamor of art brought within range +of the mob. In gallant phrases the Frenchmen, Massenet and Saint-Saens, +paid their respects to the greatest interpreter of the greatest of +composers; Rafael could decipher what was in Italian, scenting the sweet +perfume of Latin adulation despite the fact that he scarcely knew the +language. A sonnet by Illica moved him actually to tears. Other +inscriptions were meaningless to him—the lines from Hans Keller, +especially, the great orchestral conductor, disciple and confidant of +Wagner, the artistic executor, charged with watching over the master's +glory—that Hans Keller of whom Leonora was speaking all the time with +the fondness of a woman and the admiration of an artist—all of which +did not prevent her from adding that he was "a barbarian." Stanzas in +German, in Russian and in English, which, as the singer re-read them +brought a contented smile to her features, Rafael, to his great +despair, could not induce her to translate.</p> + +<p>"Those are matters you wouldn't understand. Go on to the next page. I +mustn't make you blush."</p> + +<p>And that was the only explanation she would give—as though he were a +child.</p> + +<p>Some Italian verses, written in a tremulous hand and in crooked lines, +attracted Rafael's attention. He could half make their meaning out, but +Leonora would never let him finish reading them. It was an amorous, +desperate lament; a cry of racking passion condemned to disappointment, +writhing in isolation like a wild beast in its cage: Luigi Macchia.</p> + +<p>"And who is Luigi Macchia?" asked Rafael. "Why such despair?"</p> + +<p>"He was a young fellow from Naples," Leonora answered, at last, one +afternoon, in a sad voice, and turning her head, as if to conceal the +tears that had come to her eyes. "One day they found him under the pine +trees of Posilipo, with a bullet through his head. He wanted to die, you +see, and he killed himself.... But put all this aside and let's go down +to the garden. I need a breath of air."</p> + +<p>They sauntered along the avenue that was bordered with rose-bushes, and +several minutes went by before either of them spoke. Leonora seemed +quite absorbed in her thoughts. Her brows were knitted and her lips +pressed tightly together, as if she were suffering the sting of painful +recollections.</p> + +<p>"Suicide!" she said at last. "Doesn't that seem a silly thing to do, +Rafael? Kill yourself for a woman? Just as if we women were obliged to +love every man who thinks he's in love with us!... How stupid men are! +We have to be their servants, love them willy-nilly. And if we don't, +they kill themselves just to spite us."</p> + +<p>And she was silent for a time.</p> + +<p>"Poor Macchia! He was a good boy, and deserved to be happy. But if I +were to surrender to every desperate protestation made to me!... +However, he went and did just what he said he would do.... How crazy +they get! And the worst of it is, I have found others like him in my +travels."</p> + +<p>She explained no farther. Rafael gazed at her, but respected her +silence, trying in vain to guess the thoughts that were stirring behind +her shining eyes, as green and golden as the sea under a noonday sun. +What a wealth of romance must be hidden in that woman's past! What +tragedies must have been woven into the checkered fabric of her +wonderful career!...</p> + +<p>So the days went by, and election time came around. Rafael, in passive +rebellion against his mother, who rarely spoke a word to him now, had +completely neglected the campaign. But on the decisive Sunday he +triumphed completely, and Rafael Brull, Deputy from Alcira, spent the +night shaking hands, receiving congratulations, listening to serenades, +waiting for morning to come that he might run to the Blue House and +receive Leonora's ironic good wishes.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to hear it," the actress said. "Now you'll be leaving +very soon and I'll lose sight of you. It was high time really! You know, +my dear child, you were beginning to get tiresome with your assiduous +worship, that mute, persistent, tenacious adoration of yours. But up in +Madrid you'll get over it all. Tut, tut, now ... don't say you won't. No +need to perjure yourself. I guess I know what young men are like! And +you're a young man. The next time we meet, you'll have other things in +your head. I'll be a friend, just a friend; and that's what—and all—I +want to be."</p> + +<p>"But will I find you here when I come back?" Rafael asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"You want to know more things than anybody I ever knew! How can I say +whether I'll be here or not? Nobody in the world was ever sure of +holding me. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow myself.... But, no," she +continued, gravely, "if you come back by next spring, you'll find me +here. I'm thinking of staying surely until then. I want to see the +orange-trees in bloom, go back to my early childhood—the only memories +of my past that have followed me everywhere. Many a time I have gone to +Nice, spending a fortune and crossing half the world to get there—and +just to see a handful of puny orange-trees in bloom; now I want to take +one great, deep, plunge into the deluge of orange blossoms that +inundates these fields every year. It's the one thing that keeps me in +Alcira.... I'm sure. So if you come back about that season, you will +find me; and we will meet for one last time; for that will be the limit +of my endurance. I shall simply have to fly away, however hard poor +auntie takes it.... For the present, however, I am quite comfortable. +You see I was so tired! I find this solitude a welcome refuge after a +stormy voyage. Only something very important indeed could persuade me to +leave it at once."</p> + +<p>But they saw each other on many another afternoon in the garden, there. +It was saturated now with the fragrance of ripe oranges. The vast valley +lay blue beneath the winter sun. Oranges, oranges, everywhere, reaching +out, it seemed, through the foliage, to the industrious hands that were +plucking them from the branches. Carts were creaking all along the +roads, trundling heaps of golden fruit over the ruts. The large shipping +houses rang again with the voices of girls singing at their work as they +selected and wrapped the oranges in paper. Hammers were pounding at the +wooden crates, and off toward France and England in great golden waves +those daughters of the South rolled—capsules of golden skin, filled +with sweet juice—the quintessence of Spanish sunshine.</p> + +<p>Leonora, standing on tiptoe under an old tree, with her back toward +Rafael, was looking for a particularly choice orange among the dense +branches. As she swayed this way and that, the proud, graceful curves of +her vigorous slenderness became more beautiful than ever.</p> + +<p>"I'm leaving tomorrow," the young man said, dispiritedly.</p> + +<p>Leonora turned around. She had found her orange and was peeling it with +her long pink nails.</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow?" she said, smiling. "Everything comes if you wait long +enough!... The best of success to you, señor deputy."</p> + +<p>And bringing the fragrant fruit to her lips, she sank her white, +glistening teeth into the golden pulp, closing her eyes rapturously, to +sense the full warm sweetness of the juice.</p> + +<p>Rafael stood there pale and trembling, as if something desperate were +in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!... Surely you are not going to send me away like +this?"</p> + +<p>And then suddenly, carried away by a passion so long restrained, so long +crushed under timidity and fear, he ran up to her, seized her hands and +hungrily sought her lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh! What in the world are you up to, Rafael?... How dare you!" she +cried. And with one thrust of her powerful arms she threw him back, +staggering, against the orange-tree. The young man stood there with +lowered head, humiliation and shame written on every line of his face.</p> + +<p>"You see, I'm a strong woman," said Leonora, in a voice quivering with +anger. "None of your foolish tricks, or you'll be sorry!"</p> + +<p>She glared at him for a long time; but then gradually recovered her +equanimity, and began to laugh at the pitiable spectacle before her.</p> + +<p>"But what a child you are, Rafael!... Is that what you call a friendly +good-bye?... How little you know me, silly! You force matters, you do, I +see. Well just understand, I'm impregnable, unless I choose to be +otherwise. Why, men have died without being able to kiss so much as the +tip of my fingers. It's time you were going, Rafael. We'll still be +friends, of course.... But in case we are to see each other again, don't +forget what I tell you. We are through with such nonsense once and for +all. Don't waste your time. I cannot be yours. I'm tired of men; perhaps +I hate them. I have known the handsomest, the most elegant, the most +famous of them all. I have been almost a queen; queen 'on the left hand +side,' as the French say, but so much mistress of the situation that, +had I cared to get mixed up in such vulgarity, I could have changed +ministries and overturned thrones. Men renowned in Europe for their +elegance—and their follies—have grovelled at my feet, and I have +treated them worse than I have treated you. The most celebrated women +have envied me and hated me—copying my dresses and my poses. And when, +tired of all that brilliancy and noise, I said 'Good-bye' and came to +this retreat, do you think it was to give myself to a village +<em>señorito</em>, though a few hundred country bumpkins think he is a +wonder?... Oh, say, Rafael, really...."</p> + +<p>And she laughed a cruel, mocking laugh—that cut Rafael to the quick. +The young man bowed his head and his chest heaved painfully, as if the +tears that could not find issue through his eyes were stifling, choking +him. He seemed on the point of utter collapse.</p> + +<p>Leonora repented of her cruelty.</p> + +<p>She stepped up to the boy until she was almost touching him. Then taking +his chin in her two hands, she made him raise his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have hurt you, haven't I! What mean things I said to the poor +child! Let me see now. Lift that head up! Look me straight in the eye! +Say that you forgive me.... That cursed habit I have of never holding my +tongue! I have offended you; but please, don't pay any attention to +that! I was joking! What a fine way of repaying you for what you did +that night!... No; Rafael, you are a very handsome chap indeed ... and +very distinguished ... and you will make a great name for yourself, up +in Madrid!... You'll be what they call a 'personage,' and you'll +marry—oh my—a very stylish, elegant, society girl! I can see all +that.... But, meanwhile, my dear boy, don't depend on me. We are going +to be friends, and nothing more than friends, ever! Why, there are tears +in your eyes! Well, here. Come ... kiss my hand, I will let you ... as +you did that night—there, like that! I could be yours only if I loved +you; but alas! I shall never fall in love with the dashing Rafaelito! +I'm an old woman, already, and I've been so lavish with my heart, spent +it so freely, I'm afraid I have none left.... Poor, poor little Rafael! +I'm so sorry ... but, you see, you came so late ... so late ...!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART TWO</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Hidden in the tall, thick rose-bushes that bounded the <em>plazoleta</em> in +front of the Blue House, and under four old dead palms that drooped +their branches dry and melancholy under the vigorous tufts of younger +trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests +of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques +and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Saracen rule—sturdy, but +comfortable seats, with the graceful lines of the sofas of the +Eighteenth Century; and in them Leonora liked to spend her time in late +afternoons especially, when the palm trees covered the little square +with a cool, delightful shade.</p> + +<p>On that warm March day, doña Pepa was sitting in one of them, her +silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, reading the "Life" of the day's +saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the <em>campagna</em> of +Rome, Beppa had been trained to piety from her earliest years; and she +was listening attentively so as not to miss a word.</p> + +<p>On the other bench were Leonora and Rafael. The actress, with lowered +head, was following the movements of her hands, busily engaged on some +embroidery.</p> + +<p>Rafael found Leonora much changed after his months of absence.</p> + +<p>She was dressed simply, like any young lady of the city; her face and +hands, so white and marble-like before, had taken on the golden +transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the +Valencian sun. Her slender fingers were bare of all rings, and her pink +ears were not, as formerly, a-gleam with thick clusters of diamonds.</p> + +<p>"I've become a regular peasant, haven't I?" she said, as if she could +read in Rafael's eyes his astonishment at the transformation she had +undergone. "It's life in the open that works such miracles: today one +frill, tomorrow another, and a woman eventually gets rid of everything +that was once a part of her body almost. I feel better this way.... +Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the +perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of +fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who +had to paint herself every night like a clown before she could appear +before an audience. Take a good look at me! Well ... what do you think? +You might mistake me for one of your vassals almost, eh? I'll bet that +if I had gone out this morning to join your demonstration at the station +you wouldn't have recognized me in the crowd."</p> + +<p>Rafael was going to say—and quite seriously, too—that he thought her +more beautiful than ever. Leonora seemed to have descended from her +height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed what was coming, and to +forestall any compliments, hastened to resume control of the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Now don't say you like me better this way. What nonsense! Remember, you +come from Madrid, from real elegance, a world you did not know +before!... But, to tell the truth, I like this simplicity; and the +important thing in life is to please yourself, isn't it? It was a slow +transformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually +filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland +delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human +animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up +again. Why, Rafaelito! If nothing extraordinary happens and the devil +doesn't give an unexpected tug at my sleeve, I can conceive of staying +on here forever. I think of the outer world as a sailor must of the sea, +when he finds himself all cosy at home after a voyage of continuous +tempest."</p> + +<p>"That's right, do stay," said Rafael. "You can't imagine how I worried +up in Madrid wondering whether or not I'd find you here on my return."</p> + +<p>"Don't go telling any fibs," said Leonora, gently, smiling with just a +suggestion of gratification. "Do you think we haven't been following +your doings in Madrid? Though you never were a friend, exactly, of good +old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently—and all sorts of +nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing—the +postscript, with your regards to the 'illustrious artist,' sure to +provoke the consoling reply that the 'illustrious artist' was still +here. How those letters made me laugh!"</p> + +<p>"Anyway, that will prove I wasn't lying that day when I assured you I +would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I didn't! The separation has +made me worse, much worse, in fact."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rafael," Leonora answered, quite seriously, as if she had lost +mastery over the irony of former days. "I know you're telling the +truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You understand, +of course, that I can't love you.... So—if you don't mind—let's talk +of something else."</p> + +<p>And hastily, to shift the conversation from such dangerous ground, she +began to chat about her rustic pleasures.</p> + +<p>"I have a hen-coop that's too charming for anything. If you could only +see me mornings, in a circle of cackling feathers, throwing fusillades +of corn about to keep the roosters away. You see they get under my +skirts and peck at my feet. It's hard to realize I can be the same woman +who, just a few months ago, was brandishing a stage lance and +interpreting Wagner's dreams, no less, as finely as you please! You'll +soon see <em>my</em> vassals. I have the most astonishing layers you ever saw; +and every morning I rummage around in the straw like a thief to get the +eggs, and when I find them, they are still warm.... I've forgotten the +piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon—I +don't know why—I just felt like spending a little while in the society +of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of +the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the +thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby +in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my +dear deputy, that everything here is mere play—just chickens and the +simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I +have done big things to the house. You would never guess! A bathroom, if +you please! And it just scandalizes poor auntie; while Beppa says it's +a sin to give so much thought to matters of the body. I could give up +many of my old habits, but not my bath; it's the one luxury I have kept, +and I sent to Valencia for the plumbers, the marble, and the wood and... +well ... it's a gem. I'll show it to you, by and by. If some fine +day I should suddenly take it into my head to fly away, that bath will +remain here, for my poor aunt to preach about and show how her madcap +niece squandered a mint of money on sinful folly, as she calls it."</p> + +<p>And she laughed, with a glance at the innocent doña Pepa, who, there on +the other bench, was for the hundredth time explaining to the Italian +maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying +to persuade the "foreigner" to transfer her faith to that saint, and +waste no more time on the second or third raters of Italy.</p> + +<p>"Don't imagine," the actress continued, "that I forgot you during all +this time. I am a real friend, you see, and take an interest! I learned +through Cupido, who ferrets out everything, just what you were doing in +Madrid. I, too, figured among your admirers. That proves what friendship +can do! ... I don't know why, but when señor Brull is concerned, I +swallow the biggest whoppers, though I know they're lies. When you made +your speech in the Chambers on that matter of flood protection, I sent +to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many +times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met +Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have +known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer +eloquence—not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of +them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my +dressing-room—once I had sung at the 'Real.' Well, despite all that, I +took the exaggerations your party friends printed about you quite +seriously for some days, putting you on a level with all the solemn +top-notchers I have known. And why, do you suppose? Perhaps from my +isolation and tranquillity here, which do make you lose perspective; or +perhaps it was the influence of environment! It is impossible to live in +this region without being a subject of the Brulls!... Can I be falling +in love with you unawares?"</p> + +<p>And once more she laughed the gleeful, candid, mocking laugh of other +days. At first she had received him seriously, simply, under the +influence still of solitude, country life and the longing for rest and +quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of +that lovesick expression in eyes which now, however, showed a trace of +self-possession, the old teaser had reappeared in her; and her irony cut +into the youth's flesh like a steel blade.</p> + +<p>"Stranger things than that have happened," Rafael snapped boldly, and +imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you +should wind up by falling in love with even me—out of pity, of course!"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Leonora bluntly. "It's not even humanly conceivable. I'll +never fall in love with you ... And even if I should," she continued in +a gentle, almost mothering tone, "you would never know about it. I +should keep it jolly well to myself—so as to prevent your going crazy +on finding your affections returned. All afternoon I have been trying +to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have +inquired about your life in Madrid—even going into details that haven't +the slightest interest for me—all to keep the talk off love. But with +you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. +Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you—I must not love you. If +I had made your acquaintance somewhere else, but under the same romantic +circumstances, I don't say it mightn't have happened. But here!... My +scruples may make you laugh, but I feel as though I'd be committing a +crime to love you. It would be like entering a home and repaying the +hospitality by purloining the silverware."</p> + +<p>"That's a new kind of nonsense you are talking," Rafael exclaimed. "Just +what do you mean? I don't think I understand, exactly."</p> + +<p>"Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it's all +like. Love for love's sake alone! That may happen in the world where I +come from. There folks aren't scandalized at things. Virtue is +broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have +their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too +harshly. But here!... Here love is the straight and narrow path that +leads to marriage. Now let's see how good a liar you are! Would you be +capable of saying that you would marry me?..."</p> + +<p>She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking +eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as +he started to speak.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," she went on. "You wouldn't, and you are right. For that +would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity. I'm not one of the +women who are made for such things. Many men have proposed marriage to +me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once +they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their +marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me +back when I got bored and tried to fly away. But imagine me married! +Could anything be more absurd?"</p> + +<p>She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael +deeply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which +reminded the young man of Mephisto's mirth during his infernal serenade +to Marguerite.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," continued Leonora, recovering her composure, "you don't seem +to realize just how I stand in this community. Don't imagine what's said +about me in town escapes me ... I just have to notice the way the women +look at me the few times I go in there. And I know also what happened to +you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. +The gossip of these people carries—it reaches even this solitary spot. +I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even heard +about the squabbles you've had at home over coming here. Well, we must +put a stop to all that! I am going to ask you not to visit me any more. +I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will +be to the advantage of us both."</p> + +<p>That was a painful thrust for Rafael. So she knew! But to escape from +what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of +independence.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe such bosh! It's just election gossip spread by my +enemies. I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without +asking mamma."</p> + +<p>"Very well; keep on coming, if you really want to; but all the same, it +shows how people feel toward me—a declaration of war, virtually. And if +I should ever fall in love with you ... heavens! What would they say +then? They'd be sure I had come here for the sole purpose of capturing +their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It +would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they +talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a lamb, imagine how their +tongues would wag then!... No, I'm not looking for excitement! Let them +snap at me as much as they please; but I mustn't be to blame. It must be +out of pure envy on their part. I wouldn't stoop to provoking them!"</p> + +<p>And with a turn of her head in the direction of the city that was hidden +from view behind the rows of orange-trees, she laughed disdainfully.</p> + +<p>Then her gleeful frankness returned once more—a candor of which she was +always ready to make herself the first victim—and in a low, +confidential, affectionate tone she continued:</p> + +<p>"Besides, Rafaelito, you haven't had a good look at me. Why, I'm almost +an old woman!... Oh, I know it, I know it. You don't have to tell me. +You and I are of the same age; but you are a man; and I'm a woman. And +the way I've lived has added considerably to my years. You are still on +the very threshold of life. I've been knocking about the world since I +was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, +my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me +worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just +gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't +advance a step on the stage without rousing the jealousy of someone; and +that kind of jealousy is the most bloodthirsty of human passions. Can +you imagine what my kind colleagues say about me? That I've gotten along +as a woman of the <em>demimonde</em> rather than as an artist—that I'm a +<em>cocotte</em>, using my voice and the stage for soliciting, as it were."</p> + +<p>"Damn the liars!" cried Rafael hotly. "I'd like to have someone say that +in my hearing."</p> + +<p>"Bah! Don't be a child. Liars, yes, but what they say has a grain of +truth in it. I have been something of the sort, really; though the blame +had not been wholly mine ... I've done crazy foolish things—giving a +loose rein to my whims, for the fun of the thing. Sometimes it would be +wealth, magnificence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, +ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the +novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at +finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of +mine—it has taken in a good part of Europe—I have come to one +conclusion: either that what the poets call love is a lie, a pleasant +lie, if you wish; or else that I was not born to love, that I am immune; +for as I go back over my exciting and variegated past, I have to +recognize that in my life love has not amounted to this!"</p> + +<p>And she gave a sharp snap with her pink fingers.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you everything, you see," she continued. "During your long +absence I thought of you often. Somehow I want you to know me +thoroughly, once and for all. In that way perhaps we can get along +together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will +walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a +priest listen to her confession. I am in that mood this afternoon. I +feel as though I must tell everything. Even if I tried not to, I should +not succeed. There's a little demon inside me here urging me, compelling +me, to unveil all my past."</p> + +<p>"Please feel quite free to do so. To be a confessor even, to deserve +your confidence, is some progress for me, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"Progress? But why should you care to progress ... into my heart! My +heart is only an empty shell! Do you think you'd be getting much if you +got me? I'm absolutely, absolutely worthless! Don't laugh, please! I +mean it! Absolutely worthless. Here in this solitude I have been able to +study myself at leisure, see myself as I really am. I recognize it plain +as day: I am nothing, nothing. Good looking?... Well, yes; I confess I +am not what you'd call ugly. Even if, with a ridiculous false modesty, I +were to say I was, there's my past history to prove that plenty of men +have found me beautiful. But, alas, Rafaelito! That's only the outside, +my facade, so to speak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and +show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a +ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned +my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into +the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old +hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have +all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see +that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on +the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, +come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that will go to the bottom as +soon as it strikes deep water, and carry you down with it!... Rafael, my +dear boy, don't be foolish. I am all right to have as a friend; but it's +too late for me to be anything more ... even if I were to love you. We +are of a different breed. I have been studying you, and I see that you +are a sensible, honest, plodding sort of fellow. Whereas I—I belong to +the butterflies, to the opposite of all you are. I am a conscript under +the banner of Bohemia, and I cannot desert the colors. Each of us on his +own road then. You'll easily find a woman to make you happy.... The +sillier she is, the better.... You were born to be a family man."</p> + +<p>It occurred to Rafael that she might be poking fun at him, as she so +often did. But no; there was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The +forced smile had vanished from her face. She was speaking tenderly, +affectionately, as if in motherly counsel to a son in danger of going +wrong.</p> + +<p>"And don't make yourself over, Rafael. If the world were made up of +people like me, life would be impossible. I too have moments when I +should like to become a different person entirely—a fowl, a cow, or +something, like the folks around me, thinking of money all the time, and +of what I'll eat tomorrow; buying land, haggling with farmers on the +market, studying fertilizers, having children who'd keep me busy with +their colds and the shoes they'd tear, my widest vision limited to +getting a good price for the fall crop. There are times when I envy a +hen. How good it must be, to be a hen! A fence around me to mark the +boundaries of my world, my meals for the trouble of pecking at them, my +life-work to sit hour after hour in the sun, balanced on a roost.... You +laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and +the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a +pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of +it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant +women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a +whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to +Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They +can hardly believe their eyes when they see the <em>siñorita</em> isn't half so +black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw +up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and +I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me.... Now all that is +agreeable, isn't it? Peace; the affection of the humble; an innocent old +woman, my poor aunt, who seems to have grown younger since I came here! +Nevertheless, some fine day, this shell, this rustic bark that has +formed around me in the sun and the air of the orchards, will burst, and +the woman of old—the Valkyrie—will step out of it again. And then, to +horse, to horse! Off on another gallop around the world, in a tempest of +pleasure, acclaimed by a chorus of brutal libertines!... I am sure that +is bound to happen. I swore to remain here until Spring. Well, Spring is +almost here! Look at those rose-bushes! Look at those orange-trees! +Bursting with life! Oh, Rafael, I'm afraid of Springtime. Spring has +always been a season of disaster for me."</p> + +<p>And she was lost in thought for a moment. Doña Pepa and the Italian maid +had gone into the house. The good old woman could never keep away from +the kitchen long.</p> + +<p>Leonora had dropped her embroidery upon the bench and was looking +upward, her head thrown back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and +drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as if visions of the past were +filing by in front of her. Suddenly she shuddered and sat up.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'm ill, Rafael. I don't know what's the matter with me +today. Perhaps it's the surprise of seeing you; this talk of ours that +has called me back to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... +Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, +though you don't know it, of making me talk, of reminding me of things I +was determined to forget.... Come, give me your arm; let's walk out +through the garden; it will do me good."</p> + +<p>They arose, and began to saunter along over the broad avenue that led +from the gate to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost +in the thick crests of the orange-trees. Leonora smiled mischievously +and lifted a forefinger in warning.</p> + +<p>"I took it for granted you had returned from your trip a more serious, +a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Besides, +you know already that I'm strong, and can fight—if I have to."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Rafael spent a sleepless night tossing about in his bed.</p> + +<p>Party admirers had honored him with a serenade that had lasted beyond +midnight. The "prominents" among them had shown some pique at having +cooled their heels all afternoon at the Club waiting for the deputy in +vain. He put in an appearance well on towards evening, and after shaking +hands once more all around and responding to speeches of congratulation, +as he had done that morning, he went straight home.</p> + +<p>He had not dared raise his head in Doña Bernarda's presence. He was +afraid of those glowering eyes, where he could read, unmistakably, the +detailed story of everything he had done that afternoon. At the same +time he was nursing a resolve to disobey his mother, meet her +domineering, over-bearing aggressiveness with glacial disregard.</p> + +<p>The serenade over, he had hurried to his room, to avoid any chance of an +accounting.</p> + +<p>Snug in his bed, with the light out, he gave way to an intense, a +rapturous recollection of all that had taken place that afternoon. For +all the fatigue of the journey and the bad night spent in a +sleeping-car, he lay there with his eyes open in the dark, going over +and over again in his feverish mind all that Leonora told him during +that final hour of their walk through the garden. Her whole, her real +life's story it had been, recorded in a disordered, a disconnected +way—as if she must unburden herself of the whole thing all at +once—with gaps and leaps that Rafael now filled in from his own lurid +imagination.</p> + +<p>Italy, the Italy of his trip abroad, came back to him now, vivid, +palpitant, vitalized, glorified by Leonora's revelations.</p> + +<p>The shadowy majestic Gallery of Victor Emmanuel at Milan! The immense +triumphal arch, a gigantic mouth protended to swallow up the Cathedral! +The double arcade, cross-shaped, its walls covered with columns, set +with a double row of windows under a vast crystal roof. Hardly a trace +of masonry on the lower stories; nothing but plate glass—the windows of +book-shops, music shops, cafés, restaurants, jewelry stores, +haberdasheries, expensive tailoring establishments.</p> + +<p>At one end, the Duomo, bristling with a forest of statues and perforated +spires; at the other, the monument to Leonardo da Vinci, and the famous +<em>Teatro de la Scala</em>! Within the four arms of the Gallery, a continuous +bustle of people, an incessant going and coming of merging, dissolving +crowds: a quadruple avalanche flowing toward the grand square at the +center of the cross, where the Café Biffi, known to actors and singers +the world over, spreads its rows of marble tables! A hubbub of cries, +greetings, conversations, footsteps, echoing in the galleries as in an +immense cloister, the lofty skylight quivering with the hum of busy +human ants, forever, day and night, crawling, darting this way and that, +underneath it!</p> + +<p>Such is the world's market of song-birds; the world's Rialto of Music; +the world's recruiting office for its army of voices. From that center, +march forth to glory or to the poorhouse, all those who one fine day +have touched their throats and believed they have some talent for +singing. In Milan, from every corner of the earth, all the unhappy +aspirants of art, casting aside their needles, their tools or their +pens, foregather to eat the macaroni of the <em>trattoria</em>, trusting that +the world will some day do them justice by strewing their paths with +millions. Beginners, in the first place, who, to make their start, will +accept contracts in any obscure municipal theatre of the Milan district, +in hopes of a paragraph in a musical weekly to send to the folks at home +as evidence of promise and success; and with them, overwhelming them +with the importance of their past, the veterans of art—the celebrities +of a vanished generation: tenors with gray hair and false teeth; strong, +proud, old men who cough and clear their throats to show they still +preserve their sonorous baritone; retired singers who, with incredible +niggardliness, lend their savings at usury or turn shopkeepers after +dragging silks and velvets over world famous "boards."</p> + +<p>Whenever the two dozen "stars," the stars of first magnitude that shine +in the leading operas of the globe, pass through the Gallery, they +attract as much admiring attention as monarchs appearing before their +subjects. The <em>pariahs</em>, still waiting for a contract, bow their heads +in veneration; and tell, in bated breath, of the castle on Lake Como +that the great tenor has bought, of the dazzling jewels owned by the +eminent soprano, of the graceful tilt at which the applauded baritone +wears his hat; and in their voices there is a tingle of jealousy, of +bitterness against destiny—the feeling that they are just as worthy of +such splendor—the protest against "bad luck," to which they attribute +failure. Hope forever flutters before these unfortunates, blinding them +with the flash of its golden mail, keeping them in a wretched despondent +inactivity. They wait and they trust, without any clear idea of how they +are to attain glory and wealth, wasting their lives in impotence, to die +ultimately "with their boots on," on some bench of the Gallery.</p> + +<p>Then, there is another flock, a flock of girls, victims of the Chimera, +walking with a nimble, a prancing step, with music scores under their +arms, on the way to the <em>maestro's</em>; slender, light-haired English +<em>misses</em>, who want to become prima donnas of comic opera; fair-skinned, +buxom Russian <em>parishnas</em> who greet their acquaintances with the +sweeping bow of a dramatic soprano; Spanish <em>señoritas</em> of bold faces +and free manners, preparing for stage careers as Bizet's +cigarette-girl—frivolous, sonorous song-birds nesting hundreds of +leagues away, and who have flown hither dazzled by the tinsel of glory.</p> + +<p>At the close of the Carnival season, singers who have been abroad for +the winter season appear in the Gallery. They come from London, St. +Petersburg, New York, Melbourne, Buenos Aires, looking for new +contracts. They have trotted about the globe as though the whole world +were home to them. They have spent a week in a train or a month on a +steamer, to get back to their corner in the Gallery. Nothing has +changed, for all of their distant rambles. They take their usual table. +They renew their old intrigues, their old gossip, their old jealousies, +as if they had been gone a day. They stand around in front of the +show-windows with an air of proud disdain, like princes traveling +incognito, but unable quite to conceal their exalted station. They tell +about the ovations accorded them by foreign audiences. They exhibit the +diamonds on their fingers and in their neckties. They hint at affairs +with great ladies who offered to leave home and husband to follow them +to Milan. They exaggerate the salaries they received on their trip, and +frown haughtily when some unfortunate "colleague" solicits a drink at +the nearby Biffi. And when the new contracts come in, the mercenary +nightingales again take wing, indifferently, they care not whither. Once +more, trains and steamers distribute them, with their conceits and their +petulances, all over the globe, to gather them in again some months +later and bring them back to the Gallery, their real home—the spot to +which they are really tied, and on which they are fated to drag out +their old age.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the <em>pariahs</em>, those who never arrive, the "bohemians" of +Milan—when they are left alone console themselves with tales of famous +comrades, of contracts they themselves refused to accept, pretending +uncompromising hauteur toward impresarios and composers to justify their +idleness; and wrapped in fur coats that almost sweep the ground, with +their "garibaldis" on the backs of their heads, they hover around +Biffi's, defying the cold draughts that blow at the crossing of the +Gallery, talking and talking away to quiet the hunger that is gnawing at +their stomachs; despising the humble toil of those who make their living +by their hands, continuing undaunted in their poverty, content with +their genius as artists, facing misfortune with a candor and an +endurance as heroic as it is pathetic, their dark lives illumined by +Hope, who keeps them company till she closes their eyes.</p> + +<p>Of that strange world, Rafael had caught a glimpse, barely, during the +few days he had spent in Milan. His companion, the canon, had run across +a former chorister from the cathedral of Valencia, who could find +nothing to do but loiter night and day about the Gallery. Through him +Brull had learned of the life led by these journeymen of art, always on +hand in the "marketplace", waiting for the employer who never comes.</p> + +<p>He tried to picture the early days of Leonora in that great city, as one +of the girls who trot gracefully over the sidewalks with music sheets +under their arms, or enliven the narrow side streets with all those +trills and cadences that come streaming out through the windows.</p> + +<p>He could see her walking through the Gallery at Doctor Moreno's side: a +blonde beauty, svelte, somewhat thin, over-grown, taller than her years, +gazing with astonishment through those large green eyes of hers at the +cold, bustling city, so different from the warm orchards of her +childhood home; the father, bearded, wrinkled, nervous, still irritated +at the ruin of his Republican hopes; a veritable ogre to strangers who +did not know his lamb-like gentleness. Like exiles who had found a +refuge in art, they two went their way through that life of emptiness, +of void, a world of greedy teachers anxious to prolong the period of +study, and of singers incapable of speaking kindly even of themselves.</p> + +<p>They lived on a fourth floor on the <em>Via Passarella</em>—a narrow, gloomy +thoroughfare with high houses, like the streets of old Alcira, preempted +by music publishers, theatrical agencies and retired artists. Their +janitor was a former chorus leader; the main floor was rented by an +agency exclusively engaged from sun to sun in testing voices. The others +were occupied by singers who began their vocal exercises the moment they +got out of bed, setting the house ringing like a huge music-box from +roof to cellar. The Doctor and his daughter had two rooms in the house +of <em>Signora Isabella</em>, a former ballet-dancer who had achieved notorious +"triumphs" in the principal courts of Europe, but was now a skeleton +wrapped in wrinkled skin, groping her way through the corridors, +quarreling over money in foul-mouthed language with the servants, and +with no other vestiges of her past than the gowns of rustling silk, and +the diamonds, emeralds and pearls that took their turns in her stiff, +shrivelled ears. This harpy had loved Leonora with the fondness of the +veteran for the new recruit.</p> + +<p>Every day Doctor Moreno went to a café of the Gallery, where he would +meet a group of old musicians who had fought under Garibaldi, and young +men who wrote <em>libretti</em> for the stage, and articles for Republican and +Socialist newspapers. That was his world: the only thing that helped him +endure his stay in Milan. After a lonely life back there in his native +land, this corner of the smoke-filled café seemed like Paradise to him. +There, in a labored Italian, sprinkled with Spanish interjections, he +could talk of Beethoven and of the hero of Marsala; and for hour after +hour he would sit wrapt in ecstasy, gazing, through the dense +atmosphere, at the red shirt and the blond, grayish locks of the great +Giuseppe, while his comrades told stories of this, the most romantic, of +adventurers.</p> + +<p>During such absences of her father, Leonora would remain in charge of +<em>Signora Isabella</em>; and bashful, shrinking, half bewildered, would spend +the day in the salon of the former ballet-dancer, with its coterie of +the latter's friends, also ruins surviving from the past, burned-out +"flames" of great personages long since dead. And these witches, smoking +their cigarettes, and looking their jewels over every other moment to be +sure they had not been stolen, would size up "the little girl," as they +called her, to conclude that she would "go very far" if she learned how +to "play the game."</p> + +<p>"I had excellent teachers," said Leonora, in speaking of that period of +her youth. "They were good souls at bottom, but they had very little +still to learn about life. I don't remember just when I began to see +through them. I don't believe I was ever what they call an 'innocent' +child."</p> + +<p>Some evenings the Doctor would take her to his group in the café, or to +some second balcony seat under the roof of <em>La Scala</em>, if a couple of +complimentary tickets happened to come his way. Thus she was introduced +to her father's friends, bohemians with whom music went hand in hand +with the ideas and the ideals of revolution, curious mixtures of artist +and conspirator; aged, bald-headed, near-sighted "professors," their +backs bent by a lifetime spent leaning over music stands; and swarthy +youths with fiery eyes, stiff, long hair and red neckties, always +talking about overthrowing the social order because their operas had +not been accepted at <em>La Scala</em> or because no <em>maestro</em> could be found +to take their musical dramas seriously. One of them attracted Leonora. +Leaning back on a side-seat in the cafe, she would sit and watch him for +hours and hours. He was a fair-haired, extremely delicate boy. His +tapering goatee and his fine, silky hair, covered by a sweeping, soft +felt hat, made her think of Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I of England +that she had seen in print somewhere. They called him "the poet" at the +café, and gossip had it that an old woman, a retired "star," was paying +for his keep—and his amusements—until his verses should bring him +fame. "Well," said Leonora, simply, with a smile, "he was my first +love—a calf-and-puppy love, a schoolgirl's infatuation which nobody +ever knew about"; for though the Doctor's daughter spent hours with her +green golden eyes fixed upon the poet, the latter never suspected his +good fortune; doubtless because the beauty of his patroness, the +superannuated <em>diva</em>, had so obsessed him that the attractions of other +women left him quite unmoved. How vividly Leonora remembered those days +of poverty and dreams!... Little by little the modest capital the Doctor +owned in Alcira vanished, what with living expenses and music lessons. +Doña Pepa, at her brother's instance, sold one piece of land after +another; but even such remittances were often long delayed; and then, +instead of eating in the <em>trattoria</em>, near <em>la Scala</em>, with dancing +students and the more successful of the young singers, they would stay +at home; and Leonora would lay aside her scores and take a turn at +cooking, learning mysterious recipes from the old <em>danseuse</em>. For weeks +at a time they would live on nothing but macaroni and rice served <em>al +burro</em>, a diet that her father abhorred, the Doctor, meanwhile, +pretending illness to justify his absence from the café. But these +periods of want and poverty were endured by father and daughter in +silence. Before their friends, they still maintained the pose of +well-to-do people with plenty of income from property in Spain.</p> + +<p>Leonora underwent a rapid transformation. She had already passed her +period of growth—that preadolescent "awkward age" when the features are +in constant change before settling down to their definitive forms and +the limbs seem to grow longer and longer and thinner and thinner. The +long-legged spindling "flapper," who was never quite sure where to stow +her legs, became the reserved, well-proportioned girl with the +mysterious gleam of puberty in her eyes. Her clothes seemed, naturally, +willingly, to curve to her fuller, rounding outlines. Her skirts went +down to her feet and covered the skinny, colt-like appendages that had +formerly made the denizens of the Gallery repress a smile.</p> + +<p>Her singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor, +Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the +<em>Statuto</em>, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the +Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had +come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning +his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students +whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white +goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he +would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said, +were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the +ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor +Moreno.</p> + +<p>"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his +own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the <em>maestro</em> praised the +beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for +her.</p> + +<p>And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful, +the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the +midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the <em>maestro</em>, despite +her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right—the first fruits of +her initiation into theatrical life.</p> + +<p>Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on +finding his blind confidence in the <em>maestro</em> so betrayed? She sank into +resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house +daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional +course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice.</p> + +<p>Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning, +at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled +<em>maestro</em> during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her +a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to +make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor +doña Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her +own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send +him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant +directors and impresarios <em>à l'aventure</em>, "launched" his daughter +finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan +district—two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such +companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very day of the +performance sometimes,—troupes like the strolling players of old, +leaving at a venture in a third-class compartment on the train with the +prospect of returning on foot if the impresario made off with the money.</p> + +<p>Leonora began to know what applause was, what it meant to give <em>encore</em> +after <em>encore</em> before crowds of rustic landowners, dressed in their +Sunday clothes, and ladies with false rings and plated chains; and she +had her first thrills of feminine vanity on receiving bouquets and +sonnets from subalterns and cadets in small garrison towns. Boldini +followed her everywhere, neglecting his lessons, in pursuit of this, his +last depraved infatuation. "All for art, art for all!" He must enjoy the +fruits of his creation, be present at the triumphs of his star pupil! So +he said to Doctor Moreno; and that unsuspecting gentleman, thankful for +this added courtesy of the master, would leave her more and more to the +old satyr's care.</p> + +<p>The escape from that life came when she secured a contract for a whole +winter in Padua. There she met the tenor Salvatti, a high and mighty +<em>divo</em>, who looked down upon all his associates, though tolerated +himself, by the public, only out of consideration for his past.</p> + +<p>For years now he had been holding his own on the opera stage, less for +his voice than for his dashing appearance, slightly repaired with pencil +and rouge, and the legend of romantic love affairs that floated like a +rainbow around his name—noble dames fighting a clandestine warfare for +him; queens scandalizing their subjects by blind passions he inspired; +eminent divas selling their diamonds for the money to hold him faithful +by lavish gifts. The jealousy of Salvatti's comrades tended to +perpetuate and exaggerate this legend; and the tenor, worn out, poor, +and a wreck virtually for all of his pose of grandeur, was able to make +a living still from provincial publics, who charitably applauded him +with the self-conceit of climbers pampering a dethroned prince.</p> + +<p>Leonora, playing opposite that famous man, "starring," singing duets +with him, clasping hands that had been kissed by the queens of art, was +deeply stirred. This, at last, was the world she had dreamed of in her +dingy garret in Milan. Salvatti's presence gave her just the illusion of +aristocratic grandeur she had longed for. Nor was he slow in perceiving +the impression he had made upon that promising young woman. With a cold +calculating selfishness, he determined to profit by her naïve +admiration. Was it love that thrust her toward him? As, so long +afterwards, she analyzed her passion to Rafael, she was vehemently +certain it had not been love: Salvatti could never have inspired a +genuine feeling in anyone. His egotism, his moral corruptness, were too +close to the surface. No, he was a philanderer simply, an exploiter of +women. But for her it had been a blinding hallucination nevertheless, +fraught, during the first days, at least, with the delicious +exhiliration, the voluptuous abandonment of true love. She became the +slave of the decrepit tenor, voluntarily, just as she had become her +<em>maestro's</em> slave through fear. And so complete had her infatuation +been, so overpowering its intoxication, that, in obedience to Salvatti, +she fled with him at the end of the season, and deserted her father, who +had objected to the intimacy.</p> + +<p>Then came the black page in her life, that filled her eyes with +anguished tears as she went on with her story. What folks said about her +father's end was not true. Poor Doctor Moreno had not committed suicide. +He was altogether too proud to confess in that way the deep grief that +her ingratitude had caused him.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me about that woman," he would say fiercely to his +landlady at Milan whenever the old <em>danseuse</em> would mention Leonora. "I +have no daughter: it was all a mistake."</p> + +<p>Unbeknown to Salvatti, who became terribly grasping as he saw his power +waning, Leonora would send her father a few hundred francs from London, +from Naples, from Paris. The Doctor, though in direst poverty, would at +once return the checks "to the sender" and, without writing a word; +where-upon Leonora paid an allowance every month to the housekeeper, +begging her not to abandon the old man.</p> + +<p>The unhappy Doctor needed, indeed, all the care the landlady and her old +friends could give him. The <em>povero signor spagnuolo</em>—the poor Spanish +gentleman—spent his days locked up in his room, his violoncello between +his knees, reading Beethoven, the only one "in his family"—as he +said—"who had never played him false." When old Isabella, tired of his +music, would literally put him out of the house to get a breath of air, +he would wander like a phantom through the Gallery, distantly greeted +by former friends, who avoided closer contact with that black +despondency and feared the explosions of rage with which he received +news of his daughter's rising fame.</p> + +<p>A rapid rise she was making in very truth! The worldly old women who +foregathered in the ballet-dancer's little parlor, could not contain +their admiration for their "little girl's" success; and even grew +indignant at the father for not accepting things "as things had to be." +Salvatti? Just the support she needed! An expert pilot, who knew the +chart of the opera world, who would steer her straight and keep her off +the rocks.</p> + +<p>The tenor had skilfully organized a world wide publicity for his young +singer. Leonora's beauty and her artistic verve conquered every public. +She had contracts with the leading theatres of Europe, and though +critics found defects in her singing, her beauty helped them to forget +these, and one and all they contributed loyally to the deification of +the young goddess. Salvatti, sheltering his old age under this prestige +which he so religiously fostered, was keeping in harness to the very +end, and taking leave of life under the protecting shadow of that woman, +the last to believe in him and tolerate his exploitation.</p> + +<p>Applauded by select publics, courted in her dressing-room by celebrated +men and women, Leonora began to find Salvatti's tyranny unbearable. She +now saw him as he really was: miserly, petulant, spoiled by praise. +Every bit of her money that came into his hands disappeared, she knew +not where. Eager for revenge, though really answering the lure of the +elegant world she glimpsed in the distance but was not yet a part of, +she began to deceive Salvatti in passing adventures, taking a diabolical +pleasure in the deceit. But no; as she looked back on that part of her +life with the sober eye of experience, she understood that she had +really been the one deceived. Salvatti, she remembered, would always +retire at the opportune moment, facilitating her infidelities. She +understood now that the man had carefully prepared such adventures for +her with influential men whom he himself introduced to make certain +profits out of the meeting—profits that he never declared.</p> + +<p>After three years of this sort of life, when Leonora had reached the +full splendor of her beauty, she chanced to become the favorite of +fashion for one whole summer at Nice. Parisian newspapers, in their +"society columns" referred, in veiled language, to the passion of an +aged king, a democratic monarch, who had left his throne, much as a +manufacturer of London or a stockbroker of Paris would leave his office, +for a vacation on the Blue Coast. This tall, robust gentleman with a +patriarchal beard—the very type of the good king in fairy tales—had +not hesitated to be seen in public with a beautiful <em>artiste</em>.</p> + +<p>That conquest, fleeting though it had been, put the finishing touch on +Leonora's eminence! "Ah! La Brunna!" people would declare +enthusiastically. "The favorite of king Ernesto.... Our greatest +artist." And troops of adorers began to besiege her under the keen, +mercenary eyes of the tenor Salvatti.</p> + +<p>About this time her father died in a hospital at Milan—a very sad end, +as Signora Isabella, the former ballet-dancer, explained in her letters. +Of what had he died?... The old lady could not say, as the physicians +had differed; but her own view of the matter was that the <em>povero signor +spagnuolo</em> had simply grown tired of living—a general collapse of that +wonderful constitution, so strong, so powerful, in a way, yet strangely +susceptible to moral and emotional influences. He was almost blind when +admitted to the hospital. He seemed quite to have lost his mind—sunk in +an unbreakable silence. Isabella had not dared to keep him in her house +after he had fallen into that coma. But the strange thing was, that as +death drew near, his memory of the past suddenly cleared, and the nurses +would hear him groan for nights at a time, murmuring in Spanish with +tenacious persistency:</p> + +<p>"Leonora! My darling! Where are you?... Little girl, where are you?"</p> + +<p>Leonora wept and wept, and did not leave her hotel for more than a week, +to the great disgust of Salvatti, who observed, in addition, that tears +were not good for her complexion.</p> + +<p>Alone in the world!... Her own wrong-doing had killed her poor father! +No one was left now except her good old aunt, who was "existing" far +away in Spain, like a vegetable in a garden, her stupid mind entirely on +her prayer-book. Leonora vented her anguish in a burst of hatred for +Salvatti. He was responsible for her abandonment of her father! She +deserted him, taking up with a certain count Selivestroff, a handsome +and wealthy Russian, captain in the Imperial Guard.</p> + +<p>So she had found her destiny! Her life would always be like that! She +would pass from stage to stage, from song to song, belonging to +everybody—and to nobody!</p> + +<p>That fair Russian, so strong, so manly, so thoroughly a gentleman, had +loved her truly, with a passionate humble adoration.</p> + +<p>He would kneel submissively at her feet, like Hercules in the presence +of Adriadne, resting his chin on her knees, looking up into her face +with his gray, kindly, caressing eyes. Timidly, doubtfully, he would +approach her every day as if he were meeting her for the first time and +feared a repulse. He would kiss her softly, delicately, with hushed +reserve, as if she were a fragile jewel that might break beneath his +tenderest caress. Poor Selivestroff! Leonora had wept at the thought of +him. In Russia and with princely Russian sumptuousness, they had lived +for a year in his castle, in the country, among a population of sodden +<em>moujiks</em> who worshipped that beautiful woman in the white and blue furs +as devotedly as if she had been a Virgin stepping forth from the gilded +background of an ikon.</p> + +<p>But Leonora could not live away from stageland: the ladies of the rural +aristocracy avoided her, and she needed applause and admiration. She +induced Selivestroff to move to St. Petersburg, and for a whole winter +she sang at the Opera there, like a grand dame turned opera singer out +of love for the work.</p> + +<p>Once more she became the reigning <em>belle</em>. All the young Russian +aristocrats who held commissions in the Imperial Guard, or high posts in +the Government, spoke enthusiastically of the great Spanish beauty; and +they envied Selivestroff. The count yearned moodily for the solitude of +his castle, which held so many loving memories for him. In the bustling, +competitive life of the capital, he grew jealous, sad, melancholy, +irritable at the necessity of defending his love. He could sense the +underground warfare that was being waged against him by Leonora's +countless admirers.</p> + +<p>One morning she was rudely awakened and leapt out of bed to find the +count stretched out on a divan, pale, his shirt stained with blood. A +number of gentlemen dressed in black were standing around him. They had +just brought him in from a carriage. He had been wounded in the chest. +The evening before, on leaving the theatre, the count had gone up for a +moment to his Club. He had caught an allusion to Leonora and himself in +some words of a friend. There had been blows—then hasty arrangements +for a duel, which had been fought at sunrise, with pistols. Selivestroff +died in the arms of his mistress, smiling, seeking those delicate, +powerful, pearly hands for one last time with his bleeding lips. Leonora +mourned him deeply, truly. The land where she had been so happy with the +first man she had really loved became intolerable to her, and abandoning +most of the riches that the count had given her, she went forth into the +world again, storming the great theatres in a new fever of travel and +adventure.</p> + +<p>She was then just twenty-three, but already felt herself an old woman. +How she had changed!... More affairs? As she went over that period of +her life in her talk with Rafael, Leonora closed her eyes with a shudder +of modesty and remorse. Drunk with fame and power she had rushed about +the world lavishing her beauty on anyone who interested her for the +moment. The property of everybody and of nobody! She could not remember +the names, even, of all the men who had loved her during that era of +madness, so many had been caught in the wake of her stormy flight across +the world! She had returned to Russia once, and been expelled by the +Czar for compromising the prestige of the Imperial Family, through an +affair with a grand duke who had wanted to marry her. In Rome she had +posed in the nude for a young and unknown sculptor out of pure +compassion for his silent admiration; and she herself made his "Venus" +public, hoping that the world-wide scandal would bring fame to the work +and to its author. In Genoa she found Salvatti again, now "retired," and +living on usury from his savings. She received him with an amiable +smile, lunched with him, treated him as an old comrade; and at dessert, +when he had become hopelessly drunk, she seized a whip and avenged the +blows she had received in her time of slavery to him, beating him with a +ferocity that stained the apartment with gore and brought the police to +the hotel. Another scandal! And this time her name bandied about in a +criminal court! But she, a fugitive from justice, and proud of her +exploit, sang in the United States, wildly acclaimed by the American +public, which admired the combative Amazon even more than the artist.</p> + +<p>There she made the acquaintance of Hans Keller, the famous orchestra +conductor, and a pupil and friend of Wagner. The German <em>maestro</em> became +her second love. With stiff, reddish hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, an +enormous mustache that drooped over either side of his mouth and framed +his chin, he was certainly not so handsome as Selivestroff. But he had +one irresistible charm, the charm of Art. With the tragic Russian in her +mind and on her conscience, she felt the need of burning herself in the +immortal flame of the ideal; and she adored the famous musician for the +artistic associations that hovered about him. For the first time, the +much-courted Leonora descended from her lofty heights to seek a man's +attention and came with her amorous advances to disturb the placid calm +of that artist so wholly engrossed in the cult of the sublime Master.</p> + +<p>Hans Keller noticed the smile that fell like a sunbeam upon his music +scrolls. He closed them and let himself be drawn off on the by-paths of +love. Leonora's life with the <em>maestro</em> was an absolute rupture with all +her past. Her one wish was to love and be loved—to throw a cloak of +mystery over her real self, ashamed as she now was of her previous wild +career. Her passion enthralled the musician and she in turn felt at once +stirred and transfigured by the atmosphere of artistic fervor that +haloed the illustrious pupil of Wagner.</p> + +<p>The spirit of Him, the Master, as Hans Keller called Wagner with pious +adoration, flashed before the singer's eyes like the revealing glory +that converted Paul on the road to Damascus. Music, as she now saw +clearly for the first time, was not a means of pleasing crowds, +displaying physical beauty, and attracting men. It was a religion—the +mysterious power that brings the infinite within us into contact with +the infinite that surrounds us. She became the sinner awakening to +repentance, and yearning for the atoning peace of the cloister, a +Magdalen of Art, touched on the high road of worldliness and frivolity +by the mystic sublimity of the Beautiful; and she cast herself at the +feet of Him, the supreme Master, as the most victorious of men, lord of +the mystery that moves all souls.</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about Him," Leonora would say. "How much I would give to +have known him as you did!... I did see him once in Venice: during his +last days ...he was already dying."</p> + +<p>And that meeting was, indeed, one of her most vivid and lasting +memories. The declining afternoon enlivening the dark waters of the +Grand Canal with its opalescent spangles; a gondola passing hers in the +opposite direction; and inside, a pair of blue, imperious eyes, shining, +under thick eyebrows, with the cold glint of steel—eyes that could +never be mistaken for common eyes, for the divine fire of the Elect, of +the demi-God, was bright within them! And they seemed to envelop her in +a flash of cerulean light. It was He—ill, and about to die. His heart +was wounded, bleeding, pierced, perhaps, by the shafts of mysterious +melody, as hearts of the Virgin sometimes bleed on altars bristling with +swords.</p> + +<p>Leonora could still see him as if he were there in front of her. He +looked smaller than he really was, dwarfed, apparently, by illness, and +by the wrack of pain. His huge head, the head of a genius, was bent low +over the bosom of his wife Cosima. He had removed the black felt hat so +as to catch the afternoon breeze full upon his loose gray locks. His +broad, high curved forehead, seemed to weigh down upon his body like an +ivory chest laden full of unseen jewels. His arrogant nose, as strong as +the beak of a bird of prey, seemed to be reaching across the sunken +mouth toward the sensuous, powerful jaw. A gray beard ran down along the +neck, that was wrinkled, wasted with age. A hasty vision it had been, to +be sure; but she had seen him; and his venerable figure remained in her +memory like a landscape glimpsed at the flare of a lightning-flash. She +had witnessed his arrival in Venice to die in the peace of those canals, +in that silence which is broken only by the stroke of the oar—where +many years before he had thought himself dying as he wrote his +<em>Tristan</em>—that hymn to the Death that is pure, to the Death that +liberates! She saw him stretched out in the dark boat; and the splash of +the water against the marble of the palaces echoed in her imagination +like the wailing, thrilling trumpets at the burial of Siegfried—the +hero of Poetry marching to the Valhalla of immortality and glory upon a +shield of ebony—motionless, inert as the young hero of the Germanic +legend—and followed by the lamentations of that poor prisoner of life, +Humanity, that ever eagerly seeks a crack, a chink, in the wall about +it, through which the inspiriting, comforting ray of beauty may +penetrate.</p> + +<p>And the singer gazed with tearful eyes at the broad <em>boina</em> of black +velvet, the lock of gray hair, two broken, rusty steel pens—souvenirs +of the Master, that Hans Keller had piously preserved in a glass case.</p> + +<p>"You knew him—tell me how he lived. Tell me everything: talk to me +about the Poet ... the Hero."</p> + +<p>And the musician, no less moved, described the Master as he had seen him +in the best of health; a small man, tightly wrapped in an +overcoat—with a powerful, heavy frame, however, despite his slight +stature—as restless as a nervous woman, as vibrant as a steel spring, +with a smile that lightly touched with bitterness his thin, colorless +lips. Then came his "genialities," as people said, the caprices of his +genius, that figure so largely in the Wagner legend: his smoker, a +jacket of gold satin with pearl flowers for buttons; the precious cloths +that rolled about like waves of light in his study, velvets and silks, +of flaming reds and greens and blues, thrown across the furniture and +the tables haphazard, with no reference to usefulness—for their sheer +beauty only—to stimulate the eye with the goad of color, satisfy the +Master's passion for brightness; and perfumes, as well, with which his +garments—always of oriental splendor—were literally saturated; phials +of rose emptied at random, filling the neighborhood with the fragrance +of a fabulous garden, strong enough to overcome the hardiest uninitiate, +but strangely exciting to that Prodigy in his struggle with the Unknown.</p> + +<p>And then Hans Keller described the man himself, never relaxed, always +quivering with mysterious thrills, incapable of sitting still, except at +the piano, or at table for his meals; receiving visitors standing, +pacing back and forth in his salon, his hands twitching in nervous +uncertainty; changing the position of the armchairs, rearranging the +furniture, suddenly stopping to hunt about his person for a snuff-box or +a pair of glasses that he never found; turning his pockets inside out, +pulling his velvet house-cap now down over one eye, now back over the +crown of his head, or again, throwing it into the air with a shout of +joy or crumpling it in his hand, as he became excited in the course of a +discussion!</p> + +<p>And Keller would close his eyes, imagining that he could still hear in +the silence, the faint but commanding voice of the Master. Oh, where was +he now? On some star, doubtless, eagerly following the infinite song of +the spheres, a divine music that only his ears had been attuned to hear! +And to choke his emotion, the musician would sit down at the piano, +while Leonora, responsive to his mood, would approach him, and standing +as rigid as a statue, with her hands lost in the musician's head of +rough tangled hair, sing a fragment from the immortal <em>Tetralogy</em>.</p> + +<p>Worship of Wagner transformed the butterfly into a new woman. Leonora +adored Keller as a ray of light gone astray from the glowing star now +extinguished forever; she felt the joy of humbleness, the sweetness of +sacrifice, seeing in him not the man, but the chosen representative of +the Divinity. Leonora could have grovelled at Keller's feet, let him +trample on her—make a carpet of her beauty. She willed to become a +slave to that lover who was the repository of the Master's thoughts; and +who seemed to be magnified to gigantic proportions by the custody of +such a treasure.</p> + +<p>She tended him with the exquisite watchfulness of an enamored servant, +following him, on his trips in the summer, the season of the great +concerts, to Leipzig, Geneva, Paris; and she, the most famous living +prima donna, would stay behind the scenes, with no jealousy for the +applause she heard, waiting for Hans, perspiring and tired, to drop the +baton amid the acclamations of the audience and come back-stage to have +her dry his forehead with an almost filial caress.</p> + +<p>And thus they traveled about Europe, spreading the light of the Master; +Leonora, voluntarily in the background, like a patrician of old, dressed +as a slave and following the Apostle in the name of the New Word.</p> + +<p>The German musician let himself be adored, receiving all her caresses of +enthusiasm and love with the absent-mindedness of an artist so +preoccupied with sounds that at last he comes to hate words. He taught +his language to Leonora that she might some day realize a dream of hers +and sing in Bayreuth; and he grounded her in the principles that had +guided the Master in the creation of his great characters. And so, when +Leonora made her appearance on the stage one winter with the winged +helmet and the lance of the Valkyrie, she attained an eminence in +Wagnerian interpretation that was to follow her for the remainder of her +career. Hans himself was carried away by her power, and could never +recover from his astonishment at Leonora's complete assimilation of the +spirit of the Master.</p> + +<p>"If only He could hear you!" he would say with conviction. "I am sure He +would be content."</p> + +<p>And the pair traveled about the world together. Every springtime she, as +spectator, would watch him directing Wagnerian choruses in the "Mystic +Abyss" at Bayreuth. Winters it was he who went into ecstasies under her +tremendous "<em>Hojotoho</em>!"—the fierce cry of a Valkyrie afraid of the +austere father Wotan; or at sight of her awakening among the flames for +the spirited Siegfried, the hero who feared nothing in the world, but +trembled at the first glance of love!</p> + +<p>But artists' passions are like flowers, fragrant, but quickly +languishing. The rough German musician was a simple person, unstable, +fickle, ready to be amused at any new plaything. Leonora admitted to +Rafael that she could have lived to old age submissively at Keller's +side, pampering his whims and selfish caprices. But one day Keller +deserted her, as she had deserted others, to take up with a sickly, +languid contralto, whose best charms could have been hardly comparable +to the morbid delicacy of a hot-house flower. Leonora, mad with love and +jealousy, pursued him, knocking at his door like a servant. For the +first time she felt the voluptuous bitterness of being scorned, +discarded, until reaction from despair brought her back to her former +pride and self-control!</p> + +<p>Love was over. She had had enough of artists; though an interesting sort +of folk they were in their way. Far preferable were the ordinary, normal +men she had known before Keller's time! The foolisher—the more +commonplace—the better! She would never fall in love again!</p> + +<p>Wearied, broken in spirit, disillusioned, she went back into her old +world. But now the legend of her past beset her. Again men came, +passionately besieging her, offering her wealth in return for a little +love. They talked of killing themselves if she resisted, as if it were +her duty to surrender, as if refusal on her part were treachery. The +gloomy Macchia committed suicide in Naples. Why? Because she did not +capitulate to his melancholy sonnets! In Vienna there had been a duel, +in which one of her admirers was slain. An eccentric Englishman followed +her about, looming in her pathway everywhere like the shadow of a fatal +Destiny, vowing to kill anybody she should prefer to him.... She had had +enough at last! She was wearied of such a life, disgusted at the male +voracity that dogged her every step. She longed to fall out of sight, +disappear, find rest and quiet in a complete surrender to some boundless +dream. And the thought—a comforting, soothing thought, it had been—of +the distant land of her childhood came back to her, the thought of her +simple, pious aunt, the sole survivor of her family, who wrote to her +twice every year, urging her to reconcile her soul with God—to which +end the good old Doña Pepa was herself aiding with prayer!</p> + +<p>She felt, too, somehow, without knowing just why, that a visit to her +native soil would soften the painful memory of the ingratitude that had +cost her father's life. She would care for the poor old woman! Her +presence would bring a note of cheer into that gray, monotonous +existence that had gone on without the slightest change, ever. And +suddenly, one night, after an "Isolde" in Florence, she ordered Beppa, +the loyal and silent companion of her wandering life, to pack her +things!</p> + +<p>Home! Home! Off for her native land! And might she find there something +to keep her ever from returning to the troubled stirring world she was +leaving!</p> + +<p>She was the princess of the fairy tales longing to become a shepherdess. +There she meant to stay, in the shade of her orange-trees, now and then +fondling a memory of her old life, perhaps, but wishing eternally to +enjoy that tranquillity, fiercely repelling Rafael, therefore, because +he had tried to awaken her, as Siegfried rouses Brunhilde, braving the +flames to reach her side.</p> + +<p>No; friends, friends, nothing else! She wanted no more of love. She +already knew what that was. Besides, he had come too late....</p> + +<p>And Rafael tossed sleeplessly in his bed, rehearsing in the darkness the +story he had been told. He felt dwarfed, annihilated, by the grandeur of +the men who had preceded him in their adoration of that woman. A king, +great artists, handsome and aristocratic paladins, Russian counts, +potentates with vast wealth at their command! And he, a humble country +boy, an obscure junior deputy, as submissive as a child to his mother's +despotic ways, forced to beg for the money for his personal expenses +even—he was trying to succeed them!</p> + +<p>He laughed with bitter irony at his own presumptuousness. Now he +understood Leonora's mocking tone, and the violence she had used in +repulsing all boorish liberties he had tried to take. But despite the +contempt he began to feel for himself, he lacked the strength to +withdraw now. He had been caught up in the wake of seduction, the +maelstrom of love that followed the actress everywhere, enslaving men, +casting them, broken in spirit and in will, to earth, like so many +slaves of Beauty.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>III</h3> + + +<p>"Good morning, Rafaelito ... we are seeing each other betimes today.... +I am up so early not to miss the marketing. I remember that Wednesday +was always a great event in my life, as a child. What a crowd!..."</p> + +<p>And Leonora, with the great swarming cities far from her mind, was +really impressed at the numbers of bustling people crowding the little +square, called <em>del Prado</em>, where every Wednesday the "grand market" of +the Alcira region was held.</p> + +<p>Their sashes bulging with money bags, peasants were coming into town to +buy supplies for the whole week out in the orange country. Orchard women +were going from one stall to the next, as slender of body and as neatly +dressed as the peasant girls of an opera ballet, their hair in +<em>señorita</em> style, their skirts of bright batiste gathered up to hold +their purchases and showing fine stockings and tight-fitting shoes +underneath. Tanned faces and rough hands were the only signs to betray +the rustic origin of the girls; because those were prosperous days for +the orange growers of the District.</p> + +<p>Along the walls hens were clucking, ranged in piles and tied together by +the feet. Here and there were pyramids of eggs, vegetables, fruit. In +"shops" that were set up in the morning and taken down at night, +drygoods dealers were selling colored sashes, strips of cotton cloth and +calico, and black woolsey, the eternal garb of every native of the +Júcar valley. Beyond the Prado, in <em>El Alborchí</em>, was the hog market; +and then came the <em>Hostal Gran</em> where horses were tried out. On +Wednesdays all the business of the neighborhood was transacted—money +borrowed or paid back, poultry stocks replenished, hogs bought to fatten +on the farms, whole families anxiously following their progress; and new +cart-horses, especially, the matter of greatest concern to the farmers, +secured on mortgage, usually, or with cash saved up by desperate +hoarding.</p> + +<p>Though the sun had barely risen, the crowd, smelling of sweat and soil, +already filled the market place with busy going and coming. The +orchard-women embraced as they met, and with their heavy baskets propped +on their hips, went into the chocolate shops to celebrate the encounter. +The men gathered in groups; and from time to time, to "buck up" a +little, would go off in parties to swallow a glass of sweet brandy. In +and out among the rustics walked the city people: "petty bourgeois" of +set manners, with old capes, and huge hempen baskets, where they would +place the provisions they had bought after tenacious hagglings; +<em>señoritas</em>, who found in these Wednesday markets a welcome relief from +the monotony of their secluded life at home; idlers who spent hour after +hour at the stall of some vendor friend, prying into what each marketer +carried in his basket, grumbling at the stinginess of some and praising +the generosity of others.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed at his friend in sheer astonishment. What a beauty she was! +Who could ever have taken her, in that costume, for a world-famous prima +donna!</p> + +<p>Leonora looked the living picture of an orchard girl: a plain cotton +dress, in anticipation of spring; a red kerchief around her neck; her +blond hair uncovered, combed back with artful carelessness and hastily +knotted low on the back of her head. Not a jewel, not a flower! Only her +height and her striking comeliness marked her off from the other girls. +Under the curious, devouring glances of the whole market throng, Rafael +smilingly greeted her, feasting his eyes on her fresh, pink skin, still +radiant from the morning bath, inhaling the subtle, indefinable +fragrance that hovered about that strong, healthy, youthful person.</p> + +<p>She was constantly smiling, as if bent on dazzling the bumpkins, who +were gaping at her from a distance, with the pearly flash of her teeth. +The market-place began to buzz with admiring curiosity, or the thrill of +scandal. There, face to face, in view of the whole city, the deputy and +the opera singer were talking and laughing together like the best of +friends!</p> + +<p>Rafael's supporters—the chief officials in the city government—who +were loitering about the square, could not conceal their satisfaction. +Even the humblest of the constables felt a certain pride. That beautiful +fairy was talking with "the Chief," smiling at him, even. What an honor +for "the Party!" But after all, why not? Everything considered, don +Rafael Brull deserved all that, and more! And those men, who were very +careful to keep silent when their wives spoke indignantly of the +"stranger," admired her with the instinctive fervor that beauty +inspires, and envied the deputy his good fortune. The old orchard-women +wrapped the couple in caressing glances of approval. There was a +handsome pair! What a fine match!</p> + +<p>The town ladies in passing by would draw up full height and pretend not +to see them. On meeting acquaintances they would make wry faces and say +ironically: "Did you see?... here she is, in full sight of everybody, +casting her fly for doña Bernarda's son!" What a disgrace! It was +getting so a decent woman hardly dared go out of doors!</p> + +<p>Leonora, quite unconscious of the interest she was arousing, chattered +on about her shopping. Beppa, you see, had decided to stay at home with +her aunt that morning; so she had come with her gardener's wife and +another woman—there they were over there with the large baskets. She +had no end of things to get—and she laughed as she read off the list. A +regular housewife she had become, yes, sir! She knew the price of +everything and could tell down to a <em>centime</em> just what it was costing +her to live. It was like those hard times back in Milan, when she had +gone with her music roll under her arm to get macaroni, butter or coffee +at the grocer's. And what fun it all was!... However, Leonora observed +that, without a doubt, her audience was interpreting her cordial offhand +way with Rafael in the worst light possible. She gave him her hand and +took leave. It was growing late! If she stood there much longer the best +of the market would be carried off by others—if she found anything at +all left! "Down to business, then! Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>And the young man saw her make her way, followed by the two country +women, through the crowds, pausing at the booths, welcomed by the +vendors with their best smiles, as a customer who never haggled; +interrupting her purchases to fondle the filthy, whining children the +poor women were carrying in their arms, and taking the best fruits out +of her basket to give to the little ones.</p> + +<p>And everywhere general admiration! "<em>Así, siñorita</em>!--Here, my dear +young lady!" "<em>Vinga, doña Leonor</em>!--This way, doña Leonora!" the +huckstresses cried, calling her by name to show greater intimacy. And +she would smile, with a familiar intimate word for everybody, her hand +frequently visiting the purse of Russian leather that hung from her +wrist. Cripples, blind beggars, men with missing arms or legs, all had +learned of the generosity of that woman who scattered small change by +the fistful.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed after her, smiling indifferently in acknowledgment of the +congratulations the town notables were heaping on him. The +<em>alcalde</em>—the most hen-pecked husband in Alcira, according to his +enemies—affirmed with sparkling eyes that for a woman like that he was +capable of doing almost any crazy thing. And they all joined in a chorus +of invidious praise, taking it for granted that Rafael was the +<em>artiste's</em> accepted lover; though the youth himself smiled bitterly at +the thought of his real status with that wonderful woman.</p> + +<p>And she vanished, finally, into the sea of heads at the other end of the +market-place; though Rafael, from time to time, thought he could still +make out a mass of golden hair rising above the <em>chevelures</em> of the +other girls. Willingly he would have followed; but Don Matias was at his +side—don Matias, the wealthy orange exporter, father of the wistful +Remedios who was spending her days obediently at doña Bernarda's side.</p> + +<p>That gentleman, heavy of speech and heavier still of thought, was +pestering Rafael with a lot of nonsense about the orange business, +giving the young man advice on a new bill he had drawn up and wanted to +have introduced in Congress—a protectionist measure for Spanish +oranges. "Why, it will be the making of the city, boy! Every mother's +son of us swimming in money!" as he guaranteed with his hand upon his +heart.</p> + +<p>But Rafael's gaze was lost in the distant reaches of the Prado, to catch +one more fleeting glimpse of a golden head of hair—proof of Leonora's +presence still! He found it hard to be courteous, even, to this man who, +according to authentic rumor, was destined to be his father-in-law. Of +all the drawling trickling words only a few reached his ears, beating on +his brain like monotonous hammer blows. "Glasgow ... Liverpool ... new +markets ... lower railroad rates ... The English agents are a set of +thieves ..."</p> + +<p>"Very well, let them go hang," Rafael answered mentally. And giving a +mechanical "yes, yes!" to propositions he was not even hearing, he gazed +away more intently than ever, fearing lest Leonora should already have +gone. He felt relieved, however, when a gap opened in the crowd and he +could see the actress seated in a chair that had been offered her by a +huckstress. She was holding a child upon her knees, and talking with a +tiny, wretched, sickly creature who looked to Rafael like the +orchard-woman they had met at the hermitage.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of my plan?" don Matias asked.</p> + +<p>"Excellent, magnificent, and well worthy of a man like you, who knows +the question from top to bottom. We'll discuss the matter thoroughly +when I return to the Cortes."</p> + +<p>And to avoid a second exposition, he patted the wealthy boor on the +back, and wondered why in the world Fortune should have picked such a +disgusting man to smile on.</p> + +<p>The whole city had known don Matias when he went around in peasant's +clogs and worked a tiny orchard he had secured on lease. His son, a +virtual half-wit, who took advantage of every opportunity to rifle the +old man's pockets and spend the money in Valencia with bull-fighters, +gamblers and horse-dealers, went barefoot in those days, scampering +about the roads with the children of the gipsies encamped in <em>El +Alborchi</em>. His daughter—the now well-behaved, the now modest, Remedios, +who was passing day after day at complicated needlework under the +tutelage of doña Bernarda—had grown up like a wild rabbit of the +fields, repeating with shocking fidelity all the oaths and vile language +she heard from the carters her father drank with.</p> + +<p>"But you have to be an ox to get rich these days!" the barber Cupido +would say when don Matias came up for discussion.</p> + +<p>Little by little the man had worked his way into the orange export +business—to England especially. His first stock he bought on credit; +and at once Fortune began to blow upon him with bloated cheeks, and she +was still puffing and puffing! His wealth had been accumulated in a few +years. In crises where the most powerful vessels foundered, that rude +and heavy bark, sailing on without chart or compass, suffered not the +slightest harm. His shipments always arrived at the psychological +moment. The fancy, carefully-selected oranges of other merchants would +land at Liverpool or London when the markets were glutted and prices +were falling scandalously. The lucky dolt would send anything at all +along, whatever was available, cheap; and circumstances always seemed to +favor him with an empty market and prices sky-high regardless of +quality. He realized fabulous profits. He had nothing but scorn for all +the wiseacres who subscribed to the English papers, received daily +bulletins and compared market quotations from year to year, getting, for +all their pains, results that made them tear their hair. He was an +ignoramus and he was proud of it! He trusted to his lucky star. Whenever +he thought it best, he would ship his produce off from the port of +Valencia, and—there you are!--it would always turn out that his oranges +found no competition on arrival and brought the highest prices. More +than once it had happened that rough weather held his vessel up. +Well—the market would sell out, and his shipment would have a clear +field just the same!</p> + +<p>Within two years he had a place in town and had become a "personage." He +would smilingly declare that he wouldn't "go to the wall for under +eighty thousand <em>duros</em>." Later, ever on the wing, his fortune reached +dizzy heights. Folks whispered in superstitious awe the figures he made +in net profits at the end of every sailing. He owned warehouses as +large as churches in the vicinity of Alcira, employing armies of girls +to wrap the oranges and regiments of carpenters to make the crates. He +would buy the crop of an entire orchard at a single glance and never be +more than a few pounds off. As for the pay he gave, the city was proud +of its millionaire. Not even the Bank of Spain enjoyed the respect and +confidence his firm had won. No clerks and cashiers! No mahogany +furniture! Everything above board! Ask for a hundred thousand; and if +don Matías said "yes," he just went in to his bedroom and, God knows +from where, he would draw out a roll of bank-notes the size of your +body!</p> + +<p>And this lucky rustic, this upstart lout, rich without deserving it for +any competence he had, was giving himself the airs of an intelligent +dealer, presuming to approach Rafael, "his deputy," with a proposal for +a freight-rate bill to promote the shipping of oranges into the interior +of Spain! As if a little thing like a bill in Congress would make any +difference to his way of getting money!</p> + +<p>Of his wretched past don Matías preserved but a single trait: his +respect for the house of Brull. The rest of the city he treated with a +certain uppishness; but he could not conceal the awe which doña Bernarda +inspired in him—a feeling that was strengthened by gratitude for her +kindness in singling him out (after he had become rich), and for the +interest she showed in his "little girl." He cherished a vivid memory of +Rafael's father, the "greatest man" he had known in all his life. It +seemed as though he could still see don Ramón stopping on his big horse +in front of his humble farmhouse and, with the air of a grand lord, +leaving orders for what don Matías was to do in the coming elections. +He knew the bad state in which the great man had left his affairs upon +his death; and more than once he had given money to doña Bernarda +outright, proud that she should do him the honor of appealing to him in +her straits. But in his eyes, the House of Brull, poor or rich, was +always the House of Brull, the cradle of a dynasty whose authority +no power could shake. He had money. But those <em>others</em>, the +Brulls—ah!--they had, up there in Madrid, friends, influence! If they +wanted to they could get the ear of the Throne itself. They were people +with a "pull," and if anyone suggested in his presence that Rafael's +mother was thinking of Remedios as a daughter-in-law, don Matías would +redden with satisfaction and modestly reply:</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I imagine it's all talk. My Remedios is only a town girl, +you see. The señor deputy is probably thinking of someone from the +'upper crust' in Madrid."</p> + +<p>Rafael had for some time been aware of his mother's plans. But he had no +use for "that crowd." The old man, despite his boresome habit of +suggesting "new bills," he could stand on account of his touching +loyalty to the Brull family. But the girl was an utterly insignificant +creature, pretty, to be sure, but only as any ordinary young girl is +pretty. And underneath that servile gentleness of hers lay an +intelligence even more obtuse than her father's, a mind filled with +nothing but piety and the religious phrases in which she had been +educated.</p> + +<p>That morning, followed by an aged servant, and with all the gravity of +an orphan who must busy herself with the affairs of her household and +act as head of the home, Remedios had walked by Rafael twice. She +scarcely looked at him. The submissive smile of the future slave with +which she usually greeted him had disappeared. She was quite pale, and +her colorless lips were pressed tight together. Without a doubt in the +world she had seen him, from a distance, talking and laughing with "the +chorus girl." His mother would know all about it within an hour! Really, +that young female seemed to think he was her private property! And the +angry expression on her face was that of a jealous wife taking notes for +a curtain-lecture!</p> + +<p>Scenting a danger Rafael took hasty leave of don Matias and his other +friends, and left the market place to avoid another meeting with +Remedios. Leonora was still there. He would wait for her on the road to +the orchard. He must take advantage of the early hour!</p> + +<p>The orange country seemed to be quivering under the first kisses of +spring. The lithe poplars bordering the road were covered with tender +leaves. In the orchards the buds on the orange-trees, filling with the +new sap, were ready to burst, as in one grand explosion of perfume, into +white fragrant bloom. In the matted herbage on the river-banks the first +flowers were growing. Rafael felt the cool caress of the sod as he sat +down on the edge of the road. How sweet everything smelled! What a +beautiful day it was!</p> + +<p>The timorous, odorous violet must be sprouting on the damp ground yonder +under the alders! And he went looking along the stream for those little +purple flowers that bring dreams of love with their fragrance! He would +make a bouquet to offer Leonora as she came by.</p> + +<p>He felt thrilled with a boldness he had never known before. His hands +burned feverishly. Perhaps it was the emotion from his own sense of +daring. He had resolved to settle things that very morning. The fatuity +of the man who feels himself ridiculous and is determined to raise +himself in the eyes of his admirers, excited him, filling him with a +cynical rashness.</p> + +<p>What would his friends, who envied him as Leonora's lover, say if they +knew she was treating him as an insignificant friend, a good little boy +who helped her while away the hours in the solitude of her voluntary +exile?</p> + +<p>A few kisses—on her hand; a few kind words; many many cruel jests, such +as come from a chum conscious of superiority ... that was all he had won +after months and months and months of assiduous courtship, months of +disobedience to his mother, in whose house he had been living like a +stranger, without affection, at daggers' points; months of exposure to +the criticism of his enemies, who suspected him of a liaison with the +"chorus girl" and were raising their brows, horror-stricken, in the name +of morality. How they would scoff, if they knew the truth! Those +addlepates down at the Club were always boasting of their amorous +adventures, which began inevitably with the sudden physical attack and +ended in easy triumph.</p> + +<p>With the Spaniard's mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to +assure himself that those brutes were right—that such was the road to +a woman's heart. He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at +Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at +an ikon. Bosh! Wasn't he a man, and isn't the man the stronger? Some +show of a male authority, that was what she needed! He liked her! Well, +that was the end of it! His she must be! Besides, since she treated him +so kindly, she surely loved him! A few scruples perhaps! But that would +be nothing, before a show of real manhood!</p> + +<p>Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its +dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, +Rafael heard voices down the road. He jumped to his feet. Leonora was +approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under +their heavily laden baskets.</p> + +<p>"Here, too!" the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly +under the white skin of her throat. "You are getting to be my shadow. In +the market place, on the road, everywhere! I find you every time I look +around!"</p> + +<p>She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man's hand, inhaling +their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season. My +beautiful, faithful old friend! Springtime! You have brought her to me +this year, though I felt her coming days before! I am so happy—can't +you see? I feel as though I'd been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a +cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings! And I'm going to fly out +over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes! Don't +you feel as I do, Rafael?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael, gravely, said he did. He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the +nip of life in every one of his pores! And his eyes ran over the bare +neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white +beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that +strong, robust bosom. The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a +meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their +mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their +presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go right on," she said. "We'll take our time, but we'll be there +soon!"</p> + +<p>And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women +with her closed parasol:</p> + +<p>"Did you see that? Didn't you notice their smiles and the winks they +exchanged when they saw you on the road?... Oh, Rafael! You are blind as +a bat! And no good is going to come of it! If I had any reputation to +lose, I'd be mighty careful with a friend like you! What do you suppose +they are thinking?"</p> + +<p>And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, +she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with +Rafael.</p> + +<p>"On the market-place all the huckstresses talk to me about you, with the +idea of flattering me. They assure me we'd make a wonderful couple. My +kitchen woman seizes every opportunity to tell me how handsome you are. +You ought to thank her.... Even my aunt, my poor aunt, with one leg in +the grave, drew it out the other day to say to me: 'Do you notice that +Rafael visits us quite frequently? Do you think he wants to marry you?' +Marry, you see! Ha, ha, ha! Marry! That's all poor auntie can see in the +world for a woman!"</p> + +<p>And she went on gaily chattering like a wild bird escaped from a cage +and happy at its liberty, though her frank, mocking laughter was in +strange contrast with the expression of sinister determination on +Rafael's face.</p> + +<p>"But how glum and queer you look today! Are you ill?... What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>Rafael took advantage of this opening. Ill, yes! Sick with love! He knew +the whole place was gossiping about them. But it wasn't his fault. He +simply couldn't hide his feelings. If she only realized what that mute +adoration was costing him! He had tried to root the thought of her out +of his mind, but that had been impossible. He must see her, hear her! He +lived for her alone. Study? Impossible! Play, with his friends? They had +all become obnoxious to him! His house was a cave, a cellar, a place to +eat in and sleep in. He left it the moment he got out of bed, and kept +away from the city, too, which seemed stuffy, oppressive, like a jail to +him. Off to the fields; to the orchards, to the Blue House where she +lived! He would wait and wait for afternoon to come—the time when, by a +tacit arrangement neither of them had proposed, he might enter her +orchard and find her on the bench under the four dead palms!... Well, he +could not go on living that way. Poor folks envied him his power, +because he was a deputy, at twenty-five! And yet his one purpose in life +was to be ... well, she could guess what ... that garden bench, for +instance, gently, deliciously burdened with her weight for whole +afternoons; or that needlework which played about in her soft fingers; +or one of her servants, Beppa, perhaps, who could waken her in the +morning, bend low over her sleeping head, and smooth the loose tresses +spread like rivulets of gold over the white pillow. A slave, an animal, +a thing even, provided it should be in continuous contact with her +person—that was what he longed to be; not to find himself obliged, at +nightfall, to leave her after a parting absurdly prolonged by childish +pretexts, and return to his irritating, common, vulgar life at home, to +the solitude of his room, where he imagined he could see a pair of green +eyes staring at him from every dark corner, tempting him.</p> + +<p>Leonora was not laughing. Her gold-spotted eyes had opened wide; her +nostrils were quivering with emotion. She seemed deeply moved by the +young man's eloquent sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael! My poor dear boy!... And what are we going to do?"</p> + +<p>Down at the Blue House, Rafael had never dared speak so openly. The +presence of Leonora's servants; the nonchalant, mocking air with which +she welcomed him at the door; the irony with which she met his every +hint at a declaration had always crushed, humiliated him. But there, on +the open highway, it was different somehow. He felt free. He would empty +his whole heart out.</p> + +<p>What anguish! Every day he went to the Blue House trembling with hope, +enthralled in his dream of love! "Perhaps it will be today," he would +say to himself each time. And his legs would give way at the knees, and +he would choke as he swallowed! Then, hours later, at nightfall, he +would slink home, downcast, dispirited, desperate, staggering along the +road under the star-light as if he were drunk, repressing the tears +burning in his eyes, longing for the peace of death, like a weary +explorer who must go on and on breaking his way over one ice-field after +another. She must have noticed, surely! She must have seen the untiring +efforts he made to please her!... Ignorant, humble, recognizing the vast +gulf that separated them because of the different lives they had led, +how he had worked to raise himself to a level with the men who had loved +and won her! If she spoke of the Russian count—a model of stylish +elegance—the next day, to the great astonishment of his mother, Rafael +would take out his best clothes and, all sweating in the hot sun and +nearly strangled by a high collar, he would set out along that same +road—his Road to Calvary—walking on his toes like a boarding-school +girl in order not to get his shoes dirty. If Hans Keller had come to +Leonora's mind, he would run through his histories of music, and +dressing up like some artist he had read about in novels, would come to +her house fully intending to deliver an oration on the immortal Master, +Wagner, whom he knew nothing at all about, but whom he adored as a +member of his family.... Good God! All that was ridiculous, he knew very +well; it would have been far better to present himself just as he was, +undisguised, in all his littleness. He knew that this pretending to +equality with the thousand or more figures flitting in Leonora's memory, +was grotesque. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing he would not do +to stir her heart a little, be loved for a day, a minute, a second—and +then die!...</p> + +<p>There was a note of such real feeling in the youth's confession that +Leonora, more and more deeply moved, unconsciously drew closer to him, +almost grazing him as they walked along; and she smiled slightly, as she +repeated her previous phrase—a blend of motherly affection and +compassion:</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael!... My poor dear boy!"</p> + +<p>They had reached the gate to the orchard. The walk inside was deserted. +In the little square some hens were scratching about.</p> + +<p>Overwhelmed by the strain of that confession, in which he had vented the +anguish and dreams of many months, Rafael leaned against the trunk of an +old orange-tree. Leonora stood in front of him, listening to his words, +with head lowered, making marks on the ground with the tip of her red +parasol.</p> + +<p>Die, yes; he had often read in novels about people dying for love. And +he had always laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. But he +understood now. Many a night, tossing in his delirium, he had thought of +ending his misery in some tragic manner. The violent, domineering blood +of his father seethed in his veins. Once firmly convinced she could +never be his, he would kill her, to keep her from belonging to anybody... +and then stab himself! They would fall together to the blood-soaked +ground, and lie there as on a bed of red damask, and he would kiss her +cold lips, without fear of being disturbed; kiss her and kiss her, till +the last breath of his life exhaled upon her livid mouth.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be saying all that with deadly earnestness. The muscles of +his strong face quivered, and his eyes—Moorish eyes—glowed like live +coals. Leonora was looking at him passionately now, as if a man were in +front of her. She shuddered with a strange fascination as she pictured +his barbarous dreams, fraught with blood and death. This was something +new! This boy, when he saw that his love was vain, would not gloomily +and prosaically slay himself as Macchia, the Italian poet, had done. He +would die, but asserting himself, killing the woman, destroying his idol +when it would not harken to his entreaties!</p> + +<p>And, pleasantly excited by Rafael's tragic demeanor, she gave way to the +thrill of it, letting herself be carried along by his anguished rapture. +He had taken her arm and was drawing her off the path, out among the +low-hanging branches of the orange-trees.</p> + +<p>For some time they were both silent. Leonora seemed to be drinking in +the virile perfume of that savage passionate adoration.</p> + +<p>Rafael thought he had offended her, and was sorry for his violent words.</p> + +<p>She must pardon him; he was beside himself, exasperated beyond bounds at +her strange resistance. Leonora! Leonora! Why persist in spoiling a +perfectly beautiful thing? He was not wholly a matter of indifference in +her eyes. She did not dislike him. Otherwise she would not have let him +be a friend and have permitted his frequent visits. Love?... Of course +she did not love him—poor unhappy wretch that he was, incapable of +inspiring passion in a woman like her. But let her just accept him. He +would teach her to love him in time, win her by the sheer beauty of his +own tenderness and worship. His love alone, alas, was great enough for +both of them and for all the famous lovers in history put together! He +would be her slave; a carpet for her to tread underfoot; a dog, always +at her feet, his eyes burning with the fire of eternal fidelity! She +would finally learn to be fond of him, if not out of passion, at least +out of gratitude and pity!</p> + +<p>And as he spoke, he brought his face close to Leonora's, looking for his +own image in the depths of her green eyes; and he pressed her arm in a +fever of passion.</p> + +<p>"Careful, Rafael.... That hurts! Let go, of me."</p> + +<p>And as if suddenly sensing a danger in the full of a sweet dream, she +shuddered and pulled herself free with a nervous violence.</p> + +<p>Then, quite recovered from the intoxication into which she had been led +by Rafael's passionate appeal, she began to speak calmly, composedly.</p> + +<p>No; what he asked was impossible. Her fate was ordained; she did not +want love any more.... Friendship had carried them a bit astray. It was +her fault, but she would find a way to remedy that. If she had known him +years before—perhaps! She might have learned to love him. He was more +worthy of being loved than many of the men she had accepted. But he had +come too late. Now she was content with just living. Besides, what a +horror! Imagine a "grand passion" in a petty environment such as they +were in, a tiny world of gossip-mongers and evil tongues! Imagine having +to hide like a criminal to express a noble emotion! No, when she loved, +she loved in the open, with the sublime immodesty of the masterpiece +that scandalizes bumpkins with its naked beauty! How impossible it would +be, finding herself nibbled at constantly by gossiping fools, quite +beneath her contempt. She would feel the scorn and the indignation of a +whole town about her. They would accuse her of leading an innocent boy +astray, alienating him from his own mother. "No, Rafael; a thousand +times no; I have a little conscience left! I'm not the irresponsible +siren I used to be."</p> + +<p>"But what about me?" cried the youth, seizing her arm again with a +boyish petulance. "You think of yourself and of other people, but never +of me. What am I going to do all along with my suffering?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you? Why ... you will forget," said Leonora gravely. "I have just +realized this very moment that it is impossible for me to stay here any +longer. We two must separate. I will leave before Spring is over; I'll +go ... I don't know where, back to the world at any rate, take up my +singing again, where I'll not find men of just your kind. Time, and my +absence, will attend to the curing of you."</p> + +<p>Leonora winced before the flash of savage desire that gleamed in +Rafael's eyes. On her face she felt the ardent breath of lips that were +seeking her own, and she heard him murmur with a stifled roar of +passion:</p> + +<p>"No. You shall not go; I refuse to let you go!"</p> + +<p>And she felt his strong arms close about her, swaying her from head to +foot, in a clasp to which madness added strength. Her feet left the +ground, and a brutal thrust threw her to her side at the foot of an +orange-tree.</p> + +<p>But, in a flash, the Valkyrie reappeared in Leonora. With a supreme +effort, she struggled free from the encircling vise, sat up, threw +Rafael violently to his back, got to her feet, and stamped a foot +brutally and mercilessly down upon the young man's chest, using her +whole weight as though bent on crushing the very framework of his body.</p> + +<p>Her face was an inspiring thing to look upon. She seemed to have gone +mad! Her blond hair had fallen awry and was flecked with leaves and +grass and bark. Her green eyes flashed with metallic glints, like +daggers. Her lips were pale from emotion. And in that wild posture, +whether through force of habit, or the suggestiveness of the effort she +had made, she raised her warcry—a piercing, savage "<em>Hojotoho!</em>" that +rent the calm of the orchard, frightening the hens and sending them +scampering off over the paths. Her parasol she brandished as if it were +the lance of Wotan's daughter, and several times she aimed it at +Rafael's eyes, as if she intended to spear him blind.</p> + +<p>The youth seemed to have collapsed less from the violence of the +struggle than from an overpowering sense of shame. He lay motionless on +the ground, without protesting, and as if not caring ever to rise +again—longing to die under the pressure of that foot which was so +heavily weighing down upon him, taking away his breath.</p> + +<p>Leonora regained her composure, and slowly stepped back. Rafael sat up, +and reached for his hat.</p> + +<p>It was a painful moment. They stood there cold, as if the sun had gone +out and a glacial wind were blowing through the orchard.</p> + +<p>Rafael kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look up and meet her gaze, +ashamed at the thought of his disordered clothes, which were soiled with +dirt; humiliated at having been beaten and pummeled like a robber caught +by a victim he had expected to find powerless.</p> + +<p>He heard Leonora's voice addressing him with the scornful "<em>tu</em>" a lady +might use toward her lowest inferiors.</p> + +<p>"Go!"</p> + +<p>He raised his head and found Leonora looking at him, her eyes ablaze +with anger and offended dignity.</p> + +<p>"I'm never taken by force," she said coldly. "I give myself ... if I +feel like it."</p> + +<p>And in the gesture of scorn and rage with which she dismissed him, +Rafael thought he caught a trace of loathing at some memory of +Boldini—that repugnant lecher, who had been the only person in the +world to win her by violence.</p> + +<p>Rafael tried to stammer an excuse, but that hateful association of the +brutal scene rendered her implacable.</p> + +<p>"Go! Go, or I'll beat you again!... And never come back!"</p> + +<p>And to emphasize the words, as Rafael, humiliated and covered with dirt, +was leaving the garden, she shut the gate behind him with such a violent +slam that the bars almost went flying.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Doña Bernarda was much pleased with Rafael. The angry glances, the +gestures of impatience, the wordless arguments between mother and son, +which the household had formerly witnessed in such terror, had come to +an end.</p> + +<p>The boy had not been visiting the Blue House for some time. She knew +that with absolute certainty, thanks to the gratuitous espionage +conducted for her by persons attached to the Brull family. He scarcely +ever left the house; a few moments at the Club after lunch; and the rest +of the day in the dining-room, with her and family friends; or else, +shut up in his room, with his books, probably, which the austere señora +revered with the superstitious awe of ignorance.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés, her advisor, commented upon the change with a gloating "I +told you so." What had he always said, when doña Bernarda, in the +confiding intimacies of that friendship which amounted almost to a +senile, a tranquil, a distantly respectful passion, would complain of +Rafael's contrariness? That it would all pass; that it was a young man's +whim; that youth must have its fling! What was the use? Rafael hadn't +studied to be a monk! Many boys his age, and even older ones, were far +worse!... And the old gentleman smiled, for he was thinking of his own +easy conquests with the wretched flock of dirty, unkempt peasant girls +who wrapped the oranges in the shipping houses of Alcira. "You see, doña +Bernarda, you suffered too much with don Ramón. You are a bit too +exacting with Rafael. Let him have a good time! Let him enjoy himself! +He'll get tired of that chorus girl soon enough, pretty as she is. Then +you can take hold and start him right!"</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda once again had reason to appreciate the talent of her +counsellor. His predictions, made with a cynicism that always caused the +pious lady to blush, had been fulfilled to the letter!</p> + +<p>She, too, was sure it was all over. Her son was not so blind as his +father had been. He had soon wearied of a "lost woman" like Leonora; he +had decided it was not worth while to quarrel with his mamma over so +trifling a matter, and have his enemies discredit him on that account. +He was returning to the path of duty; and to express her unbounded joy, +the good woman could not pamper him enough.</p> + +<p>"And how about ... that?" her friends would ask her, mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she would answer, with a proud smile. "Three weeks have gone +by and he hasn't shown the slightest inclination to go back. No, Rafael +is a good boy. All that was just a young one's notion. If you could only +see him keeping me company in the parlor every afternoon! An angel! Good +as pie! He spends hour after hour chatting with me and Matías's +daughter."</p> + +<p>And then, broadening her smile and winking cunningly, she would add:</p> + +<p>"I think there's something doing in that direction."</p> + +<p>And indeed something was "doing"; at least, to judge by appearances. +Bored with wandering from room to room through the house, sick of his +books, with which he would spend hours and hours turning pages without +really seeing a word that was printed on them, Rafael had taken refuge +in the sitting-room where his mother did her sewing, supervising a +complicated piece of embroidery that Remedios was making.</p> + +<p>The girl's submissive simplicity appealed to Rafael. Her ingenuousness +gave him a sense of freshness and repose. She was a cosy secluded refuge +where he might sleep after a tempest. His mother's satisfied smile was +there to encourage him in this feeling. Never had he seen her so kind +and so communicative. The pleasure of having him once more safe and +obedient in her hands had mollified that disposition so stern by nature +as to verge on rudeness.</p> + +<p>Remedios, with her head bowed low over her embroidery, would blush deep +red whenever Rafael praised her work or told her she was the prettiest +girl in all Alcira. He would help her thread her needles, and hold his +hands out to make a winding frame for the skeins; and more than once, +with the familiarity of an old playmate, he would pinch her +mischievously through the embroidery hoop. And she would never miss the +chance to scream scandal.</p> + +<p>"Rafael, don't be crazy," his mother would say, threatening him +indulgently with her withered forefinger. "Let Remedios work; if you +carry on so I won't let you come into the parlor."</p> + +<p>And at night, alone in the dining-room with don Andrés, when the hour +of confidences came, doña Bernarda would forget the affairs of "the +House" and of "the Party," to say with satisfaction:</p> + +<p>"It's going better."</p> + +<p>"Is Rafael taking to her?"</p> + +<p>"More and more every day. We're getting there, we're getting there! That +boy is the living image of his father when it comes to matters like +this. Believe me, you can't let one of that tribe out of your sight a +minute. If I didn't keep my eye peeled, that young devil would be doing +something that would discredit the House forever."</p> + +<p>And the good woman was sure that Doctor Moreno's daughter—that +abominable creature whose good looks had been her nightmare for some +months past—no longer existed for Rafael.</p> + +<p>She knew, from her spies, that on one market morning the two had met on +the street in town. Rafael had looked the other way, as if trying to +avoid her; the "<em>comica</em>" had turned pale and walked straight ahead +pretending not to see him. What did that mean?... A break for good of +course! The impudent hussy was livid with rage, you see, perhaps because +she could not trap her Rafael again; for he, weary of such +uncleanliness, had abandoned her forever. Ah, the lost soul, the +indecent gad-about! Excuse me! Was a woman to educate a son in the +soundest and most virtuous principles, make a somebody of him, and then +have an adventuress come along, a thousand times worse than a common +street-woman, and carry him off, as nice as you please, in her filthy +hands? What had the daughter of that scamp of a doctor thought?... Let +her fume! "You're sore just because you see he's dumped you for good!"</p> + +<p>In the joy of her triumph doña Bernarda was thinking anxiously of her +son's marriage to Remedios, and, coming down one peg on the ladder of +her dignity toward don Matias, she began to treat the exporter as a +member of the family, commenting contentedly upon the growing affection +that united their two children.</p> + +<p>"Well, if they're fond of each other," said the rustic magnate, "the +wedding can take place tomorrow so far as I'm concerned. Remedios means +a good deal to me; hard to find a girl like her for running a house; but +that needn't interfere with the marriage. I'm mighty well satisfied, +doña Bernarda, that we should be related through our children. I'm only +sorry that don Ramon isn't here to see it all."</p> + +<p>And that was true. The one thing lacking to the millionaire's perfect +joy was that he would never have the chance to treat the tall, imposing +Don Ramon on equal terms for once,—the crowning triumph of a self-made +man.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda, too, saw in this union the realization of her fondest +dreams: money joined to power; the millions of a business, whose +marvelous successes seemed like deliberate tricks of Chance, coming to +revivify with their sap of gold the Brull family tree, which was showing +the signs of age and long years of struggle!</p> + +<p>Spring had come on apace. Some afternoons doña Bernarda would take "the +children" to her own orchards or to the wealthy holdings of don Matías. +It was a sight worth seeing—the kindly shrewdness with which she +chaperoned the young couple, shouting with shocked alarm if they +disappeared behind the orange-trees for a moment or two in their +frolics.</p> + +<p>"That Rafael of ours," she would say to don Andrés, mimicking the long +face he used to put on when bringing up her troubles with her husband, +"what a rascal he is! I'll bet he's got both arms around her by this +time!"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em alone, let 'em alone, doña Bernarda! The deeper in he gets with +this one, the less likely he'll be to go back to the other."</p> + +<p>Back to her?... There was no fear of that. It was enough to watch Rafael +picking flowers and weaving them into the girl's hair while she +pretended to fight him off, blushing like a rose, and quite moved at +such homage.</p> + +<p>"Now be good, Rafaelito," Remedios would murmur in a sort of entreating +bleat, "don't touch me; don't be so bold."</p> + +<p>But her emotion would so betray her that you could see the thing she +most wanted in the world was for Rafael to place upon her body once +again those hands that made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the +roots of her hair. She resisted only because such was the duty of a +well-educated Christian girl. Like a young she-goat she would dash off +with graceful, tripping bounds between the rows of orange-trees, and <em>su +señoria</em>, the member from Alcira, would give chase with all his might, +his nostrils quivering and his eyes ablaze.</p> + +<p>"Let's see if he can catch you!" the mother would call, with a laugh. +"Run and let him try to catch you!"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés would roll up his wrinkled face into the smile of an old +faun. Such play made him feel young again.</p> + +<p>"Huh, <em>señora</em>! I believe you. This is getting on—on, and then some. +I'd say, marry them off pretty quick; for, if you don't, mark my word, +there'll soon be something for Alcira to laugh about."</p> + +<p>And they were both mistaken. Neither the mother nor don Andrés was +present to note the expression of dejection and despair on Rafael's face +when he was alone, shut up in his room, where, in the dark corners, he +could still see a pair of green, mysterious eyes gleaming at him and +tempting him.</p> + +<p>Go back to her? Never! He still felt the shame, the humiliation of that +morning. He could see himself in all his tragic ridiculousness, in a heap +on the ground, trampled under foot by that Amazon, covered with dirt, as +humble and abashed as a criminal caught redhanded and with no excuse. +And then that word, that had cut like the lash of a whip: "Go!" As if he +were a lackey who had dared approach a Duchess! And then that gate +slamming behind him, falling like a slab over a tomb, setting up an +eternal barrier between him and the love of his life!</p> + +<p>No, he would never go back! He was not brave enough to face her again. +That morning when he had met her by chance near the market-place, he +thought he would die of shame; his legs sagged under him, and the street +turned black as if night had suddenly fallen. She had disappeared; but +there was a ringing in his ears; and he had had to take hold of +something, as if the earth were swaying under his feet, and he would +fall.</p> + +<p>He needed to forget that unutterable disgrace—a recollection as +tenacious as remorse itself. That was why he had plunged into the +affair with his mother's protegée—as a sort of anaesthetic. She was a +woman! And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that +painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his +vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now +expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive +features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where +the other woman was, offended and in hiding.</p> + +<p>With Remedios he would feel some sign of life, only to relapse into +torpid gloom the moment he was left alone. It was a foamy, frothy +intoxication he felt when with the girl, an effervescence that all +evaporated in solitude. He thought of Remedios as a piece of green +fruit—sound, free of cut or stain, and with all the color of maturity, +but lacking the taste that satisfies and the perfume that enthralls.</p> + +<p>In his strange situation, spending days in childish games with a young +girl who aroused in him nothing more than the bland sense of fraternal +comradeship, and nights in sad and sleepless recollection, the one thing +that pleased him was intimacy with his mother. Peace had been restored +to the home. He could come and go without being conscious of a pair of +eyes glaring upon him and without hearing words of indignation stifled +between grating teeth.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés and his friends at the Club kept asking him when the wedding +would take place. In presence of "the children" doña Bernarda would +speak of alterations that would have to be made in the house. She and +the servants would occupy the ground floor. The whole first story would +be for the couple, with new rooms that would be the talk of the +city—they would get the best decorators in Valencia! Don Matias treated +him familiarly, just as he had in the old days when he came to the +<em>patio</em> to get his orders from don Ramón and found Rafael, as a child, +playing at his father's feet.</p> + +<p>"Everything I have will be for you two. Remedios is an angel, and the +day I die, she will get more than my rascal of a son. All I ask of you +is not to take her off to Madrid. Since she is leaving my roof, at least +let me be able to see her every day."</p> + +<p>And Rafael would listen to all these things as in a dream. In reality he +had not expressed the slightest desire to marry; but there was his +mother, taking everything for granted, arranging everything, imposing +her will, accelerating his sluggish affection, literally forcing +Remedios into his arms! His wedding was a foregone conclusion, the topic +of conversation for the entire city.</p> + +<p>Sunk in this sadness, in the clutch of the tranquillity which now +surrounded him and which he was afraid to break; weak, as a matter of +character, and without will power, he sought consolation in the +reflection that the solution his mother was preparing was perhaps for +the best.</p> + +<p>His friendship with Leonora had been broken forever. Any day she might +take flight! She had said so very often. She would be going very +soon—when the blossoms were off the orange-trees! What would be left +for him then ... except to obey his mother? He would marry, and perhaps +that would serve as a distraction. Little by little his affection for +Remedios might grow. Perhaps in time he would even come to love her.</p> + +<p>Such meditations brought him a little calm, lulling him into an +attitude of agreeable irresponsibility. He would turn child again, as he +once had been, have his mother take charge of everything; let himself be +drawn along, passive, unresisting, by the current of destiny.</p> + +<p>But at times this resignation boiled up into hot, seething ebullitions +of angry protest, of raging passion. At night Rafael could not sleep. +The orange-trees were beginning to bloom. The blossoms, like an odorous +snow, covered the orchards and shed their perfume as far even as the +city streets. The air was heavy with fragrance. To breathe was to scent +a nosegay. Through the window-gratings under the doors, through the +walls, the virginal perfume of the vast orchards filtered—an +intoxicating breath, that Rafael, in his impassioned restlessness, +imagined as wafted from the Blue House, caressing Leonora's lovely +figure, and catching something of the divine fragrance of her redolent +beauty. And he would roll furiously between the sheets, biting the +pillow and moaning.</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!"</p> + +<p>One night, toward the end of April, Rafael drew back in front of the +door to his room, with the tremor he would have felt on the threshold of +a place of horror. He could not endure the thought of the night that +awaited him. The whole city seemed to have sunk into languor, in that +atmosphere so heavily charged with perfume. The lash of spring was +stirring all the impulses of life with its exciting caress, and goading +every feeling to new intensity. Not the slightest breeze was blowing. +The orchards saturated the calm atmosphere with their odorous +respiration. The lungs expanded as if there were no air, and all space +were being inhaled in each single breath. A voluptuous shudder was +stirring the countryside as it lay dozing under the light of the moon.</p> + +<p>Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rafael went down into the street. +Soon he found himself upon the bridge, where a few strollers, hat in +hand, were breathing the night air eagerly, looking at the clusters of +broken light that the moon was scattering over the river like fragments +of a mirror.</p> + +<p>He went on through the silent, deserted streets of the suburbs, his +footsteps echoing from the sidewalks. One row of houses lay white and +gleaming under the moon. The other was plunged in shadow. He was drawn +on and on into the mysterious silence of the fields.</p> + +<p>His mother was asleep, he suddenly reflected. She would know nothing. He +would be free till dawn. He yielded further to the attraction of the +roads that wound in and out through the orchards, where so many times he +had dreamed and hoped.</p> + +<p>The spectacle was not new to Rafael. Every year he had watched that +fertile plain come to life at the touch of Springtime, cover itself with +flowers, fill the air with perfumes; and yet, that night, as he beheld +the vast mantle of orange-blossoms that had settled over the fields, and +was gleaming in the moonlight like a fall of snow, he felt himself +completely in control of an infinitely sweet emotion.</p> + +<p>The orange-trees, covered from trunk to crown with white, ivory-smooth +flowerets, seemed like webs of spun glass, the vegetation of one of +those fantastic snow-mantled landscapes that quiver sometimes in the +glass spheres of paper-weights. The perfume came in continuous, +successive waves, rolling out upon the infinite with a mysterious +palpitation, transfiguring the country, imparting to it a feeling of +supernaturalness—the vision of a better world, of a distant planet +where men feed on perfume and live in eternal poetry. Everything was +changed in this spacious love-nest softly lighted by a great lantern of +mother-of-pearl. The sharp crackling of the branches sounded in the deep +silence like so many kisses; the murmur of the river became the distant +echo of passionate love-making, hushed voices whispering close to the +loved one's ears words tremulous with adoration. From the canebrake a +nightingale was singing softly, as if the beauty of the night had +subdued its plaintive song.</p> + +<p>How good it was to be alive! The blood tingled more rapidly, more hotly, +through the body! Every sense seemed sharper, more acute; though that +landscape imposed silence with its pale wan beauty, just as certain +emotions of intense joy are tasted with a sense of mystic shrinking!</p> + +<p>Rafael followed the usual path. He had turned instinctively toward the +Blue House.</p> + +<p>The shame of his disgrace still smarted raw within him. Had he met +Leonora now in the middle of the road he would have recoiled in childish +terror; but he would not meet her at such an hour. That reflection gave +him strength to walk on. Behind him, over the roofs of the city, the +tolling of a clock rolled. Midnight! He would go as far as the wall of +her orchard, enter if that were possible, stand there a few moments in +silent humility before the house, looking up adoringly at the windows +behind which Leonora lay sleeping.</p> + +<p>It would be his farewell! The whim had occurred to him as he left the +city and saw the first orange-trees laden with the blossoms whose +perfume had for many months been holding the songstress there in patient +expectation. Leonora would never know he had been near her in the silent +orchard bathed in moonlight, taking leave of her with the unspoken +anguish of an eternal farewell, as to a dream vanishing on the horizon +of life!</p> + +<p>The gate with the green wooden bars came into view among the trees—the +gate that had been slammed behind him in insulting dismissal. Among the +thorns of the hedge he looked for an opening he had discovered in the +days when he used to hover about the house. He went through, and his +feet sank into the fine, sandy soil of the orange-groves. Above the tops +of the trees, the house itself could be seen, white in the moonlight. +The rain-troughs of the roof and the balustrades of the balconies shone +like silver. The windows were all closed. Everything was asleep.</p> + +<p>He was about to step forward, when a dark form shot out from between two +orange-trees and stopped near him with a muffled growl. It was the house +dog, an ugly, ill-tempered animal trained to bite before it barked.</p> + +<p>Rafael recoiled instinctively from the warm breath of that panting, +furious muzzle which was reaching for his leg; but the dog, after a +second's hesitation, began to wag its tail with pleasure; and was +content merely to sniff at the boy's trousers so as to make absolutely +sure of an old friend's identity. Rafael patted him on the head, as he +had done so many times, distractedly, in conversations with Leonora on +the bench in the <em>plazoleta</em>. A good omen this encounter seemed! And he +walked on, while the dog resumed his watch in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Timidly he made his way forward in the shelter of a large patch of +shadow cast by the orange-trees, dragging himself along, almost, like a +thief afraid of an ambuscade.</p> + +<p>He reached the walk leading to the <em>plazoleta</em> and was surprised to find +the gate half open. Suddenly he heard a suppressed cry near by.</p> + +<p>He turned around, and there on the tile bench, wrapped in the shadow of +the palm-trees and the rose-bushes, he saw a white form—a woman. As she +rose from her seat the moonlight fell squarely on her features.</p> + +<p>"Leonora!"</p> + +<p>The youth would have gladly sunk into the earth. "Rafael! You here?..."</p> + +<p>And the two stood there in silence, face to face. He kept his eyes fixed +on the ground, ashamed. She looked at him with a certain indecision.</p> + +<p>"You've given me a scare that I'll never forgive you for," she said at +last. "What are you doing here?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for a reply. He stammered with an embarrassment +that quite impressed Leonora; but despite his agitation, he noticed a +strange glitter in the girl's eyes, and a mysterious veiling of her +voice that seemed to transfigure her.</p> + +<p>"Come, now," said Leonora gently, "don't hunt up any far-fetched +excuses.... You were coming to bid me good-bye—and without trying to +see me! What a lot of nonsense! Why don't you say right out that you +are a victim of this dangerous night—as I am, too?"</p> + +<p>And her eyes, glittering with a tearful gleam, swept the <em>plazoleta</em>, +which lay white in the moonlight; and the snowy orange-blossoms, the +rose-bushes, the palm-trees, that stood out black against the blue sky +where the stars were twinkling like grains of luminous sand. Her voice +trembled with a soft huskiness, as caressing as velvet.</p> + +<p>Rafael, quite encouraged by this unexpected reception, tried to beg +forgiveness for the madness that had caused his expulsion from the +place; but the actress cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Let's not discuss that unpleasant thing! It hurts me just to think of +it. You're forgiven; and since you've fallen on this spot as though +heaven had dropped you here, you may stay a moment. But ... no +liberties. You know me now."</p> + +<p>And straightening up to her full height as an Amazon sure of herself, +she turned to the bench, motioning to Rafael to take a seat at the other +end.</p> + +<p>"What a night!... I feel a strange intoxication without wine! The +orange-trees seem to inebriate me with their very breath. An hour ago my +room was whirling round and round, as though I were going to faint. My +bed was like a frail bark tossing in a tempest. So I came down as I +often do; and here you can have me until sleep proves more powerful than +the beauty of this beautiful night."</p> + +<p>She spoke with a languid abandonment; her voice quivering, and tremors +rippling across her shoulders, as if all the perfume were hurting her, +oppressing her powerful vitality. Rafael sat looking at her over the +length of the bench—a white, sepulchral figure, wrapped in the hooded +cape of a dressing-gown—the first thing she had laid hands upon when +she had thought of going out into the garden.</p> + +<p>"I was frightened when I saw you," she continued, in a slow, faint +voice. "A little fright, nothing more! A natural surprise, I suppose; +and yet, I was thinking of you that very moment. I confess it. I was +saying to myself: 'What can that crazy boy be doing, at this hour, I +wonder?' And suddenly you appeared, like a ghost. You couldn't sleep; +you were excited by all this fragrance; and you have come to try your +luck anew, with the hope that brought you here at other times."</p> + +<p>She spoke without her usual irony, softly, simply, as if she were +talking to herself. Her body was thrown limply back against the bench, +one arm resting behind her head.</p> + +<p>Rafael started to speak once more of his repentance, of his desire to +kneel in front of the house there in mute entreaty for pardon, while she +would be sleeping in the room above. But Leonora interrupted him again.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Your voice is very loud. They might hear you. My aunt's room is +in the other wing of the house, but she's not a heavy sleeper.... +Besides, I don't care to listen to talk about remorse, pardon, and such +things. It makes me think of that morning. The mere fact that I am +letting you stay here ought to be enough, oughtn't it? I want to forget +all that.... Hush, Rafael! Silence makes the beauty of the night more +wonderful. The fields seem to be talking with the moon, and these waves +of perfume that are sweeping over us are echoes of their passionate +words."</p> + +<p>And she fell silent, keeping absolutely still, her eyes turned upward, +catching the moonbeams in their tear-like moisture. From time to time +Rafael saw her quiver with a mysterious tremor; then extend her arms and +cross them behind her head of golden hair, in a voluptuous stretch that +made her white robe rustle, while her limbs grew taut in a delicious +tension. She seemed upset, ill almost; at times her panting breath was +like a sob. Her head drooped over a shoulder and her breast heaved with +countless sighs.</p> + +<p>The youth was obediently silent, fearing lest the remembrance of his +base audacity should again come up in the conversation; and not +venturing to reduce the distance that separated them on the bench. She +seemed to divine what he was thinking and began to speak, slowly, of the +abnormal state of mind in which she found herself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me tonight. I feel like crying, +without knowing why. I am filled with a strange inexplicable happiness, +and yet I could just weep and weep. Oh, I know—it's the Springtime; all +this fragrance that whips my nerves like a lash. I really believe I'm +crazy.... Springtime! My best friend—though she has done me only wrong! +If ever I have been guilty of any foolish thing in my life, Spring was +at the bottom of it.... It's youth reborn in us—madness paying us its +annual visit.... And I—ever faithful to her, adoring her; waiting in +this out-of-the-way spot almost a year for her to come, to see her once +more in her best clothes, crowned with orange-blossoms like a virgin—a +wicked virgin who pays me back for my devotion with betrayal!... Just +see what I've come to! I am ill—I don't know why—with excess of life, +perhaps. She drives me on I don't know where, but certainly where I +ought not to go.... If it weren't for sheer will-power on my part, I'd +collapse in a heap on this bench here. I'm just like a drunken man +bending every effort to keep his feet and walk straight."</p> + +<p>It was true; she was really ill. Her eyes grew more and more tearful; +her body was quivering, shrinking, collapsing, as if life were +overflowing within her and escaping through all her pores.</p> + +<p>Again she was silent, for a long time, her eyes gazing vacantly into +space; then, she murmured, as if in answer to a thought of her own.</p> + +<p>"No one ever understood as well as He. He knew everything, felt as +nobody ever felt the mysterious hidden workings of Nature; and He sang +of Springtime as a god would sing. Hans used to remark that many a time; +and it's so."</p> + +<p>Without turning her head she added, in a dreamy musing voice.</p> + +<p>"Rafael, you don't know <em>Die Walküre</em>, do you? You've never heard the +Spring Song?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. And Leonora, with her eyes still gazing moonward, her +head resting back against her arms, which escaped in all their round, +pearly strength from her drooping sleeves, spoke slowly, collecting her +memories, recreating in her mind's eye that Wagnerian scene of such +intense poetry—the glorification and the triumph of Nature and Love.</p> + +<p>Hunding's hut, a barbaric dwelling, hung with savage trophies of the +chase, suggesting the brutish existence of man scarcely yet possessed of +the world, in perpetual strife with the elements and with wild animals. +The eternal fugitive, forgotten of his father,—Sigmund by name, though +he calls himself "Despair," wandering years and years through the +forests, harrassed by beasts of prey who take him for one of themselves +in his covering of skins, rests at last at the foot of the giant oak +that sustains the hut; and as he drinks the hidromel in the horn offered +to him by the sweet Siglinda, he gazes into her pure eyes and for the +first time becomes aware that Love exists.</p> + +<p>The husband, Hunding, the wild huntsman, takes leave of him at the end +of the rustic supper: "Your father was the Wolf, and I am of the race of +Hunters. Until the break of day, my house protects you; you are my +guest; but as soon as the sun rises in the heavens you become my enemy, +and we will fight.... Woman, prepare the night's drink; and let us be +off to bed."</p> + +<p>And the exile sits alone beside the fireplace, thinking of his immense +loneliness. No home, no family, not even the magic sword promised him by +his father the Wolf. And at daybreak, out of the hut that shelters him +the enemy will come to slay him. The thought of the woman who allayed +his thirst, the sparkle of those pure eyes wrapping him in a gaze of +pity and love, is the one thing that sustains him.... She comes to him +when her wild consort has fallen asleep. She shows him the hilt of the +sword plunged into the oak by the god Wotan; nobody can pull it out: it +will obey only the hand of him to whom it has been destined by the god.</p> + +<p>As she speaks the wandering savage gazes at her in ecstasy, as if she +were a white vision revealing to him the existence of something more +than might and struggle in the world. It is the voice of Love. Slowly he +draws near; embraces her; clasps her to his heart, while the door is +pushed open by the breeze and the green forest appears, odorous in the +moonlight—nocturnal Springtime, radiant and glorious, wrapped in a +mantle of music and perfume.</p> + +<p>Siglinda shudders. "Who has come in?" No one—and yet, a Stranger has +entered the hovel, opening the door with an invisible hand. And Sigmund, +at the inspiration of Love, divines the identity of the visitant. "It is +Springtime laughing in the air about your tresses. The storms are gone; +gone is the dark solitude. The radiant month of May, a young warrior in +an armor of flowers, has come to give chase to bleak Winter, and in all +this festival of rejoicing Nature, seeks his sweetheart: Youth. This +night, which has brought you to me, is the unending night of Spring and +Youth."</p> + +<p>And, Leonora was thrilled as she heard in her memory the murmur of the +orchestra accompanying the song of tenderness inspired by Spring; the +rustle of the forest branches benumbed by the winter, now swaying with +the new sap that had flowed into them like a torrent of vitality; and +out on the brightly lighted <em>plazoleta</em> she could almost see Sigmund and +Siglinda clasping in an eternal unseverable embrace, as she had seen +them from the wings of the opera, where she would be waiting as a +Valkyrie to step out and set an audience wild with her mighty +"<em>Hojotoho!"</em></p> + +<p>She was feeling the same loneliness and yearning that Sigmund felt in +Hunding's hovel. Without a family, without a home, wandering over the +world, she longed for someone to lean on, someone to clasp tenderly to +her heart! And it was she who unconsciously, instinctively, had drawn +closer to Rafael, and placed her hand in his.</p> + +<p>She was ill. She sighed softly with the appealing entreaty of a child, +as if the intense poetry of that memory of music had shattered the frail +remnant of will that had kept her mistress of herself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night. I feel as though I +were dying.... But such a sweet death! So sweet!... What madness, +Rafael! How rash it was of us to have seen each other on such a +night!..."</p> + +<p>And with supplicating eyes, as if entreating forgiveness, she gazed out +into the majestic moonlight, where the silence seemed to be stirring +with the palpitation of a new life. She could divine that something was +dying within her, that her will lay prostrate on the ground, without +strength to defend itself.</p> + +<p>Rafael, too, was overwhelmed. He held her clasped against his breast, +one of her hands in his. She was weak, languid, will-less, incapable of +resistance; yet he did not feel the brutal passion of the previous +meeting; he did not dare to move. A sense of infinite tenderness came +over him. All he yearned for was to sit there hour after hour in contact +with that beautiful form, clasping her tightly to him, making her one +with him, as a jewel-case might guard a jewel.</p> + +<p>He whispered mysteriously into her ear, hardly knowing what he was +saying; tender words that seemed to be coming from someone within him, +thrilling him with a tingling, suffocating passion as they left his +lips.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was true; that night was the night dreamed of by the immortal +Poet; the wedding night of smiling Youth and of martial May in his armor +of flowers. The fields were quivering voluptuously under the rays of the +moon; and they, two young hearts, feeling the flutter of Love's wings +about their hair, why should they sit unresponsive there, blind to the +beauty of the night, deaf to the infinite caress that was echoing from +all around?</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!" moaned Rafael.</p> + +<p>He had slipped down from the bench. Before he was aware of it, he found +himself kneeling at her feet, clutching her hands, and thrusting his +face upward without daring to reach her lips.</p> + +<p>She drew weakly back, protesting feebly, with a girlish plaint:</p> + +<p>"No, no; it would hurt me.... I feel that I'm dying."</p> + +<p>"You belong to me," the youth continued with an exaltation +ill-suppressed. "You belong to me forever; to gaze into your dear eyes, +and to murmur in your ear, your sweet, beautiful, name, and die, if need +be, here. What do we care for the world and its opinions?"</p> + +<p>And Leonora with weakening resistance, continued to refuse:</p> + +<p>"No, no.... I must not. It's a feeling I can't explain."</p> + +<p>And that was so. The gentle quiver of Nature under the kiss of +Springtime, the intense perfume of the flower that is the emblem of +virginity, had transfigured that madcap singer, that adventuress of a +career so checkered, who had been violently thrust into her first +experience of passion, and now for the first time felt the blush of +modesty in the arms of a man. Nature, intoxicating her, shattering her +will, seemed to have created a strange virginity in that body so +familiar with the call of passion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rafael, what is happening to me?... What's happening to me? It must +be love; a new love that I did not think I should ever know.... Rafael ... +Rafael, my own boy!"</p> + +<p>And weeping softly, she took his head in her hands, pressed her lips to +his, and then fell back in her seat with eyes distended, maddened with +the joy of that kiss.</p> + +<p>"I belong to you, Rafael! Yours ... but forever. I have always loved you +from the first, but now ... I adore you.... For the first time in my +life I say that with all my soul."</p> + +<p>Hardly able to realize his good fortune, Rafael was thrilled by a deeply +generous sentiment. There was nothing he would not give to that +woman....</p> + +<p>"Yes; you belong to me forever.... I will marry you."</p> + +<p>But in his dreamy, wild intoxication he saw the artiste's eyes open wide +in surprise, as a sad smile flitted across her lips.</p> + +<p>"Marry me And why?... That's well enough for other women; but me you +must love, my darling child, ever so much, as much as you can.... Just +love me!... I believe only in Love!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>V</h3> + + +<p>"But my dear child, when are we getting to this island of yours?... It +bores me to be here sitting on this seat, so far away from my little +boy, watching his arms get tired from all that rowing. I must kiss him.. +even if he says no! It will rest him, I am sure."</p> + +<p>And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white +boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times. +He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself.</p> + +<p>"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we +make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island."</p> + +<p>Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the +moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal +pleasure in the romantic escapade.</p> + +<p>It had been one of her caprices—a desire repeated during his visits to +the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of doña Pepa and the +maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge +where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness.</p> + +<p>For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had +he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious +abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved +about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were +invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking +the trouble to look up.</p> + +<p>He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come—that the +family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence +he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and +everybody was asleep.</p> + +<p>Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the +effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his +door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a +sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill, +and of getting the same reply:</p> + +<p>"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing."</p> + +<p>It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself +from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find +the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would +lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she +would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs, +perhaps in his stocking-feet.</p> + +<p>The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in +silence, complaining only to don Andrés of the recrudescence of a +madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen +the counselor kept watch upon the young man. His spies followed Rafael +cautiously through the night, up to the gate of the Blue House.</p> + +<p>"What a scandal!" exclaimed doña Bernarda. "At night, too! He'll wind +up by bringing her into this house! Can it be that that simpleton of a +doña Pepita is blind to all this?"</p> + +<p>And there was Rafael, unaware of the storm that was gathering about his +head, no longer deigning even to speak to Remedios, or look at her, as +with her head bowed like a sulky goat, she went around stifling her +tears at the memory of those happy strolls in the orchard under doña +Bernarda's surveillance.</p> + +<p>The deputy had eyes for nothing outside of the Blue House; his happiness +had blinded him. The one thing that annoyed him was the necessity of +hiding his joy—his inability to make his good fortune public, so that +all his admirers might learn of it.</p> + +<p>He would willingly have gone back to the days of the Roman decadence, +when the love affairs of the powerful became matters of national +adoration.</p> + +<p>"What do I care for their gossip" he once said to Leonora. "I love you +so much that I'd like to see the whole city worship you in public. I'd +like to snatch you up in my arms, and appear upon the bridge at high +noon, before a concourse stupefied by your beauty: 'Am I or am I not +your "<em>quefe</em>"?' I'd ask. 'Well, if I am, adore this woman, who is my +very soul and without whom I could not live. The affection which you +have for me you must have also for her.' And I'd do just as I say if it +were possible."</p> + +<p>"Silly boy ... adorable child," she had replied, showering him with +kisses, brushing his dark beard with her soft, quivering lips.</p> + +<p>And it was during one of their meetings—when their words were broken +by sudden impulses of affection, and their lips were tightly pressed +together—that Leonora had expressed her capricious desire.</p> + +<p>"I'm stifling in this house. I hate to caress you inside four walls, as +if you were only a passing whim. This is unworthy of you. You are Love, +who came to seek me out on the most beautiful of nights. I like you +better in the open air. You look more handsome to me then, and I feel +younger."</p> + +<p>And recalling those trips down the river about which Rafael had told her +so many times when they were only friends—that islet with its curtains +of reeds, the willows bending over the water and the nightingale singing +from its hiding-place—she had asked him, eagerly:</p> + +<p>"What night are you going to take me there? It's a whim of mine, a wild +idea; but, what does love exist for, if not to make people do the +foolish things that sweeten life?... Carry me off in your boat! The bark +that bore you there will transport the two of us to your enchanted +island; we will spend the whole night in the open air."</p> + +<p>And Rafael, who was flattered by the idea of taking his love publicly +down the river, through the slumbering countryside, unfastened his boat +at midnight under the bridge and rowed it to a canebrake near Leonora's +orchard.</p> + +<p>An hour later they emerged through the opening in the hedge, arm in arm, +laughing at the mischievous escapade, disturbing the majestic silence of +the landscape with noisy, insolent kisses.</p> + +<p>They got into the boat, and with a favoring current, began to descend +the Júcar, lulled by the murmur of the river as it glided between the +high mudbanks covered with reeds that bent low over the water and +formed mysterious hiding places.</p> + +<p>Leonora clapped her hands with delight. She threw over her neck the silk +shawl with which she had covered her head. She unbuttoned her light +traveling coat, and inhaled with deep enjoyment the moist, somewhat +muggy breeze that was curling along the surface of the river. Her hand +trembled as it dipped into the water from time to time.</p> + +<p>How beautiful it was! All by themselves, and wandering about, as if the +world did not exist; as if all Nature belonged to them, to them alone! +Here they were, slipping past clusters of slumbering houses, leaving the +city far behind. And nobody had suspected that passion, which in its +enthusiasm had broken its chains and left its mysterious lair to have +the heavens and the fields for sympathetic witnesses. Leonora would have +wished that the night should never end; that the waning moon, which +seemed to have been slashed by a sword, should stop eternally in the sky +to wrap them forever in its feeble, dying light; that the river should +be endless, and the boat float on and on until, overwhelmed by so much +love, they should breathe the last gasp of life away in a kiss as +tenuous as a sigh.</p> + +<p>"If you could only know how grateful I am to you for this excursion, +Rafael!... I'm happy, so happy. Never have I had such a night as this. +But where is the island? Have we gone astray, as you did the night of +the flood?"</p> + +<p>No! At last they reached the place. There Rafael had spent many an +afternoon hidden in the bushes, cut off by the encircling waters, +dreaming that he was an adventurer on the virgin prairies or the vast +rivers of America, performing exploits he had read about in the novels +of Fenimore Cooper and Mayne Reid.</p> + +<p>A tributary joined the Júcar at this point, emptying gently into the +main stream from under a thicket of reeds and trees that formed a +triumphal arch of foliage. At the confluence rose the island—a tiny +piece of land almost level with the water, but as fresh as green and +fragrant as an aquatic bouquet. The banks were lined with dense clumps +of cane, and a few willows that bent their hairy foliage low over the +water, forming dark vaults through which the boat could make its way.</p> + +<p>The two lovers entered the shade. The curtain of branches concealed them +from the river; a bare tear of moonlight managed to filter through the +mane of willows.</p> + +<p>Leonora felt a first sense of uneasiness in this dark, damp, cave-like +haunt. Invisible animals took to the water with dull splashes as they +heard the boat's bow touch the mud of the bank. The actress clutched her +lover's arm with nervous pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," murmured Rafael. "Hold on to something and get out. +Careful, careful! Don't you want to hear the nightingale? Here we have +him. Listen."</p> + +<p>It was true. In one of the willows, at the other side of the island, the +mysterious bird was trilling from his hiding place, a dizzying shower of +notes, which broke at the crescendo of the musical whirl-pool into a +plaint as soft and long-sustained as a golden thread stretched in the +silence of the night across the river, that seemed to be applauding +with its hushed murmur. To get nearer, the lovers went up through the +rushes, stopping, bending over at each step, to keep the branches from +crackling underneath their feet.</p> + +<p>Favoring moisture had covered the islet with an exuberant undergrowth. +Leonora repressed exclamations of glee as she found her feet caught in +meshes of reeds or received the rude caresses of the branches that +snapped back, as Rafael went ahead, and brushed against her face. She +called for help in a muffled voice; and Rafael, laughing also, would +hold out his hand to her, taking her finally to the very foot of the +tree where the nightingale was singing.</p> + +<p>The bird, divining the presence of intruders, ceased his song. Doubtless +he had heard the rustle of their clothing as they sat down at the foot +of the tree, or the tender words they were murmuring into each other's +ear.</p> + +<p>Over all, the silence of slumbering Nature reigned—that silence made up +of a thousand sounds, harmonizing and blending in one majestic calm; the +murmur of the water, the stirring of the foliage, the mysterious +movements of unseen creatures crawling along under the leaves or +patiently boring their winding galleries in the creaking trunks.</p> + +<p>The nightingale began again to sing, timidly, like an artist afraid of +an impending interruption. He uttered a few disconnected notes with +anxious rests between them—love sighs they seemed, broken by sobs of +passion. Then gradually he took courage, regained self-confidence, and +entered on his full song, just as a soft breeze rose, swept over the +island, and set all the trees and reeds rustling in mysterious +accompaniment.</p> + +<p>The bird gradually grew intoxicated with the sound of his own trilling, +cadenced, voice; one could almost see him up there in the thick +darkness, panting, ardent, in the spasm of his musical inspiration, +utterly engrossed in his own beautiful little world of song, overwhelmed +by the charm of his own artistry.</p> + +<p>But the bird had ceased his music when the two lovers awoke in a tight +embrace, still in ecstasy from the song of love to which they had fallen +asleep. Leonora was resting a dishevelled head on Rafael's shoulder, +caressing his neck with an eager, wearied breathing, whispering in his +ear, random, incoherent words that still were vibrant with emotion.</p> + +<p>How happy she was there! Everything comes for true love! Many a time, +during the days of her unkindness to him, she had looked out from her +balcony upon the river winding down through the slumbering countryside; +and she had thought with rapture of a stroll some day through that +immense garden on Rafael's arm—of gliding, gliding down the Júcar, to +that very island.</p> + +<p>"My love is an ancient thing," she murmured. "Do you suppose, I have +been loving you only since the other night? No, I have loved you for a +long, long time.... But don't you go and get conceited on that account, +<em>su señoria</em>! I don't know how it began: It must have been when you were +away in Madrid. When I saw you again I knew that I was lost. If I still +resisted, it was because I was a wise woman; because I saw things +clearly. Now I'm mad and I've thrown my better judgment to the winds. +God knows what will become of us.... But come what may, love me, Rafael, +love me. Swear that you'll love me always. It would be cruel to desert +me after awakening a passion like this."</p> + +<p>And, in an impulse of dread, she nestled closer against his breast, sank +her hands into his hair, lifted her head back to kiss him avidly on the +face, the forehead, the eyes, the lips, nibbling playfully, tenderly at +his nose and chin, yet with an affectionate vehemence that drew cries of +mock protest from Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Madcap!" he muttered, smiling. "You're hurting me."</p> + +<p>Leonora looked steadily at him out of her two great eyes that were +a-gleam with love.</p> + +<p>"I could eat you up," she murmured. "I feel like devouring you, my +heaven, my king, my god.... What have you given me, tell me, little boy? +How have you been able to fascinate me, make me feel a passion that I +never, never felt before?"</p> + +<p>And again they fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Rafael stirred in his lover's arms, and suddenly sat up.</p> + +<p>"It must be late. How many hours have we been here, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Many, many hours," Leonora answered sadly. "Hours of happiness always +go so fast."</p> + +<p>It was still dark. The moon had set. They arose and, hand in hand, +groping their way along, they reached the boat. The splash of the oars +began again to sound along the dark stream.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the nightingale again piped gloomily in the willow wood, as if +in farewell to a departing dream.</p> + +<p>"Listen, my darling," said Leonora. "The poor little fellow is bidding +us good-bye. Just hear how plaintively he says farewell."</p> + +<p>And in the strange exhiliration that comes from fatigue, Leonora felt +the flames of art flaring up within her, seething through her organism +from head to foot.</p> + +<p>A melody from <em>Die Meistersinger</em> came to her mind, the hymn that the +good people of Nuremberg sing when Hans Sachs, their favorite singer, as +bounteous and gentle as the Eternal Father, steps out on the platform +for the contest in poetry. It was the song that the poet-minstrel, the +friend of Albrecht Dürer, wrote in honor of Luther when the great +Reformation broke; and the prima donna, rising to her feet in the stern, +and returning the greeting of the nightingale began:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<em>Sorgiam, che spunta il dolce albor,</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>cantar ascolto in mezzo ai fior</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>voluttuoso un usignol</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>spiegando a noi l'amante vol</em>!..."</span><br /> + +<p>Her ardent, powerful voice seemed to make the dark surface of the river +tremble; it rolled in harmonious waves across the fields, and died away +in the foliage of the distant island, whence the nightingale trilled an +answer that was like a fainting sigh. Leonora tried to reproduce with +her lips the majestic sonorousness of the Wagnerian chorus, mimicking +the rumbling accompaniment of the orchestra, while Rafael beat the +water with his oars in time with the pious, exalted melody with which +the great Master had turned to popular poetry adequately to greet the +outbreak of Reform.</p> + +<p>They went on and on up the river against the current, Leonora singing, +Rafael bending over the oars, moving his sinewy arms like steel springs. +He kept the boat inshore, where the current was not so strong. At times +low branches brushed the heads of the lovers, and drops of dew fell on +their faces. Many a time the boat glided through one of the verdant +archways of foliage, making its way slowly through the lily-pads; and +the green overhead would tremble with the harmonious violence of that +wonderful voice, as vibrant and as resonant as a great silver bell.</p> + +<p>Day had not yet dawned—the <em>dolce albor</em> of Hans Sachs' song—but at +any moment the rosy rim of sunrise would begin to climb the sky.</p> + +<p>Rafael was hurrying to get back as soon as possible. Her sonorous voice +of such tremendous range seemed to be awakening the whole countryside. +In one cottage a window lighted up. Several times along the river-bank, +as they rowed past the reeds, Rafael thought he heard the noise of +snapping branches, the cautious footsteps of spies who were following +them.</p> + +<p>"Hush, my darling. You had better stop singing; they'll recognize you. +They'll guess who you are."</p> + +<p>They reached the bank where they had embarked. Leonora leaped ashore. +They must separate there; for she insisted on going home alone. And +their parting was sweet, slow, endless.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my love; one kiss. Until tomorrow ... no, later—today."</p> + +<p>She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to +snuggle again in her lover's arms.</p> + +<p>"Another, my prince ... the last."</p> + +<p>Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the +garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, +creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy +melody of an orchard boy.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Rafael.... Now I must really go. They'll discover us."</p> + +<p>Wrapping her coat about her she hurried away, waving a final farewell to +him with her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Rafael rowed upstream toward the city. That part of the trip—he +reflected—alone, tired, and struggling against the current, was the one +bad part of the wonderful night. When he moored his boat near the bridge +it was already broad day. The windows of the river houses were opening. +Over the bridge carts laden with produce for the market were rumbling, +and orchard women were going by with huge baskets on their heads. All +these people looked down with interest on their deputy. He must have +spent the night fishing. And this news passed from one to the other, +though not a trace of fishing tackle was visible in the boat. How they +envied rich folks, who could sleep all day and spend their time just as +they pleased!</p> + +<p>Rafael jumped ashore. All that curiosity he was attracting annoyed him. +His mother would know everything by the time he got home!</p> + +<p>As he climbed slowly and wearily, his arms numb from rowing, to the +bridge, he heard his name called.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés was standing there, gazing at him out of those yellow eyes of +his, scowling through his wrinkles with an expression of stern +authority.</p> + +<p>"You've given me a fine night, Rafael. I know where you've been. I saw +you row off last night with that woman; and plenty of my friends were on +hand to follow you and find out just where you went. You've been on the +island all night; that woman was singing away like a lunatic.... God of +Gods, boy! Aren't there any houses in the world? Do you have to play the +band when you're having an affair, so that everybody in the Kingdom can +come and look?"</p> + +<p>The old man was truly riled; all the more because he was himself the +secretive, the dexterous, libertine, adopting every precaution not to be +discovered in his "weaknesses." Was it anger or envy that he felt on +seeing a couple enough in love with each other to be fearless of gossip +and indifferent to danger, to throw prudence to the winds, and flaunt +their passion before the world with the reckless insolence of happiness?</p> + +<p>"Besides, your mother knows everything. She's discovered what you've +been up to, these nights past. She knows you haven't been in your room. +You're going to break that woman's heart!"</p> + +<p>And with paternal severity he went on to speak of doña Bernarda's +despair, of the danger to the future of the House, of the obligations +they were under to don Matías, of the solemn promise given, of that poor +girl waiting to be married!</p> + +<p>Rafael walked along in silence and like an automaton. That old man's +chatter brought down around his head, like a swarm of pestering +mosquitoes, all the provoking, irritating obligations of his life. He +felt like a man rudely awakened by a tactless servant in the middle of a +sweet dream. His lips were still tingling with Leonora's kisses! His +whole body was aglow with her gentle warmth! And here was this old +curmudgeon coming along with a sermon on "duty," "family," "what they +would say"—as if love amounted to nothing in this life! It was a plot +against his happiness, and he felt stirred to the depths with a sense of +outrage and revolt.</p> + +<p>They had reached the entrance to the Brull mansion. Rafael was fumbling +about for the key-hole with his key.</p> + +<p>"Well," growled the old man. "What have you got to say to all this? What +do you propose to do? Answer me! Haven't you got a tongue in your head?"</p> + +<p>"I," replied the young man energetically—"will do as I please."</p> + +<p>Don Andrés jumped as though he had been stung. My, how this Rafael had +changed!... Never before had he seen that gleam of aggressiveness, +arrogance, belligerency in the eye of the boy!</p> + +<p>"Rafael, is that the way you answer me,—a man who has known you since +you were born? Is that the tone of voice you use toward one who loves +you as your own father loved you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm of age, if you don't mind my saying so!" Rafael replied. "I'm not +going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the +street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to +yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!"</p> + +<p>As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the +semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that +entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning, +tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice.</p> + +<p>But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless +and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for +some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VI</h3> + + +<p>"You're right, don Andrés. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That +wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse, +than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I +should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to +you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The +other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he +treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he +pleases, or—what amounts to the same thing—he'll keep up his affair +with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand +debauch, like his father.... My God! And that's what I've suffered for +all these years. That's what I get for sacrificing myself, day in day +out, trying to make somebody out of him!"</p> + +<p>The austere doña Bernarda, dethroned by her son's resolute +rebelliousness, wept as she said this. In her tears of a mother's grief +there was something also of the chagrin of the authoritarian on finding +in her own home a will rebellious to hers and stronger than hers.</p> + +<p>Between sobs she told don Andrés how her son had been carrying on since +his declaration of independence. He was no longer cautious about +spending the night away from home. He was coming in now in broad +daylight; and, afternoons, with his meals "still in his mouth" as she +said, he would take the road to the Blue House, on the run almost, as if +he could not get to perdition soon enough. The dead hand of his father +was upon him!</p> + +<p>All you had to do was look at him. His face discolored, yellow, pale; +his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones; and—the only sign of +life—the fire that gleamed in his eyes like a spark of wild joy! Oh, a +curse was on the family! They were all alike ...!</p> + +<p>The mother did her best to conceal the truth from Remedios. Poor girl! +She was going about crestfallen and in deep dejection, unable to explain +Rafael's sudden withdrawal.</p> + +<p>The matter had to be kept secret; and that was what held doña Bernarda's +rage within bounds during her rapid, heated exchanges with her son.</p> + +<p>Perhaps everything would come out all right in the end—something +unforeseen would turn up to undo the evil spell that had been cast over +Rafael. And in this hope she used every effort to keep Remedios and her +father from learning what had happened. She feigned contentment in their +presence, and invented a thousand pretexts—studies, work, even +illness—to justify her son's neglect of his "fiancee." At the same +time, the disconsolate mother feared the people around her—the gossip +of a small town, bored with itself, ever on the alert, hunting for +something interesting to talk about and get scandalized about.</p> + +<p>The news of Rafael's affair spread like wildfire meanwhile, considerably +magnified as it passed from mouth to mouth. People told hair-raising +tales of that expedition down the river, of walks through the orange +groves, of nights spent at doña Pepa's house, Rafael entering in the +dark, in his stocking feet, like a thief; of silhouettes of the lovers +outlined in suggestive poses against the bedroom curtain; of their +appearing in windows their arms about each other's waists, looking at +the stars—everything sworn to by voluntary spies, who could say "I saw +it with my own eyes"—persons who had spent whole nights, on the +river-bank, behind some fence, in some clump of bushes, to surprise the +deputy on his way to or from his assignations.</p> + +<p>In the cafés or at the Casino, the men openly envied Rafael, commenting +with eyes a-glitter on his good fortune. That fellow had been born under +a lucky star! But later at home they would add their stern voices to the +chorus of indignant women. What a scandal! A deputy, a public man, a +"personage" who ought to set an example for others! That was a disgrace +to the constituency! And when the murmur of general protest reached the +ears of doña Bernarda, she lifted her hands to heaven in despair. Where +would it all end! Where would it all end! That son of hers was bent on +ruining himself!</p> + +<p>Don Matías, the rustic millionaire, said nothing; and, in the presence +of doña Bernarda, at least, pretended to know nothing. His interest in a +marriage connection with the Brull family counselled prudence. He, too, +hoped that it would all blow over, prove to be the blind infatuation of +a young man. Feeling himself a father, more or less, to the boy, he +thought of giving Rafael just a bit of advice when he came upon him in +the street one day. But he desisted after a word or two. A proud glance +of the youth completely floored him, making him feel like the poor +orange-grower of former days, who had cringed before the majestic, +grandiose don Ramón!</p> + +<p>Rafael was intrenched in haughty silence. He needed no advice. But alas! +When at night he reached his beloved's house—it seemed to be redolent +with the very perfume of her, as if the furniture, the curtains, the +very walls about her had absorbed the essence of her spirit—he felt the +strain of that insistent gossip, of the persecution of an entire city +that had fixed its eyes upon his love.</p> + +<p>Two against a multitude! With the serene immodesty of the ancient +idylls, they had abandoned themselves to passion in a stupid, narrow +environment, where sprightly gossip was the most appreciated of the +moral talents!</p> + +<p>Leonora grew sad. She smiled as usual; she flattered him with the same +worship, as if he were an idol; she was playful and gay; but in moments +of distraction, when she did not notice that he was watching, Rafael +would surprise a cast of bitterness about her lips—and a sinister light +in her eyes, the reflection of painful thoughts.</p> + +<p>She referred with acrid mirth one night to what people were saying about +them. Everything was found out sooner or later in that city! The gossip +had gotten even to the Blue House! Her kitchen woman had hinted that she +had better not walk so much along the river front—she might catch +malaria. On the market place the sole topic of conversation was that +night trip down the Júcar ... the deputy, sweating his life out over +the oars, and she waking half the country up with her strange songs!... +And she laughed, but with a hard, harsh laugh of affected gaiety that +showed the nervousness underneath, though without a word of complaint.</p> + +<p>Rafael remorsefully reflected that she had foreseen all that in first +repelling his advances. He admired her resignation. She would have been +justified in rebuking him for the harm he had done her. As it was, she +was not even telling him all she knew! Ah, the wretches! To harass an +innocent woman so! She had loved him, given herself to him, bestowed on +him the royal gift of her person. And the deputy began to hate his city, +for repaying in insult and scandal the wondrous happiness she had +conferred on its "chief"!</p> + +<p>On another night Leonora received him with a smile that frightened him. +She was affecting a mood of hectic cheerfulness, trying to drown her +worries by sheer force, overwhelming her lover with a flood of light, +frivolous chatter; but suddenly, at the limit of her endurance, she gave +way, and in the middle of a caress, burst into tears and sank to a +divan, sobbing as if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>"Why what's the matter? What has happened ...?"</p> + +<p>For a time she could not answer, her voice was too choked with weeping. +At last, however, between sobs, burying her tear-stained face on +Rafael's shoulder, she began to speak, completely crushed, fainting from +virtual prostration.</p> + +<p>She could stand it no longer! The torture was becoming unbearable. It +was useless for her to pretend. She knew as well as he what people were +saying in the city. They were spied upon continuously. On the roads, in +the orchard, along the river, there were people constantly on the watch +for something new to report. That passion of hers, so sweet, so +youthful, so sincere, was a butt of public laughter, a theme for idle +tongues, who flayed her as if she were a common street-woman, because +she had been good to him, because she had not been cruel enough to watch +a young man writhe in the torment of passion, indifferently.... But +though this persecution from a scandalized public was bad enough, she +did not mind it. Why should she care what those stupid people said? But, +alas, there were others—the people around Rafael, his friends, his +family, ... his mother!</p> + +<p>Leonora sat silent for a moment, as if waiting to see the effect of that +last word; unless, indeed, she were hesitating, out of delicacy, to +include her lover's family in her complaint. The young man shrank with a +terrible presentiment. Doña Bernarda was not the woman to stand by idle +and resigned in the face of opposition, even from him!</p> + +<p>"I see ... mother!" he said in a stifled voice. "She has been up to +something. Tell me what it is. Don't be afraid. To me you are dearer +than anything else in the world."</p> + +<p>"Well ... there is auntie ..." Leonora resumed; and Rafael remembered +that doña Pepa, remarking his assiduous visits to the Blue House, had +thought her niece might be contemplating marriage. In the afternoon, +Leonora explained, she had had a <em>scene</em> with her aunt. Doña Pepa had +gone into town to confession, and on coming out of church had met doña +Bernarda. Poor old woman! Her abject terror on returning home betrayed +the intense emotion Rafael's mother had succeeded in wakening in her. +Leonora, her niece, her idol, lay in the dust, stripped of that blind, +enthusiastic, affectionate trust her aunt had always had for her. All +the gossip, all the echoes of Leonora's adventurous life, that +had—heretofore but feebly—come to her ears, the old lady had never +believed, regarding them as the work of envy. But now they had been +repeated to her by doña Bernarda, by a lady "in good standing," a good +Christian, a person incapable of falsehood. And then after rehearsing +that scandalous biography, Rafael's mother had come to the shocking +effrontery with which her niece and Rafael were rousing the whole city; +flaunting their wrong-doing in the face of the public; and turning her +home, the respectable, irreproachable home of doña Pepa, into a den of +vice, a brothel!</p> + +<p>And the poor woman had wept like a child in her niece's presence, +adjuring her to "abandon the wicked path of transgression," shuddering +with horror at the great responsibility she, doña Pepa, had unwittingly +assumed before God. All her life she had labored and prayed and fasted +to keep her soul clean. She had thought herself almost in a state of +grace, only to awaken suddenly and find herself in the very midst of sin +through no fault of her own—all on account of her niece, who had +converted her holy, her pure, her pious home into an ante-chamber of +hell! And it was the poor woman's superstitious terror, the conviction +of damnation that had seized on doña Pepa's simple soul, that wounded +Leonora most deeply.</p> + +<p>"They've robbed me of all I had in the world," she murmured desperately, +"of the affection of the only dear one left after my father died. I am +not the child of former days to auntie; that is apparent from the way +she looks at me, the way she shuns me, avoiding all contact with me.... +And just because of you, because I love you, because I was not cruel to +you! Oh, that night! How I shall suffer for it!... How clearly I foresaw +how it would all end!"</p> + +<p>Rafael was humiliated, crushed, filled with shame and remorse at the +suffering that had fallen upon this woman, because she had given herself +to him. What was he to do? The time had come to prove himself the +strong, the resourceful man, able to protect the beloved woman in her +moment of danger. But where should he strike first to defend her?...</p> + +<p>Leonora lifted her head from her lover's shoulder, and withdrew from his +embrace. She wiped away her tears and rose to her feet with the +determination of irrevocable resolution.</p> + +<p>"I have made up my mind. It hurts me very much to say what I am going to +say; but I can't help it. It will do you no good to say 'no'—I cannot +stay under this roof another day. Everything is over between my aunt and +me. Poor old woman! The dream I cherished was to care for her lovingly, +tenderly till she died in my arms, be to her what I failed to be to +father.... But they have opened her eyes. To her I am nothing but a +sinner now and my presence upsets everything for her.... I must go away. +I've already told Beppa to pack my things.... Rafael, my love, this is +our last night together.... To-morrow ... and you will never see me +again."</p> + +<p>The youth recoiled as if someone had struck him in the breast.</p> + +<p>"Going? Going ...? And you can say that coolly, simply, just like that? +You are leaving me ... this way ... just when we are happiest ...?"</p> + +<p>But soon he had himself in hand again. This surely could be nothing more +than a passing impulse, a notion arrived at in a flash of anger. Of +course she did not really mean to go! She must think things over, see +things clearly. That was a crazy idea! Desert her Rafaelito? Absurd! +Impossible!</p> + +<p>Leonora smiled sadly. She had expected him to talk that way. She, too, +had suffered much, ever so much, before deciding to do it! It made her +shudder to think that within two days she would be off again, alone, +wandering through Europe, caught up again in that wild, tumultuous life +of art and love, after tasting the full sweetness of the most powerful +passion she had ever known—of what she believed was her "first love." +It was like putting to sea in a tempest with destination unknown. She +loved him, adored him, worshipped him, more than ever now that she was +about to lose him.</p> + +<p>"Well, why are you going?" the young man asked. "If you love me, why are +you forsaking me?"</p> + +<p>"Just because I love you, Rafael.... Because I want you to be happy."</p> + +<p>For her to remain would mean ruin for him: a long battle with his +mother, who was an implacable, a merciless foe. Doña Bernarda might be +killed, but never conquered! Oh, no! How horrible! Leonora knew what +filial cruelty was! How had she treated her father? She must not now +come between a son and a mother! Was she, perhaps, a creature accursed, +born forever to corrupt with her very name the sacredest, purest +relations on earth?</p> + +<p>"No, you must be good, my heart. I must go away. We can't go on loving +each other here. I'll write to you, I'll let you know all I'm doing.... +You'll hear from me every day, if I have to write from the North Pole! +But you must stay! Don't drive your mother to despair! Shut your eyes to +the poor woman's injustice! For after all, she is doing it all out of +her immense love for you.... Do you imagine I am glad to be leaving +you—the greatest happiness I have ever known?"</p> + +<p>And she threw her arms about Rafael, kissing him over and over again, +caressing his bowed, pensive head, within which a tempest of conflicting +ideas and resolutions was boiling.</p> + +<p>So those bonds which he had come to believe eternal were to be broken? +So he was to lose so easily that beauty which the world had admired, the +possession of which had made him feel himself the first among men? She +talked of a love from a distance, of a love persisting through years of +separation, travel, all the hazards of a wandering life; she promised to +write to him every day!... Write to him ... from the arms of another +man, perhaps! No! He would never give up such a treasure; never!</p> + +<p>"You shall not go," he answered at last decisively. "A love like ours is +not ended so easily. Your flight would be a disgrace to me—it would +look as if I had affronted you in some way, as if you were tired of me."</p> + +<p>Deep in his soul he felt eager to make some chivalrous gesture. She was +going away because she had loved him! He should stay behind, sad and +resigned like a maid abandoned by a lover, and with the sense of having +harmed her on his conscience! <em>Ira de diós</em>! He, as a man, could not +stand by with folded arms accepting the abnegation of a woman, to stick +tied to his mother's apron-strings in boobified contentment. Even girls +ran away from home and parents sometimes, in the grip of a powerful +love; and he, a man, a man "in the public eye" also—was he to let a +beautiful girl like Leonora go away sorrowful and in tears, so that he +could keep the respect of a city that bored him and the affection of a +mother who had never really loved him? Besides, what sort of a love was +it that stepped aside in a cowardly, listless way like that, when a +woman was at stake, a woman for whom far richer, far more powerful men +than he, men bound to life by attractions that he had never dreamed of +in his countrified existence, had died or gone to ruin?...</p> + +<p>"You shall not go," he repeated, with sullen obstinacy. "I won't give up +my happiness so easily. And if you insist on going, we will go +together."</p> + +<p>Leonora rose to her feet all quivering. She had been expecting that; her +heart had told her it was coming. Flee together! Have her appear like an +adventuress, drawing Rafael on, tearing him from his mother's arms after +crazing him with love? Oh, no! Thanks! She had a conscience! She did +not care to burden it with the execration of a whole city. Rafael must +consider the matter calmly, face the situation bravely. She must go away +alone. Afterwards, later on, she would see. They might chance to meet +again; perhaps in Madrid, when the Cortes reassembled! He would be +there, and alone; she could find a place at the <em>Real</em>, singing for +nothing if that should prove necessary.</p> + +<p>But Rafael writhed angrily at her resistance. He could not live without +her! A single night without seeing her would mean despair. He would end +as Macchia ended! He would shoot himself!</p> + +<p>And he seemed to mean it. His eyes were fixed on the floor as if he were +staring at his own corpse, lying there on the pavement, motionless, +covered with blood, a revolver in its stiffened hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! How horrible! Rafael, my Rafael!" Leonora groaned, clasping him +around the neck, hanging upon him in terror.</p> + +<p>Her lover continued to protest. He was free. Had he been a married man; +if, in his flight, he were leaving a wife behind to cry betrayal, or +children calling for his help in vain, it would all be a different +matter. She could properly feel the repugnance of a kind heart unwilling +that love should mean a shattered home! But whom was he abandoning? A +mother, who, in a short time, would find consolation in the thought that +he was well and happy, a mother jealous of any rivalry in her son's +affection, and to that jealousy willing to sacrifice his very happiness! +Any harm an elopement would bring would by no means be irreparable. No, +they must go away together, parade their love through the whole world!</p> + +<p>But Leonora, lowering her head again, repeated feebly:</p> + +<p>"No, my mind is made up. I must go alone. I haven't the strength to face +a mother's hatred."</p> + +<p>Rafael flushed indignantly:</p> + +<p>"Why not say outright that you don't love me. You're tired of me, and of +this environment. The hankering for your old life has come over you +again; your old world is calling!"</p> + +<p>The actress fixed her great, luminous, tear-stained eyes upon him. And +they were filled with tenderness and pity.</p> + +<p>"Tired of you!... When I have never felt such desperation as tonight! +You say I want my old life back. You don't realize that to leave here +seems like entering a den of torture.... Oh, dear heart, you'll never +know how much I love you."</p> + +<p>"Well, then ...?"</p> + +<p>And to tell everything, to spare no detail of the danger he would face +after separation, Rafael spoke of the life he would lead alone with his +mother in that dull, unspeakable city. Leonora was assuming that +affection played some part in his mother's indignant opposition. Well, +doña Bernarda did love him—agreed: he was her only son; but ambition +was the decisive thing in her schemes, her passion for the +aggrandizement of the House—the controlling motive of her whole life. +She was openly, frankly, using him as security in an alliance she was +planning with a great fortune. She wanted to marry him to money: and if +Leonora were to go, if he were left alone, forsaken, then despair—and +time, which can do all things—would break his will; and eventually he +would succumb, like a victim at the altar, who, in his terror and +abasement, does not sense the real significance of the sacrifice forced +upon him.</p> + +<p>The words reached a jealous spot in Leonora's heart. All the scattered +rumors that had come to her ears in former days now echoed in her +memory. She knew that Rafael was telling the truth. The man she loved, +given away by his mother—to another woman!... Lost forever if she lost +him now!... And her eyes opened wide with horror and revulsion.</p> + +<p>"And I refuse, Leonora, do you understand? I refuse!" continued her +lover with unaffected resolution. "I belong to you, you are the only +woman I love. I shall follow you all over the world, even against your +wishes, to be your servant, see you, speak to you, and there are not +millions enough in the world to stop me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling! My darling! You love me, you love me—as I love you!"</p> + +<p>And in a frenzy of passion she fell impetuously, madly upon him, +clutching him in her arms like a fury. In her caresses Rafael felt an +intensity that almost frightened him. The room seemed to be whirling +about him. Trembling, limp and weak, he sank to the divan, overwhelmed, +pounded to pieces, it seemed, by that vehement adoration, that caught +him up and carried him away like a tumultuous avalanche. His senses left +him in that trembling confusion, and he closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>When he opened them, the room was dark. Around his neck he could feel a +gentle arm that was tenderly sustaining him, and Leonora was whispering +in his ear.</p> + +<p>Agreed! They would go together: to continue their love duct in some +charming place, where nobody knew them, where envy and vulgarity would +not disturb. Leonora knew every nook in the world. She would have none +of Nice and the other cities of the Blue Coast, pretty places, +coquettish, bepowdered and rouged like women fresh from their dressing +tables! Besides there would be too many people there. Venice was better. +They would thread the narrow, solitary silent canals there, stretched +out in a gondola, kissing each other between smiles, pitying the poor +unfortunate mortals crossing the bridges over them, unaware of how great +a love was gliding beneath their feet!</p> + +<p>But no, Venice is a sad place after all: when it rains, it rains and +rains! Naples rather; Naples! <em>Viva Napoli</em>! And Leonora clapped her +hands in glee! Live in perpetual sunshine, freedom, freedom, freedom to +love openly, as nakedly as the <em>lazzaroni</em> walk about the streets! She +owned a house in Naples,—at Posilipo, that is—a <em>villino</em>, in pink +stucco, a dainty little place with fig trees, nopals and parasol pines, +that ran in a grove down a steep promontory to the sea I They would fish +in the bay there—it was as smooth and blue as a looking-glass! And +afternoons he would row her out to sea, and she would sing, looking at +the waters ablaze with the sunset, at the plume of smoke curling up from +Vesuvius, at the immense white city with its endless rows of windows +flaming like plaques of gold in the afterglow. Like gipsies they would +wander through the countless towns dotting the shores of the miraculous +Bay; kissing on the open sea among the fisherboats, to the accompaniment +of passionate Neapolitan boat-songs; spending whole nights in the open +air, lying in each other's arms on the sands, hearing the pearly +laughter of mandolins in the distance, just as that night on the island, +they had heard the nightingale! "Oh, Rafael, my god, my king! How +wonderful!"</p> + +<p>When day dawned, they were still sitting there weaving fanciful plans +for the future, arranging all the details of their elopement. She would +leave Alcira as soon as possible. He would join her two days later, when +all suspicion had been quieted, when everybody would imagine she was +far, far away. Where would they meet? At first they thought of +Marseilles, but that was a long way off! Then they thought of Barcelona. +But that, too, meant hours of travel, when hours, minutes, counted for +so much. It seemed utterly incredible that they could live two days +without each other! No, the sooner they met again the better! And, +bargaining with time like peasants in a market, at last they chose the +nearest city possible, Valencia.</p> + +<p>For love—true love—is fond of brazenness!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VII</h3> + + +<p>They had just finished lunch among the trunks and boxes that occupied a +great part of Leonora's room in the <em>Hôtel de Roma</em> in Valencia.</p> + +<p>For the first time they were at a table in familiar intimacy, with no +other witness than Beppa, who was quite accustomed to every sort of +surprise in her mistress's adventurous career. The faithful maid was +examining Rafael with a respectful kindliness, as if he were a new idol +that must share the unswerving devotion she showed for Leonora.</p> + +<p>This was the first moment of tranquillity and happiness the young man +had tasted for some days. The old hotel, with its spacious rooms, its +high ceilings, its darkened corridors, its monastic silence, seemed to +him a veritable abode of delight, a grateful place of refuge where for +once he would be free of the gossip and the strife that had been +oppressing him like a belt of steel. Besides, he could already feel the +exotic charm that lingers around harbors and great railroad terminals. +Everything about the place, from the macaroni of the lunch, and the +Chianti in its straw-covered, heavy-paunched bottle, to the musical, +incorrect Spanish of the hotel-proprietors—fleshy, massive men with +huge mustaches in Victor Emmanuel style—spoke of flight, of delightful +seclusion in that land so glowingly described by Leonora.</p> + +<p>She had made an appointment with him in that hotel, a favorite haunt of +artists. Somewhat off the main thoroughfares, the "Roma" occupies one +whole side of a sleepy, peaceful, aristocratic square with no noise save +the shouting of cab-drivers and the beating of horses' hoofs.</p> + +<p>Rafael had arrived on the first morning train—and with no baggage; like +a schoolboy playing truant, running off with just the clothes he had on +his back. The two days since Leonora left Alcira had been days of +torture to him. The singer's flight was the talk of the town. People +were scandalized at the amount of luggage she had. Counted over in the +imagination of that imaginative city, it eventually came to fill all the +carts in the province.</p> + +<p>The man who knew the business to the bottom was Cupido, the barber, who +had dispatched the trunks and cases for her. He knew where the dangerous +woman was bound, and he kept it so secret that everybody found it out +before the train started. She was going back to Italy! He himself had +checked and labelled the baggage to the Customs' House at the +frontier—cases as big as a house, man! Trunks he could have lain down +comfortable in, with his two "Chinamen" to boot! And the women, as they +listened to his tale, applauded the departure with undissimulated +pleasure. They had been liberated from a great danger. Joy go with her!</p> + +<p>Rafael kept quite to himself. He was vexed at the curiosity of people, +at the scoffing sympathy of his friends who condoled with him that his +happiness was ending. For two days he remained indoors, followed by his +mother's inquiring glances. Doña Bernarda felt more at ease now that the +evil influence of the "chorus girl" promised to be over; but none the +less she did not lose her frown. With a woman's instinct, she still +scented the presence of danger.</p> + +<p>The young man could hardly wait for the time to come. It seemed +unbearable for him to be there at home while "she" was away off +somewhere, alone, shut up in a hotel, waiting just as impatiently as he +was for the moment of reunion.</p> + +<p>What a sunrise it had been that day when he set out! Rafael burned with +shame as he crept like a burglar in his stockings and on tip-toe, +through the room where his mother received the orchard-folk and adjusted +all accounts pertaining to the tilling of the land. He groped his way +along guided by the light that came in through the chinks in the closed +windows. His mother was sleeping in a room close by; he could hear her +breathe—the labored respiration of a deep sleep that spelled recovery +from the insomnia of the days of his love trysts. He could still feel +the criminal shudder that rippled through him at a slight rattle of the +keys, which had been left with the confidence of unlimited authority in +the lock of an old chest where doña Bernarda kept her savings. With +tremulous hands he had collected all the money she had put away in the +small boxes there. A thief, a thief! But, after all, he was taking only +what belonged to him. He had never asked for his share of his father's +estate. Leonora was rich. With admirable delicacy she had refused to +talk of money during their preparations for the journey; but he would +refuse to live on her! He did not care to be like Salvatti, who had +exploited the singer in her youth! That thought it had been which gave +him strength to take the money finally and steal out of the house. But +even on the train he felt uneasy; and <em>su señoria</em>, the deputy, shivered +with an instinctive thrill of fear, every time a tricorne of the Civil +Guard appeared at a railroad station. What would his mother say when she +got up and found the money gone?</p> + +<p>As he entered the hotel his self-confidence returned and his spirits +revived. He felt as if he were entering port after a storm. He found +Leonora in bed, her hair spread over the pillow in waves of gold, her +eyes closed, and a smile on her lips, as if he had surprised her in the +middle of a dream, where she had been tasting her memories of love. They +ordered lunch in the room early, intending to set out on their journey +at once. Circumspection, prudence, until they should be once beyond the +Spanish border! They would leave that evening on the Barcelona mail for +the frontier. And calmly, tranquilly, like a married couple discussing +details of house-keeping in the calm of a quiet home, they ran over the +list of things they would need on the train.</p> + +<p>Rafael had nothing. He had fled like a fugitive from a fire, with the +first clothes he laid hands on as he bounded out of bed. He needed many +indispensable articles, and he thought of going out to buy them—a +matter of a moment.</p> + +<p>"But are you really going out?" asked Leonora with a certain anguish, as +if her feminine instinct sensed a danger. "Are you going to leave me +alone?..."</p> + +<p>"Only a moment. I won't keep you waiting long."</p> + +<p>They took leave of each other in the corridor with the noisy, +nonchalant joy of passion, indifferent to the chamber-maids who were +walking to and fro at the other end of the passageway.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Rafael.... Another hug; just one more."</p> + +<p>And as, with the taste of the last kiss still fresh on his lips, he +reached the square, he saw a bejewelled hand still waving to him from a +balcony.</p> + +<p>Anxious to get back as soon as possible, the young man walked hurriedly +along, elbowing his way among the cab-drivers swarming in front of the +great <em>Palacio de Dos Aguas</em>, closed, silent, slumbering, like the two +giants that guarded its portals, displaying in the golden downpour of +sunlight the overdecorated yet graceful sumptuousness of its roccocò +facade.</p> + +<p>"Rafael! Rafael!..."</p> + +<p>The deputy turned around at the sound of his name, and blanched as if he +had seen a ghost. It was don Andrés, calling to him.</p> + +<p>"Rafael! Rafael!"</p> + +<p>"You?... Here?"</p> + +<p>"I came by the Madrid express. For two hours I've been hunting for you +in all the hotels of Valencia. I knew you were here.... But come, we +have a great deal to talk over. This is not just the place to do it."</p> + +<p>And the old Mentor glowered hatefully at the <em>Hôtel de Roma</em>, as if he +wanted to annihilate the huge edifice with everybody in it.</p> + +<p>They walked off, slowly, without knowing just where they were going, +turning corners, passing several times through the same streets, their +nerves tense and quivering, ready to shout at the top of their lungs, +yet using every effort to speak softly, so as not to attract attention +from the passers-by who were rubbing against them on the narrow +side-walks.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés, naturally, was the first to speak:</p> + +<p>"You approve of what you've done?"</p> + +<p>And seeing that Rafael, like a coward, was trying to pretend innocent +astonishment, asking "what" he had done, observing that he had come to +Valencia on a matter of business, the old man broke into a rage.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, don't you go lying to me: either we're men or we're not +men. If you think you've acted properly, you ought to stand up for it +and say so. Don't imagine you're going to pull the wool over my eyes and +then run off with that woman to God knows where. I've found you and I'm +not going to let you go. I want you to know the truth. Your mother is +sick abed; she tipped me off and I caught the first train to get here. +The whole house is upside down! At first it was thought a robbery had +been committed. By this time the whole city must be agog about you. Come +now!... What do you say to that? Do you want to kill your mother? Well, +you're going about it right! Good God! And this is what they call a 'boy +of talent,' a 'young man of promise'! How much better it would have been +if you were a dunce like me or your father—but a dunce at least who +knows how to get a woman if he has to, without making a public ass of +himself!"</p> + +<p>Then he went into detail. Rafael's mother had gone to the old chest to +get some money for one of her laborers. Her cry of horror and alarm had +thrown the whole house into an uproar. Don Andrés had been hastily +summoned. Suspicions against the servants, a "third degree" for the +whole lot, all of them protesting and weeping, in outrage! Until finally +doña Bernarda sank to a chair in a swoon, whispering into her adviser's +ear:</p> + +<p>"Rafael is not in the house. He has gone ... perhaps never to return. I +am sure of it—he took the money!"</p> + +<p>While the others were getting the sobbing mother to bed, and sending for +the doctor, don Andrés had made for the station to catch the express. He +could tell from the way people looked at him that everybody knew what +had been going on. Gossip had already connected the excitement in the +Brull mansion with Rafael's taking the early train! He had been seen by +several persons, in spite of his precautions.</p> + +<p>"Well, is the Hon. don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, satisfied with +his morning's work? Don't you think the laugh your enemies have raised +deserves an <em>encore</em>!"</p> + +<p>For all his bitter sarcasm the old man spoke in a faltering voice, and +seemed on the verge of tears. The labor of his entire life, the great +victories won with don Ramón, that political power which had been so +carefully built up and sustained over decades, was about to crumble to +ruins; all because of a light-headed, erratic boy who had handed to the +first skirt who came along everything that belonged to him and +everything that belonged to his friends as well.</p> + +<p>Rafael had gone into the interview in an aggressive mood, ready to +answer with plain talk if that sodden idiot should go too far in his +recriminations. But the sincere grief of the old man touched him deeply. +Don Andrés, who resembled Rafael's father as the cat resembles the +tiger, could think of nothing but Brull politics; and he was almost +sobbing as he saw the danger which the prestige of the Brull House was +running.</p> + +<p>With bowed head, crushed by the realization of the scene that had +followed his flight, Rafael did not notice where they were going. But +soon he became conscious of the perfume of flowers. They were crossing a +garden; and as he looked up he saw the figure of Valencia's conqueror on +his sinewy charger glistening in the sun.</p> + +<p>They walked on. The old man began in wailing accents to describe the +situation which the Brull House was facing. That money, which perhaps +Rafael still had in his pocket—more than thirty thousand +<em>pesetas</em>—represented the final desperate efforts of his mother to +rescue the family fortune, which had been endangered by don Ramón's +prodigal habits. The money was his, and don Andrés had nothing to say in +that regard. Rafael was at liberty to squander it, scatter it to the +four winds of heaven; but don Andrés wasn't talking to a child, he was +talking to a man with a heart: so he begged him, as his childhood +preceptor, as his oldest friend, to consider the sacrifices his mother +had been making—the privations she had imposed upon herself, going +without new clothes, quarreling with her help over a <em>céntimo</em>, despite +all her airs as a grand lady, depriving herself of all the dainties and +comforts that are so pleasant to old age—all that her son, her <em>señor +hijo</em>, might waste it in gay living on a woman! Thirty thousand! And +don Andrés mentioned the sum with bated breath! It had taken so much +trouble to hoard it! Come, man! The sight of such things was enough to +make a fellow cry like a baby!...</p> + +<p>And suppose his father, don Ramón, were to rise from the grave? Suppose +he could see how his Rafael were destroying at a single stroke what it +had cost him so many years to build up, just because of a woman!...</p> + +<p>They were now crossing a bridge. Below, against the background of white +gravel in the river-bed the red and blue uniforms of a group of soldiers +could be seen; and the drums were beating, sounding in the distance like +the humming of a huge bee-hive—worthy accompaniment, Rafael reflected, +to the old man's evocation of the youth's father. Rafael thought he +could almost see in front of him the massive body, the flourishing +mustache, the proud, arrogant brow of don Ramón, a born fighter, an +adventurer destined from the cradle to lead men and impose his will upon +inferiors.</p> + +<p>What would that heroic master of men have said of this? Don Ramón would +give a lot of money to a woman—granted—but he wouldn't have swapped +all the beauties on earth put together for a single vote!</p> + +<p>But his son, the boy on whom he had grounded his fondest hopes—the +redeemer destined to raise the House of Brull to its loftiest glory—the +future "personage" in Madrid, the fondled heir-apparent, who had found +his pathway already cleared for him at birth—was throwing all his +father's labors through the window, the way you toss overboard +something it has cost you nothing to earn! It was easy to see that +Rafael had never known what hard times were—those days of the +Revolution, when the Brulls were out of power and held their own just +because don Ramón was a bad man with a gun—desperate election +campaigns, when you marched to victory over somebody's dead body, bold +cross-country rides on election night, never knowing when you would meet +the <em>roder</em> in ambush—the outlaw sharpshooter who had vowed to kill don +Ramón; then endless prosecutions for intimidation and violence, which +had given doña Bernarda and her husband months and months of anxiety, +lest a catastrophe from one moment to the next bring prison and +forfeiture of all their property! All that his father had gone through, +for his boy's sake; to carve out a pedestal for Rafael, pass on to him a +District that would be his own, blazing a path over which he might go to +no visible limit of glory! And he was just throwing it all away, +relinquishing forever a position that had been built up at the cost of +years and years of labor and peril! That is what he would be doing, +unless that very night he returned home, refuting by his presence there +the rumors his scandalized adherents were circulating.</p> + +<p>Rafael shook his head. The mention of his father had touched him, and he +was convinced by the old man's arguments; but none the less he was +determined to resist. No, and again no; his die was cast: he would +continue on his way.</p> + +<p>They were now under the trees of the Alameda. The carriages were rolling +by, forming an immense wheel in the center of the avenue. The harnesses +of the horses and the lamps of the drivers' boxes gleamed in the +sunlight. Women's hats and the white lace shawls of children could be +seen through the coach windows as they passed.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés became impatient with the youth's stubbornness. He pointed to +all those happy, peaceful-looking families out for their afternoon +drive—wealth, comfort, public esteem, abundance, freedom from struggle +and toil! <em>Cristo</em>, boy! Was that so bad, after all? Well, that was just +the life he could have if he would be good and not turn his back on his +plain duty—rich, influential, respected, growing old with a circle of +nice children about him. What more could a decent person ask for in this +world?</p> + +<p>All that bohemian nonsense about pure love, love free from law and +restraint, love that scoffs at society and its customs, sufficient unto +itself and despising public opinion, that was just bosh, the humbug of +poets, musicians and dancers—a set of outcasts like that woman who was +taking him away, cutting him off forever from all the ties that bound +him to family and country!</p> + +<p>The old man seemed to take courage from Rafael's silence. He judged the +moment opportune for launching the final attack upon the boy's +infatuation.</p> + +<p>"And then, what a woman! I have been young, like you, Rafael. It's true +I didn't know a stylish woman like this one, but, bah! they're all +alike. I have had my weaknesses; but I tell you I wouldn't have lifted a +finger for this actress of yours! Any one of the girls we have down home +is worth two of her. Clothes, yes, talk, yes, powder and rouge inches +deep!... I'm not saying she's bad to look at—not that; what I say is... +well, it doesn't take much to turn your head—you're satisfied with +the leavings of half the men in Europe...."</p> + +<p>And he came to Leonora's past, the lurid, much exaggerated legend of her +journey through life—lovers by the dozens; statues and paintings of her +in the nude; the eyes of all Europe centered on her beauty; the public +property of a continent! "That was virtue to go crazy about, come now! +Quite worth leaving house and home for, no doubt of that!"</p> + +<p>The old man winced under the flash of anger that blazed in Rafael's +eyes. They had just crossed another bridge, and were entering the city +again. Don Andrés, wretched coward that he was, sidled away to be within +reach of the customs' office if the fist he could already see cleaving +the air should come his way.</p> + +<p>Rafael, in fact, stopped in his tracks, glaring. But in a second or two +he went on his way again, dejected, with bowed head, ignoring the +presence of the old man. Don Andrés resumed his place at the boy's side.</p> + +<p>The cursed old fox! He had stuck the knife in the right place! Leonora's +past! Her favors distributed with mad lavishness over the four corners +of the globe! An army of men of every nation owning her for a moment +with the appeal of luxury or the enchantment of art! A palace today and +a hotel tomorrow! Her lips repeating in all the languages of Babel the +very words of love that had fired him as if he had been the first to +hear them! He was going to lose everything for that—that refuse, as don +Andrés said—a public scandal, a ruined reputation; and a murdered +mother perhaps,—for that! Oh, that devil of a don Andrés! How cunningly +he had slashed him, and then plunged his fingers into the bleeding gash +to make the wound deeper! The old man's plain common-sense had shattered +his dream. That man had been the rustic, cunning Sancho at the side of +the quixotic don Ramón; and he was playing the same role with Rafael!</p> + +<p>Leonora's story came back to the boy in one flash—the frank confession +she had made during the days of their mere friendship, when she had told +him everything to prevent his continuing to desire her. However much she +might adore him, he would be nothing after all but a successor to a +Russian count, and a German musician; the latest, simply among those +countless ephemeral lovers, whom she had barely mentioned but who must +none the less have left some trace in her memory. The last item in a +long inventory! The most recent arrival, coming several years late, and +content to nibble at the soggy over-ripe fruit which they had known when +it was fresh and firm. Her kisses that so deeply disturbed him! What +were they but the intoxicating, unhealthful perfume of a whole career of +corruptness and licentiousness, the concentrated essence of a world +madly dashing at her seductive beauty, as a bird of night breaks its +head against the globe of a lighthouse? Give up everything for that! The +two of them traveling about the world, free, and proud of their +passion!... And out in that world he would encounter many of his +predecessors; and they would look at him with curious, ironic eyes, +knowing of her all that he would know, able to repeat all the panting +phrases she would speak to him in the exaggerations of her insatiable +passion! The strange thing about it was that all this had not occurred +to him sooner. Blind with happiness, he had never thought an instant of +his real place in that woman's life!</p> + +<p>How long had they been walking through the streets of Valencia?... His +legs were sagging under him! He was faint with weariness. He could +hardly see. The gables of the houses were still tipped with sunlight, +yet he seemed to be groping about in a deep night.</p> + +<p>"I'm thirsty, don Andrés. Let's go in somewhere."</p> + +<p>The old man headed him toward the Café de España, his favorite resort. +He selected the table in the center of the big square salon under the +four clocks supported by the angel of Fame. The walls were covered with +great mirrors that opened up fantastic perspectives in the dingy room +where the gilded ornaments were blackened by the smoke and a crepuscular +light filtered in through the lofty skylight as into a sombre crypt.</p> + +<p>Rafael drank, without realizing just what his glass contained—a poison, +it felt like, that froze his heart. Don Andrés sat looking at the +writing articles on the marble table: a letter-case of wrinkled +oil-cloth, and a grimy ink-well. He began to rap upon them with the +holder of the public pen—rusty and with the points bent—an instrument +of torture well fitted for a hand committed to despair!</p> + +<p>"We have just an hour to catch our train! Come, Rafael, be a man! +There's still time! Come, let's get out of this mess we're in!"</p> + +<p>And he held out the pen, though he had not said a word about writing to +anybody.</p> + +<p>"I can't, don Andrés. I'm a gentleman. I've given my word; and I will +not go back upon it, come what may!"</p> + +<p>The old man smiled ironically.</p> + +<p>"Very well, be as much of a gentleman as you please. She deserves it! +But when you break with her, when she leaves you, or you leave her, +don't come back to Alcira. Your mother won't be there to welcome you! I +shall be—I don't know where; and those who made you deputy will look +upon you as a thief who robbed and killed his mother.... Oh, get mad if +you want to—beat me up even; people at the other tables are already +looking at us.... Why not top the whole business off with a saloon +brawl? But just the same, everything I've been saying to you is gospel +truth!..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the meantime Leonora was growing impatient in her hotel room. Three +hours had gone by. To relieve her nervousness she sat down behind the +green curtain at the window watching pedestrians crossing the square.</p> + +<p>How like a small piazza of old Florence this place was, with its stately +aristocratic residences, shrouded in imposing gloom; it's grass-grown, +cobblestone pavements hot from the sun; its sleepy solitude: an +occasional woman, or a priest, or a tourist,—and you could hear their +footsteps even when they were far away! Here was a curious corner of the +<em>Palacio de Dos Agnas</em>—panels of jasper stucco with a leaf design on +the mouldings! That talking came from the drivers gathered in the hotel +door—the innkeeper and the servants were setting the chairs out on the +sidewalk as if they were back at home—in a small Italian town! Behind +the roof opposite, the sunlight was gradually fading, growing paler and +softer every moment.</p> + +<p>She looked at her watch. Six o'clock! Where on earth could that Rafael +have gone? They were going to lose the train. In order to waste no time, +she ordered Beppa to have everything in readiness for departure. She +packed her toilet articles; then closed her trunks, casting an inquiring +glance over the room with the uneasiness of a hasty leave-taking. On an +armchair near the window she laid her traveling coat, then her hand-bag, +and her hat and veil. They would have to run the moment Rafael came in. +He would probably be very tired and nervous from returning so late.</p> + +<p>But Rafael did not come!... She felt an impulse to go out and look for +him; but where? She had not been in Valencia since she was a child. She +had forgotten the streets. Then she might actually pass Rafael on the +way without knowing it, and wander aimlessly about while he would be +waiting for her at the hotel. No. It would be better to stay there!</p> + +<p>It was now dusk and the hotel-room was virtually dark. She went to the +window again, trembling with impatience, filled with all the gloom of +the violet light that was falling from the sky with a few red streaks +from the sunset. They would surely lose the train now! They would have +to wait until the next day. That was a disappointment! They might have +trouble in getting away!</p> + +<p>She whirled nervously about as she heard someone calling from the +corridor.</p> + +<p>"Madame, madame, a letter for you!"</p> + +<p>A letter for her!... She snatched it feverishly from the bell-boy's +hand, while Beppa, seated on a trunk, looked on vacantly, without +expression.</p> + +<p>She began to tremble violently. The thought of Hans Keller, the +ungrateful artist, suddenly rose in her memory. She looked for a candle +on the chiffonier. There was none. Finally she went to the balcony and +tried to read the letter in the little light there was.</p> + +<p>It was his handwriting on the envelope—but tortuous, labored, as if it +were the product of a painful effort. She felt all her blood rush back +upon her heart. Madly she tore the letter open, and read with the haste +of a person anxious to drain the cup of bitterness at a single draught, +skipping a line here and a line there, taking in only the significant +words.</p> + +<p>"My mother very ill.... I must go home for a day or two ... my duty as a +son ... we'll soon meet again." And then all the cowardly, conventional +excuses that chivalry has created to soften the harshness of +desertion—the promise to join her again as soon as possible; passionate +protestations that she was the only woman in the world he loved.</p> + +<p>Her first thought was to go back to Alcira at once, walk there if +necessary, find the scamp somewhere, throw the letter into his face, +beat him, claw him to pieces!</p> + +<p>"Ah, the wretch! The infamous, cowardly, unspeakable wretch!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Beppa had found a candle. She lighted it. And there her mistress +was—staggering, deathly pale, her eyes wide open, her lips white with +anguish! Leonora began to walk up and down the apartment, taut and +strained, as if her feet were not moving at all, as if she were being +thrust about by an invisible hand.</p> + +<p>"Beppa," she groaned finally, "he has gone. He is deserting me."</p> + +<p>The maid did not care about the desertion particularly. She had been +through that before. She was thinking about Leonora, waiting for the +impending crisis, studying the anguished countenance of her mistress +with her own placid, bovine eyes.</p> + +<p>"The wretch!" Leonora hissed, pacing back and forth in the chamber. +"What a fool, what a complete, unconscionable fool I have been! Giving +myself to that man, believing in that man, trusting that man, giving up +my peace of mind, the last relative I had in the world for that man!... +And why would he not let me go off alone? He made me dream of an eternal +springtime of love, and now he deserts me.... He has tricked me ... he +is laughing at me ... and I can not hate him. Why did he insist on +rousing me when I was there alone, quite peaceful, forgetting +everything, sunk in a placid indulgent calm!... The cool fraud that he +was!... But what do I care, after all?... It's all over. Come Beppa, +cheer up! Hah-hah! Come, Beppa! We're off! We're off! We're going to +sing again! Off over the whole globe. Good-bye to this rat-hole forever! +I'm through educating children! Now for life again! And we'll drain them +dry, the brutes! Kick them about like the selfish donkeys they are! +Well, well! I can't believe I've been taken in this way! Isn't it a +joke? The best joke you ever heard! Ha, ha, ha! And I thought I knew the +world ...! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!..."</p> + +<p>And her laugh was audible distinctly down in the square. It was a wild, +shrill, metallic laughter, that seemed to be rending her flesh! The +whole hotel was in commotion, while the actress, with foaming lips, fell +to the floor and began to writhe in fury, overturning the furniture and +bruising her body on the iron trimmings of her trunks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART THREE</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"Don Rafael, the gentlemen of the Committee on the Budget are waiting +for you in the second section."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there directly."</p> + +<p>And the deputy bent low over his desk in the writing-room of the +Congress, went on with his last letter, adding one more envelope to the +heap of correspondence piled up at the end of the table, near his cane +and his silk hat.</p> + +<p>This was his daily grind, the boresome drudgery of every afternoon; and +around him, with similar expressions of disgust on their faces, a large +number of the country's representatives were busy at the same task. +Rafael was answering petitions and queries, stifling the complaints and +acknowledging the wild suggestions that came in from the District—the +endless clamor of the voters at home, who never met the slightest +annoyance in their various paths of life without at once running to +their deputy, the way a pious worshipper appeals to the miracle-working +saint.</p> + +<p>He gathered up his letters, gave them to an usher to mail, and +sauntering off with a counterfeit sprightliness that was more +counterfeit as he grew fatter and fatter with the years, walked through +to the central corridor, a prolongation of the lobby in front of the +<em>Salón de Conferencias</em>.</p> + +<p>The Honorable señor don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, felt as much +at ease as if he were in his own house when he entered that corridor,—a +dark hole, thick with tobacco smoke, and peopled with black suits +standing around in groups or laboriously elbowing their way through the +crowds.</p> + +<p>He had been there eight years; though he had almost lost count of the +times he had been "duly elected" in the capricious ups and downs of +Spanish politics, which give to Parliaments only a fleeting existence. +The ushers, the personnel of the Secretariat, the guards and janitors, +treated him with deferential intimacy, as a comrade on a somewhat higher +level, but as much of a fixture as they were to the Spanish Congress. He +was not one of those men who are miraculously washed into office on the +crest of a reform wave, but never succeed in repeating the trick, and +spend the rest of their lives idling on the sofas of the Conference +Chamber, with wistful memories of lost greatness, waiting to enter +Congress afternoons, to preserve their standing as ex-deputies, and +forever hoping that their party will some day return to power, so that +once again they may sit on the red benches. No, don Rafael Brull was a +gentleman with a District all his own: he came with a clean, undisputed +and indisputable certificate of election, whether his own party or the +Opposition were in the saddle. For lack of other discoverable merit in +him, his fellow-partisans would say: "Brull is one of the few who come +here on honest returns." His name did not figure brilliantly in the +Congressional record, but there was not an employee, not a journalist, +not a member of the "ex-honorables" who, on noticing the word "Brull" on +all the committees, did not at once exclaim: "Ah, yes! Brull ... of +Alcira."</p> + +<p>Eight years of "service to the country." Eight years of lodging-house +life, while yonder lay a sumptuous home adorned with a luxuriousness +that had cost his mother and his father-in-law half a fortune! Long +seasons of separation from his wife and his children—and without +amusements, to avoid spending money lest the folks at home suspect him +of dereliction in public—and private—duty! What a dog's life his eight +years as deputy had been! Indigestion from the countless gallons of +sugared water drunk at the Congressional bar; callouses on his feet from +endless promenades along the central corridor, absentmindedly knocking +the varnish off the tiles of the wainscoating with the tip of his cane; +an incalculable quantity of <em>pesetas</em> spent on carriages, through fault +of his supporters, who sent him trotting every morning from one Ministry +to the next, asking for the earth, and getting a grain of sand!</p> + +<p>He had not as yet gotten anywhere in particular; but according to +Chamber gossip he was a "serious" well-balanced young man, of few words, +but good ones, and sure some day to be rewarded with a Portfolio. +Content with the rôle of safety and sanity that had been assigned to +him, he laughed very seldom, and dressed soberly, with not a dissonant +color to brighten his black attire. He would listen patiently to things +that did not concern him in the least, rather than venture a personal +opinion with the chance of going wrong—satisfied with premature +wrinkles, premature corpulency, and premature baldness, since nothing +could be more respectable than a thoughtful face, a conspicuous paunch, +and a pate that could shine with venerable brilliancy under the lamps of +the Chamber. At thirty-four, he looked more like forty-five. When he +spoke he would remove his spectacles with a gesture he had carefully +imitated from the deceased leader of "the Party." He would never take +the floor without prefacing his remarks with: "My understanding is ...," +or "I have my own humble opinion on this matter...." And this was what +don Rafael Brull had learned in eight years of parliamentary assiduity!</p> + +<p>The new Conservative leader, seeing that he could always depend on +Brull's vote and that Alcira elections cost "the Party" nothing, had a +certain consideration for Rafael. He was a soldier always on hand for +roll-call, whenever a new Parliament was formed. He would present +himself with his certificate of election, whether his party, with all +the insolence of victory, occupied the benches on the Right, or hungry +and defiant, and reduced in numbers, was huddled on the Left, determined +to find fault with everything the reigning Ministry did. Two sessions as +part of the minority had won him a certain intimacy with the leader in +that frank comradeship that Oppositions always have, since, from leader +down to the most silent member, all the deputies "out of power" are on a +level. Besides, in those two seasons of misfortune, to aid in the +destructive tactics of his faction, he put little interpellations to the +government, at the openings of the sessions when the crowds were small; +and more than once he heard from the pale smiling lips of the chief: +"Very good, Brull; that was to the point." And such congratulations +were duly echoed in his home city, where rustic imagination did the +rest.</p> + +<p>In addition, a few parliamentary honors had come his way; the "Grand +Cross" had been given him, as it is given to most deputies of a certain +length of service—from membership, eventually, on committees charged +with representing the legislative branch of the government at formal +public functions. If an "Answer to the Message" was to be taken "to the +Palace," he was one of those chosen for the purpose; and he trembled +with emotion to think of what his mother, his wife, all the people down +yonder at home would say if they could see him riding there in the +sumptuous carriage of state, preceded by bright-liveried horsemen and +saluted by trumpets blaring the royal march! He was also usually among +the delegates who came out on the staircase of the Congress to welcome +Their Majesties on the opening of a parliament. Finally, for one +session, he was on "the Committee for the Interior," an appointment that +raised his prestige a thousand percent among the ushers.</p> + +<p>"That fellow Brull," they would say in the Chamber, "will be somebody +the day his party returns to power."</p> + +<p>Well, now "the Party" was in power again. During one of those ordered, +calculated "changes of direction" to which Spain lives subject, because +of its parliamentary system of party weights and party balances, the +Conservatives captured the premiership; and Rafael went on the budget +committee. There he would do something more than make interpellations +when he opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had to win his spurs, +justify his filling one of those posts which, according to report, his +chief was holding for him.</p> + +<p>The green deputies, the younger set constituting the new majority, elect +and triumphant through grace of the Ministry of the Interior, respected +him and deferred to what he said, much as students listen to a tutor who +they know receives his orders from the master directly—the +subordination of freshmen, as it were, to the sophomore who knows the +rules.</p> + +<p>Whenever a vote was being taken and the Opposition was excited over the +chance of putting the government in the minority, the Premier would look +about anxiously over the hall for Brull.</p> + +<p>"See here, Brull, better bring your people in; we're going to have a +close call."</p> + +<p>And Brull, proud at being noticed thus, would dash out like a streak of +lightning while the bells were ringing and the ushers were running about +summoning the deputies to vote. He would make the rounds of the desks in +the writing rooms, elbow his way into groups in the corridors; and +filling with self-importance because of the authority conferred upon +him, he would rudely shoo the ministerial flock off toward the Chamber, +grumbling fogeywise and assuring them that "in his time," when he was +serving his first term, there was "far better discipline." When the vote +was all in and the victory won, he would sigh with satisfaction. He had +saved the government! And perhaps the nation!</p> + +<p>At times a residue of the sincerity and frankness of his character as a +boy would rise to the surface in him. Then cruel doubts would assail his +faith in himself. Weren't they all playing a stupid comedy there +without the slightest wit or sense in it? Really was what they said and +did there of the slightest importance to the country—to anybody?</p> + +<p>Standing in the corridor, he would feel the nervous flutter of the +journalists about him—those poor, intelligent, attractive, young +fellows, who found it so hard to make a living. From the press-gallery +they would sit and look down on the legislators the way birds in the +treetops must look down on the wretchedness of the streets below, +laughing at the nonsense those solemn baldpates were talking! Could a +farce on the stage be more amusing?</p> + +<p>To Rafael those "intellectuals" seemed to bring a breeze from out of +doors into the close, sordid, vitiated air of the Chamber. They stood +for the thought of the world outside—the idea fatherless, unsponsored, +the aspiration of the great masses—a breath of fresh air in the +sick-room of a chronic invalid forever dying, forever unburiable.</p> + +<p>Their judgment always differed from that of the country's +representatives. His Excellency señor don What's-his-Name was in their +eyes, a mud-eel, and in their lingo a <em>congrio</em>; the illustrious orator +What-do-you-call-him, who took up a sixteen-page sheet in the +Congressional Record every time he spoke, was a <em>percebe</em>, a "barnacle +on the keel of Progress"; every act of parliament struck them as a bit +of balderdash, though, to hold their jobs, they praised it to the skies +in their articles. And why was it that the country, in some mysterious +way, would always think eventually what those boys thought, so long, and +only so long, as they remained boys? Would they have to come down from +their scats in the press-gallery to the red benches on the floor before +the real will of the country would make itself felt?</p> + +<p>Rafael Brull finally realized that national opinion was present on the +floor, among his fellow members, also, but like a mummy in a +sarcophagus: bound hand and foot in rhetoric and conventional utterance, +spiced, embalmed with proprieties that made any outburst of sincerity, +any explosion of real feeling, evidence of "bad taste!"</p> + +<p>In reality everything was going well with the Ship of State. The nation +had passed from action to talk, and from talk to passivity, and from +passivity to resignation. The era of revolutions was gone forever. The +infallible system of government had proved to be this mechanism of +pre-arranged "crises" and amicable exchanges of patronage between +Liberals and Conservatives, each member of the party in power and each +member of the party out of power knowing just what he was to say and +just what he was to get.</p> + +<p>So, in that palace of over-ornate architecture, as pretentious and as +showy as the mansion of a millionaire <em>parvenu</em>, Rafael was condemned to +spend his lifetime, foregoing the blue sky and the flowering fields and +orchards of Alcira that a family ambition might be realized.</p> + +<p>Nothing noteworthy had occurred during those eight years. His life had +been a muddy, monotonous stream, with neither brilliancy nor beauty in +its waters, lazily meandering along, like the Júcar in winter. As he +looked back over his career as a "personage," he could have summed it up +in three words: he had married.</p> + +<p>Remedios was his wife. Don Matias was his father-in-law. He was +wealthy. He had control over a vast fortune, for he exercised despotic +rule over his wife's peasant father, the most fervent of his admirers. +His mother seemed to have put the last of her strength into the +arrangement of that "marriage of convenience." She had fallen into a +senile decrepitude that bordered on dotage. Her sole evidence of being +alive was her habit of staying in church until the doors were closed and +she could stay no longer. At home she did nothing but recite the rosary, +mumbling away in some corner of the house, and taking no part in the +noisy play of her grandchildren. Don Andrés had died, leaving Rafael +sole "boss" of "the Party." He had had three children. They had had +their teeth, their measles, their whooping-cough. These episodes, with a +few escapades of that brother of Remedios, who feared Rafael's paunch +and bald head more than the wrath of don Matias, were the only +distractions in a thoroughly dull existence.</p> + +<p>Every year he bought a new piece of land. He felt a thrill of pride when +from the top of San Salvador—that Hermitage, alas, of such desperate +and unfading memory!--he looked down upon the vast patches of land with +orange-trees in straight rows and fenced in by green walls, that all, +all, belonged to him. The joy of ownership, the intoxication of property +had gone to his head.</p> + +<p>As he entered the old mansion, entirely made over now, he felt the same +sense of well-being and power. The old chest in which his mother used to +keep her money stood where it had always stood; but it was no longer +devoted to savings hoarded slowly at the cost of untold sacrifice and +privation to raise mortgages and temporize with creditors. Never again +had he tip-toed up in the dark to rifle it. Now it was his own. And at +harvest time it became literally crammed with the huge rolls of +banknotes his father-in-law paid over in exchange for the oranges of the +Brull orchards. And Rafael had a covetous eye on what don Matías had in +the banks; for all that, too, would come to him when the old man died. +Acquisitiveness—money and land—had become his one, his ruling passion. +Monotony, meanwhile, had turned him into an accurate, methodical, +meticulous machine; so that every night he would make out a schedule, +hour for hour, of all that he would do on the following day. At the +bottom of this passion for riches conjugal contagion probably lay. Eight +years of unbroken familiarity had finally inoculated him with most of +the obsessions and most of the predilections of his wife.</p> + +<p>The shrinking, timorous little she-goat that used to gambol about with +him in pursuit, the poor child who had been so wistful and downcast +during the days of his wantonness, had now become a woman with all the +imperious obstinacy, all the domineering superiority of the female of +the species as it has evolved in the countries of the South. Cleanliness +and frugality in Remedios took the form of unendurable tyranny. She +scolded her husband if he brought the slightest speck of dust into the +house on his shoes. She would turn the place upside down, flay all the +servants alive, if ever a few drops of oil were spilled from a jar, or a +crumb of bread were wasted on the table.</p> + +<p>"A jewel for the home! And didn't I tell you so?" her father would +whisper, satisfied with his daughter's obtrusive qualities.</p> + +<p>Rafael, for his part, found them intolerable. He had tried to love his +bride in the early months of their marriage. He made an honest effort to +forget, and recall the playful, passionate impulses he had felt on those +days when he had chased her around the orchards. But after a first fever +of passion had passed, she had proved to be a cold, calculating +child-bearer, hostile to expansiveness of love out of religious +scruples, viewing it her duty to bring new offsprings into the world to +perpetuate the House of Brull and to fill "grandaddy" don Matías with +pride at sight of a nursery full of future "personages" destined to the +heights of political greatness in the District and in the nation.</p> + +<p>Rafael had one of those gentle, temperate, honest, households that, on +the afternoon of their walk through Valencia, don Andrés had pointed out +to him as a radiant hope, if only he would turn his back on his mad +adventure. He had a wife; and he had children; and he was rich. His +father-in-law ordered shotguns for him from his correspondents in +England. Every year a new horse was added to the stable, and don Matias +would see to purchasing the best that could be found in the fairs of +Andalusia. He hunted, took long horseback rides over the roads of the +district, dispensed justice in the <em>patio</em> of the house, just as his +father don Ramón had done. His three little ones, finding him somewhat +strange after his long absences in Madrid and more at home with their +grand-parents than with him, would group themselves with bowed, bashful +heads around his knees, silently waiting for his paternal kiss. +Everything attainable around him was within his reach for the asking; +and yet—he was not happy.</p> + +<p>From time to time the adventure of his youth would come back to his +mind. The eight years that had passed seemed to have put a century +between him and those ancient days. Leonora's face had slowly, slowly, +faded in his memory, till all he could remember were her two green eyes, +and her blond hair that crowned her with a crown of gold. Her aunt, the +devout, ingenuous doña Pepa, had died some time since—leaving her +property for the salvation of her soul. The orchard and the Blue House +belonged now to Rafael's father-in-law, who had transferred to his own +home the best of its equipment—all the furniture and decorations that +Leonora had bought during her period of exile, while Rafael had been in +Madrid and she had thought of living the rest of her life in Alcira.</p> + +<p>Rafael carefully avoided revisiting the Blue House, out of regard for +his wife's possible susceptibilities. As it was, the woman's silence +sometimes weighed heavily upon him, a strange circumspection, which +never permitted the slightest allusion to the past. In the coldness and +the uncompromising scorn with which she abominated any poetic madness in +love, an important part was doubtless played by the suppressed memory of +her husband's adventure with the actress, which everybody had tried to +conceal from her and which had deeply disturbed the preparations for her +wedding.</p> + +<p>When the deputy was alone in Madrid, as much at liberty as before his +marriage, he could think of Leonora freely, without those restraints +which seemed to disturb him back at home in the bosom of his family. +What could have become of her? To what limits of mad frolic had she gone +after that parting which even after years had passed, still brought a +blush of shame to Rafael's cheeks? The Spanish papers paid very little +attention to matters of foreign art. Only twice in their columns did he +discover Leonora's stage name with an account of her new triumphs. She +had sung in Paris in French, with as much success as a native <em>artiste</em>. +The purity of her accent had surprised everyone. In Rome she had played +the "lead" in an opera by a young Italian composer, and her coming had +been announced by press agents as a great event. The opera had failed to +please; not so the singer. Her audience had been moved to tears by her +execution of a scene in the last act, where she wept for a lost love.</p> + +<p>After that—silence, no news whatever! She had disappeared. A new love +affair, Rafael supposed, a new outburst of that vehement passion which +made her follow her chosen man like a slave. And Rafael felt a flash of +jealousy at the thought, as if he had rights over the woman still, as if +he had forgotten the cruelty with which he had bidden her farewell.</p> + +<p>That, fundamentally, had been the cause of all the bitterness and +remorse in his life. He understood now that Leonora had been his one +genuine passion: the love that comes to people once in a lifetime. It +had been within reach of his hand, and he had failed to grasp it, had +frightened it away forever with a cowardly act of villany, a cruel +farewell, the shame of which would go to the grave with him. Garlanded +in the orange-blossoms of the orchard, Love had passed before him, +singing the Hymn of wild Youth that knows neither scruples nor ambition. +Love, true love had invited him to follow—and he had answered with a +stab—in the back! That love would never return, as he well knew. That +mysterious being with its smiles and with its frolics, goes forever when +once it goes. It knows no bartering with destiny. It demands blind +obedience and bids the lover take the woman who offers her hand, +orchard-maid or prima donna as she may be. The man who hesitates is +lost.</p> + +<p>And Rafael felt that an endless night had closed around him! He found +all his efforts to escape from his dullness and depression vain. He +could not shake off the senility that was creeping over his spirit. +Sadly he bowed to the conviction that another love like the first was +impossible.</p> + +<p>For two months he had been the lover of Cora, a popular girl of the +private rooms of the Fornos, a tall, thin, strong Galician beauty—as +strong, alas, as the other. Cora had spent a few months in Paris, and +had returned thence with her hair bleached and a distinctly French +manner of lifting her skirt as if she were strolling along the +<em>trottoir</em> of the <em>boulevards</em>. She had a sweet way of mixing French +words in her conversation, calling everybody <em>mon cher</em> and pretending +expertness in the organization of a supper. At all events she shone like +a great <em>cocotte</em> among her competitors, though her real asset was a +line of <em>risqué</em> stories, and a certain gift for low songs.</p> + +<p>Rafael soon wearied of this affair. He did not like her manufactured +beauty, nor her tiresome chatter that always turned on fashions. She was +always wanting money for herself and for her friends. Rafael, as a +wealthy miser, grew alarmed. Remorsefully he thought of his children's +future, as if he were ruining them; and of what his economical Remedios +would say of his considerably augmented expenditures. Well he knew that +Remedios haggled for everything down to the last <em>céntimo</em>, and that her +one extravagance was an occasional new shawl for the local Virgin, and +an annual <em>fiesta</em> for the Saint with a large orchestra and hundreds of +candles! He broke off relations with the Galician <em>boulevardière</em>, and +found the rupture a sweet relief. It seemed to remove a sully from the +memory of his youthful passion. Moreover, his Party had just returned to +power and it was important to have no blemish on his standing as a +"serious" person! He resumed his seat on the Right, and near the Blue +Bench this time, as one of the senior deputies. The moment for work had +come! Now, it was time to see whether he could not make a position for +himself with one good boost!</p> + +<p>They named him to the Committee on the Budget, and he took it upon +himself to refute certain strictures presented by the Opposition to the +Government program on Pardon and Justice. One friend he could count on +was the minister: a respectable, solemn marquis who had once been an +Absolutist, and who, wearied of platonisms, as he put it, had finally +"recognized" the liberal regime, without amending his former ideas, +however.</p> + +<p>Rafael was as nervous as a schoolboy on the eve of his first +examinations. At the library he studied everything that had been said on +the subject by countless deputies in a century of Parliamentary +government. His friends in the Conference Chamber—the legislative +bohemia of "ex-honorables" and unsuccessful aspirants, who were loyal to +him in gratitude for passes to the floor—were encouraging him and +prophesying victory. They no longer approached him to begin: "When I was +auditor ..." to indulge in a veritable intoxication on the fumes of +their past glory; no longer did they ask him what don Francisco thought +of this, that, or the other thing, to draw their own wild inferences +from his replies and start rumors going based on "inside information." +Now, quite frankly, they "advised" him, giving him hints in accordance +with what they had said or meant to say during that discussion of the +budget back in González Brabo's time, to end by murmuring, with a smile +that gave him the shudders: "Well, anyhow, we'll see! Good luck to you!"</p> + +<p>And that flock of disgruntled spirits who sat around waiting for an +election that would never come and ran like old war-horses at the scent +of gun-powder to group themselves, as soon as a row started and the bell +began to ring for order, in two factions on either side of the +president's chair, could never have imagined that the young deputy, on +many a night, broke off his study with a temptation to throw the thick +tomes of records against the wall, yielding finally, with thrills of +intense voluptuousness, to the thought of what might have become of him +had he gone out into life on his own in the trail of a pair of green +eyes whose golden lights he thought he could still see glittering in +front of him between the lines of clumsy parliamentary prose, tempting +him as they had tempted him of yore!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + + +<p>"Order of the day. Resumption of debate on ecclesiastical +appropriations!"</p> + +<p>The Chamber suddenly came to life with a wild movement of dispersion, +something comparable to the stampede of a herd or the panic of an army. +The deputies of quickest motory reactions were on their feet in an +instant, followed by dozens and dozens of others, all making for the +doors. Whole blocks of seats were emptied.</p> + +<p>The Chamber had been packed from the opening of the Session. It was a +day of intense excitement: a debate between the leader of the Right and +a former comrade who was now in the Opposition. The jealousy between the +two old cronies was resulting in a small-sized scandal. Mutual secrets +of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light—many of +the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the +premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to +enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either +hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two +hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And +the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm. +Run—do not walk—to the nearest exit!</p> + +<p>However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor +served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped +by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their +benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where, +a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a +gently ironical smile, was coming into view.</p> + +<p>The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person, +that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies +had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink +at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale +countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age. +To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with +which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty.</p> + +<p>The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the +Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared +through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the +press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for +silence in order not to lose a word.</p> + +<p>This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the +Revolution"—not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but +the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all +present systems of government and society. His theories irritated +everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering +ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired +by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious +feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the +silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the +vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the +revelation of a perfect society of the future, where there would be no +oppression and no misery, the dream he had so often dreamed in the +solitude of his study.</p> + +<p>Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart +from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters +do their <em>matador</em>. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at +his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to +the venerable orator.</p> + +<p>He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence. What a strong, +sturdy spirit, as hard and cold and clear as ice! That veteran had +doubtless had his passions like other men. At moments, through his calm +impassive exterior, a romantic vehemence would seem to burn, a poetic +ardor, that politics had smothered, but which smouldered on as volcanic +fires lie dormant rumbling from time to time under the mantle of snow on +a mountain peak. But he had known how to adjust his life to duty; and +without belief in God, with the support of philosophy only, his virtue +had been strong enough to disarm his most violent enemies.</p> + +<p>And a weakling, a dawdler like himself, must reply to a hero like +that!... Rafael began to be afraid; and to recover his spirits he swept +the hall with his eyes. What the regular hangers-on of the sessions +would have called a medium-sized house! A few deputies scattered about +the benches! But the public galleries were filled with spectators, +workingmen mostly, absolutely quiet, and all ears, as if they were +drinking in every word of the old republican! In the reserved seats, +just previously packed with curiosity-seekers interested in the set-to +scheduled for the opening of the session, only a few foreign tourists +were left. They were taking in everything—even the fantastic uniforms +of the mace-bearers; and they were determined not to leave until they +were put out. A few women of the so-called "parliament set," who came +every afternoon when there was a squabble on the program, were munching +caramels and staring in wonderment at the old man. There he was, the +arch enemy of law and order! The man whose name it was bad form to +mention at their afternoon teas! Who would have supposed he had such a +kindly, harmless face? How easily, with what naturalness and grace, he +wore his frock coat! Incredible!... In the diplomatic gallery a solitary +lady! She was extravagantly attired in a huge picture hat with black +plumes. Almost hidden behind her was a fair haired youth, his hair +parted in the middle, his dress the height of correctness and foppery. +Some rich tourist-woman probably! She was directly opposite Rafael's +bench. He could see that her gloved hand rested on the railing, as she +moved her fan to and fro with an almost discourteous noise. The rest of +her body was lost in the darkness of the gallery. She bent back from +time to time to whisper and laugh with her escort.</p> + +<p>Somewhat reassured by the empty appearance of the house, Rafael scarcely +paid any further attention to the orator. He had guessed all that the +man would say, and he was satisfied. The outline of the long answer he +had prepared would not in the least be affected.</p> + +<p>The old man was inflexible and unchangeable. For thirty years he had +been saying the same thing over and over again. Rafael had read that +speech any number of times. The man had made a close study of national +evils and abuses, and had formulated a complete and pitiless criticism +of them in which the absurdities stood out by force of contrast. With +the conviction that truth is forever the same and that there is nothing +ever so novel as the truth, he had kept repeating his criticism year +after year in a pure, concise, sonorous style that seemed to scatter the +ripe perfume of the classics about the muggy Chamber.</p> + +<p>He spoke in the name of the future Spain, of a Spain that would have no +kings, because it would be governed by itself; that would pay no +priests, because, respecting freedom of conscience, it would recognize +all cults and give privileges to none. And with a simple, unaffected +urbanity, as if he were constructing rhyming verses, he would pair +statistics off, underscoring the absurd manner in which the nation was +taking leave of a century of revolution during which all peoples had +done things while Spain was lying stagnant.</p> + +<p>More money, he pointed out, was spent on the maintenance of the Royal +House than upon public education. Conclusion: the support of a single +family in idleness was worth more than the awakening of an entire people +to modern life! In Madrid, in the very capital, within sight of every +one of his hearers, the schools remained in filthy hovels, while +churches and convents rose overnight on the principal streets like +magic palaces. During twenty-odd years of Restoration, more than fifty +completely new, religious edifices, girding the capital with a belt of +glittering structures, had been built. On the other hand, only a single +modern school, at all comparable to the ordinary public schools of any +town in England or Switzerland! The young men of the nation were feeble, +unenthusiastic, selfish and—pious—in contrast with fathers, who had +adored the generous ideals of liberty and democracy and had stood for +action, revolt! The son was an old man at majority, his breast laden +with medals, with no other intellectual stimulus than the debates of his +religious fraternity, trusting his future and his thinking to the Jesuit +introduced into the family by the mother, while the father smiled +bitterly, realizing that he was a back-number, belonging to a different +world, to a dying generation—though to a generation which had +galvanized the nation for a moment with the spirit of revolutionary +protest!</p> + +<p>Here was the Church collecting pay for its services from the faithful, +and then over again from the State! Here was the Ministry of the +Interior appealing for a reduction in taxes—a program of strict +economy—while new bishoprics were being created and ecclesiastical +appropriations swelled for the benefit of the upper clergy; and with no +advantage at all, meanwhile, to the proletariat of the soutane, to the +poor curates who, to make a bare living, had to practice the most +impious worldliness and unscrupulously exploit the house of God! And +while this was going on public works could wait, towns could go without +roads, Districts without railroads, though the wildest savages of Asia +and Africa had both! Fields could continue to perish of drought while +nearby rivers continued to pour their unutilized waters into the sea!</p> + +<p>A thrill of conviction rippled through the Chamber. The silence was +absolute. Everybody was holding his breath so as not to lose a syllable +from that faint voice, which sounded like a cry from a distant tomb. It +was as though Truth in person were passing through those murky +precincts; and when the orator ended with an invocation to the future, +in which social absurdities and injustice should no longer exist, the +silence became deeper still, as if a glacial blast of death were blowing +upon those brains that had thought themselves deliberating in the best +of all possible worlds.</p> + +<p>It was now time for the reply. Rafael arose, pale, pulling at his cuffs, +waiting a few minutes for the excitement in the Chamber to subside. The +audience had relaxed and was whispering and stirring about, after the +sustained attention compelled by the concise style and the barely +audible voice of the old man.</p> + +<p>If Rafael was depending on the sympathy of an audience to encourage him, +things looked promising indeed! The hall began to empty. Why not? Who is +interested in a committee's reply to the Opposition? Besides, Brull had +a bundle of documents on hand. A long-winded affair! Let's escape! +Deputies filed by in line across the semi-circle in front of him; while +above, in the galleries, the desertion was general. The caramel-chewers, +noting that the display of celebrities was over for the day, rose from +their places. Their coaches were ready outside for a ride through the +Castellana. That strange woman in the diplomatic gallery had also risen +to go. But no: she was giving her hand to her companion, bidding him +good-bye. Now she had resumed her seat, continuing the busy movement of +her fan that annoyed Rafael so. Thanks for the compliment, my fair one I +Though as far as he was concerned, the whole audience might have gone, +leaving only the president and the mace-bearers. Then he could speak +without any fear at all! The public galleries, especially, unnerved him. +Nobody had moved there. Those workingmen were without doubt waiting for +the rebuttal of his answer from their venerable spokesman. Rafael felt +that the swarthy heads above all those dirty blouses and shirt-fronts +without collars or neckties were eyeing him with stony coldness. "Now +we'll see what this ninny has got to say!"</p> + +<p>Rafael began with a eulogy on the immaculate character, the political +importance and the profound learning of that venerable septuagenarian +who still had strength to battle consistently and nobly for the lost +cause of his youth. An exordium of this nature was the regular +procedure. That was how "the Chief" did things. And as he spoke, +Rafael's eyes turned anxiously upon the clock. He wanted to be long, +very long. If he did not talk for an hour and a half or two hours he +would feel disgraced. Two hours was the least to be expected from a man +of his promise. He had seen party chiefs and faction leaders go it for a +whole afternoon, from four to eight, hoarse and puffing, sweating like +diggers in a sewer, with their collars wilted to rags, watching the +great hall-clock with the intentness of a man waiting to be hanged. +"Still an hour left before closing time!" a speaker's friends would say. +And the great orator, like a wearied horse, but a thoroughbred, would +find new energy somewhere and start on another lap, round and round, +repeating what he had already said a dozen times, summarizing the two +ideas he had managed to produce in four hours of sonorous chatter. With +duration as the test of quality, no one on the government had yet +succeeded in equaling a certain redheaded deputy of the Opposition who +was forever heckling the Premier, and could talk, if need be, three days +in succession for four hours a day.</p> + +<p>Rafael had heard people praise the conciseness and the clarity of +new-fangled oratory in the parliaments of Europe. The speeches of party +leaders in Paris or in London took up never more than half a column in a +newspaper. Even the old man he was answering had adopted, to be original +in everything, that selfsame conciseness: every sentence of his +contained two or three ideas. But the member from Alcira would not be +led astray by such niggardly parsimony. He believed that ponderousness +and extension were qualities indispensable to eloquence. He must fill a +whole issue of the Congressional Record, to impress his friends back +home in the District. So he talked and talked on, trying deliberately to +avoid ideas. Those he had he would keep in reserve as long as possible, +certain that the longer he held them prisoner the longer and more solemn +would his oration be.</p> + +<p>He had gained a quarter of an hour without making any reply to the +previous speech whatever, and literally burying his illustrious +antagonist in flowers. <em>Su señoria</em> was noteworthy firstly, because, +secondly, because, fourteenthly, because ... Nay more, he had +accomplished this, performed that, endeavored the other +thing—"But"—and with this <em>but</em>, alas, Rafael must begin to loosen up +on a little of what he had prepared in advance. <em>Su señoria</em> was an +"ideologue" of immense talent, but ever removed from reality; he would +govern peoples in accordance with theories dug out of books, without +paying any attention to practical considerations, to the individual and +indestructible character possessed by every nation!...</p> + +<p>And it was worth sitting an afternoon even in that Chamber to hear the +slighting tone of scorn with which the member from Alcira emphasized +that word <em>ideologue</em> and that phrase about "theories dug out of books" +and "living removed from reality!"</p> + +<p>"Good, fine. That's the way to give it to him," his comrades encouraged, +nodding their sleek bald-pates in indignation against anybody who tried +to live apart from reality. Those <em>ideologues</em> needed somebody to tell +them what was what!</p> + +<p>And the minister, Rafael's friend, the only auditor left on the Blue +Bench, pressing his huge paunch against the desk, turned his head—an +owlish, hairy head with a sharp beak—to smile indulgently on the young +man.</p> + +<p>The orator continued, his confidence increasing as he went on, fortified +by these signs of approval. He spoke of the patient, deliberate study +the committee had made of this matter of the ecclesiastical bud-gets. He +was the most modest, the least among them, but there were his +comrades—they were there, in truth, solemn gentlemen in English +frock-coats, with their hair parted in the middle, from their foreheads +to the napes of their necks—studious young men—who had flattered him +with the honor of speaking for them—and if they had not been more +economical, it was because greater economy had been impossible.</p> + +<p>And the heads of the committee-men nodded as they murmured gratefully:</p> + +<p>"Say, this fellow Brull can make quite a speech!"</p> + +<p>The government was ready to exercise any economy that should prove +prudent and feasible, without prejudice to the dignity of the nation; +but Spain was an eminently religious country, favored by God in all her +crises; and no government loyal to the national genius could ever touch +a <em>céntimo</em> of the ecclesiastical appropriation. Never! Never!...</p> + +<p>On the word <em>never</em> his voice resounded with the melancholy echo that +rings in empty houses. Rafael looked in anguish at the clock. Half an +hour. Half an hour gained, and still he had not really damaged his +outline. His talk was going so well that he was sorry the Chamber was +far from crowded!... Before him, in the shadows of the diplomatic +gallery, that fan kept fluttering. Pesky woman! Why couldn't she keep +quiet and not spoil his speech!</p> + +<p>The president, so restless and vigilant, so ever-ready with watch and +bell in hand when any of the Opposition had the floor, was now sitting +back in his chair with his eyes shut, dozing away with the confidence of +a stage director who is sure the show will go off without a hitch. The +panes of the glass dome were glowing under the rays of the sun, but they +allowed only a diffuse, green light, a discreet, soft, crypt-like +clarity to seep through into the Chamber that lay below in monastic +calm. Through the windows over the president's chair, Rafael glimpsed +patches of the blue sky, drenched in the gentle light of an afternoon of +Springtime. A white dove was hovering in the perspective of those blue +squares.</p> + +<p>Rafael felt a slackening of his powers of endurance, as if an +irresistible languor were stealing over him. The sweet smile of Nature +peering at him through the transoms of that gloomy, parliamentary tomb +had taken him back to his orange-orchards, and to his Valencian meadows +covered with flowers. He felt a curious impulse to finish his speech in +a few hasty words, grab his hat and flee, losing himself out among the +groves of the Royal Gardens. With that sun and those flowers outside, +what was he doing in that hole, talking of things that did not concern +him in the least?... But he successfully passed this fleeting crisis. He +ceased rummaging among the bundles of documents piled up on the bench, +stopped thumbing papers so as to hide his perturbation, and waving the +first sheet that came to his hand, he went on.</p> + +<p>The intention of the gentleman in opposing this appropriation was not +hidden from him. On this matter he had his own, his private and personal +ideas. "I understand that <em>su señoria</em>, in here proposing retrenchment, +is really seeking to combat religious institutions, of which he is a +declared enemy."</p> + +<p>And as he reached this point, Rafael dashed wildly into the fray. He was +treading firm and familiar ground. All this part of the speech he had +prepared, paragraph by paragraph: a defense of Catholicism, an apology +<em>pro fide</em>, so intimately bound up with the history of Spain. He could +now use impassioned outbursts and tremors of lyric enthusiasm, as if he +were preaching a new crusade.</p> + +<p>On the Opposition benches he caught the ironic glitter of a pair of +spectacles, the convulsions of a white chin quivering over two folded +arms, as if a kindly, indulgent smile had greeted his parade of so many +musty and faded commonplaces. But Rafael was not to be intimidated. He +had gotten away with an hour almost! Forward, to "Section Two" of the +outline, the part about the great national and Christian epic! And he +began to reel off visions of the cave of Covadonga; the fantastic tree +of the Reconquest "where the warrior hung up his sword, the poet his +harp," and so on and so on, for everybody hung up something there; seven +centuries of wars for the cross, a rather long time, believe me, +gentlemen, during which Saracen impiety was expelled from Spanish soil! +Then came the great triumphs of Catholic unity. Spain mistress of almost +the whole world, the sun never allowed to set on Spanish domains; the +caravels of Columbus bearing the cross to virgin lands; the light of +Christianity blazing forth from the folds of the national banner to shed +its illuminating rays throughout the earth.</p> + +<p>And as if this hymn to enlightening Christianity, chanted by an orator +who could now hardly see across the gloomy hall, had been a signal, the +electric lights went on; and the statues, the escutcheons, and the +harsh, blatant figures painted on the cupola, sprang forth from +obscurity.</p> + +<p>Rafael could hardly contain his joy at the facility with which his +speech was developing. That wave of light which was shed over the hall, +in the middle of the afternoon, while the sun was still shining, seemed +to him like the sudden entrance of Glory, approaching to give him the +accolade of renown.</p> + +<p>Caught up now in the real torrent of his premeditated verbosity, he +continued to relieve himself of all that he had learned by cramming +during the past few days. "In vain does <em>su señoria</em> fatigue his wits. +Spain is and will remain a profoundly religious country. Her history is +the history of Catholicism: she has survived in all her times of storm +and stress by tightly embracing the Cross." And he could now come to the +national wars; from the battles in which popular piety saw Saint James, +on his white steed, lopping off the heads of the Moors with his golden +cutlass, to the uprising of the people against Napoleon, behind the +banner of the parish and with their scapularies on their bosoms. He did +not have a word to say about the present. He left the pitiless criticism +of the old revolutionist intact. Why not? The dream of an ideologue! He +was absorbed in his song of the past, affirming for the hundredth time +that Spain had been great because she had been Catholic and that when +for a moment she had ceased to be Catholic, all the evils of the world +had descended upon her. He spoke of the excesses of the Revolution, of +the turbulent Republic of '73, (a cruel nightmare to all right-thinking +persons) and of the "canton" of Cartagena (the supreme recourse of +ministerial oratory),—a veritable cannibal feast, a horror that had +never been known even in this land of <em>pronunciamientos</em> and civil wars. +He tried his best to make his hearers feel the terror of those +revolutions, whose chief defect had been that they had revolutionized +nothing.... And then came a panegyric on the Christian family, on the +Catholic home, a nest of virtues and blessings, whereas in nations where +Catholicism did not reign all homes were repulsive brothels or horrible +bandit caves.</p> + +<p>"Fine, Brull, very good," grunted the minister, his elbows stretched +forward over his desk, delighted to hear his own ideas echoing from the +young man's mouth.</p> + +<p>The orator rested for a moment, with his glance sweeping the galleries +now bright with the electric lighting. The woman in the diplomatic +section had stopped fanning herself. She was following him closely. Her +eyes met his.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden Rafael nearly fell to his seat. Those eyes!... Perhaps an +astonishing resemblance! But no; it was she—she was smiling to him with +that same jesting, mocking smile of their earlier acquaintance!</p> + +<p>He felt like the bird writhing on the tree unable to free itself from +the hypnotic stare of the serpent coiled near the trunk. Those +sarcastic, mischievous eyes had upset all his train of thought. He tried +to finish in some way or other, to end his speech as soon as possible. +Every minute was an added torment to him; he imagined he could hear the +mute gibes that mouth must be uttering at his expense.</p> + +<p>Again he looked at the clock; in fifteen minutes more he would be +through. And he spurted on at a mad pace, with a hurried voice, +forgetting the devices he had thought of to prolong the peroration, +dumping them out all in a heap—anything to get through! "The Concordate... +sacred obligations toward the clergy ... their services of old ... +promises of close friendship with the Pope ... the generous father of +Spain ... in short, we cannot reduce the budget by a <em>céntimo</em> and the +committee stands, by its proposals without accepting a single amendment."</p> + +<p>As he sat down, perspiring, excited, wiping his congested face +energetically, his bench companions gathered around him congratulating +him, shaking his hands. He was every inch an orator! He should have gone +deeper into the matter and taken even more time! He shouldn't have been +so modest!</p> + +<p>And from the bench below came the grunt of the minister:</p> + +<p>"Very good, very good. You said exactly what I would have said."</p> + +<p>The old revolutionist arose to make a short rebuttal, repeating the +contentions of his original speech, of which no denial had been +attempted.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite tired," sighed Rafael, in reply to the felicitations.</p> + +<p>"You can go out if you wish," said the minister. "I think I'll answer +the rebuttal myself. It's a courtesy due to so old a deputy."</p> + +<p>Rafael raised his eyes toward the diplomatic gallery. It was empty. But +he imagined he could still make out the plumes of a woman's hat in the +dark background.</p> + +<p>He left his bench hastily and hurried to the corridor, where a number of +deputies were waiting with their congratulations.</p> + +<p>Not one of them had heard him, but they were all profuse in their +flattering remarks. They shook his hand and detained him maddeningly. +Once more he thought he could descry at the end of the corridor, at the +foot of the gallery staircase, standing out against the glass exit-door, +those black, waving plumes.</p> + +<p>He elbowed his way through the crowds, deaf to all congratulations, +brushing aside the hands that were proferred to him.</p> + +<p>Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking +out with eyes radiant with admiration.</p> + +<p>"What a woman? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> + +<p>As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step +into a vehicle. An usher of the Congress was holding the carriage door +open, with the demonstrative respect inspired by the goldbraid shining +on the driver's hat. It was an embassy coach!</p> + +<p>Rafael approached, believing, from the carriage, that it still might +prove to be a case of an astonishing resemblance. But no; it was she; +the same woman she had always been, as if eight hours and not eight +years had passed:</p> + +<p>"Leonora! You here!..."</p> + +<p>She smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him +again.</p> + +<p>"I saw you and heard you. You did very well, Rafael: I enjoyed it."</p> + +<p>And grasping his hand in a frank, hearty clasp of friendship, she +entered the carriage with a rustle of silk and fine linen.</p> + +<p>"Come! Won't you step in too?" she asked, smiling. "Join me for a little +drive along the Castellana. It's a magnificent afternoon; a little fresh +air won't do any harm after that muggy room."</p> + +<p>Rafael, to the astonishment of the usher, who was surprised to see him +in such seductive company, got in; and the carriage rolled off. There +they were, together again, sitting side by side, swaying gently back and +forth with the motion of the soft springs.</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for words. The cold, ironic smile of his former +lover chilled him. He was flushed with shame at the thought of how he +had treated that beautiful creature the last time they had seen each +other. He wanted to say something, and yet he could not find a way to +begin. The ceremonious, formal <em>usted</em> she had employed in inviting him +into the carriage embarrassed him. At last he ventured, timidly, also +avoiding the intimate <em>tu</em>!</p> + +<p>"Imagine our meeting here! What a surprise!"</p> + +<p>"I got in yesterday; tomorrow I leave for Lisbon. A short stop, isn't +it! Just time for a word with the director of the <em>Real</em>; perhaps I'll +come next winter to sing <em>Die Walküre</em> here. But let's talk about you, +illustrious orator.... But I may say <em>tu</em> to you, mayn't I?" she +corrected—"for I believe we are still friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes, friends, Leonora.... I have never been able to forget you."</p> + +<p>But the feeling he put into the words vanished before the cold smile +with which she answered.</p> + +<p>"Friends; that's it," she said, slowly. "Friends, and nothing more. +Between us there lies a corpse that prevents us from getting very close +to each other again."</p> + +<p>"A corpse?" asked Rafael, not catching her meaning.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the love you murdered.... Friends, nothing more; comrades united +by complicity in a crime."</p> + +<p>And she laughed with cruel sarcasm, while the carriage turned into one +of the avenues of Recoletos. Leonora looked vacantly out upon the +central boulevard. The rows of iron benches were filled with people. +Groups of children in charge of governesses were playing gaily about in +the soft, golden splendor of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"I read in the papers this morning that don Rafael Brull, 'of the +Finance Commission,' if you please, would undertake to speak for the +Ministry on the matter of the budget; so I got down on my knees to an +old friend of mine, the secretary of the English embassy, and begged him +to come and take me to the session. This coach is his.... Poor fellow! +He doesn't know you, but the moment he saw you stand up to speak, he +took to his heels.... He missed something though; for really, you +weren't half bad. I'm quite impressed. Say, Rafael, where do you dig up +all those things?"</p> + +<p>But Rafael looked uneasily at her cruel smile and refused to accept her +praise. Besides, what did he care about his speech? It seemed to him +that he had been for years and years in that coach; that a whole +lifetime had gone by since he left the halls of the Congress. His gaze +was fixed on her in admiration, and his astonished eyes were drinking in +the beauty of her face, and of her figure.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful you are!" he murmured in impulsive enchantment. "The same +as you were then. It seems impossible that eight years can have flown +by."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I admit that I bear up well. Time seems not to touch me. A little +longer at the dressing table—that's all. I'm one of the people who die +in harness, so to speak, making no concessions, so far as looks go, to +old age. Rather than surrender, I'd kill myself. I intend to put Ninon +de Lenclos in the shade!"</p> + +<p>It was true. Eight years had made not the slightest impression on her. +The same freshness, the same robust, energetic slenderness, the +identical flames of arrogant vitality in her green eyes. Instead of +withering under the incessant parching of passion's flame, she seemed to +grow stronger, hardier, in the crucible.</p> + +<p>She measured the deputy with sarcastic playfulness.</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael! I'm sorry I can't say as much for you. How you've changed! +You look almost like a Knight of the Crown. You're fat! You're bald! And +those eyeglasses! Why, I could hardly recognize you in the Chamber. How +my romantic Moor has aged! You poor dear! You even have wrinkles!..."</p> + +<p>And she laughed, as if it filled her with intense joy, the joy of +vengeance, to see her former lover so crestfallen at her portrayal of +his decrepitude.</p> + +<p>"You're not happy, are you! I can see that. And yet, you ought to be. +You must have married that girl your mother picked for you. You +doubtless have children.... Don't try to fib to me, just to seem more... +what shall I say ... more interesting! I can see it from the looks +of you. You are the <em>pater familias</em> all over. I am never mistaken in +such things!... Well, why aren't you happy? You have all the requisites +for a personage of note, and you will shortly be one. I'll bet you wear +that sash to hold your paunch in! You are rich, you make speeches in +that horrid, gloomy, cave. Your friends back home will go into ecstasies +when they read the oration their honorable deputy has delivered; and I +imagine they're already preparing fireworks and music for a reception +to you. What more could you ask for?"</p> + +<p>And with her eyes half-closed, smiling maliciously, she waited for his +reply, knowing in advance what it would be.</p> + +<p>"What more can I ask for? Love; Leonora, the love I once had ... with +you."</p> + +<p>And with the vehemence of other days, as if they were still among the +orange-trees of the old Blue House, the deputy gave way to his eight +years of longing.</p> + +<p>He told her of the image he nourished in his sadness. Love! The Love +that passes but once in a lifetime, crowned with flowers, and followed +by a retinue of kisses and laughter. And whosoever follows him in +obedience, finds happiness at the end of the joyous pathway; but +whosoever, through pride or selfishness, lags by the wayside, comes to +lament his folly and to expiate his cowardice in an everlasting life of +tedium and sorrow! He had sinned, grievously. That he would confess! But +could she not forgive him? He had paid for his deliquency with eight +long, monotonous, crushing, meaningless years, one suffocating stifling +night that never broke into morning. But they had met again! There was +still time, Leonora! They could still call back the Springtime of their +lives, make it burgeon anew, compel Love to retrace his footsteps, pass +their way again, stretching forth his sweet hands of youth to them!</p> + +<p>The actress was listening with a smile upon her lips, her eyes closed, +her head thrown back in the carriage. It was an expression of intense +pleasure, as if she were tasting with delight the fire of love that was +still burning in Rafael, and that, to her, meant vengeance.</p> + +<p>The horses were proceeding at a walk along la Castellana. Other +carriages were going by and the people in them peered back at the coach +with that beautiful, unknown woman.</p> + +<p>"What is your answer, Leonora? We can still be happy! Forget the past +and the wrong I did you! Imagine it was only yesterday that we said +good-bye in the orchard, and that we are meeting again today to begin +our lives over again from the beginning, to live together always, +always."</p> + +<p>"No," she replied coldly. "You yourself just said so: Love passes but +once in a lifetime. I know that from cruel experience. I have done my +best to forget. No, Love has passed us by! It would be sheer folly for +us to ask him to hunt us up again. He never comes back! Our most +desperate effort could revive barely the shadow of him. You let him +escape. Well, you must weep for your loss, just as I had to weep for +your baseness ... Besides, you don't realize the situation we are in +now! Don't you remember what we talked about on our first night there in +the moonlight? 'The arrogant month of May, the young warrior in an armor +of flowers, seeks out his beloved, Youth.' Well, where is our youth now? +Quite frankly, you can find mine on my dressing-table! I buy it at the +perfumer's; and though that gentleman is quite skilled at disguising me, +there's an oldness of the spirit underneath, a terrible thing I don't +dare think about, because it frightens me so. And yours, poor +Rafael—you just haven't any, not even the kind you can buy! Take a good +look at yourself! You're ugly, to put it mildly, my dear boy! You're +lost that attractive slimness of your younger days. Your dreams make me +laugh! A passion at this late date! The idyll of a middle-aged siren and +a bald-headed father of a litter of children, with a paunch, with a +paunch, with a paunch! Oh, Rafael! Ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>The cruel mocker! How she laughed! How she was avenging herself. Rafael +grew angry at this cutting, ironic resistance. He began to flame with a +more excited passion.... The ravages of time made no difference. Could +not Love work miracles! He loved her more than he had ever loved her in +the olden days. He felt a mad hunger for her. Passion would give them +back the fires of youth. Love was like a springtime that brings new sap +to branches grown numb in the winter's cold. Let her say "Yes," and on +the instant she would behold the miracle, the resurrection of their +slumbering past, the awakening of their souls to the future of love!</p> + +<p>"And your wife? And your children?" Leonora asked, brutally, as if she +wished to bring him back to realities, with a smarting lash from a whip.</p> + +<p>But Rafael was now beside himself, drunk with the nearness of all that +beauty, and with the waves of perfume that filled the interior of the +carriage.</p> + +<p>Wife? Family? He would leave everything for her: family, future, +position. It was she he needed to live and be happy!</p> + +<p>"I will go with you; everybody is a stranger to me when I think of you. +You, you alone, are my life, my love!"</p> + +<p>"Many thanks," Leonora answered curtly. "I could not accept such a +sacrifice.... Besides, all that sanctity of the home you were just +talking about a few moments ago in the Chamber? And all that Christian +morality, without which civilization would go to the damnation bow wows! +How I laughed when I heard you say that. How you were stuffing those +poor ninkampoops!..."</p> + +<p>And again she laughed cruelly, at the contrast between his pious words +in Congress and his mad idea of forsaking everything to follow her +around the world. Oh, the hypocrite! She had felt, as she sat listening +to him, that his speech was a pack of lies, a mess of conventional +trumpery and platitudes! The only one there who had spoken with any real +sincerity, any real virtue, was that little old man, whom she had +listened to with veneration because he had been one of her father's +idols!</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed with bitter shame. Leonora's flat refusal, her +pitiless mockery of his speech, had brought him to realize the enormity +of his baseness. She was avenging herself by bringing him face to face +with the abjectness of his mad, hopeless passion, which made him capable +of committing the lowest deeds!</p> + +<p>Dusk was gathering. Leonora ordered the driver to the Plaza de Oriente. +She was stopping in one of the houses near the Opera where many +theatrical people lodged. She was in a hurry! She had a dinner +engagement with that young man from the Embassy, and two musical critics +were to be introduced to her.</p> + +<p>"And I, Leonora? Are we not to see each other any longer?"</p> + +<p>"As far as my door, if you wish, and then ... till we meet again!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Leonora, stay here a few days! Let me see you! Let me have +the consolation of talking to you, of feeling the bitter pleasure of +your ridicule, at least!"</p> + +<p>Stay a few days!... Her days did not belong to her. She traveled from +one end of the world to the other, with her life marked off to the tick +of the clock. From Madrid to Lisbon—an engagement at the San +Carlos—three performances of Wagner! Then, a jump to Stockholm! After +that she was not quite sure where she would go; to Odessa, or to Cairo. +She was the Wandering Jew, the Valkyrie galloping along on the clouds of +a musical tempest, from frontier to frontier, from pole to pole, +arrogant, victorious, suffering not the slightest harm to health or +beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you only would! If you would let me follow you! As your friend, +nothing more! As your servant, if necessary!"</p> + +<p>And he grasped her hand, passionately, thrusting his fingers up her +sleeve, fondling the delicate arm underneath her glove. She did not +resist.</p> + +<p>"There! Do you see, Rafael?" she said, smiling coldly. "You have touched +me, and it's useless; not the slightest thrill. You're as good as dead +to me. My flesh does not tingle at your fondling. In fact, I find it all +decidedly annoying!"</p> + +<p>Rafael realized that it was true. She had once trembled madly under his +caresses. Now she was quite insensible, quite cold!</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Rafael. It's over, spelled with a capital <em>O</em>. It's not +worth wasting a moment's thought on. As I look at you now I feel the way +I do when I see one of my old dresses that, in its time, I went mad +over. I see nothing but the defects—the absurdities of the fashion that +is out of date. Our passion died as it should properly have died. +Perhaps your deserting me was for the best. It was better for you to +default in the full splendor of our honeymoon than to have broken with +me afterwards, when I should have moulded my nature forever to your +caresses. We were brought together ... oh, by the orange perfume, by +that cursed Springtime; but you were not meant for me, nor was I ever +meant for you. We are of different breeds. You were born a bourgeois. I +am an out-and-out bohemian! Love and the novelty of my kind quite, +dazzled you. You struggled hard, you beat your wings, to follow me, but +you fell to earth from the very weight of your inherited traits. You +have the appetites and the ambitions of people like you! Now you imagine +you are unhappy! But you'll find you're not when you see yourself become +a personage,' when you count the acreage of your orchards over, when you +see your children growing up to inherit papa's power and fortune. This +business of love for love's sake, mocking at law and morality, scorning +life and peacefulness, that is our privilege, the privilege of us +bohemians—the sole blessing left to us mad creatures whom society looks +upon—quite properly, I suppose—with disdainful mistrust. Each to his +own! The poultry to their quiet roost, where they can fatten in the sun; +the birds of passage to their wandering life of song, sometimes in a +flowering garden, sometimes in the cold and storm!"</p> + +<p>And smiling again, as if those words, uttered with such gravity and +conviction, had been too cruel in their effective summary of the whole +story of their love, she added in a jesting tone:</p> + +<p>"That was a fine little paragraph, wasn't it? What a pity you didn't +hear it in time to tack it on at the end of your speech!"</p> + +<p>The carriage had entered the <em>Plaza de Oriente</em>; and was drawing up in +front of Leonora's house.</p> + +<p>"May I go in with you?" the deputy asked anxiously, much as a child +might beg for a toy.</p> + +<p>"Why? You'll only be bored. It will be the same as here. Upstairs there +is no moon, and there are no orange-trees in bloom. You can't expect two +nights like that in a life like yours. Besides, I don't want Beppa to +see you. She has a vivid recollection of that afternoon in the Hôtel de +Roma when I got your note. I'd lose prestige with her if she saw me in +your company."</p> + +<p>With a commanding gesture she motioned him to the sidewalk. When the +carriage had gone they stood there together for a moment looking at each +other for the last time.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Rafael. Take good care of yourself, and try not to grow old +so rapidly. I believe it's been a real pleasure, though, to see you +again. I needed just this to convince myself it was really all over!"</p> + +<p>"But are you going like this!... Is this the way you let a passion end +that still fills my life!... When shall we see each other again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know: never ... perhaps when you least expect it. The world is +large, but when a person gads about it the way I do, you never can tell +whom you are going to meet."</p> + +<p>Rafael pointed to the Opera nearby.</p> + +<p>"And if you should come to sing ... here?... If I were actually to see +you again?...."</p> + +<p>Leonora smiled haughtily, guessing what he meant.</p> + +<p>"In that case, you will be one of my countless friends, I suppose, but +nothing more. Don't imagine that I'm a saint even now. I'm just as I was +before you knew me. The property of everybody—understand—and of +nobody! But of the janitor of the opera, if necessary, sooner than of +you. You are a corpse, in my eyes, Rafael.... Farewell!"</p> + +<p>He saw her vanish through the doorway; and he stood for a long time +there on the sidewalk, completely crushed, staring vacantly into the +last glow of twilight that was growing pale beyond the gables of the +Royal Palace.</p> + +<p>Some birds were twittering on the trees of the garden, shaking the +leaves with their mischievous playfulness, as if the fires of Springtime +were coursing in their veins. For Spring had come again, faithful and +punctual, as every year.</p> + +<p>He staggered off toward the center of the city, slowly, dejectedly, with +the thought of death in his mind, bidding farewell to all his dreams, +which that woman seemed to have destroyed forever in turning her back +implacably upon him. Yes! A corpse, indeed! He was a dead man dragging a +soulless body along under the sad glimmering of the first street-lamps. +Farewell! Farewell to Love! Farewell to Youth! For him Springtime would +never return again. Joyous Folly repelled him as an unworthy deserter. +His future was to grow a fatter and fatter paunch under the frock coat +of a "personage"!</p> + +<p>At the corner of the Calle del Arenal he heard his name called. It was +a deputy, a comrade of "the Party" who had just come from the session.</p> + +<p>"Let me congratulate you, Brull; you were simply monumental! The Chief +spoke enthusiastically of your speech to the Prime Minister! It's a +foregone conclusion. At the first new deal you'll be made +director-general or undersecretary at least! Again, my congratulations, +old fellow!"</p> + +<p>THE END</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11674 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..31f8826 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #11674 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11674) diff --git a/old/11674-8.txt b/old/11674-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..db6ec2d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11674-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9776 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Torrent + Entre Naranjos + +Author: Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +Release Date: March 22, 2004 [EBook #11674] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +THE TORRENT + +(ENTRE NARANJOS) + + +By VICENTE BLASCO IBAÑEZ + + +TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY + +ISAAC GOLDBERG + +AND + +ARTHUR LIVINGSTON + +1921 + + + + +THE TORRENT + + + + +PART ONE + +I + + +"Your friends are waiting for you at the Club. They saw you for a moment +only, this morning; they'll be wanting to hear all your stories about +life in Madrid." + +Doña Bernarda fixed upon the young deputy a pair of deep, scrutinizing, +severely maternal eyes that recalled to Rafael all the roguish anxieties +of his childhood. + +"Are you going directly to the Club?..." she added. "Andrés will be +starting too, right away." + +Rafael, in reply, wished a blunt "good-afternoon" to his mother and don +Andrés, who were still at table sipping their coffee, and strode out of +the dining-room. + +Finding himself on the broad, red-marble staircase in the silence of +that ancient mansion, of such princely magnificence, he experienced the +sudden sense of comfort and wellbeing that a traveler feels on plunging +into a bath after a tedious journey. + +Ever since he had arrived, with the noisy reception at the station, the +hurrahs, the deafening music, handshakes here, crowding there, the +pushing and elbowing of more than a thousand people who had thronged +the streets of Alcira to get a close look at him, this was the first +moment he had found himself alone, his own master, able to do exactly as +he pleased, without needing to smile automatically in all directions and +welcome with demonstrations of affection persons whose faces he could +scarcely recall. + +What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted +staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the +_patio_ was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains +flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of +his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding +behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the +powerful don Ramón Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard +workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving +their arms, and shouting _vivas_ for their deputy--Alcira's "favorite +son." + +This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, +though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his +mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his +noisy reception, not to mention don Andrés, and numerous other friends, +ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, +_caciques_--political bosses--and leading citizens of the district. + +To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding +himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for +some time motionless in the _patio_, looking up at the balconies of the +first story, then at the attic windows--from which in mischievous years +gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his +mother's scolding voice--and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue +above--a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the +oranges to clusters of flaming gold. + +He thought he could still see his father--the imposing, solemn don +Ramón--sauntering about the _patio_, his hands behind his back, +answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his +party adherents, who followed him about with idolatrous eyes. If the old +man could only have come back to life that morning to see how his son +had been acclaimed by the entire city!... + +A barely perceptible sound like the buzzing of two flies broke the deep +silence of the mansion. The deputy looked toward the only balcony window +that was open, though but slightly. His mother and don Andrés were still +talking in the dining-room--and of him, as usual, without a doubt! And, +lest they should call him, and suddenly deprive him of his keen +enjoyment at being alone, he left the _patio_ and went out into the +street. + +It was only the month of March; but at two in the afternoon the air was +almost uncomfortably hot. Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to +the winter rains, Rafael inhaled, with a sense of voluptuous pleasure, +the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards +through the narrow lanes of the ancient town. + +Once, years before, he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage, +entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia, who would +not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos. A +memory of a Venetian _calle_ now came back to Rafael's mind as he +traversed the streets of old Alcira--shadowy, cramped, sunk deep as +wells between rows of high houses. With all the economy of a city built +on an island, Alcira rears its edifices higher and higher as its +population grows, leaving just enough space free for the bare needs of +traffic. + +The streets were deserted. The noisy, orchard workers who had welcomed +Rafael had gone back to the fields again. All the idlers had fled to the +cafés, and as the deputy walked smartly by in front of these, warm waves +of air came out upon him through the windows, with the clatter of poker +chips, the noise of billiard balls, and the uproar of heated argument. + +Rafael reached the Suburban Bridge, one of the two means of egress from +the Old City. The Júcar was combing its muddy, reddish waters on the +piles of the ancient structure. A number of row-boats, made fast to the +houses on the shore, were tugging at their moorings. Rafael recognized +among them the fine craft that he had once used for lonely trips on the +river. It lay there quite forgotten, gradually shedding its coat of +white paint out in the weather. + +Then he looked at the bridge itself; the Gothic-arched gate, a relic of +the old fortifications; the battlements of yellowish, chipped rock, +which looked as if all the rats of the river had come at night to nibble +at them; then two niches with a collection of mutilated, dust-laden +images--San Bernardo, patron Saint of Alcira, and his estimable sisters. +Dear old San Bernardo, _alias_ Prince Hamete, son of the Moorish king +of Carlet, converted to Christ by the mystic poesy of the Christian +cult,--and still wearing in his mangled forehead the nail of martyrdom! + +As Rafael walked past the rude, disfigured statue he thought of all the +stories his mother, an uncompromising clerical and a woman of credulous +faith, had told him of the patron of Alcira, particularly the legend of +the enmity and struggle between San Vicente and San Bernardo, an +ingenuous fancy of popular superstition. + +Saint Vincent, who was an eloquent preacher arrived at Alcira on one of +his tours, and stopped at a blacksmith's shop near the bridge to get his +donkey shod. When the work was done the horseshoer asked for the usual +price for his labor; but San Vicente, accustomed to living on the bounty +of the faithful, waxed indignant, and looking at the Júcar, exclaimed, +vindictively: + +"Some day folks will say: 'This is where Alcira used to be'." + +"Not while Bernardo is here!" the statue of San Bernardo remarked from +its pedestal. + +And there the statue of the saint still stood, like an eternal sentinel, +watching over the Júcar to exorcise the curse of the rancorous Saint +Vincent! To be sure the river would rise and overflow its banks every +year, reaching to the very feet of San Bernardo sometimes, and coming +within an ace of pulling the wily saint down from his perch. It is also +true that every five or six years the flood would shake houses loose +from their foundations, destroy good farm land, drown people, and commit +other horrible depredations--all in obedience to the curse of Valencia's +patron; but the saint of Alcira was the better man of the two for all +of that! And, if you didn't believe it, there the city was, still +planted firmly on its feet and quite unscathed, except for a scratch +here and there from times when the rains were exceptionally heavy and +the waters came down from Cuenca in a great roaring torrent! + +With a smile and a nod to the powerful saint, as to an old friend of +childhood, Rafael crossed the bridge and entered the _arrabal_, the "New +City," ample, roomy, unobstructed, as if the close-packed houses of the +island, to get elbow-room and a breath of air, had stampeded in a flock +to the other bank of the river, scattering hither and thither in the +hilarious disorder of children let loose from school. + +The deputy paused at the head of the street on which his club was +located. Even from there he could hear the talking and laughing of the +many members, who had gathered in much greater number than usual because +of his arrival. What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! +A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the +orange crop, or cock-fighting. He would be expected to tell them what +kind of a man the Premier was--and then spend the afternoon analyzing +the character of every minister! Then don Andrés would be there, that +boresome Mentor who, at the instance of Rafael's mother, would never let +him out of sight for a moment. Bah! The Club could wait! He would have +plenty of time later in the day to stifle in that smoke-filled parlor +where, the moment he showed his face, everybody would be upon him and +pester the life out of him with questions and wire-pulling! + +And more and more yielding to the lure of the southern sunshine and to +those perfumes of May floating about him in wintertime, he turned off +into a lane that led to the fields. + +As he emerged from the ancient Ghetto and found himself in the open +country, he drew a deep breath, as if to imprison in his lungs all the +life, bloom and color of his native soil. + +The orange orchards lined both banks of the stream with straight rows of +green, round tree-tops. The sun glistened off the varnished leaves; the +wheels of irrigating machines sounded from the distance like humming +insects. The moisture rising from the canals, joined the clouds from the +chimneys of the motors, to form a thin veil of mist over the +countryside, that gave a pearly transparency to the golden light of the +afternoon. + +To one side rose the hill of San Salvador, its crest topped with the +Hermitage, and the pines, the cypresses, and the prickly pears around +that rough testimonial of popular piety. The sanctuary seemed to be +talking to him like an indiscreet friend, betraying the real motive that +had caused him to evade his appointment with his political friends and +disobey his mother into the bargain. + +Something more than the beauty of the fields had enticed him from the +city. When the rays of the rising sun had awakened him that morning on +the train, the first thing he had seen, before opening his eyes even, +was an orange orchard, the bank of the Júcar, and a house painted +blue,--the very one that was now in sight away off there, among the +round tree-tops along the river. + +How many times in past months his thoughts had lingered on the memory of +that same scene! + +Afternoons, in the Congress, while the Premier on the Blue Bench would +be answering the interpellations of the Opposition in sharp incisive +tones, Rafael's brain would begin to doze, reduced to jelly, as it were, +by the incessant hammering of words, words, words! Before his closed +eyes a dark veil would begin to unroll as if the moist, cellar-like +gloom in which the Chamber is always plunged, had thickened suddenly, +and against this curtain, like a cinema dream, rows of orange-trees +would come into view, and a blue house with open windows; and pouring +through the windows a stream of notes from a soft voice, ever so sweet, +singing _lieder_ and ballads as an accompaniment to the hard, sonorous +paragraphs snapping from the Premier's teeth. Then applause and +disorder! The moment for voting had arrived, and the fading outlines of +the Blue House still hovering before his dreamy eyes, the member for +Alcira would ask his neighbor: + +"How do we vote? Yes or no?" + +The same it was at night at the Opera, where music served only to remind +him of a familiar voice winding like a thread of gold out across the +orchards through the orange trees; and the same again, after dinner with +his colleagues on committees, when the deputies, their cigars tilted +cockily upwards between their lips, and with all the voluptuous gaiety +inspired by good digestions, would troop off to see the night out in +some trustworthy house of assignation where their dignity as +representatives of the country would not be compromised! + +Now that blue house was actually before his eyes! And he was hurrying +toward it,--not without some hesitation; a vague uneasiness he could not +explain. His heart was in his mouth, it seemed, and he found it hard to +breathe. + +Orchard workers came along the road, occasionally, stepping aside to +make room for the famous man, though he answered their greeting +absent-mindedly. What a nuisance! They would all be sure to tell where +they had seen him! His mother would know all about it within half an +hour! And, that evening, a scene in the dining-room! As Rafael walked on +toward the Blue House, he thought bitterly of his situation. Why was he +going there anyhow? Why insist on living in a stew all the time? He had +had two or three short but violent scenes with his mother a few months +before. What a fury that stern, pious, and puritanic woman became when +she found out that her son had been calling down at the Blue House and +was on friendly terms with a strange lady, an outsider, whom the +respectable folk of the city would have nothing to do with, and of whom +not a good word was ever heard except from the men at the Club, when +they were sure their wives were not in hearing distance! + +Tempestuous scenes they had been! He was running for Congress at the +time. Was he trying--she wanted to know--to dishonor the family and +compromise his political future? Was that what his poor father had lived +for--a life of sacrifice and struggle, of service to "the Party," which, +many a time, had meant shouldering a gun? And a loose woman was to be +allowed to ruin the House of Brull, which for thirty years had been +putting every cent it owned into politics, for the benefit of My Lords +up in Madrid! And just when a Brull was about to reap the reward of so +many sacrifices at last, and become a deputy--the means perhaps of +clearing off the property, which was lousy with attachments and +mortgages!... + +Rafael had been no match for that energetic mother, the soul of "the +Party." Meekly he had promised never to return to the Blue House, never +to call again on that "loose woman"--doña Bernarda actually hissed as +she said the word. + +However, the upshot of it all had been that Rafael simply discovered how +weak he was. Despite his promise, he returned to the Blue House often, +but by round-about ways and over long detours, skulking from cover to +cover, as he had done in childhood days when stealing oranges from the +orchards. There he was, a man whose name was on the lips of the whole +county, and who at any moment might be invested with authority from the +people, thus realizing the life-long dream of his father! But the sight +of a woman in the fields, a child, a beggar, would make him blanch with +terror! And that was not the worst of it! Whenever he entered the Blue +House now he had to pretend he came openly, without any fear whatever. +And so things had gone on down to the very eve of his departure for +Madrid. + +As Rafael reached this point in his reminiscences, he asked himself what +hope had led him to disobey his mother and brook her truly formidable +wrath. + +In that blue house he had found only frank, disinterested friendship,--a +somewhat ironic comradeship, the condescending tolerance of a person +compelled by solitude to choose as her comrade the least repulsive among +a host of inferiors. Alas! How clearly he remembered and could again +foresee the sceptical, cold smile with which his words were always +received, though he was sure he had crammed them with burning passion! +What a laugh she had given,--as insolent and as cutting as a lash,--the +day he had dared to declare his love! + +"Now the soft-pedal on slush, eh, Rafaelito?... If you want us to go on +being friends, all right, but it's on condition you treat me as a man. +Comrades, eh, and nothing more." + +And with a look at him through those green, luminous, devilish eyes of +hers, she had taken her seat at the piano and begun one of her divine +songs, as if she thought the magic of her art might raise a barrier +between them. + +On another occasion, she was irritable rather; Rafael's appealing eyes, +his words of amorous adoration, seemed to provoke her, and she had said +with brutal frankness: + +"Don't waste your breath, please! I am through with love. I know men too +well! But even if anyone were to upset me again, it would not be you, +Rafaelito dear." + +And yet he had persisted, insensible to the irony and the scorn of this +terrible _amigo_ in skirts, and indifferent as well to the conflicts +that his blind passion might provoke at home if his mother knew. + +He tried to free himself from his infatuation, but unsuccessfully. With +that in view he fixed his attention on the woman's past; it was said +that despite her beauty, her aristrocratic manners, the brilliancy of +mind with which she had dazzled him--a poor country boy--she was only an +adventuress who had made her way over half the globe from one pair of +arms to another. Well, in that case, it would be a great exploit to win +a woman whom princes and celebrated men had loved! But since that was +impossible, why go on, why continue endangering his career and having +trouble with his mother all the time? + +To forget her, he stressed, before his own mind, words and attitudes of +hers that might be judged defects; and he would taste the joy of duty +well done when, after such gymnastics of the will, he could think of her +without great emotion. + +At the beginning of his life in Madrid he imagined he had recovered. New +surroundings; continuous and petty satisfactions to vanity; the +kow-towing of doorkeepers in Congress; the flattery of visitors from +here, there and everywhere who came with requests for passes to admit +them to the galleries; the sense of being treated as a comrade by +celebrities, whose names his father had always mentioned with bated +breath; the "honorable" always written before his name; all Alcira +speaking to him with affectionate familiarity; this rubbing elbows, on +the benches of the conservative majority, with a battalion of dukes, +counts and marquises--young men who had become deputies to round out the +distinction conferred by beautiful sweethearts or winning +thoroughbreds,--all this had intoxicated him, filled his mind +completely, crowding out all other thoughts, and persuading him that he +had been completely cured. + +But as he grew familiar with his new life, and the novelty of all this +adulation wore off, tenacious recollections rose again in his memory. At +night, when sleep relaxed the will to forget, which his vigilance kept +at painful tension, that blue house, the green, diabolical eyes of its +principal denizen, that pair of fresh lips with their ironic smile that +seemed to quiver between two rows of gleaming white teeth, would become +the inevitable center of all his dreams. + +Why resist any longer? He could think of her as much as he +pleased--that, at least, his mother would never learn. And he gave +himself up to the imagination of love, where distance lent an ever +stronger enchantment to that woman. + +He felt a vehement longing to return to his city. Absence seemed to do +away with all the obstacles at home. His mother was not so formidable as +he had thought. Who could tell whether, when he went back--changed as he +felt himself to be by his new experiences--it would not be easier to +continue the old relations? After so much isolation and solitude she +might receive him in more cordial fashion! + +The Cortes were about to adjourn, so, in obedience to repeated urging +from his fellow-partisans, and from doña Bernarda, to _do +something_--anything at all--to show interest in the home town--he took +the floor one afternoon at the opening of the session, when only the +president, the sergeant-at-arms, and a few reporters asleep in the +press-gallery, were present, and, with his lunch rising in his throat +from emotion, asked the Minister of Internal Affairs to show a little +more despatch in the matter of flood protection at Alcira--a bill still +in its in-fancy, though it had been pending some seventy years. + +After this he was free to return with the halo of a "business-like" +deputy shining about his head--"a zealous defender of the region's +interests," the local weekly and party organ called him. And that +morning, as he stepped off the train, the deputy, deaf to the Royal +March and to the _vivas_, stood up on tiptoe, trying to descry through +the waving banners the Blue House nestling in the distance among the +orange-trees. + +As he approached the place that afternoon he was almost sick with +nervousness and emotion. For one last time he thought of his mother, so +intent upon maintaining her prestige and so fearful of hostile gossip; +of the demagogues who had thronged the doors of the cafes that morning, +making fun of the demonstration in his honor; but all his scruples +vanished at sight of the hedge of tall rose-bays and prickly hawthorns +and of the two blue pillars supporting a barrier of green wooden bars. +Resolutely he pushed the gate open, and entered the garden. + +Orange-trees stretched in rows along broad straight walks of red earth. +On either side of the approach to the house was a tangle of tall +rose-bushes on which the first buds, heralds of an early spring, were +already beginning to appear. + +Above the chattering of the sparrows and the rustle of the wind in the +trees, Rafael could hear the sound of a piano--the keys barely touched +by the player's fingers--and a soft, timid voice, as if the song were +meant for the singer alone. + +It was she. Rafael knew the music: a _Lied_ by Schubert--the favorite +composer of the day; a master "whose best work was still unknown," as +she said in the cant she had learned from the critics, alluding to the +fact that only the least subtle of the melancholy composer's works had +thus far been popularized. + +The young man advanced slowly, cautiously, as if afraid lest the sound +of his footsteps break in upon that melody which seemed to be rocking +the garden lovingly to sleep in the afternoon's golden sunlight. + +He reached the open space in front of the house and once more found +there the same murmuring palms, the same rubblework benches with seats +and backs of flowered tile that he knew so well. There, in fact, she had +so often laughed at his feverish protestations. + +The door was closed; but through a half-opened window he could see a +patch of silk; a woman's back, bending slightly forward over the music. + +As Rafael came up a dog began to bark at the end of the garden. Some +hens that had been scratching about in sand of the drive, scampered off +cackling with fright. The music stopped. A chair scraped as it was +pushed back. The lady was rising to her feet. + +At the balcony a flowing gown of blue appeared; but all that Rafael saw +was a pair of eyes--green eyes, that seemed to fill the entire window +with a flood of light. + +"Beppa! Beppina!" cried a firm, a warm, a sonorous, soprano voice. +"_Apri la porta_. Open the door." + +And with a slight inclination of her splendid head of thick auburn hair +that seemed to crown her with a helmet of old gold, she smiled to him +with a friendly, somewhat mocking, intimacy: + +"Welcome, Rafaelito. I don't know why, but I was expecting you this +afternoon. We have heard all about your triumphs; the music and the +tumult reached even to our desert. My congratulations to the Honorable +don Rafael Brull. Come right in, I _su señoría_." + + + + +II + + +From Valencia to Játiva, in all that immense territory covered with +rice-fields and orange groves which Valencians embrace under the general +and rather vague designation of _La Ribera_, there was no one unfamiliar +with the name of Brull and the political power it stood for. + +As if national unity had not yet been effected and the country were +still divided into _taifas_ and _waliatos_ as in the days when one +Moorish King reigned over Carlet, another over Denia, and a third over +Játiva, the election system maintained a sort of inviolable rulership in +every district; and when the Administration people came to Alcira in +forecasting their political prospects, they always said the same thing: + +"We're all right there. We can rely on Brull." + +The Brull dynasty had been bossing the district for thirty years, with +ever-increasing power. + +The founder of this sovereign house had been Rafael's grandfather, the +shrewd don Jaime, who had established the family fortune by fifty years +of slow exploitation of ignorance and poverty. He began life as a clerk +in the _Ayuntamiento_ of Alcira; then he became secretary to the +municipal judge, then assistant to the city clerk, then +assistant-registrar of deeds. There was not a subordinate position in +those offices where the poor come in contact with the law that he did +not get his hands on; and from such points of vantage, by selling +justice as a favor and using power or adroitness to subdue the +refractory, he felt his way along, appropriating parcel after parcel of +that fertile soil which he adored with a miser's covetousness. + +A brazen charlatan he was, every moment talking of "Article Number +So-and-So" of the law that applied to the case. The poor orchard workers +came to have as much awe for his learning as fear of his malice, and in +all their controversies they sought his advice and paid for it, as if he +were a lawyer. + +When he had gotten a small fortune together, he continued holding his +menial posts in the city administration to retain the superstitious +respect which is inspired in peasant-folk by all who are on good terms +with the law; but not content with playing the eternal beggar, dependent +on the humble gratuities of the poor, he took to pulling them out of +their financial difficulties, lending them money on the collateral of +their future harvests. + +But six per cent seemed too petty a profit for him. The real plight of +these folk came when a horse died and they had to buy another. Don Jaime +became a dealer in dray horses, buying more or less defective animals +from gypsies in Valencia, praising their virtues to the skies, and +reselling them as thoroughbreds. And no sale on the instalment plan! +Cash down! The horses did not belong to him--as he vowed with his hand +pressed solemnly to his bosom--and their owners wished to realize on +their value at once. The best he could do in the circumstances prompted +by his greatness of heart, which always overflowed at the sight of +poverty was to borrow money for the purchase from a friend of his. + +The peasant in his desperate need would fall into the snare, and carry +off the horse after signing all kinds of notes and mortgages to cover +the loan of money he had not seen! For the don Jaime who spoke for the +unknown party in the deal transferred the cash to the same don Jaime who +spoke for the owner of the horse. Result: the rustic bought an animal, +without chaffering, at double its value, having in addition borrowed a +lot of money at cut-throat interest. In every turn-over of this sort don +Jaime doubled his principal. New straits inevitably developed for the +dupe; the interest kept piling up; hence new concessions, still more +ruinous than the first, that don Jaime might be placated and give the +purchaser a month's reprieve. + +Every Wednesday, which was market-day in Alcira and brought a great +crowd of orchard-folk to town, the street where don Jaime lived was the +busiest in the city. People came in droves to ask for renewal of their +notes, each leaving a tip of several _pesetas_ usually, not to be +counted against the debt itself. Others, humbly, timidly, as if they had +come to rob the grasping Shylock, would ask for loans; and the strange +thing about it, as the malicious noted, was that all these people, after +leaving everything they owned in don Jaime's hands, went off content, +their faces beaming with satisfaction, as if they had just been rescued +from a danger. + +This was don Jaime's chief skill. He had the trick of making usury look +like kindness; he always spoke of _those fellows_, those hidden owners +of the money and the horses--heartless wretches who were "after him," +holding him responsible for the short-comings of all their debtors. The +burdens he thus supposedly assumed won him a reputation as a +kind-hearted soul, and such confidence was the wily old demon able to +instill in his victims that when mortgages were foreclosed on homes or +fields, many of the unfortunates despoiled, would say, resignedly: + +"It's not his fault. What could the poor man do if they forced him to +it? It's those _other fellows_ who are sucking the blood of us poor +folks." + +And so, quietly, leisurely, tranquilly, don Jaime got possession of a +field here, then another there, then a third between the two; and in a +few years he had rounded out a beautiful orchard of orange-trees with +virtually no expenditure of capital at all. Thus his property went on +increasing, and, with his radiant smile, his spectacles on his forehead +and his paunch growing fatter and fatter, he could be seen surrounded by +new victims, addressing them with the affectionate _tu_, patting them on +the back, and vowing that this weakness he had for the doing of favors +would some day bring him to dying like a dog in the gutter. + +Thus he went on prospering. Nor was all the scoffing of city people of +any avail in shaking the confidence reposed in him by that flock of +rustics, who feared him as they feared the Law itself and believed in +him as they believed in God. + +A loan to a spendthrift eldest son made him the proprietor of the fine +city mansion, which came to be known as "the Brull place." From that +date he began to hob-nob with the large real-estate owners of the city, +who, though they despised this upstart, made a small place for him in +their midst with the instinctive solidarity that characterizes the +freemasonry of money. To gain a little more standing for his name, he +became a votary of San Bernardo, contributed to the funds for church +festivals, and danced attendance on the _alcalde_, whoever that "mayor" +might be. In his eyes now, the only people in Alcira were such as +collected thousands of _duros_, whenever harvest time came around. The +rest were rabble, rabble, sir! + +Then, at last he resigned the petty offices he had been filling; and +handing his usury business over to those who formerly had served him as +go-betweens, he set himself to the task of marrying off his son and sole +heir, Ramon, an idling ne'er-do-well, who was always getting into +trouble and upsetting the tranquil comfort that surrounded old Brull as +he rested from his plunderings. + +The father felt the satisfaction of a bully in having such a tall, +strong, daring and insolent son, a boy who compelled respect in cafes +and clubs more with his fists than with the special privileges conferred +in small towns by wealth. Let anyone dare make fun of the old usurer +when he had such a fire-eater to protect him! + +Ramon had wanted to join the Army; but every time he referred to what he +called his vocation, his father would fly into a rage. "Do you think +that is what I've worked for all these years?" He could remember the +time when, as a poor clerk, he had been forced to fawn on his superiors +and listen humbly, cringingly, to their reprimands. He did not want a +boy of his to be shoved about hither and thither like a mere machine. +"Plenty of brass buttons," he exclaimed with the scorn of a man never to +be taken in by external show, "and plenty of gold braid! But after all, +a slave, a slave!" + +No, he wanted to see his son free and influential, continuing the +conquest of the city, completing the family greatness of which he had +laid the foundations, getting power over people much as he himself had +gotten power over money. Ramón must become a lawyer, the only career for +a man destined to rule others. It was a passionate ambition the old +pettifogger had, to see his scion enter through the front door and with +head proudly erect, the precincts of the law, into which he had crawled +so cautiously and at the risk, more than once, of being dragged out with +a chain fastened to his ankle. + +Ramón spent several years in Valencia without getting beyond the +elementary courses in Common Law. The cursed classes were held in the +morning, you see, and he had to go to bed at dawn--the hour when the +lights in the pool-rooms went out. Besides, in his quarters at the hotel +he had a magnificent shotgun--a present from his father; and +homesickness for the orchards made him pass many an afternoon at the +pigeon traps where he was far better known than at the University. + +This fine specimen of masculine youth--tall, muscular, tanned, with a +pair of domineering eyes to which thick eyebrows gave a touch of +harshness--had been born for action, and excitement; Ramón simply +couldn't concentrate on books! + +Old Brull, who through niggardliness and prudence had placed his son on +"half rations," as he put it, sent the boy just money enough to keep him +going; but dupe, in turn, of the wiles he had formerly practiced on the +rustics of Alcira, he was compelled to make frequent trips to Valencia, +to come to some understanding with money lenders there, who had +advanced loans to his son on such terms that insolvency might lead Ramón +to a prison cell. + +Home to Alcira came rumors of other exploits by the "Prince," as don +Jaime called his boy in view of the latter's ability to run through +money. In parties with friends of the family, don Ramón's doings were +spoken of as scandalous actually--a duel after a quarrel at cards; then +a father and a brother--common workingmen in flannel shirts!--who had +sworn they would kill him if he didn't marry a certain girl he had been +taking to her shop by day and to dance-halls by night. + +Old Brull made up his mind to tolerate these escapades of his son no +longer; and he made him give up his studies. Ramón would not be a +lawyer; well, after all, one didn't have to have a degree to be a man of +importance. Besides the father felt he was getting old; it was hard for +him to look after the working of his orchards personally. He could make +good use of that son who seemed to have been born to impose his will +upon everybody around him. + +For some time past don Jaime had had his eye on the daughter of a friend +of his. The Brull house showed noticeable lack of a woman's presence. +His wife had died shortly after his retirement from business, and the +old codger stamped in rage at the slovenliness and laziness displayed by +his servants. He would marry Ramón to Bernarda--an ugly, ill-humored, +yellowish, skinny creature--but sole heiress to her father's three +beautiful orchards. Besides, she was conspicuous for her industrious, +economical ways, and a parsimony in her expenditures that came pretty +close to stinginess. + +Ramón did as his father bade him. Brought up with all the ideas of a +rural skinflint, he thought no decent person could object to marrying an +ugly bad-tempered woman, so long as she had plenty of money. + +The father-in-law and the daughter-in-law understood each other +perfectly. The old man's eyes would water at sight of that stern, +long-faced puritan, who never had much to say in the house, but went +into high dudgeon over the slightest waste on the part of the domestics, +scolding the farmhands for the merest oversight in the orchards, +haggling and wrangling with the orange drummers for a _centime_ more or +less per hundredweight. That new daughter of his was to be the solace of +his old age! + +Meantime, the "prince" would be off hunting every morning in the nearby +mountains and lounging every afternoon in the cafe; but he was no longer +content with the admiration of the idlers hanging around a billiard +table, nor was he taking part in the game upstairs. He was frequenting +the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with the _alcalde_ +and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all "decent" +folk together to take the "rabble" in hand! + +"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his +daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get +there... That's the way I like to see him." + +Ramón began by winning a seat in the _Ayuntamiento_, and soon was an +outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded +as a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the +streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest +glory was to have his enemies say of him: + +"Look out for that Ramón ... He's a tough proposition." + +Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish +hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living, +that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched" +by anyone who could serve, in tavern and café, as advertising agent of +his rising fame. + +And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward +with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a +short time he had become _alcalde;_ his prestige outgrew the limits of +the city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the +capital of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from +military service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that +backed him, although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw +to it that the constabulary was not too energetic in running down the +_roders_, the "wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election +time, would be forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole +country dared make a move without the previous consent of don Ramón, +whom his adherents always respectfully called their _quefe_, their +"chief." + +Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramón reach the zenith of his fame. +That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the +city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in +addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty +assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who +had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and +ambition. + +Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation +of all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his +soul heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And, +though the rabble--the political opponents of the son, that is--recalled +those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would come +to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and sane +people--people who had something in this world to lose--mourned the +death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen from the +lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune by hard +work, honest hard work! + +In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had +caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings with +peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the _cacique's_ power stifled +all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women cost very +little money, doña Bernarda pretended to know nothing about them. She +did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow, +self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties +are fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving +money. + +By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to +start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money +against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the +lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political +sovereignty over the region. + +Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramón +would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who +might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who governed +yonder in Madrid had ordered--and orders must be obeyed. In every town +whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern wine would +flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of _pesetas_ +would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don Ramón's +expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper to save on +clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly anything left +for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when the day for +the contest came around, ready in her excitement to help her husband +throw the entire house through the window, if need be. + +This, however, was all pure speculation on her part. The money that was +being scattered so madly broadcast was a "loan" simply. Some day she +would get it back with interest. Already her piercing eyes were +caressing the tiny, dark-complexioned, restless little creature that lay +across her knees, seeing in him the privileged heir-apparent who would +one day reap the harvest from all such family sacrifices. + +Doña Bernarda had taken refuge in religion as in a cool, refreshing +oasis in the desert of vulgarity and monotony in her life. Her heart +would swell with pride every time a priest would say to her in the +church: + +"Take good care of don Ramón. Thanks to him the wave of demagogy halts +at the temple door and evil fails to triumph in the District. He is the +bulwark of the Lord against the impious!" + +And when, after such a declaration, which flattered her worldly vanity +and assured her of a mansion in Heaven, she would pass through the +streets of Alcira in her calico wrapper and a shawl not over-clean, +greeted affectionately, effusively, by the leading citizens, she would +pardon don Ramón all the infidelities she knew about and consider the +sacrifice of her fortune a good investment. + +"If it were not for what we do, what would happen to the District.... +The lower scum would conquer--those wild-eyed mechanics and common +laborers who read the Valencian newspapers and talk about equality all +the time. And they would divide up the orchards, and demand that the +product of the harvests--thousands and thousands of _duros_ paid for +oranges by the Englishmen and the French--should belong to all." But to +stave off such a cataclysm, there stood don Ramón, the scourge of the +wicked, the champion of "the cause" which he led to triumph, gun in +hand, at election time; and just as he was able to send any rebellious +trouble-maker off to the penal settlement, so he found it easy to keep +at liberty all those who, despite the various murders that figured in +their biographies, lent themselves to the service of the government in +this support of "law and order!" + +The patrimony of the House of Brull went down and down, but its prestige +rose higher and higher. The sacks of money filled by the old man at the +cost of so much roguery were shaken empty over all the District; nor +were several assaults upon the municipal treasury sufficient to bring +them back to normal roundness. Don Ramón contemplated this squandering +impassively, proud that people should be talking of his generosity as +much as of his power. + +The whole District worshipped as a sacred flagstaff that bronzed, +muscular, massive figure, which floated a huge, flowing, gray-flecked +mustache from its upper end. + +"Don Ramón, you ought to remove that bush," his clerical friends would +say to him with a smile of affectionate banter. "Why, man, you look just +like Victor Emmanuel himself, the Pope's jailer." + +But though don Ramón was a fervent Catholic (who never went to mass), +and hated all the infidel turnkeys of the Holy Father, he would grin and +give a satisfied twirl at the offending mouth-piece, quite flattered at +bottom to be likened to a king. + +The _patio_ of the Brull mansion was the throne of his sovereignty. His +partisans would find him there, pacing up and down among the green boxes +of plantain trees, his hands clasped behind his broad, strong, but now +somewhat stooping back--a majestic back withal, capable of supporting +hosts and hosts of friends. + +There he "administered justice," decided the fate of families, settled +the affairs of towns--all in a few off-hand but short and decisive +words, like one of those ancient Moorish kings who, in that selfsame +territory, centuries before, legislated for their subjects under the +open sky. On market-days the _patio_ would be thronged. Carts would stop +in long lines on either side of the door. All the hitching-posts along +the streets would have horses tied to them, and inside, the house would +be buzzing like a bee-hive with the chatter of that rustic gentry. + +Don Ramón would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his +chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his +side--a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown +Prince. + +On afternoons when the _Ayuntamiento_ was in session, the chief could +never leave his _patio_. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be +dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible, +like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it +spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind. + +All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the +City Hall to the Brull _patio._ The few enemies don Ramón had in the +Council--meddlers, doña Bernarda called them--idiots who swallowed +everything in print provided it were against the King and +religion--attacked the _cacique_ persistently, censuring everything he +did. Don Ramón's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge +must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!" + +And a _regidor_ would be off to don Ramón's like a greyhound; and +arriving at the _patio_ panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of +relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down +as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the +limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said +this-and-that!" Don Ramón would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and +finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put +this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape, +would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would +gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramón's wisdom had +deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to +have the privilege of annihilating the enemy with the magic words--all +talking at the same time like magpies suddenly set chattering by the +dawn of a new light. + +If the opposition held its ground, again stupefaction would come over +them. Another mad dash in quest of a new consultation. Thus the sessions +would go by, to the great delight of the barber Cupido--the sharpest and +meanest tongue in the city--who, whenever the Council met, would observe +to his early morning shaves: + +"Holiday today: the usual race of councilors bare-back." + +When party exigencies forced don Ramón to be out of town, it was his +wife, the energetic doña Bernarda, who attended to the consultations, +issuing statements on party policy, as wise and apt as those of "the +chief" himself. + +This collaboration in the upbuilding and the up-holding of the family +influence was the single bond of union between husband and wife. This +cold woman, a complete stranger to tenderness, would flush with pleasure +every time the chief approved her ideas. If only she were "boss" of "the +Party!" ...Don Andrés had often said as much himself! + +This don Andrés was her husband's most intimate friend, one of those men +who are born to be second everywhere and in everything. Loyal to the +family to the point of sacrifice, he served, with the couple itself, to +fill out the Holy Trinity of the Brull religion that was the faith of +all the District. Where don Ramón could not go in person, don Andrés +would be present for him, as the chief's _alter ego_. In the towns he +was respected as the supreme vicar of that god whose throne was in the +_patio_ of the plantain trees; and people too shy to lay their +supplications before the god himself, would seek out that jolly +advocate,--a very approachable bachelor, who always had a smile on his +tanned, wrinkled face, and a story under his stiff cigar-stained +mustache. + +Don Andrés had no relatives, and spent almost all his time at the +Brull's. He was like a piece of furniture that seems always to be +getting in the way at first; but when all were once accustomed to him, +he became an indispensable fixture in the family. In the days when don +Ramón had been a young subordinate of the _Ayuntamiento_, he had met and +liked the man, and taking him into the ranks of his "heelers," had +promoted him rapidly to be chief of staff. In the opinion of the "boss," +there wasn't a cleverer, shrewder fellow in the world than don Andrés, +nor one with a better memory for names and faces. Brull was the +strategist who directed the campaign; don Andrés the tactician who +commanded actual operations and cleaned up behind the lines when the +enemy was divided and undone. Don Ramón was given to settling everything +in a violent manner, and drew his gun at the slightest provocation. If +his methods had been followed, "the Party" would have murdered someone +every day. Don Andrés had a smooth tongue and a seraphic smile that +simply wound _alcaldes_ or rebellious electors around his little +finger, and his specialty was the art of letting loose a rain of sealed +documents over the District that started complicated and never-ending +prosecutions against troublesome opponents. + +He attended to "the chief's" correspondence, and was tutor and playmate +to the little Rafael, taking the boy on long walks through the orchard +country. To doña Bernarda he was confidential adviser. + +That surly, severe woman showed her bare heart to no one in the world +save don Andrés. Whenever he called her his "señora," or his "worthy +mistress," she could not restrain a gesture of satisfaction; and it was +to him that she poured out her complaints against her husband's +misdeeds. Her affection for him was that of a dame of ancient chivalry +for her private squire. Enthusiasm for the glory of the house united +them in such intimacy that the opposition wagged its tongues, asserting +that doña Bernarda was getting even for her husband's waywardness. But +don Andrés, who smiled scornfully when accused of taking advantage of +the chief's influence to drive hard bargains to his own advantage, was +not the man to be trifled with if gossip ventured to smirch his +friendship with the _señora_. + +Their Trinity was most closely cemented, however, by their fondness for +Rafael, the little tot destined to bring fame to the name of Brull and +realize the ambitions of both his grandfather and his father. + +Rafael was a quiet, morose little boy, whose gentleness of disposition +seemed to irritate the hard-hearted doña Bernarda. He was always hanging +on to her skirts. Every time she raised her eyes she would find the +little fellow's gaze fixed upon her. + +"Go out and play in _the patio_," the mother would say. + +And the little fellow, moody and resigned, would leave the room, as if +in obedience to a disagreeable command. + +Don Andrés alone was successful in amusing the child, with his tales and +his strolls through the orchards, picking flowers for him, making +whistles for him out of reeds. It was don Andrés who took him to school, +also, and who advertised the boy's fondness for study everywhere. + +If don Rafael were a serious, melancholy lad, that defect was chargeable +to his interest in books, and at the Casino, the "Party's" Club, he +would say to his fellow-worshippers: + +"You'll see something doing when Rafaelito grows up. That kid is going +to be another Canovas." + +And before all those rustic minds the vision of a Brull at the head of +the Government would suddenly flash, filling the first page of the +newspapers with speeches six columns long, and a _To Be Continued_ at +the end; and they could see themselves rolling in money and running all +Spain, just as they now ran their District, to their own sweet wills. + +Never did a Prince of Wales grow up amid the respect and the adulation +heaped upon little Brull. At school, the children regarded him as a +superior being who had condescended to come down among them for his +education. A well-scribbled sheet, a lesson fluently repeated, were +enough for the teacher, who belonged to "the Party" (just to collect his +wages on time and without trouble,) to declare in prophetic tones: + +"Go on working like that, señor de Brull. You are destined to great +things." + +At the _tertulias_ his mother attended evenings in his company, it was +enough for him to recite a fable or get off some piece of learning +characteristic of a studious child eager to bring his school work into +the conversation, for the women to rush upon him and smother him with +kisses. + +"But how much that child knows!... How brilliant he is!" + +And some old woman would add, sententiously: + +"Bernarda, take good care of the child; don't let him use his brain so +much. It's bad for him. See how peaked he looks!..." + +He finished his preparatory education with the Dominicans, taking the +leading rôle in all the plays given in the tiny theatre of the friars, +and always with a place in the first line on prize days. The Party organ +dedicated an annual article to the scholastic prodigies of the "gifted +son of our distinguished chief don Ramón Brull, the country's hope, who +already merits title as the shining light of the future!" + +When Rafael, escorted by his mother and half a dozen women who had +witnessed the exercises, would come home, gleaming with medals and his +arms full of diplomas, he would stoop and kiss his father's hard, +bristly hand; and that claw would caress the boy's head and +absent-mindedly sink into the old man's vest pocket--for don Ramón +expected to pay for all welcome favors. + +"Very good," the hoarse voice would murmur. "That's the way I like to +see you do ...Here's a _duro_." + +And not till the following year would the boy again know what a caress +from his father meant. On certain occasions, playing in the _patio_, he +had surprised the austere old man gazing at him fixedly, as if trying to +foresee his future. + +Don Andrés took charge of settling Rafael in Valencia when he began his +university studies. The dream of old don Jaime, disillusioned in the +son, would be fulfilled in the third generation! + +"This one at least will be a lawyer!" said doña Bernarda, who in the old +days had imbibed don Jaime's eagerness for the university degree, which +to her seemed like a title of nobility for the family. + +And lest the corruption of the city should lead the son astray as it had +done Ramón in his student days, she would send don Andrés frequently to +the capital, and write letter after letter to her Valencian friends, +particularly to a canon of her intimate acquaintance, asking them not to +lose sight of the boy. + +But Rafael was good behavior itself; a model boy, a "serious" young man, +the good canon assured the mother. The distinctions and the prizes that +came to him in Alcira continued to pursue him in Valencia; and besides, +don Ramón and his wife learned from the papers of the triumphs achieved +by their son in the debating society, a nightly gathering of law +students in a university hall, where future Solons wrangled on such +themes as "Resolved: that the French Revolution was more of a good than +an evil," or "Resolved, that Socialism is superior to Christianity." + +Some terrible youths, who had to get home before ten o'clock to escape a +whipping, declared themselves rabid socialists and frightened the +beadles with curses on the institution of property--all rights reserved, +of course, to apply, as soon as they got out of college, for some +position under the government as registrar of deeds or secretary of +prefecture! But Rafael, ever sane and a congenital "moderate," was not +of those fire-brands; he sat on "the Right" of the august assembly of +Wranglers, maintaining a "sound" attitude on all questions, thinking +what he thought "with" Saint Thomas and "with" other orthodox sages whom +his clerical Mentor pointed out to him. + +These triumphs were announced by telegraph in the Party papers, which, +to garnish the chief's glory and avoid suspicion of "inspiration," +always began the article with: "According to a despatch printed in the +Metropolitan press ..." + +"What a boy!" the priests of Alcira would say to doña Bernarda. "What a +silver tongue! You'll see; he'll be a second Manterola!" + +And whenever Rafael came home for the holidays or on vacation, each time +taller than before, dressed like a fashion-plate and with mannerisms +that she took for the height of distinction, the saintly mother would +say to herself with the satisfaction of a woman who knows what it means +to be homely: + +"What a handsome chap he's getting to be. All the rich girls in town +will be after him. He'll have his pick of them." + +Doña Bernarda felt proud of her Rafael, a tall youth, with delicate yet +powerful hands, large eyes, an aquiline nose, a curly beard and a +certain leisurely, undulating grace of movement that suggested one of +those young Arabs of the white cloak and elegant babooshes, who +constitute the native aristocracy of Spain's African colonies. + +Every time the student came home, his father gave him the same silent +caress. In course of time the _duro_ had been replaced by a hundred +_peseta_ note; but the rough claw that grazed his head was falling now +with an energy ever weaker and seemed to grow lighter with the years. + +Rafael, from long periods of absence, noted his father's condition +better than the rest. The old man was ill, very ill. As tall as ever, as +austere and imposing, and as little given to words. But he was growing +thinner. His fierce eyes were sinking deeper into their sockets. There +was little left to him now except his massive frame. His neck, once as +sturdy as a bull's, showed the tendons and the arteries under the loose, +wrinkled skin; and his mustache, once so arrogant, but now withering +with each successive day, drooped dispiritedly like the banner of a +defeated army wet with rain. + +The boy was surprised at the gestures and tears of anger with which his +mother welcomed expression of his fears. + +"Well, I hope he'll die as soon as possible ... Lot's of use he is to +us!... May the Lord be merciful and take him off right now." + +Rafael said nothing, not caring to pry into the conjugal drama that was +secretly and silently playing its last act before his eyes. + +Don Ramón, that somber libertine of insatiable appetites, prey to a +sinister, mysterious inebriation, was tossing in a last whirlwind of +tempestuous desire, as though the blaze of sunset had set fire to what +remained of his vitality. + +With a deliberate, determined lustfulness, he went scouring the +District like a wild satyr, and his brutish assaults, his terrorism and +abuse of authority, were reported back by scurrilous tongues to the +seignorial mansion, where his friend don Andrés was trying in vain to +pacify the wife. + +"That man!" doña Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going +to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?" + +His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional +respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at +night, when don Ramón, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable +demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a +disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to +sleep, doña Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded +across her bosom, and pray to herself: + +"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this +come to an end soon, oh Lord!" + +And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got +rapidly worse. + +"Take care of yourself, don Ramón," his curate friends would say to him. +They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're +getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!" + +The _cacique_ would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know +that such exploits were possible for a man at his age. + +He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted +by don Andrés, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He +gave the boy his shotgun--a veritable jewel, the admiration of the +entire District--and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting +around just to see the realization of old Don Jaime's ambition, which he +himself had not been able to fulfill, he passed away. + +All the bells of the city tolled mournfully. + +The Party weekly came out with a black border a palm wide; and from all +over the District folks came in droves to see whether the powerful don +Ramón Brull, who had been able to rain upon the just and unjust alike on +this earth, could possibly have died the same as any other human being. + + + + +III + + +When doña Bernarda found herself alone, and absolute mistress of her +home, she could not conceal her satisfaction. + +Now they would see what a woman could do. + +She counted on the advice and experience of don Andrés, who was closer +than ever to her now; and on the prestige of Rafael, the young lawyer, +who bade fair to sustain the reputation of the Brulls. + +The power of the family continued unchanged. Don Andrés, who, at the +death of his master, had succeeded to the authority of a second father +in the Brull house, saw to the maintenance of relations with the +authorities at the provincial capital and with the still bigger fish in +Madrid. Petitions were heard in the _patio_ the same as ever. Loyal +party adherents were received as cordially as before and the same favors +were done, nor was there any decline of influence in places that don +Andrés referred to as "the spheres of public administration." + +There came an election for Parliament, and as usual, doña Bernarda +secured the triumph of the individual whose nomination had been dictated +from Madrid. Don Ramón had left the party machine in perfect condition; +all it needed was enough "grease" to keep it running smoothly; and there +his widow was besides, ever alert at the slightest suggestion of a creak +in the gearing. + +At provincial headquarters they spoke of the District with the usual +confidence: + +"It's ours. Brull's son is as powerful as the old man himself." + +The truth was that Rafael took little interest in "the Party." He looked +upon it as one of the family properties, the title to which no one could +dispute. He confined his personal activities to obeying his mother. "Go +to Riola with don Andrés. Our friends there will be happy to see you." +And he would go on the trip, to suffer the torment of an interminable +rally, a _paella_, during which his fellow partisans would bore him with +their uncouth merriment and ill-mannered flattery. "You really ought to +give your horse a couple of days' rest. Instead of going out for a ride, +spend your afternoon at the Club! Our fellows are complaining they never +get a sight of you." Whereupon Rafael would give up his rides--his sole +pleasure practically--and plunge into a thick smoke-laden atmosphere of +noise and shouting, where he would have to answer questions of the most +illustrious members of the party. They would sit around, filling their +coffee-saucers with cigar-ash, disputing as to which was the better +orator, Castelar or Canovas, and, in case of a war between France and +Germany, which of the two would win--idle subjects that always provoked +disagreements and led to quarrels. + +The only time he entered into voluntary relations with "the Party" was +when he took his pen in hand and manufactured for the Brull weekly a +series of articles on "Law and Morality" and "Liberty and Faith,"--the +rehashings of a faithful, industrious plodder at school, prolix +commonplaces seasoned with what metaphysical terminology he remembered, +and which, from the very reason that nobody understood them, excited +the admiration of his fellow partisans. They would blink at the articles +and say to don Andrés: + +"What a pen, eh? Just let anyone dare to argue with him.... Deep, that +noodle, I tell you!" + +Nights, when his mother did not oblige him to visit the home of some +influential voter who must be kept content, he would spend reading, no +longer, however, as in Valencia, books lent him by the canon, but works +that he bought himself, following the recommendations of the press, and +that his mother respected with the veneration always inspired in her by +printed paper sewed and bound, an awe comparable only to the scorn she +felt for newspapers, dedicated, every one of them, as she averred, to +the purpose of insulting holy things and stirring up the brutal passions +of "the rabble." + +These years of random reading, unrestrained by the scruples and the +fears of a student, gradually and quietly shattered many of Rafael's +firm beliefs. They broke the mould in which the friends of his mother +had cast his mind and made him dream of a broader life than the one +known to those about him. French novels transported him to a Paris that +far outshone the Madrid he had known for a moment in his graduate days. +Love stories awoke in his youthful imagination an ardor for adventure +and involved passions in which there was something of the intense love +of indulgence that had been his father's besetting sin. He came to dwell +more and more in the fictitious world of his readings, where there were +elegant, perfumed, clever women, practicing a certain art in the +refinement of their vices. + +The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if +they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The +young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the +narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact +market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each +aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of +the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable +toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of +prejudice and tradition. + +For that reason he was deeply bored by his colorless, humdrum existence, +so far removed from that other purely imaginative life which rose from +the pages of his books and enveloped him with an exotic, exciting +perfume. + +Some day he would be free, and take flight on his own wings; and that +day of liberation would come when he got to be deputy. He waited for his +coming of age much as an heir-apparent waits for the moment of his +coronation. + +From early boyhood he had been taught to look forward to the great event +which would cut his life in two, opening out new pathways for a "forward +march" to fame and fortune. + +"When my little boy gets to be deputy," his mother would say in her rare +moments of affectionate expansiveness, "the girls will fight for him +because he is so handsome! And he'll marry a millionairess!" + +Meanwhile, in long years of impatient anticipation, his life went on, +with no special circumstance to break its dull monotony--the life of an +aspirant certain of his lot, "killing time" till the call should come +to enter on his heritage. He was like those noble youngsters of bygone +centuries who, graced in their cradles by the rank of colonel from the +monarch, played around with hoop and top till they were old enough to +join their regiments. He had been born a deputy, and a deputy he was +sure to be: for the moment, he was waiting for his cue in the wings of +the theatre of life. + +His trip to Italy on a pilgrimage to see the Pope was the one event that +had disturbed the dreary course of his existence. But in that country of +marvels, with a pious canon for a guide, he visited churches rather than +museums. Of theatres he saw only two--larks permitted by his tutor, +whose austerity was somewhat mollified in those changing scenes. +Indifferently they passed the famous artistic works of the Italian +churches, but paused always to venerate some relic with miracles as +famous as absurd. Even so, Rafael managed to catch a confused and +passing glimpse of a world different from the one in which he was +predestined to pass his life. From a distance he sensed something of the +love of pleasure and romance he had drunk in like an intoxicating wine +from his reading. In Milan he admired a gilded, adventurous bohemia of +opera; in Rome, the splendor of a refined, artistic aristocracy in +perpetual rivalry with that of Paris and London; and in Florence, an +English nobility that had come in quest of sunlight and a chance to air +its straw hats, show off the fair hair of its ladies, and chatter its +own language in gardens where once upon a time the somber Dante dreamed +and Boccaccio told his merry tales to drive fear of plague away. + +That journey, of impressions as rapid and as fleeting as a reel of +moving-pictures, leaving in Rafael's mind a maze of names, buildings, +paintings and cities, served to give greater breadth to his thinking, as +well as added stimulus to his imagination. Wider still became the gulf +that separated him from the people and ideas he met in his common +everyday life. He felt a longing for the extraordinary, for the +original, for the adventuresomeness of artistic youth; and political +master of a county, heir of a feudal dominion virtually, he nevertheless +would read the name of any writer or painter whatsoever with the +superstitious respect of a rustic churl. "A wretched, ruined lot who +haven't even a bed to die on," his mother viewed such people; but Rafael +nourished a secret envy for all who lived in that ideal world, which he +was certain must be filled with pleasures and exciting things he had +scarcely dared to dream of. What would he not give to be a bohemian like +the personages he met in the books of Murger, member of a merry band of +"intellectuals," leading a life of joy and proud devotion to higher +things in a bourgeois age that knew only thirst for money and prejudice +of class! Talent for saying pretty things, for writing winged verses +that soared like larks to heaven! A garret underneath the roof, off +there in Paris, in the Latin Quarter! A Mimí poor but spiritual, who +would love him, and--between one kiss and another--be able to +discuss--not the price of oranges, like the girls who followed him with +tender eyes at home--but serious "elevated" things! In exchange for all +that he would gladly have given his future deputyship and all the +orchards he had inherited, which, though encumbered by mortgages not to +mention moral debts left by the rascality of his father and +grandfather--still would bring him a tidy annuity for realizing his +bohemian dreams. + +Such preoccupations made life as a party leader, tied down to the petty +interests of a constituency, quite unthinkable! At the risk of angering +his mother, he fled the Club, to court the solitude of the hills and +fields. There his imagination could range in greater freedom, peopling +the roads, the meadows, the orange groves with creatures of his fancy, +often conversing aloud with the heroines of some "grand passion," +carried on along the lines laid down by the latest novel he had read. + +One afternoon toward the close of summer Rafael climbed the little +mountain of San Salvador, which lies close to the city. From the +eminence he was fond of looking out over the vast domains of his family. +For all the inhabitants of that fertile plain were--as don Andrés said +whenever he wished to emphasize the party's greatness--like so many +cattle branded with the name of Brull. + +As he went up the winding, stony trail, Rafael thought of the mountains +of Assisi, which he had visited with his friend the canon, a great +admirer of the Saint of Umbria. It was a landscape that suggested +asceticism. Crags of bluish or reddish rock lined the roadway on either +side, with pines and cypresses rising from the hollows, and extending +black, winding, snaky roots out over the fallow soil. At intervals, +white shrines with tiny roofs harbored mosaics of glazed tiles depicting +the Stations on the _Via Dolorosa_. The pointed green caps of the +cypresses, as they waved, seemed bent on frightening away the white +butterflies that were fluttering about over the rosemary and the +nettles. The parasol-pines projected patches of shade across the burning +road, where the sun-baked earth crackled and crumbled to dead dust under +every footstep. + +Reaching the little square in front of the Hermitage, he rested from the +ascent, stretching out full length on the crescent of rubblework that +formed a bench near the sanctuary. There silence reigned, the silence of +high hill-tops. From below, the noises of the restless life and labor of +the plain came weakened, softened, by the wind, like the murmuring of +waves breaking on a distant shore. Among the prickly-pears that grew in +close thicket behind the bench, insects were buzzing about, shining in +the sun like buds of gold. Some hens, belonging to the Hermitage, were +pecking away in one corner of the square, clucking, and dusting their +feathers in the gravel. + +Rafael surrendered to the charm of the exquisite scene. With reason had +it been called "Paradise" by its ancient owners, Moors from the magic +gardens of Bagdad, accustomed to the splendors of _The Thousand and One +Nights_, but who went into ecstacies nevertheless on beholding for the +first time the wondrous _ribera_ of Valencia! + +Throughout the great valley, orange groves, extending like shimmering +waves of velvet; hedges and enclosures of lighter green, cutting the +crimson earth into geometric figures; clumps of palms spurting like jets +of verdure upward toward the sky, and falling off again in languorous +swoons; villas blue and rose-colored, nestling in flowering gardens; +white farmhouses half concealed behind green swirls of forest; spindling +smokestacks of irrigation engines, with yellow sooty tops; Alcira, its +houses clustered on the island and overflowing to the opposite bank, all +of whitish, bony hue, pock-marked with tiny windows; beyond, Carcagente, +the rival city, girdled in its belt of leafy orchards; off toward the +sea, sharp, angular mountains, with outlines that from afar suggested +the fantastic castles imagined by Doré; and inland, the towns of the +upper _ribera_ floating in an emerald lake of orchard, the distant +mountains taking on a violet hue from the setting sun that was creeping +like a bristly porcupine of gold into the hot vapors of the horizon. + +Behind the Hermitage all the lower _ribera_ stretched, one expanse of +rice-fields drowned under an artificial flood; then, Sueca and Cullera, +their white houses perched on those fecund lagoons like towns in +landscapes of India; then, Albufera, with its lake, a sheet of silver +glistening in the sunlight; then, Valencia, like a cloud of smoke +drifting along the base of a mountain range of hazy blue; and, at last, +in the background, the halo, as it were, of this apotheosis of light and +color, the Mediterranean--the palpitant azure Gulf bounded by the cape +of San Antonio and the peaks of Sagunto and Almenara, that jutted up +against the sky-line like the black fins of giant whales. + +As Rafael looked down upon the towers of the crumbling convent of La +Murta, almost hidden in its pine-groves, he thought of all the tragedy +of the Reconquest; and almost mourned the fate of those farmer-warriors +whose white cloaks he could imagine as still floating among the groves +of those magic trees of Asia's paradise. It was the influence of the +Moor in his Spanish ancestry. Christian, clerical even, though he was, +he had inherited a melancholy, dreamy turn of mind from the very Arabs +who had created all that Eden. + +He pictured to himself the tiny kingdoms of those old _walis_; vassal +districts very like the one his family ruled. But instead of resting on +influence, bribery, intimidation, and the abuse of law, they lived by +the lances of horsemen as apt at tilling the soil as at capering in +tournaments with an elegance never equalled by any chevaliers of the +North. He could see the court of Valencia, with the romantic gardens of +Ruzafa, where poets sang mournful strophes over the wane of the +Valencian Moor, while beautiful maidens listened from behind the +blossoming rose-bushes. And then the catastrophe came. In a torrent of +steel, barbarians swept down from the arid hills of Aragon to appease +their hunger in the bounty of the plain--the _almogávares_--naked, wild, +bloodthirsty savages, who never washed. And as allies of this horde, +bankrupt Christian noblemen, their worn-out lands mortgaged to the +Israelite, but good cavalrymen, withal, armored, and with dragonwings on +their helmets; and among the Christians, adventurers of various tongues, +soldiers of fortune out for plunder and booty in the name of the Cross +--the "black sheep" of every Christian family. And they seized the great +garden of Valencia, installed themselves in the Moorish palaces, called +themselves counts and marquises, and with their swords held that +privileged country for the King of Aragon, while the conquered Saracens +continued to fertilize it with their toil. + +"Valencia, Valencia, Valencia! Thy walls are ruins, thy gardens +grave-yards, thy sons slaves unto the Christian ..." groaned the poet, +covering his eyes with his cloak. And Rafael could see, passing like +phantoms before his eyes, leaning forward on the necks of small, sleek, +sinewy horses, that seemed to fly over the ground, their legs +horizontal, their nostrils belching smoke, the Moors, the real people of +Valencia, conquered, degenerated by the very abundance of their soil, +abandoning their gardens before the onrush of brutal, primitive +invaders, speeding on their way toward the unending night of African +barbarism. At this eternal exile of the first Valencians who left to +oblivion and decay a civilization, the last vestiges of which today +survive in the universities of Fez, Rafael felt the sorrow he would have +experienced had it all been a disaster to his family or his party. + +While he was thinking of all these dead things, life in its feverish +agitation surrounded him. A cloud of sparrows was darting about the roof +of the Hermitage. On the mountain side a flock of dark-fleeced sheep was +grazing; and when any of them discovered a blade of grass among the +rocks, they would begin calling to one another with a melancholy +bleating. + +Rafael could hear the voices of some women who seemed to be climbing the +road, and from his reclining position he finally made out two parasols +that were gradually rising to view over the edge of his bench. One was +of flaming red silk, skilfully embroidered and suggesting the filigreed +dome of a mosque; the second, of flowered calico, was apparently keeping +at a respectful distance behind the first. + +Two women entered the little square, and as Rafael sat up and removed +his hat, the taller, who seemed to be the mistress, acknowledged his +courtesy with a slight bow, went on to the other end of the esplanade, +and stood, with her back turned toward him, looking at the view. The +other sat down some distance off, breathing laboriously from the +exertion of the climb. + +Who were those women?... Rafael knew the whole city, and had never seen +them. + +The one seated near him was doubtless the servant of the other--her maid +or her companion. She was dressed in black, simply but with a certain +charm, like the French soubrettes he had seen in illustrated novels. But +rustic origin and lack of cultivation were evident from the stains on +the backs of her unshapely hands; from her broad, flat, finger-nails; +and from her large ungainly feet, quite out of harmony with the pair of +stylish boots she was wearing--cast-off articles, doubtless, of the +lady. She was pretty, nevertheless, with a fresh exuberance of youth. +Her large, gray, credulous eyes were those of a stupid but playful lamb; +her hair, straight, and a very light blond, hung loosely here and there +over a freckled face, dark with sunburn. She handled her closed parasol +somewhat awkwardly and kept looking anxiously at the doubled gold chain +that drooped from her neck to her waist, as if to reassure herself that +a gift long-coveted had not been lost. + +Rafael's interest drifted to the lady. His eyes rested on the back of a +head of tightly-gathered golden hair, as luminous as a burnished helmet; +on a white neck, plump, rounded; on a pair of broad, lithe shoulders, +hidden under a blue silk blouse, the lines tapering rapidly, gracefully +toward the waist; on a gray skirt, finally, falling in harmonious folds +like the draping of a statue, and under the hem the solid heels of two +shoes of English style encasing feet that must have been as agile and as +strong as they were tiny. + +The lady called to her maid in a voice that was sonorous, vibrant, +velvety, though Rafael could catch only the accented syllables of her +words, that seemed to melt together in the melodious silence of the +mountain top. The young man was sure she had not spoken Spanish. A +foreigner, almost certainly!... + +She was expressing admiration and enthusiasm for the view, talking +rapidly, pointing out the principal towns that could be seen, calling +them by their names,--the only words that Rafael could make out clearly. +Who was this woman whom he had never seen, who spoke a foreign language +and yet knew the _ribera_ well? Perhaps the wife of one of the French or +English orange-dealers established in the city! Meanwhile his eyes were +devouring that superb, that opulent, that elegant beauty which seemed to +be challenging him with its indifference to his presence. + +The keeper of the Hermitage issued cautiously from the house--a peasant +who made his living from visitors to the heights. Attracted by the +promising appearance of the strange lady, the hermit came forward to +greet her, offering to fetch water from the cistern, and to unveil the +image of the miraculous virgin, in her honor. + +The woman turned around to answer the man, and that gave Rafael an +opportunity to study her at his leisure. She was tall, ever so tall, as +tall as he perhaps. But the impression her height of stature made was +softened by a grace of figure that revealed strength allied to elegance. +A strong bust, sculpturesque, supporting a head that engaged the young +man's wrapt attention. A hot mist of emotion seemed to cloud his vision +as he looked into her large eyes, so green, so luminous! The golden hair +fell forward upon a forehead of pearly whiteness, veined at the temples +with delicate lines of blue. Viewed in profile her gracefully moulded +nose, quivering with vitality at the nostrils, filled out a beauty that +was distinctly modern, piquantly charming. In those lineaments, Rafael +thought he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen +her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated +weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the +cover of some match-box--a common medium of publicity for famous +European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful +face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long +absence. + +The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door +of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast +their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange +lady. + +"Enter, _siñorita_" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the +Virgin _del Lluch_, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here +alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the +real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous +because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's +the real one by the miracles she works." + +He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a +cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the +little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face. + +Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image. +The Virgin _del Lluch_ was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been +compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to +discover--perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting, +war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her +to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca +came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a +liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even +wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep +what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just +like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the +original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the +Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her +miraculous voyage over the sea. + +The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all +ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her +credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from +the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling +at such a portentous miracle. Rafael had followed the party into the +shrine and taken a position near the fascinating stranger. She, however, +pretended not to see him. + +"That is only a legend," he ventured to remark, when the rustic had +finished his story. "You understand, of course, that nobody hereabouts +accepts such tales as true." + +"I suppose so," the lady answered coldly. + +"Legend or no legend, don Rafael," the recluse grumbled, somewhat +peeved, "that's what my grandfather and all the folk of his day used to +say; and that's what people still believe. If the story has been handed +down so long, there must be something to it." + +The patch of sunlight that shone through the doorway upon the flagstones +was darkened by the shadow of a woman. It was a poorly clad orchard +worker, young, it seemed, but with a face pale, and as rough as wrinkled +paper, all the crevices and hollows of her cranium showing, her eyes +sunken and dull, her unkempt hair escaping from beneath her knotted +kerchief. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. She stood +with her legs wide apart, as if in an effort to keep her balance. She +seemed to feel intense pain whenever she stepped upon the ground. +Illness and poverty were written on every feature of her person. + +The recluse knew her well; and as the unfortunate creature, panting with +the effort of the climb, sank upon a little bench to rest her feet, he +told her story briefly to the visitors. + +She was ill, very, very ill. With no faith in doctors, who, according to +her, "treated her with nothing but words"; she believed that the Virgin +_del Lluch_ would ultimately cure her. And, though at home she could +scarcely move from her chair and was always being scolded by her husband +for neglecting the housework, every week she would climb the steep +mountain-side, barefoot, her shoes in her hand. + +The hermit approached the sick woman, accepting a copper coin she +offered. A few couplets to the Virgin, as usual, he supposed! + +"Visanteta, a few _gochos_!" shouted the rustic, going to the door. And +his daughter came into the chapel--a dirty, dark-skinned creature with +African eyes, who might just have escaped from a gipsy band. + +She took a seat upon a bench, turning her back upon the Virgin with the +bored ill-humored expression of a person compelled to do a dull task day +after day; and in a hoarse, harsh, almost frantic voice, which echoed +deafeningly in that small enclosure, she began a drawling chant that +rehearsed the story of the statue and the portentous miracles it had +wrought. + +The sick woman, kneeling before the altar without releasing her hold +upon her shoes, the heels of her feet, which were bruised and bleeding +from the stones, showing from under her skirts, repeated a refrain at +the end of each stanza, imploring the protection of the Virgin. Her +voice had a weak and hollow sound, like the wail of a child. Her sunken +eyes, misty with tears, were fixed upon the Virgin with a dolorous +expression of supplication. Her words came more tremulous and more +distant at each couplet. + +The beautiful stranger was plainly affected at the pitiful sight. Her +maid had knelt and was following the sing-song rhythm of the chant, with +prayers in a language that Rafael recognized at last. It was Italian. + +"What a great thing faith is!" the lady murmured with a sigh. + +"Yes, _señora_; a beautiful thing!" + +Rafael tried to think of something "brilliant" on the grandeur of faith, +from Saint Thomas, or one of the other "sound" authors he had studied. +But he ransacked his memory in vain. Nothing! That charming woman had +filled his mind with thoughts far other than quotations from the +Fathers! + +The couplets to the Virgin came to an end. With the last stanza the wild +singer disappeared; and the sick woman, after several abortive efforts, +rose painfully to her feet. The recluse approached her with the +solicitude of a shopkeeper concerned for the quality of his wares. Were +things going any better? Were the visits to the Virgin doing good?... +The unfortunate woman did not dare to answer, for fear of offending the +miraculous Lady. She did not know!... Yes ... she really must be a +little better ... But that climb!... This offering had not had such good +results as the previous ones, she thought; but she had faith: the Virgin +would be good to her and cure her in the end. At the church door she +collapsed from pain. The recluse placed her on his chair and ran to the +cistern to get a glass of water. The Italian maid, her eyes bulging with +fright, leaned over the poor woman, petting her: + +"_Poverina! Poverina!... Coraggio_!" The invalid, rallying from her +swoon, opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at the stranger, not +understanding her words but guessing their kindly intention. + +The lady stepped out to the _plazoleta_, deeply moved, it seemed, by +what she had been witnessing. Rafael followed, with affected +absent-mindedness, somewhat ashamed of his insistence, yet at the same +time looking for an opportunity to renew their conversation. + +On finding herself once more in the presence of that wonderful panorama, +where the eye ran unobstructed to the very limit of the horizon, the +charming creature seemed to breathe more freely. + +"Good God!" she exclaimed, as if speaking to herself. "How sad and yet +how wonderful! This view is ever so beautiful. But that woman!... That +poor woman!" + +"She's been that way for years, to my personal knowledge," Rafael +remarked, pretending to have known the invalid for a long time, though +he had scarcely ever deigned to notice her before. "Our peasants are +queer people. They despise doctors, and refuse their help, preferring to +kill themselves with these barbarous prayers and devotions, which they +expect will do them good." + +"But they may be right, after all!" the lady replied. "Disease is often +incurable, and science can do for it about as much as faith--sometimes, +even less.... But here we are laughing and enjoying ourselves while +suffering passes us by, rubs elbows with us even, without our +noticing!"... + +Rafael was at a loss for reply. What sort of woman was this? What a way +she had of talking! Accustomed as he was to the commonplace chatter of +his mother's friends, and still under the influence of this meeting, +which had so deeply disturbed him, the poor boy imagined himself in the +presence of a sage in skirts--a philosopher under the disguise of +female beauty come from beyond the Pyrenees, from some gloomy German +alehouse perhaps, to upset his peace of mind. + +The stranger was silent for a time, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. +Then around her attractive sensuous lips, through which two rows of +shining, dazzling teeth were gleaming, the suggestion of a smile began +to play, a smile of joy at the landscape. + +"How beautiful this all is!" she exclaimed, without turning toward her +companion. "How I have longed to see it again!" + +At last the opportunity had come to ask the question he had been so +eager to put: and she herself had offered the opportunity! + +"Do you come from here?" he asked, in a tremulous voice, fearing lest +his inquisitiveness be scornfully repelled. + +"Yes," the lady replied, curtly. + +"Well, that's strange. I have never seen you...." + +"There's nothing strange about that. I arrived only yesterday." + +"Just as I said!... I know everyone in the city. My name is Rafael +Brull. I'm the son of don Ramón, who was mayor of Alcira many times." + +At last he had let it out! The poor fellow had been dying to reveal his +name, tell who he was, pronounce that magic word so influential in the +District, certain it would be the "Open Sesame" to that wonderful +stranger's grace! After that, perhaps, she would tell him who she was! +But the lady commented on his declaration with an "Ah!" of cold +indifference. She did not show that his name was even known to her, +though she did sweep him with a rapid, scrutinizing, half-mocking glance +that seemed to betray a hidden thought: + +"Not bad-looking, but what a dunce!" + +Rafael blushed, feeling he had made a false step in volunteering his +name with the pompousness he would have used toward some bumpkin of the +region. + +A painful silence followed. Rafael was anxious to get out of his plight. +That glacial indifference, that disdainful courtesy, which, without a +trace of rudeness, still kept him at a distance, hurt his vanity to the +quick. But since there was no stopping now, he ventured a second +question: + +"And are you thinking of remaining in Alcira very long?..." + +Rafael thought the ground was giving way beneath his feet. Another +glance from those green eyes! But, alas, this time it was cold and +menacing, a livid flash of lightning refracted from a mirror of ice. + +"I don't know ..." she answered, with a deliberateness intended to +accentuate unmistakable scorn. "I usually leave places the moment they +begin to bore me." And looking Rafael squarely in the face she added, +with freezing formality, after a pause: + +"Good afternoon, sir." + +Rafael was crushed. He saw her turn toward the doorway of the sanctuary +and call her maid. Every step of hers, every movement of her proud +figure, seemed to raise a barrier in front of him. He saw her bend +affectionately over the sick orchard-woman, open a little pink bag that +her maid handed her, and, rummaging about among some sparkling trinkets +and embroidered handkerchiefs, draw out a hand filled with shining +silver coins. She emptied the money into the apron of the astonished +peasant girl, gave something as well to the recluse, who was no less +astounded, and then, opening her red parasol, walked off, followed by +her maid. + +As she passed Rafael, she answered the doffing of his hat with a barely +perceptible inclination of her head; and, without looking at him, +started on her way down the stony mountain path. + +The young man stood gazing after her through the pines and the cypresses +as her proud athletic figure grew smaller in the distance. + +The perfume of her presence seemed to linger about him when she had +gone, obsessing him with the atmosphere of superiority and exotic +elegance that emanated from her whole being. + +Rafael noticed finally that the recluse was approaching, unable to +restrain a desire to communicate his admiration to someone. + +"What a woman!" the man cried, rolling his eyes to express his full +enthusiasm. + +She had given him a _duro_, one of those white discs which, in that +atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the +poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron +blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! _Duros, pesetas_, +two-_pesetas_, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold +button, which must have come from her glove! + +Rafael shared in the general astonishment. But who the devil was that +woman? + +"How do I know!" the rustic answered. "But judging from the language of +the maid," he went on with great conviction: "I should say she was some +Frenchwoman ... some Frenchwoman ... with a pile of money!" + +Rafael turned once more in the direction of the two parasols that were +slowly winding down the slope. They were barely visible now. The larger +of the two, a mere speck of red, was already blending into the green of +the first orchards on the plain ... At last it had disappeared +completely. + +Left alone, Rafael burst into rage! The place where he had made such a +sorry exhibition of himself seemed odious to him now. He fumed with +vexation at the memory of that cold glance, which had checked any +advance toward familiarity, repelled him, crushed him! The thought of +his stupid questions filled him with hot shame. + +Without replying to the "good-evening" from the recluse and his family, +he started down the mountain, in hopes of meeting the woman again, +somewhere, some time, he knew not when nor how. The heir of don Ramón, +the hope of the District, strode furiously on, his arms aquiver with a +nervous tremor. And aggressively, menacingly, addressing his own ego as +though it were a henchman cringing terror-stricken in front of him, he +muttered: + +"You imbecile!... You lout!... You peasant! You provincial ass! You ... +rube!" + + + + +IV + + +Doña Bernarda did not suspect the reason why her son rose on the +following morning pale, and with dark rings under his eyes, as if he had +spent a bad night. Nor could his political friends guess, that +afternoon, why in such fine weather, Rafael should come and shut himself +up in the stifling atmosphere of the Club. + +When he came in, a crowd of noisy henchmen gathered round him to discuss +all over again the great news that had been keeping "the Party" in +feverish excitement for a week past: the Cortes were to be dissolved! +The newspapers had been talking of nothing else. Within two or three +months, before the close of the year at the latest, there would be a new +election, and therewith, as all averred, a landslide for don Rafael +Brull. The intimate friend and lieutenant of the House of Brull was the +best informed. If the elections took place on the date indicated by the +newspapers, Rafael would still be five or six months short of his +twenty-fifth birth-day. But don Andrés had written to Madrid to consult +the Party leaders. The prime minister was agreeable--"there were +precedents!"--and even though Rafael should be a few weeks short of the +legal age, the seat would go to him just the same. They would send no +more "foundlings" from Madrid! Alcira would have no more "unknowns" +foisted upon her! And the whole Tribe of Brull dependents was preparing +for the contest with the enthusiasm of a prize-fighter sure of victory +beforehand. + +All this bustling expectation left Rafael cold. For years he had been +looking forward to that election time, when the chance would come for +his free life in Madrid. Now that it was at hand he was completely +indifferent to the whole matter, as if he were the last person in the +world concerned. + +He looked impatiently at the table where don Andrés, with three other +leading citizens, was having his daily hand at cards before coming to +sit down at Rafael's side. That was a canny habit of don Andrés. He +liked to be seen in his capacity of Regent, sheltering the heir-apparent +under the wing of his prestige and experienced wisdom. + +Well along in the afternoon, when the Club parlor was less crowded with +members, the atmosphere freer of smoke, and the ivory balls less noisy +on the green cloth, don Andrés considered his game at an end, and took a +chair in his disciple's circle, where as usual Rafael was sitting with +the most parasitic and adulatory of his partisans. + +The boy pretended to be listening to their conversation, but all the +while he was preparing mentally a question he had decided to put to don +Andrés the day before. + +At last he made up his mind. + +"You know everybody, don Andrés. Well, yesterday, up on San Salvador, I +met a fine-looking woman who seems to be a foreigner. She says she's +living here. Who is she?" + +The old man burst into a loud laugh, and pushed his chair back from the +table, so that his big paunch would have room to shake in. + +"So you've seen her, too!" he exclaimed between one guffaw and another. +"Well, sir, what a city this is! That woman got in the day before +yesterday, and everybody's seen her already. She's the talk of the town. +You were the only one who hadn't asked me about her so far. And now +you've bitten!... Ho! Ho! Ho! What a place this is!" + +When he had had his laugh out--Rafael, meanwhile, did not see the +joke--he continued in more measured style: + +"That 'foreign woman,' as you call her, boy, comes from Alcira. In fact, +she was born about two doors from you. Don't you know doña Pepa, 'the +doctor's woman,' they call her--a little lady who has an orchard close +by the river and lives in the Blue House, that's always under water when +the Júcar floods? She once owned the place you have just beyond where +you live, and she's the one who sold it to your father--the only +property don Ramón ever bought, so far as I know. Don't you remember?" + +Rafael thought he did. As he went back in his memory, the picture of an +old wrinkled woman rose before his mind, a woman round-shouldered, bent +with age, but with a kindly face smiling with simple-mindedness and good +nature. He could see her now, with a rosary usually in her hand, a +camp-stool under her arm, and her _mantilla_ drawn down over her face. +As she passed the Brull door on her way to church, she would greet his +mother; and doña Bernarda would remark in a patronizing way: "Doña Pepa +is a very fine woman; one of God's own souls.... The only decent person +in her family." + +"Yes; I remember; I remember doña Pepa," said Rafael. + +"Well, your 'foreigner,'" don Andrés continued, "is doña Pepa's niece, +daughter of her brother, the doctor. The girl has been all over the +world singing grand opera. You were probably too young to remember +Doctor Moreno, who was the scandal of the province in those days...." + +But Rafael certainly did remember Doctor Moreno! That name was one of +the freshest of his childhood recollections, the bugaboo of many nights +of terror and alarm, when he would hide his trembling head under the +clothes. If he cried about going to bed so early, his mother would say +to him in a mysterious voice: + +"If you don't keep quiet and go right to sleep I'll send for Doctor +Moreno!" + +A weird, a formidable personage, the Doctor! Rafael could see him as +clearly as if he were sitting there in front of him; with that huge, +black, curly beard; those large, burning eyes that always shone with an +inner fire; and that tall, angular figure that seemed taller than ever +as young Brull evoked it from the hazes of his early years. Perhaps the +Doctor had been a good fellow, who knows! At any rate Rafael thought so, +as his mind now reverted to that distant period of his life; but he +could still remember the fright he had felt as a child, when once in a +narrow street he met the terrible Doctor, who had looked at him through +those glowing pupils and caressed his cheeks gently and kindly with a +hand that seemed to the youngster as hot as a live coal! He had fled in +terror, as almost all good boys did when the Doctor petted them. + +What a horrible reputation Doctor Moreno had! The curates of the town +spoke of him in terms of hair-raising horror. An infidel! A man cut off +from Mother Church! Nobody knew for certain just what high authority had +excommunicated him, but he was, no doubt, outside the pale of decent, +Christian folks. Proof of that there was, a-plenty. His whole attic was +filled with mysterious books in foreign languages, all containing +horrible doctrines against God and the authority of His representatives +on earth. He defended a certain fellow by the name of Darwin, who +claimed than men were related to monkeys, a view that gave much +amusement to the indignant doña Bernarda, who repeated all the jokes on +the crazy notion her favorite preacher cracked of a Sunday in the +pulpit. And such a sorcerer! Hardly a disease could resist Doctor +Moreno. He worked wonders in the suburbs, among the lower scum; and +those laborers adored him with as much fear as affection. He succeeded +with people who had been given up by the older doctors, wiseacres in +long frocks and with gold-headed canes, who trusted more in God than in +science, as Rafael's mother would say in praise of them. That devil of a +physician used new and unheard-of treatments he learned from atheistic +reviews and suspicious books he imported from abroad. His competitors +grumbled also because the Doctor had a mania for treating poor folk +gratis, actually leaving money, sometimes, into the bargain; and he +often refused to attend wealthy people of "sound principles" who had +been obliged to get their confessor's permission before placing +themselves in his hands. + +"Rascal!... Heretic!... Lower scum!..." doña Bernarda would exclaim. + +But she said such things in a very low voice and with a certain fear, +for those days were bad ones for the House of Brull. Rafael remembered +how gloomy his father had been about that time, hardly even leaving the +_patio_. Had it not been for the respect his hairy claws and his +frowning eye-brows inspired, the rabble would have eaten him alive. +"Others" were in command, ... "others" ... everybody, in fact, except +the House of Brull. + +The monarchy had been treasonably overturned; the men of the Revolution +of September were legislating in Madrid. The petty tradesmen of the +city, ever rebellious against the tyranny of don Ramón, had taken guns +in their hands and formed a little militia, ready to send a fusilade +into the _cacique_ who had formerly trodden them under foot. In the +streets people were singing the _Marseillaise_, waving tricolored +bunting, and hurrahing for the Republic. Candles were being burned +before pictures of Castelar. And meantime that fanatical Doctor, a +Republican, was preaching on the public squares, explaining the "rights +of man" at daytime meetings in the country and at night meetings in +town. Wild with enthusiasm he repeated, in different words, the orations +of the portentous Tribune who in those days was traveling from one end +of Spain to the other, administering to the people the sacrament of +democracy to the music of his eloquence, which raised all the grandeurs +of History from the tomb. + +Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her +angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting, +would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors +away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer. +"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked +her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country. +Those people demanded a Republic--they belonged, as she said, to the +"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning; +and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and +strangle the baby! + +"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen _cacique_ would reply, +with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll +sing their _Marseillaise_ for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why +shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are +coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs." + +In don Ramón's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may +have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been +schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the +hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother +him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's +friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly +of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so +many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for +himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it! +The end of the world was surely coming! + +But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid, +what would become of the poor people who depended on him for health and +protection? Besides, he liked a quiet, sedentary life, with his books +and his studies, where he could satisfy his desires without quarrels and +fighting. His deep convictions impelled him to mingle with the masses, +and speak in public places--where he proved to be a successful agitator, +but he refused to join party organizations; and after a lecture or an +oration, he would spend days and days with his books and magazines, +alone save for his sister--a docile, pious woman who worshipped him, +though she bewailed his irreligion--and for his little daughter, a +blonde girl whom Rafael could scarcely remember, because her father's +unpopularity with the "best people" kept the little child away from +"good society." + +The Doctor had one passion--music; and everybody admired his talent for +that art. What didn't the man know, anyhow? According to doña Bernarda +and her friends, that remarkable skill had been acquired through "evil +arts." It was another fruit of his impiety! But that did not prevent +crowds from thronging the streets at night, cautioning pedestrians to +walk more softly as they approached his house; nor from opening their +windows to hear better when that devil of a doctor would be playing his +violoncello. This he did when certain friends of his came up from +Valencia to spend a few days with him--a queer, long-haired crew that +talked a strange language and referred to a fellow called Beethoven +with as much respect as if he were San Bernardo himself. + +"Yes, don Andrés," said Rafael. "I remember Doctor Moreno very well." +And his ears seemed to tingle again with the diabolical melodies that +had floated in to the side of his little bed on terrible nights still +fresh in his memory. + +"Very well," continued the old man. "That lady is the Doctor's daughter. +What a man he was! How he made your father and me fume in the days of +'73! Now that all that is so far in the past, I'll say he was a fine +fellow. His brain had gone somewhat bad from reading too much, like don +Quixote; and he was crazy over music. Most charming manners he had, +however. He married a beautiful orchard-girl, who happened to be very +poor. He said the marriage was ... for the purpose of perpetuating the +species--those were his very words--of having strong, sound, healthy +children. For that he didn't need to bother about his wife's social +position. What he was looking for was health. So he picked out that +Teresa of his, as strong as an ox, and as fresh as an apple. But little +good it did the poor woman. She had one baby and died a few days +afterward, despite the science and the desperate efforts of her husband. +They had lived together less than a year." + +Rafael's companions were listening with as much attention as he; for +morbid curiosity is the characteristic of the people of small places, +where the keenest pleasure available is that of knowing the private +affairs of others intimately. + +"And now comes the good part," don Andrés continued. "The mad Doctor +had two saints: Castelar and Beethoven. The pictures of those fellows +were scattered in every room of the house, even in the attic. This +Beethoven (in case you don't know it), was an Italian or an Englishman, +I'm not sure which--one of those fellows who makes music up out of his +head for people to play in theatres or for lunatics like Moreno to amuse +themselves with. Well, when his daughter was born the Doctor wondered +what name to give her. As a tribute to Emilio Castelar, his idol, he +felt he ought to call her Emilia: but he liked the sound of Leonora +better (no, not Lenor, but Leonora!). According to what he told us, that +was the title of the only opera Beethoven ever wrote--an opera he could +read, for that matter, the way I read the paper. Anyhow, the foreigner +won out; and the Doctor packed the child off to church with his sister, +who took a few neighbors of the poorer sort along to see Leonora +baptized. + +"You can imagine what the priest said after he had looked in vain +through the catalogue of saints for that name. At the time I was +employed in the municipal offices, and I had to intervene. This was all +before the Revolution; Gonzalez Brabo was boss in those days--and good +old days they were! Let an enemy of law and order or sound religion just +raise his voice and he was off on his way to Fernando Pio in no time. +Well, what a racket the Doctor raised! He sat himself down in that +church--first time he'd ever been in the place--and insisted that his +daughter be labeled as he directed. Later he thought he would take her +home without any baptism at all, saying he had no use for the ceremony +anyhow, and that he put up with it only to please his sister. During +the argument, he called all the curates and acolytes assembled in the +sacristy there, a pack of 'brahmans.'" + +"He must have said Brahmins," interrupted Rafael. + +"Yes, that's it: and Bonzes, too--just joking, of course--I remember +very well. But finally he compromised and let her be baptized with the +orthodox name of 'Leonor.' Not that he cared what they called her in the +church. As he went out he said to the priest: "She will be 'Leonora' for +reasons that please her father, and which you wouldn't understand even +if I were to explain them to you." What a hubbub followed! Don Ramón and +I had to interfere to calm the good curates; they were for sending him +up for sacrilege, insult to religion, what not! We had to go some to +quiet things down. In those days, boy, a matter of that sort was more +serious than killing a man." + +"Which name did she keep?" asked a friend of Rafael. + +"Leonora, as her father wished. That girl always took after the old man. +Just as queer as he was. The Doctor all over again! I haven't seen her +yet. They say she's a stunning beauty, like her mother, who was a +blonde, and the handsomest girl in all these parts. When the Doctor had +dressed his wife up like a lady, she wasn't much for manners, but she +certainly was something to look at...." + +"And what became of Moreno?" asked another. "Is it true, as they said +years ago, that he shot himself?" + +"Oh, some say one thing, some another. Perhaps it's all a lie. Who +knows! It all happened so far away.... After the Republic fell, it was +the turn of decent people again. Poor Moreno took it all harder than he +did the death of his Teresa, and kept himself locked up in his house day +in, day out. Your father was stronger than before and we ran things in a +way that was a sight for sore eyes! Don Antonio up in Madrid gave orders +to the Governors to give us a free hand in cleaning up everything that +was left of the Revolution. The people who before had been cheering for +the Doctor all the time, now kept away from him for fear we should catch +them. Some afternoons he would go for a walk in the suburbs, or a stroll +over to his sister's orchard, near the river--always with Leonora at his +side. She was now about eleven years old. All his affection was centered +on her. Poor Doctor! How things had changed from the days when his mobs +would meet the troops shot for shot in the streets of Alcira, shouting +_vivas_ for the Federal Republic!... In his solitude and in all the +dejection coming from the defeat of his perverted ideas, he took more +than ever to music. He had but one joy left him. Leonora loved music as +much as he. She learned her lessons rapidly; and soon could accompany +her father's violoncello on the piano. They would spend the days playing +together, going through the whole pile of music sheets they kept stored +in the attic along with those accursed medical books. Besides, the +little girl showed she had a voice, and it seemed to grow fuller and +more beautiful every day. 'She will be a singer, a great singer,' her +father proclaimed enthusiastically. And when some tenant of his or one +of his dependents came into the house and could hardly believe his ears +at the sweetness of the little angel's voice, the Doctor would rub his +hands and gleefully exclaim: 'What do you think of the little lady, +eh?... Some day people in Alcira will be proud she was born here.'" + +Don Andrés paused to sift his recollections, and after a long silence +added: + +"The truth is, I can't tell you any more. At that time, we were in power +again, and I had very little to do with the Doctor. We gradually lost +sight of him, forgot him, practically. The music we heard when going by +the house was all there was to remind us of him. We learned one day, +through his sister, doña Pepa, that he had gone way off with the little +girl somewhere--what was that city you visited, Rafael?--Milan, yes, +Milan, that's it! I've been told that's the market for singers. He +wanted his Leonora to become a prima donna. He never came back, poor +fellow!... Things must have gone badly with them. Every year he would +write home to his sister to sell another piece of land. It is known that +over there they lived in real poverty. In a few years the little fortune +the Doctor got from his parents was gone. Poor doña Pepa, kind old soul, +even disposed of the house--which belonged half to the Doctor and half +to her--sent him every cent of the money, and moved to the orchard. Ever +since then she's been coming in to mass and to Forty Hours in all sorts +of weather. I could learn nothing for certain after that. People lie so, +you see. Some say poor Moreno shot himself because his daughter left him +when she got placed on the stage; others say that he died like a dog in +a poorhouse. The only sure thing is that he died and that his daughter +went on having a great time all over those countries over there. The +way she went it! They even say she had a king or two. As for money! Say, +boys, there are ways and ways of earning it, and ways and ways of +spending it! The fellow who knows all about that side of her is the +barber Cupido. He imagines he's an artist, because he plays the guitar; +and besides he has a Republican grouch, and was a great admirer of her +father's. He's the only one in town who followed all she was up to, in +the papers. They say she doesn't sing under her own name, but uses some +prettier sounding one--foreign, I believe. Cupido is a regular busybody +and you can get all the latest news in his barbershop. Only yesterday he +went to doña Pepa's farmhouse to greet the '_eminent artist_,' as he +calls her. There's no end to what he tells. Trunks in every corner, +enough to pack a house-full of things into, and silk dresses ... +shopfuls of them! Hats, I can't say how many; jewelry-boxes on every +table with diamonds that strike you blind. And she told Cupido to have +the station-agent get a move on and send what was still missing--the +heavier luggage--boxes and boxes that come from way off somewhere--the +other end of the world, and that cost a fortune just to ship.... There +you are!... And why not? The way she earned it!" + +Don Andrés winking maliciously and laughing like an old faun, gave a sly +nudge at Rafael, who was listening in deep abstraction to the story. + +"But is she going to live on here?" asked the young man. "Accustomed as +she is to flitting about the world, do you think she'll be able to stand +this place?" + +"Nobody can tell," don Andrés replied. "Not even Cupido can find that +out. She'll stay until she gets bored, he says. And to be in less danger +of that, she has brought her whole establishment along on her back, like +a snail." + +"Well, she'll be bored soon enough," one of Rafael's friends observed. +"I suppose she thinks she's going to be admired and stared at as she was +abroad! Moreno's girl! Did you ever hear of such a family?... Daughter +of that _descamisado_, as my father calls him because he died without a +stitch on his back! And all people say of them! Last night her arrival +was the subject of conversation in every decent home in town, and there +wasn't a man who did not promise to fight shy of her. If she thinks +Alcira is anything like the places where they dance the razzle-dazzle +and there's no shame, she'll be sadly disappointed." + +Don Andrés laughed slyly. + +"Yes, boys! She'll be disappointed. There's a plenty of morality in this +town, and much wholesome fear of scandal. We're probably as bad as +people in other places, but we don't want anybody to find us out. I'm +afraid this Leonora is going to spend most of her time with her aunt--a +silly old thing, whatever her many virtues may be. They say she's +brought a French maid along.... But she's beginning to cry 'sour grapes' +already. Do you know what she said to Cupido yesterday? That she had +come here with the idea of living all by herself, just to get away from +people; and when the barber spoke to her of society in Alcira, she made +a wry face, as much as to say the place was filled with no-accounts. +That's what the women were talking most about last night. You can see +why! She has always been the favorite of so many big guns!" + +An idea seemed to flit across the wrinkled forehead of don Andrés, +tracing a wicked smile around his lips: + +"You know what I think, Rafael? You're young and you're handsome, and +you've been abroad. Why don't you make a try for her, if only to prick +the bubble of her conceit and show her there are people here, too. They +say she's mighty good-looking, and, what the deuce! It wouldn't be so +hard. When she finds out who you are!..." + +The old man said this with the idea of flattering Rafael, certain that +the prestige of his "prince" was such that no woman could resist him. +But Rafael had lived through the previous afternoon, and the words +seemed very bitter pills. Don Andrés at once grew serious, as if a +frightful vision had suddenly passed before his eyes; and he added in a +respectful tone: + +"But no: that was only a jest. Don't pay any attention to what I say. +Your mother would be terribly provoked." + +The thought of doña Bernarda, the personification of austere, +uncompromising virtue, chased the mirth from every face in the company. + +"The strange thing about all this," said Rafael, who was anxious to turn +the conversation in a different direction, "is that now everybody +remembers the Doctor's daughter. But years and years went by without her +name being mentioned, in my hearing at least." + +"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man +answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your +day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always +been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as +Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we +got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers +and spread all over town, or something that that silly doña Pepa would +let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece +was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I +don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire, +so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to +Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here, +and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life, +digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take +my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself, +but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to +them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow +everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramón the greatest man the +District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..." + +And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael +had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few +hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood +years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in +their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other. + +This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city, +lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would +not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her. + +How get to know her better, then?... Rafael was tempted as he walked +aimlessly about the streets, to look up the barber Cupido in his shop +that very afternoon. That merry rogue was the only person in all Alcira +who entered her house. But Brull did not dare, for fear of gossip. His +dignity as a party leader forbade his entering that barbershop where the +walls were papered with copies of "Revolution" and where a picture of Pi +y Margall reigned in place of the King's. How could he justify his +presence in a place he had never visited before? How explain to Cupido +his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it +before sundown? + +Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the +barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch. Finally he +sauntered off toward the orchards, following the riverbank slowly along, +with his gaze fixed on that blue house, which had never before attracted +his attention, but which now seemed the most beautiful detail in that +ample paradise of orange-trees. + +Through the groves he could see the balcony of the house, and on it a +woman unfolding shining gowns of delicate colors. She was shaking the +prima donna's skirts to straighten out the wrinkles and the folds caused +by the packing in the trunks. + +It was the Italian maid--that Beppa of the reddish hair whom he had seen +the previous afternoon with her mistress. + +He thought the girl was looking at him, and that she even recognized +him through the foliage, despite the distance. He felt a sudden +timorousness, like a child caught redhanded doing something wrong. He +turned in his tracks and strode rapidly off toward the city. + +But later, he felt quite comforted. Merely to have approached the Blue +House seemed like progress toward acquaintance with the beautiful +Leonora. + + + + +V + + +All work had stopped on the rich lands of the _ribera_. + +The first winter rains were falling over the entire District. Day after +day the gray sky, heavy with clouds, seemed to reach down and touch the +very tops of the trees. The reddish soil of the fields grew dark under +the continuous downpour; the roads, winding deep between the mudwalls +and the fences of the orchards, were changed to rushing streams. The +weeping orange-trees seemed to shrink and cringe under the deluge, as if +in aggrieved protest at the sudden anger of that kindly, friendly land +of sunshine. + +The Júcar was rising. The waters, turned to so much liquid clay, lashed +red and slimy against the buttresses of the bridges. People living along +the banks followed the swelling of the river with anxious eyes, studying +the markers placed along the shores to note how the water was coming up. + +_"Munta?"_ ... asked the people from the interior, in their quaint +dialect. + +_"Munta!"_ answered the river dwellers. + +And the water was indeed slowly rising, already threatening the city +that had so audaciously taken root in the very middle of its bed. + +But despite the danger, the townspeople seemed to be feeling nothing +more than uneasy curiosity. No one thought of moving across the bridges +to take refuge on the high land. Nonsense! The Júcar was always +flooding. You had to expect something of the sort every once in a while. +Thank heaven there was something to break the monotony of life in that +sleepy town! Why complain at a week's vacation? It was hard to disturb +the placid complacency of those descendants of the Moors. Floods had +been coming since the days of their fathers, their grandfathers and +their great-grandfathers, and never had the town been carried off. A few +houses at the worst. Why suppose the catastrophe would be due now?... +The Júcar was a sort of husband to Alcira. As happens in any decent +family, there would be a quarrel now and then--a thrashing followed by +kisses and reconciliation. Just imagine--living seven or eight centuries +together! Besides,--and this the lesser people thought--there was Father +San Bernardo, as powerful as God Himself in all that concerned Alcira. +He was able, single-handed, to tame the writhing monster that wound its +coiling way underneath the bridges. + +It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to +be having a holiday. The young ones, sent home from school because of +the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the +water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close +to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the +ever-broadening torrent to reach them. + +Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts +were belching streams as thick as a man's arm, loungers in the cafés +would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing +at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make +their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their +opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous +inspection. + +The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically +"Southern" argument and prophecy. Friendships were being made and +broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the +past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more +important than the one five years before. + +Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, +roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the +low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the +shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges +and the mudwalls. + +The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the +mountains of Cuenca. If much water came down from there, the flood would +become serious. And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters +carefully. If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the +upper provinces. + +The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days. The night of the second day +closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness. +On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless +flashes of flame--candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen +on guard along the banks. + +In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the +houses. Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the +men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about +in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or +tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the +water. + +All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the +darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully +displayed during the daytime. Now fear of the supernatural came over +them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher +Power to avert the danger. Perhaps this freshet was the final one! +Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall +of the city!... Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their +wretched lanes converted into deep canals. + +"_El pare San Bernat!... Que traguen al pare San Bernat_! Father Saint +Bernard!... Let them fetch father Saint Bernard!" + +The men looked at each other uneasily. Nobody could handle a matter like +this so well as the glorious patron. It was now high time to have +recourse to him, as had so often been done before, and get him to +perform his miracle. + +They ought to go to the City Council, and compel the big guns there, in +spite of their scepticism, to bring the saint out for the consolation of +the poor. + +In an hour a veritable army was formed. Mobs issued from the dark lanes, +paddling in the water like frogs, and raising their war-cry: "_San +Bernat! San Bernat_!"; the men, with their sleeves and trousers rolled +up, or even entirely naked save for the sash that is never removed from +the skin of a Valencian peasant; the women, with their skirts raised +over their heads for protection, sinking their tanned, skinny, +over-worked legs into the slime, and all drenched from head to foot, the +wet clothes sticking to their bodies; and at the head, a number of +strong young men with four-wicked tapers lighted, sputtering and +crackling in the rain and casting a weird flickering radiance back over +the clamoring multitude. + +"_San Bernat! San Bernat!... Viva el pare San Bernat!_ Father Saint +Bernard, _viva_!" + +Under the drizzle pouring from the sky and the streams tumbling from the +eavespouts, the mob rushed along through the streets in a wild riot. +Doors and windows flew open, and new voices were added to the delirious +uproar, while at every crossing recruits would come to swell the +on-rushing avalanche headed for the _Ayuntamiento_. Muskets, ancient +blunderbusses, and horse-pistols as big as guns, could be seen in the +menacing throng, as though those wild forms were to compel the granting +of a petition that might be denied, or to slay the river, perhaps. + +The _alcalde_, with all the members of the council, was waiting at the +door of the City Hall. They had come running to the place, marshalling +the _alguacils_ and the patrols, to face and quell the mutiny. + +"What do you want?" the Mayor asked the crowd. + +What did they want! They wanted the one remedy, the one salvation, for +the city: they wanted to take the omnipotent saint to the bank of the +river that he might awe it with his presence, just as their ancestors +had been doing for centuries and centuries, and thanks to which the city +was still standing! + +Some of the city people, whom the peasants regarded as atheists, began +to smile at the strange request. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time +getting all the valuables out of the houses on the bank? A tempest of +protests followed this proposal. "Out with the saint! Out with _San +Bernat!_ We want the miracle! The miracle!" Those simple people were +thinking of the wonders they had learned in their childhood at their +mothers' knees; times in former centuries, when it had been enough for +San Bernardo to appear on a river road, to start the flood down again, +draining off from the orchard lands as water leaks from a broken +pitcher. + +The _alcalde_, a liegeman of the Brull dynasty, was in a quandary. He +was afraid of that ugly mob and was anxious to yield, as usual; but it +would be a serious breach of etiquette not to consult "the chief." +Fortunately, just as the huge, dark mass of human beings was beginning +to surge in indignation at his silence, and hisses and shouts of anger +were being raised, Rafael appeared. + +Doña Bernarda had sent him out at the first sign of uneasiness in the +populace. It was in circumstances such as these that her husband used to +shine, taking the helm in every crisis, giving orders and settling +questions, though to no avail at all. But when the river returned to its +normal level, and danger was past, the peasant would remember don +Ramón's "sacrifices" and call him the father of the poor. If the +miraculous saint must come out, let Rafael be the one to produce him! +The elections were at hand. The flood could not have come in better +time. There must be no false steps, no frightening opportunity away. +Something rather must be done to get people to talking about him as they +used to talk about his father on similar occasions. + +So Rafael, after having the purpose of this demonstration explained to +him by the most ardent of the leaders, gave a magnificent gesture of +consent: + +"Granted; have _San Bernat_ brought out!" + +With a thunder of applause and _vivas_ for young Brull, the black +avalanche headed rumbling for the church. + +They must now persuade the curate to take the saint out, and that good +priest--a fat, kindly, but rather shrewd fellow--always objected to what +he called a bit of old-fashioned mummery. The truth was he looked +forward with little pleasure to a tramp out in the rain at the head of a +procession, trying to keep dry under an umbrella, with his _soutane_ +rolled up to his knees, and his shoes coming off at every step in the +mire. Besides, some day, in the very face of San Bernardo, the river +might carry half the city off, and then what a fix, what a fix, religion +would be in, all on account of those disturbers of the peace! + +Rafael and his henchmen of the _Ayuntamiento_ tried their hardest to +convince the curate; but his only reply was to ask whether water was +coming down from Cuenca. + +"I believe it is," said the _alcalde_. "You can see that makes the +danger worse. It's more than ever necessary to bring out the saint." + +"Well, if there's water coming down from Cuenca," the priest answered, +"we'd better let it come, and San Bernardo also had better keep +indoors, at home. Matters concerning saints must be treated with great +discretion, take my word for that.... And, if you don't agree with me, +just remember that freshet when the river got above the bridges. We +brought the saint out, and the river almost carried him off downstream." + +The crowd, growing restless at the delay, began to shout against the +priest. The good sense of that canny churchman was powerless in the face +of superstitions instilled by centuries of fanaticism. + +"Since you will it so, so let it be," he said gravely. "Let the Saint +come forth, and may the Lord have mercy on us!" + +A frenzied acclamation burst from the crowd, which now filled the whole +square in front of the church. The rain continued falling, and above the +serried ranks of heads covered with skirts, cloaks, and an occasional +umbrella, the flames of the tapers flickered, staining the wet faces +red. + +The people smiled happily in all their discomfort from the downpour. +Confident of success, they were foretasting gleefully the terror of the +stream at sight of the blessed image entering its waters. What could not +San Bernardo do? His marvelous history, a blend of Moorish and Christian +romance, flamed in all those credulous imaginations. He was a saint +native to that region--the second son of the Moorish king of Carlet. +Through his talent, courtesy and beauty he won such success at court in +Valencia, that he rose to the post of prime minister. + +Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of +Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete, +to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of +the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting +mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to +the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by +the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of +Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of +Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen +monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two +sisters--beautiful Mooresses they were--and they took the names of +Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go +with their brother on his tour of preachment. + +But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born--the arrogant +Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor--succeeded to the rulership of the +tiny state--a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended +in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the +roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called +a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He +came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of +his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he +crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred +preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here +was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering +mendicant even--a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his +votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted +_vivas_ to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had +been of the pagan king of Valencia. + +The procession was rapidly organized. Along the narrow lanes of the +island where the rain coursed in streams, people kept coming in droves. +They were barefoot for the most part, but some were sinking shoes +indifferently into the water. Most of them had tapers or shotguns. The +women did their best to shelter little ones under the skirts they had +gathered about their heads. The musicians, all barefoot, were in regular +uniform--gold braided jackets and plumed hats--looking for all the world +like Malay chiefs who beautify their nakedness with castoff coats and +three-cornered hats the missionaries give them. + +In front of the church the lights of the tapers blended into one great +flare. Through the wide doorway the candles on the altars gleamed like a +distant constellation. + +The whole neighborhood, almost, had assembled in the square, despite the +increasing rain. Many had come to scoff. What a farce it all would be! +They did well, however, to wait two days! The rain was almost over. It +would probably stop by the time they got the Saint out! + +In double file of tapers the procession began to move between two lines +of tightly jammed spectators. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_ Hurrah for father San Bernardo!" a +multitude of hoarse voices cried. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes_! Hurrah for his sisters!" others added, to +correct the lack of gallantry displayed by the most enthusiastic of the +idolators in putting ladies last. + +For the sisters, the holy martyrs, Gracia and Maria, also figured in +the procession. San Bernardo never went anywhere alone. As even children +in baby-school knew, not a power on earth, not all the men and horses in +the orchards put together, could lift the saint from his altar unless +his sisters went first. That was one of his miracles long accredited by +tradition. He had very little confidence in women--less pious +commentators said--and not willing to trust his sisters out of sight, he +insisted that they precede him whenever he left his pedestal. + +The holy sisters appeared in the church doorway, swaying on their +litters above the heads of the worshippers. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes!_" + +And the poor _chermanetes_, dripping from every fold of their vestments, +came out into that dark, tempestuous, rain-soaked atmosphere that was +rent by sheaves of crude light from the tapers. + +The musicians tuned their instruments, ready to break into the Royal +March! In the brilliantly lighted doorway something shining could be +seen laboriously advancing, swaying this way and that, as if the waves +of an angry sea were rocking it. + +The crowd again began to cheer, and the music sounded. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_" + +But the music and the acclamations were drowned by a deafening crash, as +if the island had suddenly burst into a thousand pieces, dragging the +city to the depths of the Abyss. The square was shooting a fusillade of +lightning flashes, a veritable cannonade. Those ancient arms, +blunderbusses, muzzle-loaders, pistols, crammed full of powder, could +roar like artillery. All the guns in the neighborhood were saluting the +appearance of the Saint. And the crowd, drunk with the smell of powder, +began to shout and gesticulate in the presence of that bronze image, +whose round, kindly face--that of a healthy well-fed friar--seemed to +quiver with life in the light of the torches. + +Eight strong men, almost naked, came forward staggering under the weight +of the metal saint. The crowd surged against them, threatening to upset +the statue. But two bare-breasted strong-armed boys, devotees of the +patron, were marching on either side, and they fought the multitude +back. + +The women, shoved hither and thither and almost suffocated in the jam, +burst into tears as their gaze fell upon the miraculous image. + +"_Ay_, father San Bernardo! Father San Bernardo! Save us! Save us!" + +Others dragged children out from the folds of their skirts, and held +them out above their heads toward the powerful guards. + +"Lift him up! Let him kiss the Saint!" + +And those muscular peasants would pick the children up like dolls, now +by an arm, now by a leg, now by the nape of the neck, raise them to a +level with the saint, that they might kiss the bronze face, and then +toss them back into the arms of their mothers, working like automatons, +dropping one child to seize another, with the regularity of machines in +action. Many times the impact was too rough; the noses of the children +would flatten against the folds of the metallic garb; but the fervor of +the crowd seemed to infect the little ones. They were the future adorers +of the Moorish monk. Rubbing their bruises with their soft little hands +they would swallow their tears and return to their snug places in their +mothers' skirts. + +Behind the glorious saint marched Rafael and the gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ with long wax tapers; and after them the curate, +grumbling as he heard the first dashes of rain beat on the large red +silk umbrella which the sacristan held over him, and felt the impact of +the crowd of orchard-folk, that was mixed at random with the musicians. +The latter, paying more attention to where they stepped than to their +instruments, played a rather discordant march. Guns, meanwhile, +continued to blaze away. The wild cheering for San Bernardo and his +sisters went on; and, framed in a red nimbus of torch-light, greeted at +every street-corner by a new fusillade, the image sailed along over that +sea of heads, pelted by the rain, which, in the light of the candles, +looked like a maze of transparent crystal threads. Around the saint the +arms of the athletes kept ever moving, lifting children up to bump their +drooling noses on the bronze of father San Bernardo. Balconies and +windows along the way were filled with women, their heads protected by +their skirts. + +Sighs, wails, exclamations of entreaty welcomed the passing saint in a +chorus of despair and hope. + +"Save us, father San Bernardo!... Save us!..." + +The procession reached the river, crossing and recrossing the bridges +that led to the suburbs. The flickering torches were mirrored in the +dark edges of the stream, which was growing momentarily more terrifying +and clamorous. The water had not yet reached the railing, as at other +times. Miracle! San Bernardo was at work already! + +Then the procession marched to points where the river had flooded the +lanes near the bank, and turned them to virtual ponds. The more +fanatical of the devotees, lifting their tapers above their heads, went +out fearlessly neck high into the water: for surely the Saint must not +go in alone. + +One old man, shaking with malaria, caught in the rice-fields, and hardly +able to hold the taper in his trembling hands, hesitated at the brink of +the stream. + +"Go on in, _agüelo_!" the women encouraged affectionately. "Father San +Bernardo will cure you. Don't lose such a chance!" + +When the saint was out performing miracles, he might remember the old +man, too. So _agüelo_--"grandaddy"--shivering in his drenched clothes +and his teeth chattering, walked resolutely in. + +The statue was making its way very slowly along the inundated streets, +for the feet of the bearers sank deep into the water under their load; +and they could advance at all only with the aid of the faithful, who +gathered about the litter on all sides to help. A writhing mass of bare, +sinewy arms rose from the water like tentacles of a human octopus to +carry the Saint along. + +Just behind the image came the curate and the political dignitaries, +riding astride the shoulders of some enthusiasts who, for the greater +pomp of the ceremony, were willing to serve as mounts, though the tapers +of their riders kept getting into their faces. + +The curate began to feel the cold water creeping up his back, and +ordered the Saint inshore again. In fact San Bernardo was already at +the end of the lane, and actually in the river itself. His guards of +honor were having a time of it to keep their feet in the face of the +current, but they were still willing to go on, believing that the +farther the statue went into the stream, the sooner the waters would go +down. At last, however, the most foolhardy withdrew. The Saint came +back. Though the procession at once went on to the next road and to the +next, repeating the same performance. + +And suddenly it stopped raining. + +A wild cheer, a shout of joy and triumph, shook the multitude. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat_!..." Now would the people of the neighboring +towns dare dispute his immense power?... There was the proof! Two days +of incessant downpour, and then, the moment the Saint showed his face +out of doors--fair weather! Excuse me! + +In fervent thanksgiving weeping women rushed upon the saint and began to +kiss whatever part of the image was within reach--the handles of the +litter, the decorations of the pedestal, the bronze body itself. The +tottering structure of wood and metal began to stagger and reel like a +frail bark tossing over a sea of shrieking heads and extended arms that +trembled with exaltation. + +The procession marched on for more than an hour still along the river. +Then the priest, who was dripping wet and had exhausted more than a +dozen "horses" under him, forbade it to continue. Leave it to those +peasants, and the nonsense would go on till dawn! So the curate observed +that the Saint had already done what was required of him. Now it was +time to go home! + +Rafael handed his taper to one of his henchmen and stopped on the bridge +with a number of experienced observers, who were lamenting the damage +done by the flood. At every moment, no one could say just how, alarming +reports of the destruction wrought by the river were coming in. Now a +mill had been isolated by the waters, and the people there had taken +refuge on the roof, firing their shotguns as signals of distress. Many +orchards had been completely submerged. The few boats available in the +city were doing the best they could in the work of rescue. The valley +had become one vast lake. Rowboats caught in the shifting currents were +in danger of smashing against hidden obstructions; and it was +practically impossible to push a punt upstream with oars. + +Yet the people spoke with relative calmness. They were accustomed to +this almost annual visitation, and accepted it resignedly as an +inevitable evil. Besides, they referred hopefully to telegrams received +by the _alcalde_. By dawn help would be coming in. The governor in +Valencia was sending a detachment of marines, and the lagoon would be +filled with navy boats. Everything would be all right in a few hours. +But if the water got much higher meanwhile ...! + +They consulted stakes and other water marks along the river, and violent +disputes arose. Rafael, for his part, could see the flood was still +rising, though but slowly. + +The peasants refused to believe it. How could the river rise after +Father San Bernardo had gone into it? No, sir! it was _not_ rising. That +was all a lie intended to discredit the patron. And a sturdy youth with +flashing eyes threatened to disembowel with one stroke of his +knife--like that!--a certain scoffer who maintained that the river would +go on rising if only for the pleasure of refuting that charlatan of a +friar. + +Rafael approached the brawlers, and by the dim lantern light recognized +Cupido--the barber--a sarcastic fellow, with curly side-whiskers and an +aquiline nose, who took great pleasure in poking fun at the barbarous, +unshakable faith of the illiterate peasants. + +Brull knew the barber very well. The man was one of his childhood +favorites. Fear of his mother was the only thing that had kept him from +frequenting Cupido's shop--the rendezvous of the city's gayest set, a +hotbed of gossip and practical jokes, a school of guitar playing and +love songs that kept the whole neighborhood astir. Besides, Cupido was +the freak of the city, the sharp-tongued but irresponsible practical +joker, who was forgiven everything in advance, and could enjoy his +idiosyncrasies and speak his mind about people without starting a riot +against him. He was, for instance, the one person in Alcira who scoffed +at the tyranny of the Brulls without thereby losing entrance to the +Party Club, where the young men admired his wit and his eccentric way of +dressing. + +Rafael was still fond of Cupido, though not very intimate with him. In +all the sedate, conservative world around him, the barber seemed the +only person really worth while talking with. Cupido was almost an +artist. In winter he would go to Valencia to hear the operas praised by +the newspapers, and in one corner of his shop he had heaps of novels and +illustrated magazines, much mildewed and softened by the damp, and their +leaves worn through from continual thumbing by customers. + +He had very little to do with Rafael, guessing that the youth's mother +would not regard such a friendship with any too much favor; but he +displayed a certain liking for the boy; and addressed him familiarly, +having known him as a child. Of Rafael he said everywhere: + +"He's the best one in the family; the only Brull with more brains than +crookedness." + +Nothing too small for Cupido to notice ever happened in Alcira. Every +weakness, every foible of the city's celebrities was made public by him +in his barbershop, to the delight of the Opposition, whose members +gathered there to read their party organ. The gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ feared the barber more than any ten newspapers combined, +and whenever some famous Conservative minister referred in parliament to +a "revolutionary hydra" or a "hotbed of anarchy," they pictured to +themselves a barbershop like that of Cupido, but much larger perhaps, +scattering a poisonous atmosphere of cruel gibe and perverse effrontery +all through the nation. + +The barber was inevitably on hand where anything was going on. It might +be at the very end of the suburbs, or away out in the country. In a few +moments Cupido would put in an appearance to learn all about it, give +advice to those who might need it, arbitrate between disputants and +afterward tell the whole story with a thousand embellishments. + +He had plenty of time on his hands for leading such a life. Two young +fellows, as crazy as their employer, tended shop. Cupido paid them with +music-lessons and meals--better or worse these latter, according to the +day's receipts, which were divided fraternally among the three. And if +the "boss" sometimes astonished the city by going out for a walk in +midwinter in a suit of white duck, they, not to be outdone, would shave +off their hair and eyebrows and show heads as smooth as billiard-balls +behind the shop windows, to the great commotion of the city, which would +flock _en masse_ to see "Cupido's Chinamen." + +A flood was always a great day for the barber. He closed shop and +planted himself out on a bridge, oblivious to wind and rain, haranguing +the crowds of spectators, terrifying the stupid with his exaggerations +and inventions, and announcing hair-raising news which he asserted he +had just received from the Governor by telegraph, and according to +which, in two hours, there would not be a cellar-hole left of the place. +Even the miracle-working San Bernardo would be washed into the sea! + +When Rafael found him upon the bridge that night, after the procession, +Cupido was on the point of coming to blows with several rustics, who had +grown indignant at his heresies. + +Stepping aside from the crowd, the two began a conversation about the +dangers of the flood. Cupido, as usual, was well-informed. He had been +told a poor old man had been cut off in an orchard and drowned. That was +probably not the only accident that had taken place. Horses and pigs in +large numbers had drifted past under the bridge, early in the afternoon. + +The barber talked earnestly and with some sadness, it seemed. Rafael +listened in silence, scanning his face anxiously, as if looking for a +chance to speak of something which he dared not broach. + +"And how about the Blue House," he ventured finally, "that farm of doña +Pepa's where you go sometimes? Will anything be wrong down there?" + +"It's a good solid place," the barber replied, "and this isn't the first +flood it's been through.... But it's right on the river, and by this +time the garden must be a lake; the water will surely be up to the +second story. I'll bet doña Pepa's poor niece is scared out of her +wits... Just imagine--coming from so far away and from such pretty +places, and running into a mess like this ..." + +Rafael seemed to meditate for a moment. Then as if an idea that had been +dancing about in his head all day had just occurred to him, he said: + +"Suppose we take a run down there!... What do you say, Cupido?" + +"Down there!... And how'll we get there?" + +But the proposal, from its very rashness, was bound to appeal to a man +like the barber, who at length began to laugh, as if the adventure were +a highly amusing one. + +"You're right! We could get through! It will look funny, all right! Us +two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a +celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home +and fetch my guitar along ..." + +"What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our +job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we +don't." + +The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes +on Rafael. + +"I see! So you're interested in the illustrious _artiste_, too ... You +rascal! You're smitten on her reputation for good looks ... But no ... I +remember ... you've seen her; she told me so herself." + +"She!... She spoke to you about me?" + +"Oh, nothing important! She told me she saw you one afternoon up at the +Hermitage." + +Cupido kept the rest to himself. He did not say that Leonora, on +mentioning Rafael's name, had added that he looked like an "idiot." + +Rafael's heart leaped with joy! She had talked of him! She had not +forgotten that meeting which had left such a painful memory in him!... +What was he doing, then, standing like a fool there on that bridge, when +down at the Blue House they might be needing a man's help? + +"Listen, Cupido; I have my boat right handy here; you know, the boat +father had made to order in Valencia as a present for me. Steel frame; +hard wood; safe as a warship. You know the river ... I've seen you +handle an oar more than once; and I've got a pair of arms myself ... +What do you say?" + +"I say, let's go," the barber answered resolutely. + +They asked for a torch, and with the help of several men dragged +Rafael's boat toward a stairway on the riverbank. + +Above, through the crowds on the bridge, the news of the expedition +flashed, but exaggerated and much idealized by the curious. The men were +going to save a poor family that had taken refuge on the roof of a +house--poor devils in danger of being swept off at any moment. Rafael +had learned of their plight, and he was starting to save them at the +risk of his own skin. And a wealthy, powerful man like him, with so much +to live for! Damn it, those Brulls were all men, anyhow!... And yet see +how people talked against them! What a heart! And the peasants followed +the blood-red glow of the torch in the boat as it mirrored across the +waters, gazing adoringly at Rafael, who was sitting in the stern. Out of +the dark entreating voices called. Many loyal followers of the Brulls +were eager to go with the chief--drown with him, if need be. + +Cupido protested. No; for a job like that, the fewer the better; the +boat had to be light; he would do for the oars and Rafael could steer. + +"Let her go! Let her go!" called Rafael. + +And the boat, after hesitating a second, shot off on the current. + +In the narrow gorge between the Old City and the New, the swollen +torrent swept them along like lightning. The barber used his oars just +to keep the boat away from the shore. Submerged rocks sent great +whirlpools to the surface and pulled the boat this way and that. The +light of the torch cast a dull reddish glow out over the muddy eddies. +Tree trunks, refuse, dead animals, went floating by, shapeless masses +with only a few dark points visible above the surface, as though some +dead man covered with mud were swimming under water. Out on that +swirling current, with the slimy vapors of the river rising to his +nostrils and the eddies sucking and boiling all around, Rafael thought +himself the victim of a weird nightmare and began even to repent of his +rashness. Cries kept coming from houses close to the river; windows were +suddenly lighted up; and from them great shadowy arms like the wings of +a windmill waved in greeting to that red flame which people saw gliding +past along the river, bringing the outlines of the boat and the two men +into distinct view. The news of their expedition had spread throughout +the city and people were on the watch for them as they sped by: "_Viva_ +don Rafael! _Viva_ Brull!" + +But the hero who was risking his life to save a family of poor folks out +there in the darkness of that sticky, murky, sepulchral night, had in +mind only one thing--a blue house, into which he was to penetrate at +last, in so strange and romantic a fashion. + +From time to time a scraping sound or a jolt of the boat would bring him +back to reality. + +"Your tiller there!" Cupido would shout, without, however, taking his +eyes from the water ahead. "Look out, Rafaelito, or we'll get smashed!" + +The boat was indeed a good one, for any other, would long before have +come to grief in those rapids jammed with rocks and debris. + +They were around the city in no time. Few lighted windows were now to be +seen. High, steep banks of slippery mud--quite unscalable--crested with +walls, were slipping past on either hand, with an occasional palisade, +the piles just emerging from the water. Somewhat ahead, the open river, +where the two arms that girt the Old City reunited in what was now a +vast lake! + +The two men went on blindly. All normal landmarks were gone. The banks +had disappeared, and in the blackness, beyond the red circle of torch +light, they could make out only water and then more water--an immense +incessantly rolling sheet that was taking them they knew not where. From +time to time a black spot would show above the muddy surface; the crest +of some submerged canebrake; the top of a tree; a strange, fantastic +vegetation that seemed to be writhing in the gloom. The river, free now +from the gorges and shallows around the city, had ceased its roaring. It +seethed and swirled along in absolute silence, effacing all trace of the +land. The two men felt like a couple of shipwrecked sailors adrift on a +shoreless, sunless ocean, alone save for the reddish flame flickering at +the prow, and the submerged treetops that appeared and vanished rapidly. + +"Better begin to row, Cupido," said Rafael. "The current is very strong. +We must be still in the river. Let's turn to the right and see if we can +get into the orchards." + +The barber bent to the oars, and the boat, slowly, on account of the +current, came around and headed for a line of tree-tops that peered +above the surface of the flood like seaweed floating on the ocean. +Shortly the bottom began to scrape on invisible obstacles. Entanglements +below were clutching at the keel, and it took some effort occasionally +to get free. The lake was still dark and apparently shoreless, but the +current was not so strong and the surface had stopped rolling. The two +men knew they had reached dead water. What looked like dark, gigantic +mushrooms, huge umbrellas, or lustrous domes, caught the reflection of +the torch, at times. Those were orange-trees. The rescuers were in the +orchards. But in which? How find the way in the darkness? Here and there +the branches were too thick to break through and the boat would tip as +if it were going over. They would back water, make a detour, or try +another route. + +They were going very slowly for fear of striking something, zig-zagging +meanwhile to avoid snags. As a result they lost direction altogether, +and could no longer say which way the river lay. Darkness and water +everywhere! The submerged orange-trees, all alike, formed complicated +lanes over the inundation, a labyrinth in which they grew momentarily +more confused. They were now rowing about quite aimlessly. + +Cupido was perspiring freely, under the hard work. The boat was moving +slower and slower because of the branches catching at the keel. + +"This is worse than the river," he murmured. "Rafael, you're facing +forward. Can't you make out any light ahead?" + +"Not a one!" + +The torch would throw some huge clump of leaves into relief for a +moment. When that was gone, the light would be swallowed up into damp, +thick, empty space. + +Thus they wandered about and about the flooded countryside. The barber's +strength had given out and he passed the oars over to Rafael, who was +also nearly exhausted. + +How long had they been gone? Were they to stay there forever? And their +minds dulled by fatigue and the sense of being lost, they imagined the +night would never end--that the torch would go out and leave the boat a +black coffin, for their corpses to float in eternally. + +Rafael, who was now facing astern suddenly noticed a light on his left. +They were going away from it; perhaps that was the house they had been +so painfully searching for. + +"It may be," Cupido agreed. "Perhaps we went by without seeing it, and +now we're downstream, toward the sea.... But even if it is not the Blue +House, what of it? The main thing is to find someone there. That's far +better than wandering around here in the dark. Give me the oars, again +Rafael. If that isn't doña Pepita's place, at least we'll find out where +we are." + +He pulled the boat around, and gradually they made their way through the +treetops toward the light. They struck several snags, orchard fences, +perhaps, or submerged walls--but the light kept growing brighter. +Finally it had become a large red square across which dark forms were +moving. Over the waters a golden, shimmering wake of light was +streaming. + +The torch from the boat brought out the lines of a broad house with a +low roof that seemed to be floating on the water. It was the upper story +of a building that had been swamped by the inundation. The lower story +was under water. The flood, indeed, was getting closer to the upper +rooms. The balconies and windows looked like landings of a pier in an +immense lake. + +"Seems to me as if we'd struck the place," the barber said. + +A warm, resonant voice, that of a woman, vibrant, but with a deep, +melodious softness, broke the silence. + +"Hey, you in the boat there!... Here, here!" + +The voice betrayed no fear. It showed not a trace of emotion. + +"Didn't I tell you so I ..." the barber exclaimed. "The very place we +were looking for. Doña Leonora!... It's I! It's I!" + +A rippling laugh came out into gloom. + +"Why, it's Cupido! It's Cupido!... I can tell him by his voice. Auntie, +auntie! Don't cry any more. Don't be afraid; and stop your praying, +please! Here comes the God of Love in a pearl shallop to rescue us!" + +Rafael shrank at the sound of that somewhat mocking voice, which seemed +to people the darkness with brilliantly colored butterflies. + +Now in the luminous square of a window he could make out the haughty +profile of a woman among other black forms that were going to and fro +past the light inside, in agreeable surprise at the unexpected visit. + +The craft drew up to the balcony. The men rose to their feet and were +able to reach an iron railing. The barber, from the prow, was looking +for something strong where he could make the boat fast. + +Leonora was leaning over the balustrade while the light from the torch +lit up the golden helmet of her thick, luxuriant hair. She was trying to +identify that other man down there who had bashfully sat down again in +the stern. + +"You're a real friend, Cupido!... Thank you, thank you, ever and ever +so much. This is one of the favors we never forget.... But who has come +along with you?..." + +The barber was already fastening the boat to the iron railing. + +"It's don Rafael Brull," he answered slowly. "A gentleman you have met +already, I believe. You must thank him for this visit. The boat is his, +and it was he who got me out on this adventure." + +"Oh, thank you, Señor Brull," said Leonora, greeting the man with the +wave of a hand that flashed blue and red from the rings on its fingers. +"I must repeat what I said to our friend Cupido. Come right in, and I +hope you'll excuse my introducing you through a second-story window." + +Rafael had jumped to his feet and was answering her greeting with an +awkward bow, clasping the iron railing in order not to fall. Cupido +jumped into the house and was followed by the young man, who took pains +to make the climb gracefully and sprightly. + +He was not sure how well he succeeded. That had been too much excitement +for a single night: first the wild trip through the gorges near the +city; then those hours of desperate aimless rowing over the winding +lanes of the flooded countryside; and now, all at once, a solid floor +under his feet, a roof over his head, warmth, and the society of that +madly beautiful woman, who seemed to intoxicate him with her perfume, +and whose eyes he did not dare meet with his own for fear of fainting +from embarrassment. + +"Come right in, _caballero_," she said to him. "You surely need +something after this escapade of yours. You are sopping wet, both of +you.... Poor boys! Just look at them!... Beppa!... Auntie! But do come +in, sir!" + +And she fairly pushed Rafael forward with a sort of maternal +authoritativeness, much as a kindly woman might take her child in hand +after he has done some naughty prank of which she is secretly proud. + +The rooms were in disorder. Clothes everywhere and heaps of rustic +furniture that contrasted with the other pieces arranged along the +walls! The household belongings of the gardener had been brought +upstairs as soon as the flood started. An old farmer, his wife--who was +beside herself with fear--and several children, who were slinking in the +corners, had taken refuge in the upper story with the ladies, as soon as +the water began seeping into their humble home. + +Rafael entered the dining-room, and there sat doña Pepita, poor old +woman, heaped in an armchair, the wrinkles of her features moistened +with tears and her two hands clutching a rosary. Cupido was trying +vainly to cheer her with jokes about the inundation. + +"Look, auntie! This gentleman is the son of your friend, doña Bernarda. +He came over here in a boat to help us out. It was very nice of him, +wasn't it?" + +The old woman seemed quite to have lost her mind from terror. She looked +vacantly at the new arrivals, as if they had been there all their lives. +At last she seemed to realize what they were saying. + +"Why, it's Rafael!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Rafaelito.... And you +came to see us in such weather! Suppose you get drowned? What will your +mother say?... Lord, how crazy of you! Lord!" + +But it was not madness, and even if it were, it was very sweet of him! +That, at least, was what Rafael seemed to read in those clear, luminous +eyes of the golden sparkles that caressed him with their velvety touch +every time he dared to look at them. Leonora was staring at him: +studying him in the lamplight, as if trying to understand the difference +between the man in front of her and the boy she had met on her walk to +the Hermitage. + +Doña Pepa's spirits rallied now that men were in the house; and with a +supreme effort of will, the old lady decided to leave her armchair for a +look at the flood, which had stopped rising, if, indeed, it were not +actually receding. + +"How much water, oh Lord our God!... How many terrible things we'll +learn of tomorrow! This must be a punishment from Heaven ... a warning +to us to think of our many sins." + +Leonora meanwhile was bustling busily about, hurrying the refreshments. +Those gentlemen couldn't be left like that--she kept cautioning to her +maid and the peasant woman. Just imagine, with their clothes wet +through! How tired they must be after that all night struggle! Poor +fellows! It was enough just to look at them! And she set biscuits on the +table, cakes, a bottle of rum--everything, including a box of Russian +cigarettes with gilded tips--to the shocked surprise of the gardener's +wife. + +"Let them come here, auntie," she said to the old lady. "Don't make them +talk any more now.... They need to eat and drink a little, and get +warm.... I'm sorry I have so little to offer you. What in the world can +I get for them? Let's see! Let's see!" + +And while the two men were being forced, by that somewhat despotic +attentiveness, to take seats at the table, Leonora and her maid went +into the adjoining room, where keys began to rattle and tops of chests +to rise and fall. + +Rafael, in his deep emotion, could scarcely manage a few drops of rum; +but the barber chewed away for all he was worth, downing glass after +glass of liquor, and talking on and on through a mouth crammed with food +while his face grew redder and redder. + +When Leonora reappeared, her maid was following her with a great bundle +of clothes in her arms. + +"You understand, of course, we haven't a stitch of men's clothes in the +house. But in war-time we get along as best we can, eh? We're in what +you might call a state of siege here." + +Rafael noted the dimples that a charming smile traced in those wonderful +cheeks! And what perfect teeth--jewels in a casket of red velvet! + +"Now, Cupido; off with those wet things of yours; you're not going to +catch pneumonia on my account, and thus deprive the city of its one +bright spot. Here's something to put on while we are drying your +clothes." + +And she offered the barber a magnificent gown of blue velvet, with +veritable cascades of lace at the breast and on the sleeves. + +Cupido nearly fell off his chair.... Was he going to dress in top style +for once in his life? And with those side-whiskers?... How the people in +Alcira would howl if they could only see him now! And entering at once +into the fun of the situation, he hastened into the next room to don his +gown. + +"For you," Leonora said to Rafael with a motherly smile, "I could find +only this fur cloak. Come, now, take off that jacket of yours; it's +dripping wet." + +With a blush, the young man refused. No, he was all right! Nothing would +happen to him! He had been wetter than that many times. + +Leonora without losing her smile, seemed to grow impatient. No one in +that house ever talked back to her. + +"Come, Rafael, don't be so silly. We'll have to treat you like a child." + +And taking him by a sleeve, as if he were a refractory baby, she began +to pull at his jacket. + +The young man, in his confusion, was hardly aware of what was taking +place. He seemed to be traveling along on an endless horizon, at greater +speed than he had been swept down the river just before. She had called +him by his first name; he was a pampered guest in a house he had for +months been trying in vain to enter, and she, Leonora, was calling him +"child" and treating him like a child, as if they had been friends all +their lives. What sort of woman was this? Was he not lost in some +strange world? The women of the city--the girls he met at the parties at +his home, seemed to be creatures of another race, living far, ever so +far, away, at the other end of the earth, cut off from him forever by +that immense sheet of water. + +"Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we'll have to undress you like a doll." + +She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and +the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious +intoxication swept over him. + +The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders. It was a rare +garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the +plumes of some fantastic bird. Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its +edges touched the floor. The young man realized that thousands of francs +had suddenly been thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the +bottom up, lest he should step upon it. + +Leonora laughed at his embarrassment. + +"Don't be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it. One would think you +were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat. It isn't +worth much. I use it only to travel in. A grandduke gave it to me in +Saint Petersburg." + +And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she +wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it +more tightly to him. + +Slowly they walked back into the front room. Meanwhile, the appearance +of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of +laughter in the dining-room. Cupido was taking full advantage of the +occasion. The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the +other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and +singing in a falsetto soprano voice. The peasant family laughed like +mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened +her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace +with which he pronounced the Italian verses. Even poor doña Pepa hitched +around in her armchair and applauded. The barber, according to her, was +the most charming devil in the world. + +Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora's side, his gaze lost in +the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his +body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have +retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders. With +marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate +trip down the river. + +Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath. + +"What you have done," the prima donna was saying, "deserves my deep, +deep gratitude! It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times. +Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa! Only the swan is +lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan...." + +"And suppose you had been carried off--drowned!..." the youth exclaimed +in justification of his rashness. + +"Drowned!...I must confess that at first I was somewhat afraid. Not so +much of dying, for I'm somewhat tired of life--as you will realize after +you've known me a little longer. But a death like that, suffocated in +that mud, that filthy, dirty water that smells so bad, doesn't at all +appeal to me. If it were some green, transparent Swiss lake!... I want +beauty even in death; I'm concerned with the 'final posture,' like the +Romans, and I was afraid of perishing here like a rat in a sewer.... And +nevertheless, I couldn't help laughing at my aunt and our poor servants +to see the fright they were in!... Now the water is no longer rising, +and the house is strong. Our only trouble is that we're cut off, and +I'm waiting for daylight to come so that we can see where we are. The +sight of all this country changed into a lake must be very beautiful, +isn't it, Rafael?" + +"You've probably seen far more interesting things," the young man +replied. + +"I don't deny that; but I'm always most impressed by the sensation of +the moment." + +And she fell silent, showing by her sudden seriousness the vexation that +his distant allusion to her past had caused. + +For some moments neither of them spoke; and it was Leonora who finally +broke the silence. + +"The truth is, if the water had gone on rising, we would have owed our +lives to you.... Let's see, now, frankly: why did you come? What kind +inspiration made you think of me. You hardly know me!" + +Rafael blushed with embarrassment, and trembled from head to foot, as if +she had asked him for a mortal confession. He was on the point of +uttering the great truth, baring in one great explosion all his thoughts +and dreams and dreads of past days. But he restrained himself and +grasped wildly for an answer. + +"My enthusiasm for the artist," he replied timidly. "I admire your +talent very much." + +Leonora burst into a noisy laugh. + +"But you don't know me! You've never heard me sing!... What do you know +about my "talent," as they call it? If it weren't for that chatterbox of +a Cupido, Alcira would never dream that I am a singer and that I'm +somewhat well-known--except in my own country." + +Rafael was crushed by the reply; he did not dare protest. + +"Come, Rafael," the woman continued affectionately, "don't be a child +and try to pass off the fibs boys use to deceive mama with. I know why +you came here. Do you imagine you haven't been seen from this very +balcony hovering about here every afternoon, lurking in the road like a +spy? You are discovered, sir." + +The shy Rafael thought the balcony was collapsing underneath his feet. +He shivered in abject terror, drew the fur cloak tighter around him, +without knowing what he was about, and shook his head in energetic +denial. + +"So it's not true, you fraud?" she said, with comic indignation. "You +deny that since we met up at the Hermitage you have been taking all your +walks in this neighborhood? _Dios mío_! What a monster of falsehood have +we here? And how brazenly he lies." + +And Rafael, vanquished by her frank merriment, had finally to smile, +confessing his crime with a loud laugh. + +"You're probably surprised at what I do and say," continued Leonora +drawing closer to him, leaning a shoulder against his with unaffected +carelessness, as if she were with a girl friend. "I'm not like most +women. A fine thing it would be for me, with the life I lead, to play +the hypocrite!... My poor aunt thinks I'm crazy because I say just what +I feel; in my time I've been much liked and much disliked on account of +the mania I have for not concealing anything.... Do you want me to tell +you the real truth?... Very well; you've come here because you love me, +or, at least, because you think you love me: a failing all boys of your +age have, as soon as they find a woman different from the others they +know." + +Rafael bowed his head and said nothing; he did not dare look up. He felt +the gaze of those green eyes upon the back of his head and they seemed +to reach right into his soul. + +"Let's see your face. Raise that head of yours a little. Why don't you +say it isn't so, as you did before? Am I right or not?" + +"And supposing you were right?..." Rafael ventured to murmur, finding +himself thus suddenly discovered. + +"Since I know I am, I thought it best to provoke this explanation, so as +to avoid any misunderstandings. After what has happened to-night, I want +to have you for a friend; friend you understand, and nothing more; a +comradeship based on gratitude. We ought to know in advance exactly +where we stand. We'll be friends, won't we?... You must feel quite at +home here; and I'm sure I shall find you a very agreeable chum. What +you've done to-night has given you a greater hold on my affection than +you could ever have gained in any ordinary social way; but you're going +to promise me that you won't drift into any of that silly love-making +that has always been the bane of my existence." + +"And if I can't help myself?" murmured Rafael. + +"'And if I can't help myself'," said Leonora, laughing and mimicking +the voice of the young man and the expression on his face. "'And if I +can't help myself'! That's what they all say! And why can't you help +yourself? How can one take seriously a love for a woman you are now +seeing for the second time? These sudden passions are all inventions of +you men. They're not genuine. You get them out of the novels you read, +or out of the operas we sing. Nonsense that poets write and callow boys +swallow like so many boobies and try to transplant into real life! The +trouble is we singers are in the secret, and laugh at such bosh. Well, +now you know--good friends, and the soft pedal on sentiment and drama, +eh? In that way we'll get along very well and the house will be yours." + +Leonora paused and, threatening him playfully with her forefinger, +added: + +"Otherwise, you may consider me just as ungrateful and cruel as you +please, but your gallant conduct of to-night won't count. You'll not be +permitted to enter this place again. I want no adorers; I have come here +looking for rest, friendship, peace ... Love! A beautiful, cruel +hoax!..." + +She was speaking very earnestly, without moving, her gaze lost on that +immense sheet of water. + +Rafael dared to look at her squarely now. He had raised his head and was +studying her as she stood there thinking. Her beautiful face was tinted +with a bluish light, that seemed to surround her with a halo of romance. +Morning was coming on, and the leaden curtains of the sky were rent in +the direction of the sea, allowing a livid light to filter through. + +Leonora shivered as if from cold, and snuggled instinctively against +Rafael. With a shake of her head she seemed to rout a troop of painful +thoughts, and stretching out a hand to him she said: + +"Which shall it be? Friends, or distant acquaintances? Do you promise to +be good, be a real comrade?" + +Rafael eagerly clasped that soft, muscular hand, and felt her rings cut +deliciously into his fingers. + +"Very well--friends then!... I'll resign myself, since there's no help +for it." + +"In that case you will find what you now believe a sacrifice something +quite tolerable and quite consoling; you don't know me, but I know +myself. Believe me, even should I come to love you--as I never +shall--you would be the loser by it. I am worth much more as a friend +than as a lover. And more than one man in the world has found that out." + +"I will be a friend, ready to do much more for you than I've done +to-night. I hope you will come to know me too." + +"No promises now! What more can you do for me? The river doesn't flood +every day. You can't expect to be a hero every other moment. No, I'm +satisfied with to-night's exploit. You can't imagine how grateful I am. +It has made a very deep impression on my--friendly--heart.... May I be +quite frank? Well, when I met you there at the Hermitage, I took you for +one of these local _señoritos_ who have such an easy time of it in town, +and so, look upon every woman they meet as their property for the +asking. Afterwards, when I saw you lurking about the house, my scorn +increased. 'Who does that little dandy think he is?' I said to myself. +And how Beppa and I laughed over it! I hadn't even noticed your face +and your figure: I hadn't realized how handsome you were...." + +Leonora laughed at the thought of how angry she had been, and Rafael, +overwhelmed by such candor, likewise smiled to conceal his +embarrassment. + +"But after what happened to-night I am fond of you ... as people are +fond of friends. I am alone here: the friendship of a good and noble boy +like yourself, capable of sacrifice for a woman whom he hardly knows, is +a very comforting thing to have. Besides, that much doesn't compromise +me. I am a bird of passage, you see; I have alighted here because I'm +tired, ill--I don't just know what's the matter, but deeply broken in +spirit anyhow. I need rest, just plain existence--a plunge into sweet +nothingness, where I can forget everything; and I gratefully accept your +friendship. Later on, when you least expect it, probably, I'll fly away. +The very first morning when I wake up, feel quite myself again--and hear +inside my head the song of the mischievous bird that has advised me to +do so many foolish things in my life--I'll pack up my trunk and take +flight! I'll drop you a line of course; I'll send you newspaper +clippings that speak of me, and you'll see you have a friend who does +not forget you and who sends you greetings from London, Saint +Petersburg, or New York--any one of the corners of this world which many +believe so large yet where I am unable to stir without encountering +things that bore me." + +"May that moment be long delayed!" said Rafael. "May it never come!" + +"Rash boy!" Leonora exclaimed. "You don't know me. If I were to stay +here very long, we'd finish by quarreling and coming to blows. At bottom +I hate men: I have always been their most terrible enemy." + +Behind their backs they heard the rustle of the gown that Cupido was +dragging along behind him with absurd antics. He was coming to the +balcony with doña Pepita to see the sunrise. + +Through its dense clouds the sky was beginning to shed a gray, wan +light, under which the vast, watery plain took on the whitish color of +absinthe. Down the stream the debris of the inundation was floating, +sweepings of wretched poverty, uprooted trees, clumps of reeds, thatched +roofs from huts, all dirty, slimy, nauseating. Bits of flotsam and +jetsam became entangled between the orange-trees and formed dams that +little by little grew with the new spoils brought along by the current. + +In the distance at the very end of the lake, a number of black points +could be seen in regular rhythmic motion, stirring their legs like +aquatic flies around some roofs barely protruding above the immense +field of water. The rescuers had arrived from Valencia--with whale-boats +of the Fleet, brought overland by rail to the scene of the flood. + +The provincial authorities would soon be arriving in Alcira; and the +presence of Rafael was indispensable. Cupido himself, with sudden +gravity, advised him to go and meet those boats. + +While the barber was putting on his own clothes, Rafael, with intense +regret, removed his fur cloak. It seemed that in taking it off he was +losing the warmth of that night of sweet intimacy, the contact of that +soft shoulder that had for hours long been leaning against him. + +Leonora meanwhile looked at him fixedly. + +"We understand each other, don't we?" she asked, slowly. "Friends, with +no hope of anything more than that. If you break the pact, you'll not +enter this place again, not even by the second-story window, as you did +last night." + +"Yes, friends and nothing more," Rafael murmured with a tone of sincere +sadness, that seemed to move Leonora. + +Her green eyes lighted up: her pupils seemed to glitter with spangles of +gold. She stepped nearer and held out her hand. + +"You're a good boy; that's the way I like you: resignation and +obedience. For this time, and in reward for your good sense, we'll make +just one exception. Let's not part thus coldly.... So,--you may kiss +me,--as they do it on the stage--here!" + +And she raised her hand up toward his lips. Rafael seized it hungrily +and kissed it over and over again, until Leonora, tearing it away with a +violence that showed extraordinary strength, reprimanded him sharply. + +"You rogue!... Up to mischief so soon! What an abuse of confidence? +Good-bye! Cupido is calling you.... Good-bye." + +And she pushed him toward the balcony, where the barber was already +holding the boat against the railing. + +"Hop in, Rafael," said Cupido. "Better lean on me; the water's going +down and the boat's very low," Rafael jumped into his white craft, +which was now dirty and stained from the red water. The barber took the +oars. They began to move away. + +"Good-bye! Good-bye! Many thanks!" cried doña Pepa. The maid and the +whole family of the gardener had come out on the balcony. + +Rafael let go the tiller, and turned toward the house. He could see +nothing, however, but that proud beauty, who was waving her handkerchief +to them. He watched her for a long time, and when the crests of the +submerged trees hid the balcony from view, he bowed his head, giving +himself up entirely to the silent pleasure of tasting the sweetness that +he could still feel upon his burning lips. + + + + +VI + + +The elections set the whole District agog. The crucial moment for the +House of Brull had come, and all its loyal henchmen, as though still +uncertain of the Party's omnipotence, and fearing the sudden appearance +of hidden enemies, were running this way and that about the city and the +outlying towns, shouting Rafael's name as a clarion call to victory. + +The inundation was something of the forgotten past. The beneficent sun +had dried the fields. The orchards fertilized by the silt of the recent +flood looked more beautiful than ever. A magnificent harvest was +forecasted, and, as sole reminders of the catastrophe, there remained +only a shattered enclosure here, a fallen fence there, or some sunken +road with the banks washed away. Most of the damage had been repaired in +a few days, and people were quite content, referring to the past danger +jokingly. Until next time! + +Besides, plenty of relief money had been given out. Help had come from +Valencia, from Madrid, from every corner of Spain, thanks to the +whimpering publicity given the inundation in the local press; and since +the pious believer must attribute all his boons to the protection of +some patron saint, the peasants thanked Rafael and his mother for this +alms, resolving to be more faithful than ever to the powerful family. +So--long live the Father of the Poor! + +Doña Bernarda's ambitious dreams were on the point of realization, and +she could not give herself a moment's rest. Her son's cool indifference +was something she could not understand for the life of her! The District +was his all right, but was that a reason for falling asleep on the job? +Who could tell what the "enemies of law and order"--there was more than +one of them in the city--might spring at the very last moment? No, he +must wake up--go and make a speech--now at this town, now at that--and +say a few words of encouragement to the people of property, especially. +And why not visit the _alcalde_, down in X---, just to show that poor +devil he was being taken seriously. Rafael must show himself in public, +keep everybody talking about him and thinking about him! + +And Rafael obeyed, but taking good care to avoid the company of don +Andrés on such trips, in order to spend a few hours at the Blue House on +the way out or back, or else, to cut his engagement altogether and pass +the day with Leonora, trembling to return home lest his mother should +have learned what he had been up to. + +Doña Bernarda, in fact, had not been slow in detecting her son's new +friendship. To begin with, her one concern in life was Rafael's health +and conduct. And in that gossipy inquisitive country-town, her son could +do virtually nothing which she did not know all about in the course of a +few hours. An indiscreet remark of Cupido had even brought her to the +bottom of that mysterious and perilous night trip down the flooded +river--not to rescue a "poor family," but to call on that +_comica_--that "chorus girl"--as doña Bernarda called Leonora in a +furious burst of scorn. Stormy scenes occurred that were to leave a +strong undercurrent of bitterness and fear in Rafael's character. Doña +Bernarda's harshness of disposition broke the young man's spirit, making +him realize with what good reason he had always feared his mother. That +uncompromising pietist, with her armorplate of impeccable virtue and +"sound principles" about her, crushed him flat with her very first +words. What in the world was he thinking of? Was he bound to dishonor +the name of Brull? Now after so many, many years of family sacrifice, +was he going to make a fool of himself, and give his enemies a hold on +him, just because of the first ballet-skirt that came along? And in her +rage she did not hesitate to rend the veil of reticence behind which her +conjugal fury and her conjugal unhappiness had run their parallel +courses. + +"The same as your father!" doña Bernarda exclaimed. "There's no escaping +blood: a woman-chaser, a friend of low-lives, ready to drive me out of +house and home for the sake of any one of them ... and I, big fool that +I am, work for men like that! Forgetting the salvation of my soul in the +next world to see you get farther along in this than your father did!... +And how do you repay me? Just as he did; with one disappointment, one +irritation, after another!" + +Then softening somewhat and feeling the need of imparting her great +plans for the future, she would pass from anger to friendly confidence, +and give Rafael insight into the condition of the family. He was so busy +with Party affairs, and thumbing his big books upstairs, that he did +not know how things were going at home. And he didn't need to know for +that matter: she was there to take care of that. But Rafael must realize +the gaps that had been opened in their fortune by his father's wild +conduct just before he died. She was performing miracles of economy. +Thanks to her efficient administration of affairs, and to the loyal aid +of don Andrés, many debts had already been paid off, and she had +redeemed several mortgages. But the burden was a heavy one and it would +still be many years before she could call herself quite free of it. + +Besides--and as doña Bernarda came to this part of her talk she grew +tenderer and more insinuating still--he was now the leading man of the +District and so he must be the wealthiest. Now that wouldn't be a +difficult thing to manage. All he had to do was, be a good son, and +follow the advice of his mama, who loved him more than anything else in +the world... A deputy now, and later on, when he came back from Madrid, +marry! There were plenty of good girls around--well brought up, educated +in the fear of the Lord--and millionairesses besides--who would be more +than glad to be his wife. + +Rafael smiled faintly at this harangue. He knew whom his mother had in +mind--Remedios, the daughter of the richest man in town--a rustic, the +latter, with more luck than brains, who flooded the English markets with +oranges and made enormous profits, circumventing by instinctive +shrewdness all the commercial combinations made against him. + +That was why Rafael's mother was always insistently urging her son to +visit the house of Remedios, inventing all sorts of pretexts to get him +there. Besides, doña Bernarda invited Remedios to the Brull place +frequently, and rarely indeed did Rafael come home of an afternoon +without finding that timid maiden there--a dull, handsomish sort of +girl, dressed up in clothes that did cruel injustice to a peasant beauty +rapidly transformed, by her father's good luck, into a young "society" +girl. + +"But, mama," said Rafael, smiling. "I'm not thinking of marriage!... And +when I do, I'll have to consider my own feelings." + +After that interview a moral gulf had opened between mother and son. As +a child, Rafael had known his mother to frown and sulk after some +mischievous prank of his. But now, her aggressive, menacing, +uncommunicative glumness was prolonged for days and days. + +On returning home at night he would find himself subjected to a +searching cross-examination that would last all during supper. Don +Andrés would usually be present, though he did not dare raise his head +when that masterful woman spoke. Where had he been? Whom had he seen?... +Rafael felt himself surrounded by a system of espionage that followed +him wherever he went in the city or in the country. + +"No sir, today you were at the chorus-girl's house again!... Take care, +Rafael! Mark my word! You're killing me, you're killing me ...!" + +And then those absurd clandestine trips to the Blue House began, the +leading man of the district, the advocate of Alcira's fortunes, creeping +on his stomach, skulking from bush to bush, in order not to be seen by +telltale observers! + +Don Andrés did his best to console the irate woman. It was just a +passing whim of Rafael's! Boys will be boys! You've got to let them have +a good time now and then! What do you expect with a handsome fellow like +that and from the best family in the region! And the cynical old man, +accustomed to easy conquests in the suburbs, blinked maliciously, taking +it for granted that Rafael had won a complete triumph down at the Blue +House. How else explain the youth's assiduity in his visits there, and +his timid though tenacious rebelliousness against his mother's +authority? + +"Such affairs, oh you enjoy them--what's the use! But in the end they +weary a fellow, doña Bernarda," the old man said sententiously. "She'll +be clearing out some fine day. Besides, just let Rafael go to Madrid as +deputy, and see the society there! When he comes back he'll have +forgotten this woman ever existed!" + +The faithful lieutenant of the Brulls would have been astonished to know +how little Rafael was progressing with his suit. + +Leonora was not the woman that she had shown herself on the night of the +flood. With the fascination of danger gone, the novelty of the +adventure, and the extraordinary circumstances of their second +interview, she treated Rafael with a kindly indifference like any other +of the adorers who had flocked about her in her day. She had come to +look upon him as a new piece of furniture that she found in place in +front of her every afternoon; an automaton, who appeared as regularly as +a clock strikes, to spend hours and hours staring at her, pale, +shrinking with an absurd consciousness of inferiority, and often +answering her questions with stupid phrases that made her laugh. + +Her irony and deliberate frankness wounded Rafael cruelly. "Hello, +Rafaelito," she would say sometimes as he came in. "You here again? +Better look out! People will be talking about us before long. Then what +will mama say to you?" And Rafael would be stung to the quick. What a +disgrace, to be tied to a mother's apron-strings, and have to stoop to +all those subterfuges to visit this place without raising a rumpus at +home! + +But try as he would, meanwhile, he could not shake off the spell that +Leonora was exercising over him. + +Besides, what wonderful afternoons when she deigned to be good! +Sometimes, wearied with walks about the open country, and bored, as +might have been expected of a frivolous, fickle character like hers, +with the monotony of the landscape of orange-trees and palms, she would +take refuge in her parlor, and sit down at the piano! With the hushed +awe of a pious worshipper, Rafael would take a chair in a corner, and +gluing his eyes upon those two majestic shoulders over which curly +tresses fell like golden plumes, he would listen to her rich, sweet, +mellow voice as it blended with the languishing chords of the piano; +while through the open windows the breath of the murmurous orchard made +its way drenched in the golden light of autumn, saturated with the +seasoned perfume of the ripe oranges that peered with faces of fire +through the festoons of leaves. + +Shubert, with his moody romances, was her favorite composer. The +melancholy of that sad music had a peculiar fascination for her in her +solitude. Her passionate, tumultuous soul seemed to fall into a +languorous enervation under the fragrance of the orange blossoms. At +times, she would be assailed by sudden recollections of triumphs on the +stage, and on such occasions, setting the piano ringing with the sublime +fury of the Valkyries' Ride, she would begin to shout Brunhilde's +"Hojotojo," the impetuous, savage war-cry of Wotan's daughter--a +melodious scream with which she had brought many an audience to its +feet, and which, in that deserted paradise, made Rafael shudder and +admire, as if the singer were some strange divinity--a blond goddess +with green eyes, wont to charge across the ice-fields through whirlwinds +of driving snow, but who, there, in a land of sunshine, had deigned to +become a simple, an entrancing woman! + +And then again, throwing her beautiful body back in her chair, as if in +her mind's eye she could see some old palatial hall festooned with +roses, and in it a maze of hoop skirts, powdered wigs, and red heels, +whirling in the dance, she would brush the keys with a minuet by Mozart, +as subtly fragrant as priceless perfume, as seductive as the smile of a +painted princess with beauty-patches and false dimples! + +Rafael had not forgotten the first night of their friendship, nor the +fingers that had been offered to his lips in that selfsame parlor. Once +he was moved to repeat the scene, and bending low over the keys, had +tried to kiss Leonora's hand. + +The actress started, as if awakening from a dream. Her eyes flashed +angrily, though her lips did not lose their smile; and she raised her +hand threateningly, with all its fantastic glitter of jewelry, and +pretended to strike at him: + +"Take care, Rafael; you're a child and I'll treat you as such. You +already know that I don't like to be annoyed. I won't send you away this +time, but if you do it again, you'll get a good cuffing. Don't forget +that when I want my hand kissed I begin by giving it voluntarily. What a +nuisance! Such a thing happens only once in a life-time.... But, I +understand: no more music for today; it's all over! I'll have to +entertain the little boy so's he won't fuss." + +And she began to tell him stories of her professional career, which +Rafael at once appraised as new progress toward intimacy with the divine +beauty. + +He looked over her pictures for the various operas in which she had +sung; a rich collection of beautiful photographs, with studio signatures +in almost every European tongue, some of them in strange alphabets that +Rafael could not identify. That pale, mystic Elizabeth of _Tannhäuser_ +had been taken in Milan; that ideal, romantic Elsa of _Lohengrin_, in +Munich; here was a wide-eyed, bourgeois Eva from _die Meistersinger_, +photographed in Vienna; there a proud arrogant Brunhilde, with hostile, +flashing eyes, that bore the imprint of St. Petersburg. And there were +other souvenirs of seasons at Covent Garden, at the San Carlos of +Lisbon, the Scala of Milan, and opera houses of New York and Rio de +Janeiro. + +As Rafael handled the large pasteboard mountings, he felt much like a +boy watching strange steamers entering a harbor and scattering the +perfumes of distant, mysterious lands all around. Each picture seemed +to wrap him in the atmosphere of its country, and from that peaceful +salon, murmuring with the breathing of the silent orchard, he seemed to +be traveling all over the earth. + +The photographs were all of the same characters--heroines of Wagner. +Leonora, a fanatic worshipper of the German genius, was ever speaking of +him in terms of intimate familiarity, as if she had known him +personally, and wished to sing no operas but his. And in her eager +desire to compass all the Master's work, she did not hesitate to +compromise her reputation for power and vigor by attempting roles of +lighter or tenderer vein. + +Rafael gazed at the portraits one by one; here she seemed emaciated, +wan, as if she had just recovered from an illness; there, she was strong +and proud, as if challenging the world with her beauty. + +"Oh, Rafael!" she murmured pensively. "Life isn't all gaiety. I have had +my stormy times like everybody else. I have lived centuries, it seems, +and these strips of cardboard are chapters of my life-story." + +And while she surrendered to a dreamy re-living of the past, Rafael +would go into ecstasies over a picture of Brunhilde, a beautiful +photograph which he had more than once thought of stealing. + +That Brunhilde was Leonora herself; the arrogant Valkyrie, the strong, +the valiant Amazon, capable of trying to beat him for the slightest +unwarranted liberty he took--and of doing it besides. Beneath the helmet +of polished steel, with its two wings of white plumes, her blond locks +fell, while a savage flash glittered in her green eyes, and her +nostrils seemed to palpitate with indomitable fierceness. A cloak fell +from her shoulders that were round, muscular, powerful. A steel coat of +mail curved outward around her magnificent bust, and her bare arms, one +holding the lance, and the other resting on a burnished shield, as +shining and luminous as a sheet of crystal, showed vigor and strength +under feminine grace of line. There she was in all her goddess-like +majesty--the Pallas of a mythology of the North, as beautiful as +heroism, as terrible as war. Rafael could understand the mad enthusiasm, +the electrified commotion of her audiences as they saw her stepping out +among the rocks of painted canvas, setting the boards a-tremble with her +lithe footsteps, rudely raising her lance and shield above the white +wings of her helmet and shouting the cry of the Valkyries--"_Hojotoho!_" +which, repeated in the green tranquility of that Valencian orchard, +seemed to make the lanes of foliage quiver with a tremor of admiring +ecstasy. + +Across the whole world, and everywhere in triumph, that whimsical, +adventuresome, madcap woman, of whose life as an actress so many stories +were told, had carried the arrogance of the virgin warrior-maid +conceived by the master Wagner. In a bulky book, of uneven irregular +pages, where the singer with the minute conscientiousness of a child, +had preserved everything the newspapers of the globe had written about +her, Rafael found echos of her stormy ovations. Many of the printed +clippings were yellow with age, but they could still evoke before his +dazzled eyes, visions of theaters packed with elegant, sensuous women, +as beautiful as Wotan's daughter in the coat-of-mail; atmospheres hot +with light and enthusiasm, a-glitter with sparkling jewels and +sparkling eyes; and in the background, with her helmet and her lance, +the dominating Valkyrie herself greeted with frantic applause and +limitless admiration. + +In the collection were newspaper reproductions of the singer's +photographs, biographical notices, critical articles relating to the +triumphs of the celebrated _diva_ Leonora Brunna--for such was the stage +name adopted by Doctor Moreno's daughter--clipping after clipping +printed in Castilian or South American Spanish; columns of the clear, +close print of English papers; paragraphs on the coarse, thin paper of +the French and Italian press; compact masses of Gothic characters, which +troubled Rafael's eyes, and unintelligible Russian letters, that, to +him, looked like whimsical scrawls of a childish hand. And all in praise +of Leonora, one universal tribute to the talent of that woman, who was +looked upon so scornfully by the citified peasants of the boy's native +town. A divinity, indeed! And Rafael felt a growing hatred and contempt +for the gross, uncouth virtue of those who had left her in a social +vacuum. Why had she come to Alcira, anyway? What could possibly have led +her to abandon a world of triumphs, where she was admired by everyone, +for the life, virtually, of a barnyard? + +Later she showed him some of her more personal mementoes; jewels of rare +beauty, expensive baubles, "testimonials," reminiscent of "evenings of +honor," when admirers had surprised her in the green room while outside +the audience was applauding wildly, and she, lowering her lance, and +surrounded by ushers with huge bouquets, would step forward to the +footlights and make her bow of acknowledgment, under a deluge of tinsel +and flowers. One medallion bore the portrait of the venerable don Pedro +of Brazil, the artist-emperor, who paid tribute to the singer in a +greeting written in diamonds. Gem-incrusted frames of gold spoke of +enthusiasts who perhaps had begun by desiring the woman to resign +themselves in the end to admiration for the artist. Here was a +collection of illuminated diplomas from charitable societies thanking +her for assistance at benefits. Queen Victoria of England had given her +a fan with an autograph dated from a concert at Windsor Castle. From +Isabel II came a royal bracelet, as a souvenir of various evenings at +the Castilla Palace in Paris. Millionaires, princes, grand-dukes, +presidents of Spanish-American republics, had left a whole museum of +costly trinkets at her feet. Characteristic of adorers from the United +States, where people always temper enthusiasm with usefulness, were a +number of portfolios, their bindings much worn by time, containing +railroad shares, land titles, stocks in enterprises of varying +stability, suggesting the rambles of the American promotor from the +prairies of Canada to the pampas of the Argentine. + +In the presence of all the trophies that the arrogant Valkyrie had +gathered in on her triumphal passage through the world, Rafael felt +pride, first of all, at being friends with such a woman; but at the same +time a sense of his own insignificance, exaggerating, if anything, the +difference that separated them. How in the world had he ever dared make +love to a person like Leonora Brunna? + +Finally came the most interesting, the most intimate of all her +treasures--an album which she allowed him hurriedly to glimpse through, +forbidding him, however, even to look at certain of the pages. It was a +volume modestly bound in dark leather with silver clasps; but Rafael +gazed upon it as on a wonderful fetish, and with all the awe-struck +adoration inspired by great names. Kings and emperors were the least +among the celebrities who had knelt in homage before the goddess. The +overshadowing geniuses of art were there, dedicating a word of +affection, a line of verse, a bar of music, to the beautiful songstress. +Rafael stared in open-mouthed wonderment at the signatures of the old +Verdi and of Boito. Then came the younger masters, of the new Italian +school, noisy and triumphant with the clamor of art brought within range +of the mob. In gallant phrases the Frenchmen, Massenet and Saint-Saens, +paid their respects to the greatest interpreter of the greatest of +composers; Rafael could decipher what was in Italian, scenting the sweet +perfume of Latin adulation despite the fact that he scarcely knew the +language. A sonnet by Illica moved him actually to tears. Other +inscriptions were meaningless to him--the lines from Hans Keller, +especially, the great orchestral conductor, disciple and confidant of +Wagner, the artistic executor, charged with watching over the master's +glory--that Hans Keller of whom Leonora was speaking all the time with +the fondness of a woman and the admiration of an artist--all of which +did not prevent her from adding that he was "a barbarian." Stanzas in +German, in Russian and in English, which, as the singer re-read them +brought a contented smile to her features, Rafael, to his great +despair, could not induce her to translate. + +"Those are matters you wouldn't understand. Go on to the next page. I +mustn't make you blush." + +And that was the only explanation she would give--as though he were a +child. + +Some Italian verses, written in a tremulous hand and in crooked lines, +attracted Rafael's attention. He could half make their meaning out, but +Leonora would never let him finish reading them. It was an amorous, +desperate lament; a cry of racking passion condemned to disappointment, +writhing in isolation like a wild beast in its cage: Luigi Macchia. + +"And who is Luigi Macchia?" asked Rafael. "Why such despair?" + +"He was a young fellow from Naples," Leonora answered, at last, one +afternoon, in a sad voice, and turning her head, as if to conceal the +tears that had come to her eyes. "One day they found him under the pine +trees of Posilipo, with a bullet through his head. He wanted to die, you +see, and he killed himself.... But put all this aside and let's go down +to the garden. I need a breath of air." + +They sauntered along the avenue that was bordered with rose-bushes, and +several minutes went by before either of them spoke. Leonora seemed +quite absorbed in her thoughts. Her brows were knitted and her lips +pressed tightly together, as if she were suffering the sting of painful +recollections. + +"Suicide!" she said at last. "Doesn't that seem a silly thing to do, +Rafael? Kill yourself for a woman? Just as if we women were obliged to +love every man who thinks he's in love with us!... How stupid men are! +We have to be their servants, love them willy-nilly. And if we don't, +they kill themselves just to spite us." + +And she was silent for a time. + +"Poor Macchia! He was a good boy, and deserved to be happy. But if I +were to surrender to every desperate protestation made to me!... +However, he went and did just what he said he would do.... How crazy +they get! And the worst of it is, I have found others like him in my +travels." + +She explained no farther. Rafael gazed at her, but respected her +silence, trying in vain to guess the thoughts that were stirring behind +her shining eyes, as green and golden as the sea under a noonday sun. +What a wealth of romance must be hidden in that woman's past! What +tragedies must have been woven into the checkered fabric of her +wonderful career!... + +So the days went by, and election time came around. Rafael, in passive +rebellion against his mother, who rarely spoke a word to him now, had +completely neglected the campaign. But on the decisive Sunday he +triumphed completely, and Rafael Brull, Deputy from Alcira, spent the +night shaking hands, receiving congratulations, listening to serenades, +waiting for morning to come that he might run to the Blue House and +receive Leonora's ironic good wishes. + +"I'm very glad to hear it," the actress said. "Now you'll be leaving +very soon and I'll lose sight of you. It was high time really! You know, +my dear child, you were beginning to get tiresome with your assiduous +worship, that mute, persistent, tenacious adoration of yours. But up in +Madrid you'll get over it all. Tut, tut, now ... don't say you won't. No +need to perjure yourself. I guess I know what young men are like! And +you're a young man. The next time we meet, you'll have other things in +your head. I'll be a friend, just a friend; and that's what--and all--I +want to be." + +"But will I find you here when I come back?" Rafael asked, anxiously. + +"You want to know more things than anybody I ever knew! How can I say +whether I'll be here or not? Nobody in the world was ever sure of +holding me. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow myself.... But, no," she +continued, gravely, "if you come back by next spring, you'll find me +here. I'm thinking of staying surely until then. I want to see the +orange-trees in bloom, go back to my early childhood--the only memories +of my past that have followed me everywhere. Many a time I have gone to +Nice, spending a fortune and crossing half the world to get there--and +just to see a handful of puny orange-trees in bloom; now I want to take +one great, deep, plunge into the deluge of orange blossoms that +inundates these fields every year. It's the one thing that keeps me in +Alcira.... I'm sure. So if you come back about that season, you will +find me; and we will meet for one last time; for that will be the limit +of my endurance. I shall simply have to fly away, however hard poor +auntie takes it.... For the present, however, I am quite comfortable. +You see I was so tired! I find this solitude a welcome refuge after a +stormy voyage. Only something very important indeed could persuade me to +leave it at once." + +But they saw each other on many another afternoon in the garden, there. +It was saturated now with the fragrance of ripe oranges. The vast valley +lay blue beneath the winter sun. Oranges, oranges, everywhere, reaching +out, it seemed, through the foliage, to the industrious hands that were +plucking them from the branches. Carts were creaking all along the +roads, trundling heaps of golden fruit over the ruts. The large shipping +houses rang again with the voices of girls singing at their work as they +selected and wrapped the oranges in paper. Hammers were pounding at the +wooden crates, and off toward France and England in great golden waves +those daughters of the South rolled--capsules of golden skin, filled +with sweet juice--the quintessence of Spanish sunshine. + +Leonora, standing on tiptoe under an old tree, with her back toward +Rafael, was looking for a particularly choice orange among the dense +branches. As she swayed this way and that, the proud, graceful curves of +her vigorous slenderness became more beautiful than ever. + +"I'm leaving tomorrow," the young man said, dispiritedly. + +Leonora turned around. She had found her orange and was peeling it with +her long pink nails. + +"Tomorrow?" she said, smiling. "Everything comes if you wait long +enough!... The best of success to you, señor deputy." + +And bringing the fragrant fruit to her lips, she sank her white, +glistening teeth into the golden pulp, closing her eyes rapturously, to +sense the full warm sweetness of the juice. + +Rafael stood there pale and trembling, as if something desperate were +in his mind. + +"Leonora! Leonora!... Surely you are not going to send me away like +this?" + +And then suddenly, carried away by a passion so long restrained, so long +crushed under timidity and fear, he ran up to her, seized her hands and +hungrily sought her lips. + +"Oh! What in the world are you up to, Rafael?... How dare you!" she +cried. And with one thrust of her powerful arms she threw him back, +staggering, against the orange-tree. The young man stood there with +lowered head, humiliation and shame written on every line of his face. + +"You see, I'm a strong woman," said Leonora, in a voice quivering with +anger. "None of your foolish tricks, or you'll be sorry!" + +She glared at him for a long time; but then gradually recovered her +equanimity, and began to laugh at the pitiable spectacle before her. + +"But what a child you are, Rafael!... Is that what you call a friendly +good-bye?... How little you know me, silly! You force matters, you do, I +see. Well just understand, I'm impregnable, unless I choose to be +otherwise. Why, men have died without being able to kiss so much as the +tip of my fingers. It's time you were going, Rafael. We'll still be +friends, of course.... But in case we are to see each other again, don't +forget what I tell you. We are through with such nonsense once and for +all. Don't waste your time. I cannot be yours. I'm tired of men; perhaps +I hate them. I have known the handsomest, the most elegant, the most +famous of them all. I have been almost a queen; queen 'on the left hand +side,' as the French say, but so much mistress of the situation that, +had I cared to get mixed up in such vulgarity, I could have changed +ministries and overturned thrones. Men renowned in Europe for their +elegance--and their follies--have grovelled at my feet, and I have +treated them worse than I have treated you. The most celebrated women +have envied me and hated me--copying my dresses and my poses. And when, +tired of all that brilliancy and noise, I said 'Good-bye' and came to +this retreat, do you think it was to give myself to a village +_señorito_, though a few hundred country bumpkins think he is a +wonder?... Oh, say, Rafael, really...." + +And she laughed a cruel, mocking laugh--that cut Rafael to the quick. +The young man bowed his head and his chest heaved painfully, as if the +tears that could not find issue through his eyes were stifling, choking +him. He seemed on the point of utter collapse. + +Leonora repented of her cruelty. + +She stepped up to the boy until she was almost touching him. Then taking +his chin in her two hands, she made him raise his head. + +"Oh, I have hurt you, haven't I! What mean things I said to the poor +child! Let me see now. Lift that head up! Look me straight in the eye! +Say that you forgive me.... That cursed habit I have of never holding my +tongue! I have offended you; but please, don't pay any attention to +that! I was joking! What a fine way of repaying you for what you did +that night!... No; Rafael, you are a very handsome chap indeed ... and +very distinguished ... and you will make a great name for yourself, up +in Madrid!... You'll be what they call a 'personage,' and you'll +marry--oh my--a very stylish, elegant, society girl! I can see all +that.... But, meanwhile, my dear boy, don't depend on me. We are going +to be friends, and nothing more than friends, ever! Why, there are tears +in your eyes! Well, here. Come ... kiss my hand, I will let you ... as +you did that night--there, like that! I could be yours only if I loved +you; but alas! I shall never fall in love with the dashing Rafaelito! +I'm an old woman, already, and I've been so lavish with my heart, spent +it so freely, I'm afraid I have none left.... Poor, poor little Rafael! +I'm so sorry ... but, you see, you came so late ... so late ...!" + + + + +PART TWO + +I + + +Hidden in the tall, thick rose-bushes that bounded the _plazoleta_ in +front of the Blue House, and under four old dead palms that drooped +their branches dry and melancholy under the vigorous tufts of younger +trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests +of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques +and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Saracen rule--sturdy, but +comfortable seats, with the graceful lines of the sofas of the +Eighteenth Century; and in them Leonora liked to spend her time in late +afternoons especially, when the palm trees covered the little square +with a cool, delightful shade. + +On that warm March day, doña Pepa was sitting in one of them, her +silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, reading the "Life" of the day's +saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the _campagna_ of +Rome, Beppa had been trained to piety from her earliest years; and she +was listening attentively so as not to miss a word. + +On the other bench were Leonora and Rafael. The actress, with lowered +head, was following the movements of her hands, busily engaged on some +embroidery. + +Rafael found Leonora much changed after his months of absence. + +She was dressed simply, like any young lady of the city; her face and +hands, so white and marble-like before, had taken on the golden +transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the +Valencian sun. Her slender fingers were bare of all rings, and her pink +ears were not, as formerly, a-gleam with thick clusters of diamonds. + +"I've become a regular peasant, haven't I?" she said, as if she could +read in Rafael's eyes his astonishment at the transformation she had +undergone. "It's life in the open that works such miracles: today one +frill, tomorrow another, and a woman eventually gets rid of everything +that was once a part of her body almost. I feel better this way.... +Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the +perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of +fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who +had to paint herself every night like a clown before she could appear +before an audience. Take a good look at me! Well ... what do you think? +You might mistake me for one of your vassals almost, eh? I'll bet that +if I had gone out this morning to join your demonstration at the station +you wouldn't have recognized me in the crowd." + +Rafael was going to say--and quite seriously, too--that he thought her +more beautiful than ever. Leonora seemed to have descended from her +height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed what was coming, and to +forestall any compliments, hastened to resume control of the +conversation. + +"Now don't say you like me better this way. What nonsense! Remember, you +come from Madrid, from real elegance, a world you did not know +before!... But, to tell the truth, I like this simplicity; and the +important thing in life is to please yourself, isn't it? It was a slow +transformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually +filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland +delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human +animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up +again. Why, Rafaelito! If nothing extraordinary happens and the devil +doesn't give an unexpected tug at my sleeve, I can conceive of staying +on here forever. I think of the outer world as a sailor must of the sea, +when he finds himself all cosy at home after a voyage of continuous +tempest." + +"That's right, do stay," said Rafael. "You can't imagine how I worried +up in Madrid wondering whether or not I'd find you here on my return." + +"Don't go telling any fibs," said Leonora, gently, smiling with just a +suggestion of gratification. "Do you think we haven't been following +your doings in Madrid? Though you never were a friend, exactly, of good +old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently--and all sorts of +nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing--the +postscript, with your regards to the 'illustrious artist,' sure to +provoke the consoling reply that the 'illustrious artist' was still +here. How those letters made me laugh!" + +"Anyway, that will prove I wasn't lying that day when I assured you I +would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I didn't! The separation has +made me worse, much worse, in fact." + +"Thanks, Rafael," Leonora answered, quite seriously, as if she had lost +mastery over the irony of former days. "I know you're telling the +truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You understand, +of course, that I can't love you.... So--if you don't mind--let's talk +of something else." + +And hastily, to shift the conversation from such dangerous ground, she +began to chat about her rustic pleasures. + +"I have a hen-coop that's too charming for anything. If you could only +see me mornings, in a circle of cackling feathers, throwing fusillades +of corn about to keep the roosters away. You see they get under my +skirts and peck at my feet. It's hard to realize I can be the same woman +who, just a few months ago, was brandishing a stage lance and +interpreting Wagner's dreams, no less, as finely as you please! You'll +soon see _my_ vassals. I have the most astonishing layers you ever saw; +and every morning I rummage around in the straw like a thief to get the +eggs, and when I find them, they are still warm.... I've forgotten the +piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon--I +don't know why--I just felt like spending a little while in the society +of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of +the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the +thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby +in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my +dear deputy, that everything here is mere play--just chickens and the +simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I +have done big things to the house. You would never guess! A bathroom, if +you please! And it just scandalizes poor auntie; while Beppa says it's +a sin to give so much thought to matters of the body. I could give up +many of my old habits, but not my bath; it's the one luxury I have kept, +and I sent to Valencia for the plumbers, the marble, and the wood and... +well ... it's a gem. I'll show it to you, by and by. If some fine day I +should suddenly take it into my head to fly away, that bath will remain +here, for my poor aunt to preach about and show how her madcap niece +squandered a mint of money on sinful folly, as she calls it." + +And she laughed, with a glance at the innocent doña Pepa, who, there on +the other bench, was for the hundredth time explaining to the Italian +maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying +to persuade the "foreigner" to transfer her faith to that saint, and +waste no more time on the second or third raters of Italy. + +"Don't imagine," the actress continued, "that I forgot you during all +this time. I am a real friend, you see, and take an interest! I learned +through Cupido, who ferrets out everything, just what you were doing in +Madrid. I, too, figured among your admirers. That proves what friendship +can do! ... I don't know why, but when señor Brull is concerned, I +swallow the biggest whoppers, though I know they're lies. When you made +your speech in the Chambers on that matter of flood protection, I sent +to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many +times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met +Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have +known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer +eloquence--not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of +them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my +dressing-room--once I had sung at the 'Real.' Well, despite all that, I +took the exaggerations your party friends printed about you quite +seriously for some days, putting you on a level with all the solemn +top-notchers I have known. And why, do you suppose? Perhaps from my +isolation and tranquillity here, which do make you lose perspective; or +perhaps it was the influence of environment! It is impossible to live in +this region without being a subject of the Brulls!... Can I be falling +in love with you unawares?" + +And once more she laughed the gleeful, candid, mocking laugh of other +days. At first she had received him seriously, simply, under the +influence still of solitude, country life and the longing for rest and +quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of +that lovesick expression in eyes which now, however, showed a trace of +self-possession, the old teaser had reappeared in her; and her irony cut +into the youth's flesh like a steel blade. + +"Stranger things than that have happened," Rafael snapped boldly, and +imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you +should wind up by falling in love with even me--out of pity, of course!" + +"No," answered Leonora bluntly. "It's not even humanly conceivable. I'll +never fall in love with you ... And even if I should," she continued in +a gentle, almost mothering tone, "you would never know about it. I +should keep it jolly well to myself--so as to prevent your going crazy +on finding your affections returned. All afternoon I have been trying +to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have +inquired about your life in Madrid--even going into details that haven't +the slightest interest for me--all to keep the talk off love. But with +you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. +Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you--I must not love you. If +I had made your acquaintance somewhere else, but under the same romantic +circumstances, I don't say it mightn't have happened. But here!... My +scruples may make you laugh, but I feel as though I'd be committing a +crime to love you. It would be like entering a home and repaying the +hospitality by purloining the silverware." + +"That's a new kind of nonsense you are talking," Rafael exclaimed. "Just +what do you mean? I don't think I understand, exactly." + +"Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it's all +like. Love for love's sake alone! That may happen in the world where I +come from. There folks aren't scandalized at things. Virtue is +broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have +their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too +harshly. But here!... Here love is the straight and narrow path that +leads to marriage. Now let's see how good a liar you are! Would you be +capable of saying that you would marry me?..." + +She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking +eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as +he started to speak. + +"Exactly," she went on. "You wouldn't, and you are right. For that +would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity. I'm not one of the +women who are made for such things. Many men have proposed marriage to +me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once +they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their +marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me +back when I got bored and tried to fly away. But imagine me married! +Could anything be more absurd?" + +She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael +deeply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which +reminded the young man of Mephisto's mirth during his infernal serenade +to Marguerite. + +"Moreover," continued Leonora, recovering her composure, "you don't seem +to realize just how I stand in this community. Don't imagine what's said +about me in town escapes me ... I just have to notice the way the women +look at me the few times I go in there. And I know also what happened to +you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. +The gossip of these people carries--it reaches even this solitary spot. +I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even heard +about the squabbles you've had at home over coming here. Well, we must +put a stop to all that! I am going to ask you not to visit me any more. +I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will +be to the advantage of us both." + +That was a painful thrust for Rafael. So she knew! But to escape from +what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of +independence. + +"Don't you believe such bosh! It's just election gossip spread by my +enemies. I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without +asking mamma." + +"Very well; keep on coming, if you really want to; but all the same, it +shows how people feel toward me--a declaration of war, virtually. And if +I should ever fall in love with you ... heavens! What would they say +then? They'd be sure I had come here for the sole purpose of capturing +their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It +would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they +talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a lamb, imagine how their +tongues would wag then!... No, I'm not looking for excitement! Let them +snap at me as much as they please; but I mustn't be to blame. It must be +out of pure envy on their part. I wouldn't stoop to provoking them!" + +And with a turn of her head in the direction of the city that was hidden +from view behind the rows of orange-trees, she laughed disdainfully. + +Then her gleeful frankness returned once more--a candor of which she was +always ready to make herself the first victim--and in a low, +confidential, affectionate tone she continued: + +"Besides, Rafaelito, you haven't had a good look at me. Why, I'm almost +an old woman!... Oh, I know it, I know it. You don't have to tell me. +You and I are of the same age; but you are a man; and I'm a woman. And +the way I've lived has added considerably to my years. You are still on +the very threshold of life. I've been knocking about the world since I +was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, +my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me +worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just +gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't +advance a step on the stage without rousing the jealousy of someone; and +that kind of jealousy is the most bloodthirsty of human passions. Can +you imagine what my kind colleagues say about me? That I've gotten along +as a woman of the _demimonde_ rather than as an artist--that I'm a +_cocotte_, using my voice and the stage for soliciting, as it were." + +"Damn the liars!" cried Rafael hotly. "I'd like to have someone say that +in my hearing." + +"Bah! Don't be a child. Liars, yes, but what they say has a grain of +truth in it. I have been something of the sort, really; though the blame +had not been wholly mine ... I've done crazy foolish things--giving a +loose rein to my whims, for the fun of the thing. Sometimes it would be +wealth, magnificence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, +ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the +novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at +finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of +mine--it has taken in a good part of Europe--I have come to one +conclusion: either that what the poets call love is a lie, a pleasant +lie, if you wish; or else that I was not born to love, that I am immune; +for as I go back over my exciting and variegated past, I have to +recognize that in my life love has not amounted to this!" + +And she gave a sharp snap with her pink fingers. + +"I am telling you everything, you see," she continued. "During your long +absence I thought of you often. Somehow I want you to know me +thoroughly, once and for all. In that way perhaps we can get along +together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will +walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a +priest listen to her confession. I am in that mood this afternoon. I +feel as though I must tell everything. Even if I tried not to, I should +not succeed. There's a little demon inside me here urging me, compelling +me, to unveil all my past." + +"Please feel quite free to do so. To be a confessor even, to deserve +your confidence, is some progress for me, at any rate." + +"Progress? But why should you care to progress ... into my heart! My +heart is only an empty shell! Do you think you'd be getting much if you +got me? I'm absolutely, absolutely worthless! Don't laugh, please! I +mean it! Absolutely worthless. Here in this solitude I have been able to +study myself at leisure, see myself as I really am. I recognize it plain +as day: I am nothing, nothing. Good looking?... Well, yes; I confess I +am not what you'd call ugly. Even if, with a ridiculous false modesty, I +were to say I was, there's my past history to prove that plenty of men +have found me beautiful. But, alas, Rafaelito! That's only the outside, +my facade, so to speak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and +show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a +ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned +my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into +the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old +hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have +all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see +that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on +the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, +come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that will go to the bottom as +soon as it strikes deep water, and carry you down with it!... Rafael, my +dear boy, don't be foolish. I am all right to have as a friend; but it's +too late for me to be anything more ... even if I were to love you. We +are of a different breed. I have been studying you, and I see that you +are a sensible, honest, plodding sort of fellow. Whereas I--I belong to +the butterflies, to the opposite of all you are. I am a conscript under +the banner of Bohemia, and I cannot desert the colors. Each of us on his +own road then. You'll easily find a woman to make you happy.... The +sillier she is, the better.... You were born to be a family man." + +It occurred to Rafael that she might be poking fun at him, as she so +often did. But no; there was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The +forced smile had vanished from her face. She was speaking tenderly, +affectionately, as if in motherly counsel to a son in danger of going +wrong. + +"And don't make yourself over, Rafael. If the world were made up of +people like me, life would be impossible. I too have moments when I +should like to become a different person entirely--a fowl, a cow, or +something, like the folks around me, thinking of money all the time, and +of what I'll eat tomorrow; buying land, haggling with farmers on the +market, studying fertilizers, having children who'd keep me busy with +their colds and the shoes they'd tear, my widest vision limited to +getting a good price for the fall crop. There are times when I envy a +hen. How good it must be, to be a hen! A fence around me to mark the +boundaries of my world, my meals for the trouble of pecking at them, my +life-work to sit hour after hour in the sun, balanced on a roost.... You +laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and +the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a +pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of +it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant +women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a +whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to +Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They +can hardly believe their eyes when they see the _siñorita_ isn't half so +black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw +up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and +I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me.... Now all that is +agreeable, isn't it? Peace; the affection of the humble; an innocent old +woman, my poor aunt, who seems to have grown younger since I came here! +Nevertheless, some fine day, this shell, this rustic bark that has +formed around me in the sun and the air of the orchards, will burst, and +the woman of old--the Valkyrie--will step out of it again. And then, to +horse, to horse! Off on another gallop around the world, in a tempest of +pleasure, acclaimed by a chorus of brutal libertines!... I am sure that +is bound to happen. I swore to remain here until Spring. Well, Spring is +almost here! Look at those rose-bushes! Look at those orange-trees! +Bursting with life! Oh, Rafael, I'm afraid of Springtime. Spring has +always been a season of disaster for me." + +And she was lost in thought for a moment. Doña Pepa and the Italian maid +had gone into the house. The good old woman could never keep away from +the kitchen long. + +Leonora had dropped her embroidery upon the bench and was looking +upward, her head thrown back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and +drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as if visions of the past were +filing by in front of her. Suddenly she shuddered and sat up. + +"I'm afraid I'm ill, Rafael. I don't know what's the matter with me +today. Perhaps it's the surprise of seeing you; this talk of ours that +has called me back to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... +Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, +though you don't know it, of making me talk, of reminding me of things I +was determined to forget.... Come, give me your arm; let's walk out +through the garden; it will do me good." + +They arose, and began to saunter along over the broad avenue that led +from the gate to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost +in the thick crests of the orange-trees. Leonora smiled mischievously +and lifted a forefinger in warning. + +"I took it for granted you had returned from your trip a more serious, +a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Besides, +you know already that I'm strong, and can fight--if I have to." + + + + +II + + +Rafael spent a sleepless night tossing about in his bed. + +Party admirers had honored him with a serenade that had lasted beyond +midnight. The "prominents" among them had shown some pique at having +cooled their heels all afternoon at the Club waiting for the deputy in +vain. He put in an appearance well on towards evening, and after shaking +hands once more all around and responding to speeches of congratulation, +as he had done that morning, he went straight home. + +He had not dared raise his head in Doña Bernarda's presence. He was +afraid of those glowering eyes, where he could read, unmistakably, the +detailed story of everything he had done that afternoon. At the same +time he was nursing a resolve to disobey his mother, meet her +domineering, over-bearing aggressiveness with glacial disregard. + +The serenade over, he had hurried to his room, to avoid any chance of an +accounting. + +Snug in his bed, with the light out, he gave way to an intense, a +rapturous recollection of all that had taken place that afternoon. For +all the fatigue of the journey and the bad night spent in a +sleeping-car, he lay there with his eyes open in the dark, going over +and over again in his feverish mind all that Leonora told him during +that final hour of their walk through the garden. Her whole, her real +life's story it had been, recorded in a disordered, a disconnected +way--as if she must unburden herself of the whole thing all at +once--with gaps and leaps that Rafael now filled in from his own lurid +imagination. + +Italy, the Italy of his trip abroad, came back to him now, vivid, +palpitant, vitalized, glorified by Leonora's revelations. + +The shadowy majestic Gallery of Victor Emmanuel at Milan! The immense +triumphal arch, a gigantic mouth protended to swallow up the Cathedral! +The double arcade, cross-shaped, its walls covered with columns, set +with a double row of windows under a vast crystal roof. Hardly a trace +of masonry on the lower stories; nothing but plate glass--the windows of +book-shops, music shops, cafés, restaurants, jewelry stores, +haberdasheries, expensive tailoring establishments. + +At one end, the Duomo, bristling with a forest of statues and perforated +spires; at the other, the monument to Leonardo da Vinci, and the famous +_Teatro de la Scala_! Within the four arms of the Gallery, a continuous +bustle of people, an incessant going and coming of merging, dissolving +crowds: a quadruple avalanche flowing toward the grand square at the +center of the cross, where the Café Biffi, known to actors and singers +the world over, spreads its rows of marble tables! A hubbub of cries, +greetings, conversations, footsteps, echoing in the galleries as in an +immense cloister, the lofty skylight quivering with the hum of busy +human ants, forever, day and night, crawling, darting this way and that, +underneath it! + +Such is the world's market of song-birds; the world's Rialto of Music; +the world's recruiting office for its army of voices. From that center, +march forth to glory or to the poorhouse, all those who one fine day +have touched their throats and believed they have some talent for +singing. In Milan, from every corner of the earth, all the unhappy +aspirants of art, casting aside their needles, their tools or their +pens, foregather to eat the macaroni of the _trattoria_, trusting that +the world will some day do them justice by strewing their paths with +millions. Beginners, in the first place, who, to make their start, will +accept contracts in any obscure municipal theatre of the Milan district, +in hopes of a paragraph in a musical weekly to send to the folks at home +as evidence of promise and success; and with them, overwhelming them +with the importance of their past, the veterans of art--the celebrities +of a vanished generation: tenors with gray hair and false teeth; strong, +proud, old men who cough and clear their throats to show they still +preserve their sonorous baritone; retired singers who, with incredible +niggardliness, lend their savings at usury or turn shopkeepers after +dragging silks and velvets over world famous "boards." + +Whenever the two dozen "stars," the stars of first magnitude that shine +in the leading operas of the globe, pass through the Gallery, they +attract as much admiring attention as monarchs appearing before their +subjects. The _pariahs_, still waiting for a contract, bow their heads +in veneration; and tell, in bated breath, of the castle on Lake Como +that the great tenor has bought, of the dazzling jewels owned by the +eminent soprano, of the graceful tilt at which the applauded baritone +wears his hat; and in their voices there is a tingle of jealousy, of +bitterness against destiny--the feeling that they are just as worthy of +such splendor--the protest against "bad luck," to which they attribute +failure. Hope forever flutters before these unfortunates, blinding them +with the flash of its golden mail, keeping them in a wretched despondent +inactivity. They wait and they trust, without any clear idea of how they +are to attain glory and wealth, wasting their lives in impotence, to die +ultimately "with their boots on," on some bench of the Gallery. + +Then, there is another flock, a flock of girls, victims of the Chimera, +walking with a nimble, a prancing step, with music scores under their +arms, on the way to the _maestro's_; slender, light-haired English +_misses_, who want to become prima donnas of comic opera; fair-skinned, +buxom Russian _parishnas_ who greet their acquaintances with the +sweeping bow of a dramatic soprano; Spanish _señoritas_ of bold faces +and free manners, preparing for stage careers as Bizet's +cigarette-girl--frivolous, sonorous song-birds nesting hundreds of +leagues away, and who have flown hither dazzled by the tinsel of glory. + +At the close of the Carnival season, singers who have been abroad for +the winter season appear in the Gallery. They come from London, St. +Petersburg, New York, Melbourne, Buenos Aires, looking for new +contracts. They have trotted about the globe as though the whole world +were home to them. They have spent a week in a train or a month on a +steamer, to get back to their corner in the Gallery. Nothing has +changed, for all of their distant rambles. They take their usual table. +They renew their old intrigues, their old gossip, their old jealousies, +as if they had been gone a day. They stand around in front of the +show-windows with an air of proud disdain, like princes traveling +incognito, but unable quite to conceal their exalted station. They tell +about the ovations accorded them by foreign audiences. They exhibit the +diamonds on their fingers and in their neckties. They hint at affairs +with great ladies who offered to leave home and husband to follow them +to Milan. They exaggerate the salaries they received on their trip, and +frown haughtily when some unfortunate "colleague" solicits a drink at +the nearby Biffi. And when the new contracts come in, the mercenary +nightingales again take wing, indifferently, they care not whither. Once +more, trains and steamers distribute them, with their conceits and their +petulances, all over the globe, to gather them in again some months +later and bring them back to the Gallery, their real home--the spot to +which they are really tied, and on which they are fated to drag out +their old age. + +Meantime, the _pariahs_, those who never arrive, the "bohemians" of +Milan--when they are left alone console themselves with tales of famous +comrades, of contracts they themselves refused to accept, pretending +uncompromising hauteur toward impresarios and composers to justify their +idleness; and wrapped in fur coats that almost sweep the ground, with +their "garibaldis" on the backs of their heads, they hover around +Biffi's, defying the cold draughts that blow at the crossing of the +Gallery, talking and talking away to quiet the hunger that is gnawing at +their stomachs; despising the humble toil of those who make their living +by their hands, continuing undaunted in their poverty, content with +their genius as artists, facing misfortune with a candor and an +endurance as heroic as it is pathetic, their dark lives illumined by +Hope, who keeps them company till she closes their eyes. + +Of that strange world, Rafael had caught a glimpse, barely, during the +few days he had spent in Milan. His companion, the canon, had run across +a former chorister from the cathedral of Valencia, who could find +nothing to do but loiter night and day about the Gallery. Through him +Brull had learned of the life led by these journeymen of art, always on +hand in the "marketplace", waiting for the employer who never comes. + +He tried to picture the early days of Leonora in that great city, as one +of the girls who trot gracefully over the sidewalks with music sheets +under their arms, or enliven the narrow side streets with all those +trills and cadences that come streaming out through the windows. + +He could see her walking through the Gallery at Doctor Moreno's side: a +blonde beauty, svelte, somewhat thin, over-grown, taller than her years, +gazing with astonishment through those large green eyes of hers at the +cold, bustling city, so different from the warm orchards of her +childhood home; the father, bearded, wrinkled, nervous, still irritated +at the ruin of his Republican hopes; a veritable ogre to strangers who +did not know his lamb-like gentleness. Like exiles who had found a +refuge in art, they two went their way through that life of emptiness, +of void, a world of greedy teachers anxious to prolong the period of +study, and of singers incapable of speaking kindly even of themselves. + +They lived on a fourth floor on the _Via Passarella_--a narrow, gloomy +thoroughfare with high houses, like the streets of old Alcira, preempted +by music publishers, theatrical agencies and retired artists. Their +janitor was a former chorus leader; the main floor was rented by an +agency exclusively engaged from sun to sun in testing voices. The others +were occupied by singers who began their vocal exercises the moment they +got out of bed, setting the house ringing like a huge music-box from +roof to cellar. The Doctor and his daughter had two rooms in the house +of _Signora Isabella_, a former ballet-dancer who had achieved notorious +"triumphs" in the principal courts of Europe, but was now a skeleton +wrapped in wrinkled skin, groping her way through the corridors, +quarreling over money in foul-mouthed language with the servants, and +with no other vestiges of her past than the gowns of rustling silk, and +the diamonds, emeralds and pearls that took their turns in her stiff, +shrivelled ears. This harpy had loved Leonora with the fondness of the +veteran for the new recruit. + +Every day Doctor Moreno went to a café of the Gallery, where he would +meet a group of old musicians who had fought under Garibaldi, and young +men who wrote _libretti_ for the stage, and articles for Republican and +Socialist newspapers. That was his world: the only thing that helped him +endure his stay in Milan. After a lonely life back there in his native +land, this corner of the smoke-filled café seemed like Paradise to him. +There, in a labored Italian, sprinkled with Spanish interjections, he +could talk of Beethoven and of the hero of Marsala; and for hour after +hour he would sit wrapt in ecstasy, gazing, through the dense +atmosphere, at the red shirt and the blond, grayish locks of the great +Giuseppe, while his comrades told stories of this, the most romantic, of +adventurers. + +During such absences of her father, Leonora would remain in charge of +_Signora Isabella_; and bashful, shrinking, half bewildered, would spend +the day in the salon of the former ballet-dancer, with its coterie of +the latter's friends, also ruins surviving from the past, burned-out +"flames" of great personages long since dead. And these witches, smoking +their cigarettes, and looking their jewels over every other moment to be +sure they had not been stolen, would size up "the little girl," as they +called her, to conclude that she would "go very far" if she learned how +to "play the game." + +"I had excellent teachers," said Leonora, in speaking of that period of +her youth. "They were good souls at bottom, but they had very little +still to learn about life. I don't remember just when I began to see +through them. I don't believe I was ever what they call an 'innocent' +child." + +Some evenings the Doctor would take her to his group in the café, or to +some second balcony seat under the roof of _La Scala_, if a couple of +complimentary tickets happened to come his way. Thus she was introduced +to her father's friends, bohemians with whom music went hand in hand +with the ideas and the ideals of revolution, curious mixtures of artist +and conspirator; aged, bald-headed, near-sighted "professors," their +backs bent by a lifetime spent leaning over music stands; and swarthy +youths with fiery eyes, stiff, long hair and red neckties, always +talking about overthrowing the social order because their operas had +not been accepted at _La Scala_ or because no _maestro_ could be found +to take their musical dramas seriously. One of them attracted Leonora. +Leaning back on a side-seat in the cafe, she would sit and watch him for +hours and hours. He was a fair-haired, extremely delicate boy. His +tapering goatee and his fine, silky hair, covered by a sweeping, soft +felt hat, made her think of Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I of England +that she had seen in print somewhere. They called him "the poet" at the +café, and gossip had it that an old woman, a retired "star," was paying +for his keep--and his amusements--until his verses should bring him +fame. "Well," said Leonora, simply, with a smile, "he was my first +love--a calf-and-puppy love, a schoolgirl's infatuation which nobody +ever knew about"; for though the Doctor's daughter spent hours with her +green golden eyes fixed upon the poet, the latter never suspected his +good fortune; doubtless because the beauty of his patroness, the +superannuated _diva_, had so obsessed him that the attractions of other +women left him quite unmoved. How vividly Leonora remembered those days +of poverty and dreams!... Little by little the modest capital the Doctor +owned in Alcira vanished, what with living expenses and music lessons. +Doña Pepa, at her brother's instance, sold one piece of land after +another; but even such remittances were often long delayed; and then, +instead of eating in the _trattoria_, near _la Scala_, with dancing +students and the more successful of the young singers, they would stay +at home; and Leonora would lay aside her scores and take a turn at +cooking, learning mysterious recipes from the old _danseuse_. For weeks +at a time they would live on nothing but macaroni and rice served _al +burro_, a diet that her father abhorred, the Doctor, meanwhile, +pretending illness to justify his absence from the café. But these +periods of want and poverty were endured by father and daughter in +silence. Before their friends, they still maintained the pose of +well-to-do people with plenty of income from property in Spain. + +Leonora underwent a rapid transformation. She had already passed her +period of growth--that preadolescent "awkward age" when the features are +in constant change before settling down to their definitive forms and +the limbs seem to grow longer and longer and thinner and thinner. The +long-legged spindling "flapper," who was never quite sure where to stow +her legs, became the reserved, well-proportioned girl with the +mysterious gleam of puberty in her eyes. Her clothes seemed, naturally, +willingly, to curve to her fuller, rounding outlines. Her skirts went +down to her feet and covered the skinny, colt-like appendages that had +formerly made the denizens of the Gallery repress a smile. + +Her singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor, +Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the +_Statuto_, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the +Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had +come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning +his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students +whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white +goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he +would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said, +were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the +ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor +Moreno. + +"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his +own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the _maestro_ praised the +beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for +her. + +And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful, +the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the +midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the _maestro_, despite +her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right--the first fruits of +her initiation into theatrical life. + +Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on +finding his blind confidence in the _maestro_ so betrayed? She sank into +resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house +daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional +course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice. + +Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning, +at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled +_maestro_ during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her +a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to +make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor +doña Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her +own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send +him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant +directors and impresarios _à l'aventure_, "launched" his daughter +finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan +district--two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such +companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very day of the +performance sometimes,--troupes like the strolling players of old, +leaving at a venture in a third-class compartment on the train with the +prospect of returning on foot if the impresario made off with the money. + +Leonora began to know what applause was, what it meant to give _encore_ +after _encore_ before crowds of rustic landowners, dressed in their +Sunday clothes, and ladies with false rings and plated chains; and she +had her first thrills of feminine vanity on receiving bouquets and +sonnets from subalterns and cadets in small garrison towns. Boldini +followed her everywhere, neglecting his lessons, in pursuit of this, his +last depraved infatuation. "All for art, art for all!" He must enjoy the +fruits of his creation, be present at the triumphs of his star pupil! So +he said to Doctor Moreno; and that unsuspecting gentleman, thankful for +this added courtesy of the master, would leave her more and more to the +old satyr's care. + +The escape from that life came when she secured a contract for a whole +winter in Padua. There she met the tenor Salvatti, a high and mighty +_divo_, who looked down upon all his associates, though tolerated +himself, by the public, only out of consideration for his past. + +For years now he had been holding his own on the opera stage, less for +his voice than for his dashing appearance, slightly repaired with pencil +and rouge, and the legend of romantic love affairs that floated like a +rainbow around his name--noble dames fighting a clandestine warfare for +him; queens scandalizing their subjects by blind passions he inspired; +eminent divas selling their diamonds for the money to hold him faithful +by lavish gifts. The jealousy of Salvatti's comrades tended to +perpetuate and exaggerate this legend; and the tenor, worn out, poor, +and a wreck virtually for all of his pose of grandeur, was able to make +a living still from provincial publics, who charitably applauded him +with the self-conceit of climbers pampering a dethroned prince. + +Leonora, playing opposite that famous man, "starring," singing duets +with him, clasping hands that had been kissed by the queens of art, was +deeply stirred. This, at last, was the world she had dreamed of in her +dingy garret in Milan. Salvatti's presence gave her just the illusion of +aristocratic grandeur she had longed for. Nor was he slow in perceiving +the impression he had made upon that promising young woman. With a cold +calculating selfishness, he determined to profit by her naïve +admiration. Was it love that thrust her toward him? As, so long +afterwards, she analyzed her passion to Rafael, she was vehemently +certain it had not been love: Salvatti could never have inspired a +genuine feeling in anyone. His egotism, his moral corruptness, were too +close to the surface. No, he was a philanderer simply, an exploiter of +women. But for her it had been a blinding hallucination nevertheless, +fraught, during the first days, at least, with the delicious +exhiliration, the voluptuous abandonment of true love. She became the +slave of the decrepit tenor, voluntarily, just as she had become her +_maestro's_ slave through fear. And so complete had her infatuation +been, so overpowering its intoxication, that, in obedience to Salvatti, +she fled with him at the end of the season, and deserted her father, who +had objected to the intimacy. + +Then came the black page in her life, that filled her eyes with +anguished tears as she went on with her story. What folks said about her +father's end was not true. Poor Doctor Moreno had not committed suicide. +He was altogether too proud to confess in that way the deep grief that +her ingratitude had caused him. + +"Don't talk to me about that woman," he would say fiercely to his +landlady at Milan whenever the old _danseuse_ would mention Leonora. "I +have no daughter: it was all a mistake." + +Unbeknown to Salvatti, who became terribly grasping as he saw his power +waning, Leonora would send her father a few hundred francs from London, +from Naples, from Paris. The Doctor, though in direst poverty, would at +once return the checks "to the sender" and, without writing a word; +where-upon Leonora paid an allowance every month to the housekeeper, +begging her not to abandon the old man. + +The unhappy Doctor needed, indeed, all the care the landlady and her old +friends could give him. The _povero signor spagnuolo_--the poor Spanish +gentleman--spent his days locked up in his room, his violoncello between +his knees, reading Beethoven, the only one "in his family"--as he +said--"who had never played him false." When old Isabella, tired of his +music, would literally put him out of the house to get a breath of air, +he would wander like a phantom through the Gallery, distantly greeted +by former friends, who avoided closer contact with that black +despondency and feared the explosions of rage with which he received +news of his daughter's rising fame. + +A rapid rise she was making in very truth! The worldly old women who +foregathered in the ballet-dancer's little parlor, could not contain +their admiration for their "little girl's" success; and even grew +indignant at the father for not accepting things "as things had to be." +Salvatti? Just the support she needed! An expert pilot, who knew the +chart of the opera world, who would steer her straight and keep her off +the rocks. + +The tenor had skilfully organized a world wide publicity for his young +singer. Leonora's beauty and her artistic verve conquered every public. +She had contracts with the leading theatres of Europe, and though +critics found defects in her singing, her beauty helped them to forget +these, and one and all they contributed loyally to the deification of +the young goddess. Salvatti, sheltering his old age under this prestige +which he so religiously fostered, was keeping in harness to the very +end, and taking leave of life under the protecting shadow of that woman, +the last to believe in him and tolerate his exploitation. + +Applauded by select publics, courted in her dressing-room by celebrated +men and women, Leonora began to find Salvatti's tyranny unbearable. She +now saw him as he really was: miserly, petulant, spoiled by praise. +Every bit of her money that came into his hands disappeared, she knew +not where. Eager for revenge, though really answering the lure of the +elegant world she glimpsed in the distance but was not yet a part of, +she began to deceive Salvatti in passing adventures, taking a diabolical +pleasure in the deceit. But no; as she looked back on that part of her +life with the sober eye of experience, she understood that she had +really been the one deceived. Salvatti, she remembered, would always +retire at the opportune moment, facilitating her infidelities. She +understood now that the man had carefully prepared such adventures for +her with influential men whom he himself introduced to make certain +profits out of the meeting--profits that he never declared. + +After three years of this sort of life, when Leonora had reached the +full splendor of her beauty, she chanced to become the favorite of +fashion for one whole summer at Nice. Parisian newspapers, in their +"society columns" referred, in veiled language, to the passion of an +aged king, a democratic monarch, who had left his throne, much as a +manufacturer of London or a stockbroker of Paris would leave his office, +for a vacation on the Blue Coast. This tall, robust gentleman with a +patriarchal beard--the very type of the good king in fairy tales--had +not hesitated to be seen in public with a beautiful _artiste_. + +That conquest, fleeting though it had been, put the finishing touch on +Leonora's eminence! "Ah! La Brunna!" people would declare +enthusiastically. "The favorite of king Ernesto.... Our greatest +artist." And troops of adorers began to besiege her under the keen, +mercenary eyes of the tenor Salvatti. + +About this time her father died in a hospital at Milan--a very sad end, +as Signora Isabella, the former ballet-dancer, explained in her letters. +Of what had he died?... The old lady could not say, as the physicians +had differed; but her own view of the matter was that the _povero signor +spagnuolo_ had simply grown tired of living--a general collapse of that +wonderful constitution, so strong, so powerful, in a way, yet strangely +susceptible to moral and emotional influences. He was almost blind when +admitted to the hospital. He seemed quite to have lost his mind--sunk in +an unbreakable silence. Isabella had not dared to keep him in her house +after he had fallen into that coma. But the strange thing was, that as +death drew near, his memory of the past suddenly cleared, and the nurses +would hear him groan for nights at a time, murmuring in Spanish with +tenacious persistency: + +"Leonora! My darling! Where are you?... Little girl, where are you?" + +Leonora wept and wept, and did not leave her hotel for more than a week, +to the great disgust of Salvatti, who observed, in addition, that tears +were not good for her complexion. + +Alone in the world!... Her own wrong-doing had killed her poor father! +No one was left now except her good old aunt, who was "existing" far +away in Spain, like a vegetable in a garden, her stupid mind entirely on +her prayer-book. Leonora vented her anguish in a burst of hatred for +Salvatti. He was responsible for her abandonment of her father! She +deserted him, taking up with a certain count Selivestroff, a handsome +and wealthy Russian, captain in the Imperial Guard. + +So she had found her destiny! Her life would always be like that! She +would pass from stage to stage, from song to song, belonging to +everybody--and to nobody! + +That fair Russian, so strong, so manly, so thoroughly a gentleman, had +loved her truly, with a passionate humble adoration. + +He would kneel submissively at her feet, like Hercules in the presence +of Adriadne, resting his chin on her knees, looking up into her face +with his gray, kindly, caressing eyes. Timidly, doubtfully, he would +approach her every day as if he were meeting her for the first time and +feared a repulse. He would kiss her softly, delicately, with hushed +reserve, as if she were a fragile jewel that might break beneath his +tenderest caress. Poor Selivestroff! Leonora had wept at the thought of +him. In Russia and with princely Russian sumptuousness, they had lived +for a year in his castle, in the country, among a population of sodden +_moujiks_ who worshipped that beautiful woman in the white and blue furs +as devotedly as if she had been a Virgin stepping forth from the gilded +background of an ikon. + +But Leonora could not live away from stageland: the ladies of the rural +aristocracy avoided her, and she needed applause and admiration. She +induced Selivestroff to move to St. Petersburg, and for a whole winter +she sang at the Opera there, like a grand dame turned opera singer out +of love for the work. + +Once more she became the reigning _belle_. All the young Russian +aristocrats who held commissions in the Imperial Guard, or high posts in +the Government, spoke enthusiastically of the great Spanish beauty; and +they envied Selivestroff. The count yearned moodily for the solitude of +his castle, which held so many loving memories for him. In the bustling, +competitive life of the capital, he grew jealous, sad, melancholy, +irritable at the necessity of defending his love. He could sense the +underground warfare that was being waged against him by Leonora's +countless admirers. + +One morning she was rudely awakened and leapt out of bed to find the +count stretched out on a divan, pale, his shirt stained with blood. A +number of gentlemen dressed in black were standing around him. They had +just brought him in from a carriage. He had been wounded in the chest. +The evening before, on leaving the theatre, the count had gone up for a +moment to his Club. He had caught an allusion to Leonora and himself in +some words of a friend. There had been blows--then hasty arrangements +for a duel, which had been fought at sunrise, with pistols. Selivestroff +died in the arms of his mistress, smiling, seeking those delicate, +powerful, pearly hands for one last time with his bleeding lips. Leonora +mourned him deeply, truly. The land where she had been so happy with the +first man she had really loved became intolerable to her, and abandoning +most of the riches that the count had given her, she went forth into the +world again, storming the great theatres in a new fever of travel and +adventure. + +She was then just twenty-three, but already felt herself an old woman. +How she had changed!... More affairs? As she went over that period of +her life in her talk with Rafael, Leonora closed her eyes with a shudder +of modesty and remorse. Drunk with fame and power she had rushed about +the world lavishing her beauty on anyone who interested her for the +moment. The property of everybody and of nobody! She could not remember +the names, even, of all the men who had loved her during that era of +madness, so many had been caught in the wake of her stormy flight across +the world! She had returned to Russia once, and been expelled by the +Czar for compromising the prestige of the Imperial Family, through an +affair with a grand duke who had wanted to marry her. In Rome she had +posed in the nude for a young and unknown sculptor out of pure +compassion for his silent admiration; and she herself made his "Venus" +public, hoping that the world-wide scandal would bring fame to the work +and to its author. In Genoa she found Salvatti again, now "retired," and +living on usury from his savings. She received him with an amiable +smile, lunched with him, treated him as an old comrade; and at dessert, +when he had become hopelessly drunk, she seized a whip and avenged the +blows she had received in her time of slavery to him, beating him with a +ferocity that stained the apartment with gore and brought the police to +the hotel. Another scandal! And this time her name bandied about in a +criminal court! But she, a fugitive from justice, and proud of her +exploit, sang in the United States, wildly acclaimed by the American +public, which admired the combative Amazon even more than the artist. + +There she made the acquaintance of Hans Keller, the famous orchestra +conductor, and a pupil and friend of Wagner. The German _maestro_ became +her second love. With stiff, reddish hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, an +enormous mustache that drooped over either side of his mouth and framed +his chin, he was certainly not so handsome as Selivestroff. But he had +one irresistible charm, the charm of Art. With the tragic Russian in her +mind and on her conscience, she felt the need of burning herself in the +immortal flame of the ideal; and she adored the famous musician for the +artistic associations that hovered about him. For the first time, the +much-courted Leonora descended from her lofty heights to seek a man's +attention and came with her amorous advances to disturb the placid calm +of that artist so wholly engrossed in the cult of the sublime Master. + +Hans Keller noticed the smile that fell like a sunbeam upon his music +scrolls. He closed them and let himself be drawn off on the by-paths of +love. Leonora's life with the _maestro_ was an absolute rupture with all +her past. Her one wish was to love and be loved--to throw a cloak of +mystery over her real self, ashamed as she now was of her previous wild +career. Her passion enthralled the musician and she in turn felt at once +stirred and transfigured by the atmosphere of artistic fervor that +haloed the illustrious pupil of Wagner. + +The spirit of Him, the Master, as Hans Keller called Wagner with pious +adoration, flashed before the singer's eyes like the revealing glory +that converted Paul on the road to Damascus. Music, as she now saw +clearly for the first time, was not a means of pleasing crowds, +displaying physical beauty, and attracting men. It was a religion--the +mysterious power that brings the infinite within us into contact with +the infinite that surrounds us. She became the sinner awakening to +repentance, and yearning for the atoning peace of the cloister, a +Magdalen of Art, touched on the high road of worldliness and frivolity +by the mystic sublimity of the Beautiful; and she cast herself at the +feet of Him, the supreme Master, as the most victorious of men, lord of +the mystery that moves all souls. + +"Tell me more about Him," Leonora would say. "How much I would give to +have known him as you did!... I did see him once in Venice: during his +last days ...he was already dying." + +And that meeting was, indeed, one of her most vivid and lasting +memories. The declining afternoon enlivening the dark waters of the +Grand Canal with its opalescent spangles; a gondola passing hers in the +opposite direction; and inside, a pair of blue, imperious eyes, shining, +under thick eyebrows, with the cold glint of steel--eyes that could +never be mistaken for common eyes, for the divine fire of the Elect, of +the demi-God, was bright within them! And they seemed to envelop her in +a flash of cerulean light. It was He--ill, and about to die. His heart +was wounded, bleeding, pierced, perhaps, by the shafts of mysterious +melody, as hearts of the Virgin sometimes bleed on altars bristling with +swords. + +Leonora could still see him as if he were there in front of her. He +looked smaller than he really was, dwarfed, apparently, by illness, and +by the wrack of pain. His huge head, the head of a genius, was bent low +over the bosom of his wife Cosima. He had removed the black felt hat so +as to catch the afternoon breeze full upon his loose gray locks. His +broad, high curved forehead, seemed to weigh down upon his body like an +ivory chest laden full of unseen jewels. His arrogant nose, as strong as +the beak of a bird of prey, seemed to be reaching across the sunken +mouth toward the sensuous, powerful jaw. A gray beard ran down along the +neck, that was wrinkled, wasted with age. A hasty vision it had been, to +be sure; but she had seen him; and his venerable figure remained in her +memory like a landscape glimpsed at the flare of a lightning-flash. She +had witnessed his arrival in Venice to die in the peace of those canals, +in that silence which is broken only by the stroke of the oar--where +many years before he had thought himself dying as he wrote his +_Tristan_--that hymn to the Death that is pure, to the Death that +liberates! She saw him stretched out in the dark boat; and the splash of +the water against the marble of the palaces echoed in her imagination +like the wailing, thrilling trumpets at the burial of Siegfried--the +hero of Poetry marching to the Valhalla of immortality and glory upon a +shield of ebony--motionless, inert as the young hero of the Germanic +legend--and followed by the lamentations of that poor prisoner of life, +Humanity, that ever eagerly seeks a crack, a chink, in the wall about +it, through which the inspiriting, comforting ray of beauty may +penetrate. + +And the singer gazed with tearful eyes at the broad _boina_ of black +velvet, the lock of gray hair, two broken, rusty steel pens--souvenirs +of the Master, that Hans Keller had piously preserved in a glass case. + +"You knew him--tell me how he lived. Tell me everything: talk to me +about the Poet ... the Hero." + +And the musician, no less moved, described the Master as he had seen him +in the best of health; a small man, tightly wrapped in an +overcoat--with a powerful, heavy frame, however, despite his slight +stature--as restless as a nervous woman, as vibrant as a steel spring, +with a smile that lightly touched with bitterness his thin, colorless +lips. Then came his "genialities," as people said, the caprices of his +genius, that figure so largely in the Wagner legend: his smoker, a +jacket of gold satin with pearl flowers for buttons; the precious cloths +that rolled about like waves of light in his study, velvets and silks, +of flaming reds and greens and blues, thrown across the furniture and +the tables haphazard, with no reference to usefulness--for their sheer +beauty only--to stimulate the eye with the goad of color, satisfy the +Master's passion for brightness; and perfumes, as well, with which his +garments--always of oriental splendor--were literally saturated; phials +of rose emptied at random, filling the neighborhood with the fragrance +of a fabulous garden, strong enough to overcome the hardiest uninitiate, +but strangely exciting to that Prodigy in his struggle with the Unknown. + +And then Hans Keller described the man himself, never relaxed, always +quivering with mysterious thrills, incapable of sitting still, except at +the piano, or at table for his meals; receiving visitors standing, +pacing back and forth in his salon, his hands twitching in nervous +uncertainty; changing the position of the armchairs, rearranging the +furniture, suddenly stopping to hunt about his person for a snuff-box or +a pair of glasses that he never found; turning his pockets inside out, +pulling his velvet house-cap now down over one eye, now back over the +crown of his head, or again, throwing it into the air with a shout of +joy or crumpling it in his hand, as he became excited in the course of a +discussion! + +And Keller would close his eyes, imagining that he could still hear in +the silence, the faint but commanding voice of the Master. Oh, where was +he now? On some star, doubtless, eagerly following the infinite song of +the spheres, a divine music that only his ears had been attuned to hear! +And to choke his emotion, the musician would sit down at the piano, +while Leonora, responsive to his mood, would approach him, and standing +as rigid as a statue, with her hands lost in the musician's head of +rough tangled hair, sing a fragment from the immortal _Tetralogy_. + +Worship of Wagner transformed the butterfly into a new woman. Leonora +adored Keller as a ray of light gone astray from the glowing star now +extinguished forever; she felt the joy of humbleness, the sweetness of +sacrifice, seeing in him not the man, but the chosen representative of +the Divinity. Leonora could have grovelled at Keller's feet, let him +trample on her--make a carpet of her beauty. She willed to become a +slave to that lover who was the repository of the Master's thoughts; and +who seemed to be magnified to gigantic proportions by the custody of +such a treasure. + +She tended him with the exquisite watchfulness of an enamored servant, +following him, on his trips in the summer, the season of the great +concerts, to Leipzig, Geneva, Paris; and she, the most famous living +prima donna, would stay behind the scenes, with no jealousy for the +applause she heard, waiting for Hans, perspiring and tired, to drop the +baton amid the acclamations of the audience and come back-stage to have +her dry his forehead with an almost filial caress. + +And thus they traveled about Europe, spreading the light of the Master; +Leonora, voluntarily in the background, like a patrician of old, dressed +as a slave and following the Apostle in the name of the New Word. + +The German musician let himself be adored, receiving all her caresses of +enthusiasm and love with the absent-mindedness of an artist so +preoccupied with sounds that at last he comes to hate words. He taught +his language to Leonora that she might some day realize a dream of hers +and sing in Bayreuth; and he grounded her in the principles that had +guided the Master in the creation of his great characters. And so, when +Leonora made her appearance on the stage one winter with the winged +helmet and the lance of the Valkyrie, she attained an eminence in +Wagnerian interpretation that was to follow her for the remainder of her +career. Hans himself was carried away by her power, and could never +recover from his astonishment at Leonora's complete assimilation of the +spirit of the Master. + +"If only He could hear you!" he would say with conviction. "I am sure He +would be content." + +And the pair traveled about the world together. Every springtime she, as +spectator, would watch him directing Wagnerian choruses in the "Mystic +Abyss" at Bayreuth. Winters it was he who went into ecstasies under her +tremendous "_Hojotoho_!"--the fierce cry of a Valkyrie afraid of the +austere father Wotan; or at sight of her awakening among the flames for +the spirited Siegfried, the hero who feared nothing in the world, but +trembled at the first glance of love! + +But artists' passions are like flowers, fragrant, but quickly +languishing. The rough German musician was a simple person, unstable, +fickle, ready to be amused at any new plaything. Leonora admitted to +Rafael that she could have lived to old age submissively at Keller's +side, pampering his whims and selfish caprices. But one day Keller +deserted her, as she had deserted others, to take up with a sickly, +languid contralto, whose best charms could have been hardly comparable +to the morbid delicacy of a hot-house flower. Leonora, mad with love and +jealousy, pursued him, knocking at his door like a servant. For the +first time she felt the voluptuous bitterness of being scorned, +discarded, until reaction from despair brought her back to her former +pride and self-control! + +Love was over. She had had enough of artists; though an interesting sort +of folk they were in their way. Far preferable were the ordinary, normal +men she had known before Keller's time! The foolisher--the more +commonplace--the better! She would never fall in love again! + +Wearied, broken in spirit, disillusioned, she went back into her old +world. But now the legend of her past beset her. Again men came, +passionately besieging her, offering her wealth in return for a little +love. They talked of killing themselves if she resisted, as if it were +her duty to surrender, as if refusal on her part were treachery. The +gloomy Macchia committed suicide in Naples. Why? Because she did not +capitulate to his melancholy sonnets! In Vienna there had been a duel, +in which one of her admirers was slain. An eccentric Englishman followed +her about, looming in her pathway everywhere like the shadow of a fatal +Destiny, vowing to kill anybody she should prefer to him.... She had had +enough at last! She was wearied of such a life, disgusted at the male +voracity that dogged her every step. She longed to fall out of sight, +disappear, find rest and quiet in a complete surrender to some boundless +dream. And the thought--a comforting, soothing thought, it had been--of +the distant land of her childhood came back to her, the thought of her +simple, pious aunt, the sole survivor of her family, who wrote to her +twice every year, urging her to reconcile her soul with God--to which +end the good old Doña Pepa was herself aiding with prayer! + +She felt, too, somehow, without knowing just why, that a visit to her +native soil would soften the painful memory of the ingratitude that had +cost her father's life. She would care for the poor old woman! Her +presence would bring a note of cheer into that gray, monotonous +existence that had gone on without the slightest change, ever. And +suddenly, one night, after an "Isolde" in Florence, she ordered Beppa, +the loyal and silent companion of her wandering life, to pack her +things! + +Home! Home! Off for her native land! And might she find there something +to keep her ever from returning to the troubled stirring world she was +leaving! + +She was the princess of the fairy tales longing to become a shepherdess. +There she meant to stay, in the shade of her orange-trees, now and then +fondling a memory of her old life, perhaps, but wishing eternally to +enjoy that tranquillity, fiercely repelling Rafael, therefore, because +he had tried to awaken her, as Siegfried rouses Brunhilde, braving the +flames to reach her side. + +No; friends, friends, nothing else! She wanted no more of love. She +already knew what that was. Besides, he had come too late.... + +And Rafael tossed sleeplessly in his bed, rehearsing in the darkness the +story he had been told. He felt dwarfed, annihilated, by the grandeur of +the men who had preceded him in their adoration of that woman. A king, +great artists, handsome and aristocratic paladins, Russian counts, +potentates with vast wealth at their command! And he, a humble country +boy, an obscure junior deputy, as submissive as a child to his mother's +despotic ways, forced to beg for the money for his personal expenses +even--he was trying to succeed them! + +He laughed with bitter irony at his own presumptuousness. Now he +understood Leonora's mocking tone, and the violence she had used in +repulsing all boorish liberties he had tried to take. But despite the +contempt he began to feel for himself, he lacked the strength to +withdraw now. He had been caught up in the wake of seduction, the +maelstrom of love that followed the actress everywhere, enslaving men, +casting them, broken in spirit and in will, to earth, like so many +slaves of Beauty. + + + + +III + + +"Good morning, Rafaelito ... we are seeing each other betimes today.... +I am up so early not to miss the marketing. I remember that Wednesday +was always a great event in my life, as a child. What a crowd!..." + +And Leonora, with the great swarming cities far from her mind, was +really impressed at the numbers of bustling people crowding the little +square, called _del Prado_, where every Wednesday the "grand market" of +the Alcira region was held. + +Their sashes bulging with money bags, peasants were coming into town to +buy supplies for the whole week out in the orange country. Orchard women +were going from one stall to the next, as slender of body and as neatly +dressed as the peasant girls of an opera ballet, their hair in +_señorita_ style, their skirts of bright batiste gathered up to hold +their purchases and showing fine stockings and tight-fitting shoes +underneath. Tanned faces and rough hands were the only signs to betray +the rustic origin of the girls; because those were prosperous days for +the orange growers of the District. + +Along the walls hens were clucking, ranged in piles and tied together by +the feet. Here and there were pyramids of eggs, vegetables, fruit. In +"shops" that were set up in the morning and taken down at night, +drygoods dealers were selling colored sashes, strips of cotton cloth and +calico, and black woolsey, the eternal garb of every native of the +Júcar valley. Beyond the Prado, in _El Alborchí_, was the hog market; +and then came the _Hostal Gran_ where horses were tried out. On +Wednesdays all the business of the neighborhood was transacted--money +borrowed or paid back, poultry stocks replenished, hogs bought to fatten +on the farms, whole families anxiously following their progress; and new +cart-horses, especially, the matter of greatest concern to the farmers, +secured on mortgage, usually, or with cash saved up by desperate +hoarding. + +Though the sun had barely risen, the crowd, smelling of sweat and soil, +already filled the market place with busy going and coming. The +orchard-women embraced as they met, and with their heavy baskets propped +on their hips, went into the chocolate shops to celebrate the encounter. +The men gathered in groups; and from time to time, to "buck up" a +little, would go off in parties to swallow a glass of sweet brandy. In +and out among the rustics walked the city people: "petty bourgeois" of +set manners, with old capes, and huge hempen baskets, where they would +place the provisions they had bought after tenacious hagglings; +_señoritas_, who found in these Wednesday markets a welcome relief from +the monotony of their secluded life at home; idlers who spent hour after +hour at the stall of some vendor friend, prying into what each marketer +carried in his basket, grumbling at the stinginess of some and praising +the generosity of others. + +Rafael gazed at his friend in sheer astonishment. What a beauty she was! +Who could ever have taken her, in that costume, for a world-famous prima +donna! + +Leonora looked the living picture of an orchard girl: a plain cotton +dress, in anticipation of spring; a red kerchief around her neck; her +blond hair uncovered, combed back with artful carelessness and hastily +knotted low on the back of her head. Not a jewel, not a flower! Only her +height and her striking comeliness marked her off from the other girls. +Under the curious, devouring glances of the whole market throng, Rafael +smilingly greeted her, feasting his eyes on her fresh, pink skin, still +radiant from the morning bath, inhaling the subtle, indefinable +fragrance that hovered about that strong, healthy, youthful person. + +She was constantly smiling, as if bent on dazzling the bumpkins, who +were gaping at her from a distance, with the pearly flash of her teeth. +The market-place began to buzz with admiring curiosity, or the thrill of +scandal. There, face to face, in view of the whole city, the deputy and +the opera singer were talking and laughing together like the best of +friends! + +Rafael's supporters--the chief officials in the city government--who +were loitering about the square, could not conceal their satisfaction. +Even the humblest of the constables felt a certain pride. That beautiful +fairy was talking with "the Chief," smiling at him, even. What an honor +for "the Party!" But after all, why not? Everything considered, don +Rafael Brull deserved all that, and more! And those men, who were very +careful to keep silent when their wives spoke indignantly of the +"stranger," admired her with the instinctive fervor that beauty +inspires, and envied the deputy his good fortune. The old orchard-women +wrapped the couple in caressing glances of approval. There was a +handsome pair! What a fine match! + +The town ladies in passing by would draw up full height and pretend not +to see them. On meeting acquaintances they would make wry faces and say +ironically: "Did you see?... here she is, in full sight of everybody, +casting her fly for doña Bernarda's son!" What a disgrace! It was +getting so a decent woman hardly dared go out of doors! + +Leonora, quite unconscious of the interest she was arousing, chattered +on about her shopping. Beppa, you see, had decided to stay at home with +her aunt that morning; so she had come with her gardener's wife and +another woman--there they were over there with the large baskets. She +had no end of things to get--and she laughed as she read off the list. A +regular housewife she had become, yes, sir! She knew the price of +everything and could tell down to a _centime_ just what it was costing +her to live. It was like those hard times back in Milan, when she had +gone with her music roll under her arm to get macaroni, butter or coffee +at the grocer's. And what fun it all was!... However, Leonora observed +that, without a doubt, her audience was interpreting her cordial offhand +way with Rafael in the worst light possible. She gave him her hand and +took leave. It was growing late! If she stood there much longer the best +of the market would be carried off by others--if she found anything at +all left! "Down to business, then! Good-bye!" + +And the young man saw her make her way, followed by the two country +women, through the crowds, pausing at the booths, welcomed by the +vendors with their best smiles, as a customer who never haggled; +interrupting her purchases to fondle the filthy, whining children the +poor women were carrying in their arms, and taking the best fruits out +of her basket to give to the little ones. + +And everywhere general admiration! "_Así, siñorita_!--Here, my dear +young lady!" "_Vinga, doña Leonor_!--This way, doña Leonora!" the +huckstresses cried, calling her by name to show greater intimacy. And +she would smile, with a familiar intimate word for everybody, her hand +frequently visiting the purse of Russian leather that hung from her +wrist. Cripples, blind beggars, men with missing arms or legs, all had +learned of the generosity of that woman who scattered small change by +the fistful. + +Rafael gazed after her, smiling indifferently in acknowledgment of the +congratulations the town notables were heaping on him. The +_alcalde_--the most hen-pecked husband in Alcira, according to his +enemies--affirmed with sparkling eyes that for a woman like that he was +capable of doing almost any crazy thing. And they all joined in a chorus +of invidious praise, taking it for granted that Rafael was the +_artiste's_ accepted lover; though the youth himself smiled bitterly at +the thought of his real status with that wonderful woman. + +And she vanished, finally, into the sea of heads at the other end of the +market-place; though Rafael, from time to time, thought he could still +make out a mass of golden hair rising above the _chevelures_ of the +other girls. Willingly he would have followed; but Don Matias was at his +side--don Matias, the wealthy orange exporter, father of the wistful +Remedios who was spending her days obediently at doña Bernarda's side. + +That gentleman, heavy of speech and heavier still of thought, was +pestering Rafael with a lot of nonsense about the orange business, +giving the young man advice on a new bill he had drawn up and wanted to +have introduced in Congress--a protectionist measure for Spanish +oranges. "Why, it will be the making of the city, boy! Every mother's +son of us swimming in money!" as he guaranteed with his hand upon his +heart. + +But Rafael's gaze was lost in the distant reaches of the Prado, to catch +one more fleeting glimpse of a golden head of hair--proof of Leonora's +presence still! He found it hard to be courteous, even, to this man who, +according to authentic rumor, was destined to be his father-in-law. Of +all the drawling trickling words only a few reached his ears, beating on +his brain like monotonous hammer blows. "Glasgow ... Liverpool ... new +markets ... lower railroad rates ... The English agents are a set of +thieves ..." + +"Very well, let them go hang," Rafael answered mentally. And giving a +mechanical "yes, yes!" to propositions he was not even hearing, he gazed +away more intently than ever, fearing lest Leonora should already have +gone. He felt relieved, however, when a gap opened in the crowd and he +could see the actress seated in a chair that had been offered her by a +huckstress. She was holding a child upon her knees, and talking with a +tiny, wretched, sickly creature who looked to Rafael like the +orchard-woman they had met at the hermitage. + +"Well, what do you think of my plan?" don Matias asked. + +"Excellent, magnificent, and well worthy of a man like you, who knows +the question from top to bottom. We'll discuss the matter thoroughly +when I return to the Cortes." + +And to avoid a second exposition, he patted the wealthy boor on the +back, and wondered why in the world Fortune should have picked such a +disgusting man to smile on. + +The whole city had known don Matias when he went around in peasant's +clogs and worked a tiny orchard he had secured on lease. His son, a +virtual half-wit, who took advantage of every opportunity to rifle the +old man's pockets and spend the money in Valencia with bull-fighters, +gamblers and horse-dealers, went barefoot in those days, scampering +about the roads with the children of the gipsies encamped in _El +Alborchi_. His daughter--the now well-behaved, the now modest, Remedios, +who was passing day after day at complicated needlework under the +tutelage of doña Bernarda--had grown up like a wild rabbit of the +fields, repeating with shocking fidelity all the oaths and vile language +she heard from the carters her father drank with. + +"But you have to be an ox to get rich these days!" the barber Cupido +would say when don Matias came up for discussion. + +Little by little the man had worked his way into the orange export +business--to England especially. His first stock he bought on credit; +and at once Fortune began to blow upon him with bloated cheeks, and she +was still puffing and puffing! His wealth had been accumulated in a few +years. In crises where the most powerful vessels foundered, that rude +and heavy bark, sailing on without chart or compass, suffered not the +slightest harm. His shipments always arrived at the psychological +moment. The fancy, carefully-selected oranges of other merchants would +land at Liverpool or London when the markets were glutted and prices +were falling scandalously. The lucky dolt would send anything at all +along, whatever was available, cheap; and circumstances always seemed to +favor him with an empty market and prices sky-high regardless of +quality. He realized fabulous profits. He had nothing but scorn for all +the wiseacres who subscribed to the English papers, received daily +bulletins and compared market quotations from year to year, getting, for +all their pains, results that made them tear their hair. He was an +ignoramus and he was proud of it! He trusted to his lucky star. Whenever +he thought it best, he would ship his produce off from the port of +Valencia, and--there you are!--it would always turn out that his oranges +found no competition on arrival and brought the highest prices. More +than once it had happened that rough weather held his vessel up. +Well--the market would sell out, and his shipment would have a clear +field just the same! + +Within two years he had a place in town and had become a "personage." He +would smilingly declare that he wouldn't "go to the wall for under +eighty thousand _duros_." Later, ever on the wing, his fortune reached +dizzy heights. Folks whispered in superstitious awe the figures he made +in net profits at the end of every sailing. He owned warehouses as +large as churches in the vicinity of Alcira, employing armies of girls +to wrap the oranges and regiments of carpenters to make the crates. He +would buy the crop of an entire orchard at a single glance and never be +more than a few pounds off. As for the pay he gave, the city was proud +of its millionaire. Not even the Bank of Spain enjoyed the respect and +confidence his firm had won. No clerks and cashiers! No mahogany +furniture! Everything above board! Ask for a hundred thousand; and if +don Matías said "yes," he just went in to his bedroom and, God knows +from where, he would draw out a roll of bank-notes the size of your +body! + +And this lucky rustic, this upstart lout, rich without deserving it for +any competence he had, was giving himself the airs of an intelligent +dealer, presuming to approach Rafael, "his deputy," with a proposal for +a freight-rate bill to promote the shipping of oranges into the interior +of Spain! As if a little thing like a bill in Congress would make any +difference to his way of getting money! + +Of his wretched past don Matías preserved but a single trait: his +respect for the house of Brull. The rest of the city he treated with a +certain uppishness; but he could not conceal the awe which doña Bernarda +inspired in him--a feeling that was strengthened by gratitude for her +kindness in singling him out (after he had become rich), and for the +interest she showed in his "little girl." He cherished a vivid memory of +Rafael's father, the "greatest man" he had known in all his life. It +seemed as though he could still see don Ramón stopping on his big horse +in front of his humble farmhouse and, with the air of a grand lord, +leaving orders for what don Matías was to do in the coming elections. +He knew the bad state in which the great man had left his affairs upon +his death; and more than once he had given money to doña Bernarda +outright, proud that she should do him the honor of appealing to him in +her straits. But in his eyes, the House of Brull, poor or rich, was +always the House of Brull, the cradle of a dynasty whose authority +no power could shake. He had money. But those _others_, the +Brulls--ah!--they had, up there in Madrid, friends, influence! If they +wanted to they could get the ear of the Throne itself. They were people +with a "pull," and if anyone suggested in his presence that Rafael's +mother was thinking of Remedios as a daughter-in-law, don Matías would +redden with satisfaction and modestly reply: + +"I don't know; I imagine it's all talk. My Remedios is only a town girl, +you see. The señor deputy is probably thinking of someone from the +'upper crust' in Madrid." + +Rafael had for some time been aware of his mother's plans. But he had no +use for "that crowd." The old man, despite his boresome habit of +suggesting "new bills," he could stand on account of his touching +loyalty to the Brull family. But the girl was an utterly insignificant +creature, pretty, to be sure, but only as any ordinary young girl is +pretty. And underneath that servile gentleness of hers lay an +intelligence even more obtuse than her father's, a mind filled with +nothing but piety and the religious phrases in which she had been +educated. + +That morning, followed by an aged servant, and with all the gravity of +an orphan who must busy herself with the affairs of her household and +act as head of the home, Remedios had walked by Rafael twice. She +scarcely looked at him. The submissive smile of the future slave with +which she usually greeted him had disappeared. She was quite pale, and +her colorless lips were pressed tight together. Without a doubt in the +world she had seen him, from a distance, talking and laughing with "the +chorus girl." His mother would know all about it within an hour! Really, +that young female seemed to think he was her private property! And the +angry expression on her face was that of a jealous wife taking notes for +a curtain-lecture! + +Scenting a danger Rafael took hasty leave of don Matias and his other +friends, and left the market place to avoid another meeting with +Remedios. Leonora was still there. He would wait for her on the road to +the orchard. He must take advantage of the early hour! + +The orange country seemed to be quivering under the first kisses of +spring. The lithe poplars bordering the road were covered with tender +leaves. In the orchards the buds on the orange-trees, filling with the +new sap, were ready to burst, as in one grand explosion of perfume, into +white fragrant bloom. In the matted herbage on the river-banks the first +flowers were growing. Rafael felt the cool caress of the sod as he sat +down on the edge of the road. How sweet everything smelled! What a +beautiful day it was! + +The timorous, odorous violet must be sprouting on the damp ground yonder +under the alders! And he went looking along the stream for those little +purple flowers that bring dreams of love with their fragrance! He would +make a bouquet to offer Leonora as she came by. + +He felt thrilled with a boldness he had never known before. His hands +burned feverishly. Perhaps it was the emotion from his own sense of +daring. He had resolved to settle things that very morning. The fatuity +of the man who feels himself ridiculous and is determined to raise +himself in the eyes of his admirers, excited him, filling him with a +cynical rashness. + +What would his friends, who envied him as Leonora's lover, say if they +knew she was treating him as an insignificant friend, a good little boy +who helped her while away the hours in the solitude of her voluntary +exile? + +A few kisses--on her hand; a few kind words; many many cruel jests, such +as come from a chum conscious of superiority ... that was all he had won +after months and months and months of assiduous courtship, months of +disobedience to his mother, in whose house he had been living like a +stranger, without affection, at daggers' points; months of exposure to +the criticism of his enemies, who suspected him of a liaison with the +"chorus girl" and were raising their brows, horror-stricken, in the name +of morality. How they would scoff, if they knew the truth! Those +addlepates down at the Club were always boasting of their amorous +adventures, which began inevitably with the sudden physical attack and +ended in easy triumph. + +With the Spaniard's mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to +assure himself that those brutes were right--that such was the road to +a woman's heart. He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at +Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at +an ikon. Bosh! Wasn't he a man, and isn't the man the stronger? Some +show of a male authority, that was what she needed! He liked her! Well, +that was the end of it! His she must be! Besides, since she treated him +so kindly, she surely loved him! A few scruples perhaps! But that would +be nothing, before a show of real manhood! + +Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its +dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, +Rafael heard voices down the road. He jumped to his feet. Leonora was +approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under +their heavily laden baskets. + +"Here, too!" the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly +under the white skin of her throat. "You are getting to be my shadow. In +the market place, on the road, everywhere! I find you every time I look +around!" + +She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man's hand, inhaling +their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment. + +"Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season. My +beautiful, faithful old friend! Springtime! You have brought her to me +this year, though I felt her coming days before! I am so happy--can't +you see? I feel as though I'd been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a +cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings! And I'm going to fly out +over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes! Don't +you feel as I do, Rafael?..." + +Rafael, gravely, said he did. He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the +nip of life in every one of his pores! And his eyes ran over the bare +neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white +beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that +strong, robust bosom. The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a +meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their +mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their +presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces. + +"Yes, go right on," she said. "We'll take our time, but we'll be there +soon!" + +And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women +with her closed parasol: + +"Did you see that? Didn't you notice their smiles and the winks they +exchanged when they saw you on the road?... Oh, Rafael! You are blind as +a bat! And no good is going to come of it! If I had any reputation to +lose, I'd be mighty careful with a friend like you! What do you suppose +they are thinking?" + +And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, +she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with +Rafael. + +"On the market-place all the huckstresses talk to me about you, with the +idea of flattering me. They assure me we'd make a wonderful couple. My +kitchen woman seizes every opportunity to tell me how handsome you are. +You ought to thank her.... Even my aunt, my poor aunt, with one leg in +the grave, drew it out the other day to say to me: 'Do you notice that +Rafael visits us quite frequently? Do you think he wants to marry you?' +Marry, you see! Ha, ha, ha! Marry! That's all poor auntie can see in the +world for a woman!" + +And she went on gaily chattering like a wild bird escaped from a cage +and happy at its liberty, though her frank, mocking laughter was in +strange contrast with the expression of sinister determination on +Rafael's face. + +"But how glum and queer you look today! Are you ill?... What's the +matter?" + +Rafael took advantage of this opening. Ill, yes! Sick with love! He knew +the whole place was gossiping about them. But it wasn't his fault. He +simply couldn't hide his feelings. If she only realized what that mute +adoration was costing him! He had tried to root the thought of her out +of his mind, but that had been impossible. He must see her, hear her! He +lived for her alone. Study? Impossible! Play, with his friends? They had +all become obnoxious to him! His house was a cave, a cellar, a place to +eat in and sleep in. He left it the moment he got out of bed, and kept +away from the city, too, which seemed stuffy, oppressive, like a jail to +him. Off to the fields; to the orchards, to the Blue House where she +lived! He would wait and wait for afternoon to come--the time when, by a +tacit arrangement neither of them had proposed, he might enter her +orchard and find her on the bench under the four dead palms!... Well, he +could not go on living that way. Poor folks envied him his power, +because he was a deputy, at twenty-five! And yet his one purpose in life +was to be ... well, she could guess what ... that garden bench, for +instance, gently, deliciously burdened with her weight for whole +afternoons; or that needlework which played about in her soft fingers; +or one of her servants, Beppa, perhaps, who could waken her in the +morning, bend low over her sleeping head, and smooth the loose tresses +spread like rivulets of gold over the white pillow. A slave, an animal, +a thing even, provided it should be in continuous contact with her +person--that was what he longed to be; not to find himself obliged, at +nightfall, to leave her after a parting absurdly prolonged by childish +pretexts, and return to his irritating, common, vulgar life at home, to +the solitude of his room, where he imagined he could see a pair of green +eyes staring at him from every dark corner, tempting him. + +Leonora was not laughing. Her gold-spotted eyes had opened wide; her +nostrils were quivering with emotion. She seemed deeply moved by the +young man's eloquent sincerity. + +"Poor Rafael! My poor dear boy!... And what are we going to do?" + +Down at the Blue House, Rafael had never dared speak so openly. The +presence of Leonora's servants; the nonchalant, mocking air with which +she welcomed him at the door; the irony with which she met his every +hint at a declaration had always crushed, humiliated him. But there, on +the open highway, it was different somehow. He felt free. He would empty +his whole heart out. + +What anguish! Every day he went to the Blue House trembling with hope, +enthralled in his dream of love! "Perhaps it will be today," he would +say to himself each time. And his legs would give way at the knees, and +he would choke as he swallowed! Then, hours later, at nightfall, he +would slink home, downcast, dispirited, desperate, staggering along the +road under the star-light as if he were drunk, repressing the tears +burning in his eyes, longing for the peace of death, like a weary +explorer who must go on and on breaking his way over one ice-field after +another. She must have noticed, surely! She must have seen the untiring +efforts he made to please her!... Ignorant, humble, recognizing the vast +gulf that separated them because of the different lives they had led, +how he had worked to raise himself to a level with the men who had loved +and won her! If she spoke of the Russian count--a model of stylish +elegance--the next day, to the great astonishment of his mother, Rafael +would take out his best clothes and, all sweating in the hot sun and +nearly strangled by a high collar, he would set out along that same +road--his Road to Calvary--walking on his toes like a boarding-school +girl in order not to get his shoes dirty. If Hans Keller had come to +Leonora's mind, he would run through his histories of music, and +dressing up like some artist he had read about in novels, would come to +her house fully intending to deliver an oration on the immortal Master, +Wagner, whom he knew nothing at all about, but whom he adored as a +member of his family.... Good God! All that was ridiculous, he knew very +well; it would have been far better to present himself just as he was, +undisguised, in all his littleness. He knew that this pretending to +equality with the thousand or more figures flitting in Leonora's memory, +was grotesque. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing he would not do +to stir her heart a little, be loved for a day, a minute, a second--and +then die!... + +There was a note of such real feeling in the youth's confession that +Leonora, more and more deeply moved, unconsciously drew closer to him, +almost grazing him as they walked along; and she smiled slightly, as she +repeated her previous phrase--a blend of motherly affection and +compassion: + +"Poor Rafael!... My poor dear boy!" + +They had reached the gate to the orchard. The walk inside was deserted. +In the little square some hens were scratching about. + +Overwhelmed by the strain of that confession, in which he had vented the +anguish and dreams of many months, Rafael leaned against the trunk of an +old orange-tree. Leonora stood in front of him, listening to his words, +with head lowered, making marks on the ground with the tip of her red +parasol. + +Die, yes; he had often read in novels about people dying for love. And +he had always laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. But he +understood now. Many a night, tossing in his delirium, he had thought of +ending his misery in some tragic manner. The violent, domineering blood +of his father seethed in his veins. Once firmly convinced she could +never be his, he would kill her, to keep her from belonging to +anybody... and then stab himself! They would fall together to the +blood-soaked ground, and lie there as on a bed of red damask, and he +would kiss her cold lips, without fear of being disturbed; kiss her and +kiss her, till the last breath of his life exhaled upon her livid mouth. + +He seemed to be saying all that with deadly earnestness. The muscles of +his strong face quivered, and his eyes--Moorish eyes--glowed like live +coals. Leonora was looking at him passionately now, as if a man were in +front of her. She shuddered with a strange fascination as she pictured +his barbarous dreams, fraught with blood and death. This was something +new! This boy, when he saw that his love was vain, would not gloomily +and prosaically slay himself as Macchia, the Italian poet, had done. He +would die, but asserting himself, killing the woman, destroying his idol +when it would not harken to his entreaties! + +And, pleasantly excited by Rafael's tragic demeanor, she gave way to the +thrill of it, letting herself be carried along by his anguished rapture. +He had taken her arm and was drawing her off the path, out among the +low-hanging branches of the orange-trees. + +For some time they were both silent. Leonora seemed to be drinking in +the virile perfume of that savage passionate adoration. + +Rafael thought he had offended her, and was sorry for his violent words. + +She must pardon him; he was beside himself, exasperated beyond bounds at +her strange resistance. Leonora! Leonora! Why persist in spoiling a +perfectly beautiful thing? He was not wholly a matter of indifference in +her eyes. She did not dislike him. Otherwise she would not have let him +be a friend and have permitted his frequent visits. Love?... Of course +she did not love him--poor unhappy wretch that he was, incapable of +inspiring passion in a woman like her. But let her just accept him. He +would teach her to love him in time, win her by the sheer beauty of his +own tenderness and worship. His love alone, alas, was great enough for +both of them and for all the famous lovers in history put together! He +would be her slave; a carpet for her to tread underfoot; a dog, always +at her feet, his eyes burning with the fire of eternal fidelity! She +would finally learn to be fond of him, if not out of passion, at least +out of gratitude and pity! + +And as he spoke, he brought his face close to Leonora's, looking for his +own image in the depths of her green eyes; and he pressed her arm in a +fever of passion. + +"Careful, Rafael.... That hurts! Let go, of me." + +And as if suddenly sensing a danger in the full of a sweet dream, she +shuddered and pulled herself free with a nervous violence. + +Then, quite recovered from the intoxication into which she had been led +by Rafael's passionate appeal, she began to speak calmly, composedly. + +No; what he asked was impossible. Her fate was ordained; she did not +want love any more.... Friendship had carried them a bit astray. It was +her fault, but she would find a way to remedy that. If she had known him +years before--perhaps! She might have learned to love him. He was more +worthy of being loved than many of the men she had accepted. But he had +come too late. Now she was content with just living. Besides, what a +horror! Imagine a "grand passion" in a petty environment such as they +were in, a tiny world of gossip-mongers and evil tongues! Imagine having +to hide like a criminal to express a noble emotion! No, when she loved, +she loved in the open, with the sublime immodesty of the masterpiece +that scandalizes bumpkins with its naked beauty! How impossible it would +be, finding herself nibbled at constantly by gossiping fools, quite +beneath her contempt. She would feel the scorn and the indignation of a +whole town about her. They would accuse her of leading an innocent boy +astray, alienating him from his own mother. "No, Rafael; a thousand +times no; I have a little conscience left! I'm not the irresponsible +siren I used to be." + +"But what about me?" cried the youth, seizing her arm again with a +boyish petulance. "You think of yourself and of other people, but never +of me. What am I going to do all along with my suffering?" + +"Oh, you? Why ... you will forget," said Leonora gravely. "I have just +realized this very moment that it is impossible for me to stay here any +longer. We two must separate. I will leave before Spring is over; I'll +go ... I don't know where, back to the world at any rate, take up my +singing again, where I'll not find men of just your kind. Time, and my +absence, will attend to the curing of you." + +Leonora winced before the flash of savage desire that gleamed in +Rafael's eyes. On her face she felt the ardent breath of lips that were +seeking her own, and she heard him murmur with a stifled roar of +passion: + +"No. You shall not go; I refuse to let you go!" + +And she felt his strong arms close about her, swaying her from head to +foot, in a clasp to which madness added strength. Her feet left the +ground, and a brutal thrust threw her to her side at the foot of an +orange-tree. + +But, in a flash, the Valkyrie reappeared in Leonora. With a supreme +effort, she struggled free from the encircling vise, sat up, threw +Rafael violently to his back, got to her feet, and stamped a foot +brutally and mercilessly down upon the young man's chest, using her +whole weight as though bent on crushing the very framework of his body. + +Her face was an inspiring thing to look upon. She seemed to have gone +mad! Her blond hair had fallen awry and was flecked with leaves and +grass and bark. Her green eyes flashed with metallic glints, like +daggers. Her lips were pale from emotion. And in that wild posture, +whether through force of habit, or the suggestiveness of the effort she +had made, she raised her warcry--a piercing, savage "_Hojotoho!_" that +rent the calm of the orchard, frightening the hens and sending them +scampering off over the paths. Her parasol she brandished as if it were +the lance of Wotan's daughter, and several times she aimed it at +Rafael's eyes, as if she intended to spear him blind. + +The youth seemed to have collapsed less from the violence of the +struggle than from an overpowering sense of shame. He lay motionless on +the ground, without protesting, and as if not caring ever to rise +again--longing to die under the pressure of that foot which was so +heavily weighing down upon him, taking away his breath. + +Leonora regained her composure, and slowly stepped back. Rafael sat up, +and reached for his hat. + +It was a painful moment. They stood there cold, as if the sun had gone +out and a glacial wind were blowing through the orchard. + +Rafael kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look up and meet her gaze, +ashamed at the thought of his disordered clothes, which were soiled with +dirt; humiliated at having been beaten and pummeled like a robber caught +by a victim he had expected to find powerless. + +He heard Leonora's voice addressing him with the scornful "_tu_" a lady +might use toward her lowest inferiors. + +"Go!" + +He raised his head and found Leonora looking at him, her eyes ablaze +with anger and offended dignity. + +"I'm never taken by force," she said coldly. "I give myself ... if I +feel like it." + +And in the gesture of scorn and rage with which she dismissed him, +Rafael thought he caught a trace of loathing at some memory of +Boldini--that repugnant lecher, who had been the only person in the +world to win her by violence. + +Rafael tried to stammer an excuse, but that hateful association of the +brutal scene rendered her implacable. + +"Go! Go, or I'll beat you again!... And never come back!" + +And to emphasize the words, as Rafael, humiliated and covered with dirt, +was leaving the garden, she shut the gate behind him with such a violent +slam that the bars almost went flying. + + + + +IV + + +Doña Bernarda was much pleased with Rafael. The angry glances, the +gestures of impatience, the wordless arguments between mother and son, +which the household had formerly witnessed in such terror, had come to +an end. + +The boy had not been visiting the Blue House for some time. She knew +that with absolute certainty, thanks to the gratuitous espionage +conducted for her by persons attached to the Brull family. He scarcely +ever left the house; a few moments at the Club after lunch; and the rest +of the day in the dining-room, with her and family friends; or else, +shut up in his room, with his books, probably, which the austere señora +revered with the superstitious awe of ignorance. + +Don Andrés, her advisor, commented upon the change with a gloating "I +told you so." What had he always said, when doña Bernarda, in the +confiding intimacies of that friendship which amounted almost to a +senile, a tranquil, a distantly respectful passion, would complain of +Rafael's contrariness? That it would all pass; that it was a young man's +whim; that youth must have its fling! What was the use? Rafael hadn't +studied to be a monk! Many boys his age, and even older ones, were far +worse!... And the old gentleman smiled, for he was thinking of his own +easy conquests with the wretched flock of dirty, unkempt peasant girls +who wrapped the oranges in the shipping houses of Alcira. "You see, doña +Bernarda, you suffered too much with don Ramón. You are a bit too +exacting with Rafael. Let him have a good time! Let him enjoy himself! +He'll get tired of that chorus girl soon enough, pretty as she is. Then +you can take hold and start him right!" + +Doña Bernarda once again had reason to appreciate the talent of her +counsellor. His predictions, made with a cynicism that always caused the +pious lady to blush, had been fulfilled to the letter! + +She, too, was sure it was all over. Her son was not so blind as his +father had been. He had soon wearied of a "lost woman" like Leonora; he +had decided it was not worth while to quarrel with his mamma over so +trifling a matter, and have his enemies discredit him on that account. +He was returning to the path of duty; and to express her unbounded joy, +the good woman could not pamper him enough. + +"And how about ... that?" her friends would ask her, mysteriously. + +"Nothing," she would answer, with a proud smile. "Three weeks have gone +by and he hasn't shown the slightest inclination to go back. No, Rafael +is a good boy. All that was just a young one's notion. If you could only +see him keeping me company in the parlor every afternoon! An angel! Good +as pie! He spends hour after hour chatting with me and Matías's +daughter." + +And then, broadening her smile and winking cunningly, she would add: + +"I think there's something doing in that direction." + +And indeed something was "doing"; at least, to judge by appearances. +Bored with wandering from room to room through the house, sick of his +books, with which he would spend hours and hours turning pages without +really seeing a word that was printed on them, Rafael had taken refuge +in the sitting-room where his mother did her sewing, supervising a +complicated piece of embroidery that Remedios was making. + +The girl's submissive simplicity appealed to Rafael. Her ingenuousness +gave him a sense of freshness and repose. She was a cosy secluded refuge +where he might sleep after a tempest. His mother's satisfied smile was +there to encourage him in this feeling. Never had he seen her so kind +and so communicative. The pleasure of having him once more safe and +obedient in her hands had mollified that disposition so stern by nature +as to verge on rudeness. + +Remedios, with her head bowed low over her embroidery, would blush deep +red whenever Rafael praised her work or told her she was the prettiest +girl in all Alcira. He would help her thread her needles, and hold his +hands out to make a winding frame for the skeins; and more than once, +with the familiarity of an old playmate, he would pinch her +mischievously through the embroidery hoop. And she would never miss the +chance to scream scandal. + +"Rafael, don't be crazy," his mother would say, threatening him +indulgently with her withered forefinger. "Let Remedios work; if you +carry on so I won't let you come into the parlor." + +And at night, alone in the dining-room with don Andrés, when the hour +of confidences came, doña Bernarda would forget the affairs of "the +House" and of "the Party," to say with satisfaction: + +"It's going better." + +"Is Rafael taking to her?" + +"More and more every day. We're getting there, we're getting there! That +boy is the living image of his father when it comes to matters like +this. Believe me, you can't let one of that tribe out of your sight a +minute. If I didn't keep my eye peeled, that young devil would be doing +something that would discredit the House forever." + +And the good woman was sure that Doctor Moreno's daughter--that +abominable creature whose good looks had been her nightmare for some +months past--no longer existed for Rafael. + +She knew, from her spies, that on one market morning the two had met on +the street in town. Rafael had looked the other way, as if trying to +avoid her; the "_comica_" had turned pale and walked straight ahead +pretending not to see him. What did that mean?... A break for good of +course! The impudent hussy was livid with rage, you see, perhaps because +she could not trap her Rafael again; for he, weary of such +uncleanliness, had abandoned her forever. Ah, the lost soul, the +indecent gad-about! Excuse me! Was a woman to educate a son in the +soundest and most virtuous principles, make a somebody of him, and then +have an adventuress come along, a thousand times worse than a common +street-woman, and carry him off, as nice as you please, in her filthy +hands? What had the daughter of that scamp of a doctor thought?... Let +her fume! "You're sore just because you see he's dumped you for good!" + +In the joy of her triumph doña Bernarda was thinking anxiously of her +son's marriage to Remedios, and, coming down one peg on the ladder of +her dignity toward don Matias, she began to treat the exporter as a +member of the family, commenting contentedly upon the growing affection +that united their two children. + +"Well, if they're fond of each other," said the rustic magnate, "the +wedding can take place tomorrow so far as I'm concerned. Remedios means +a good deal to me; hard to find a girl like her for running a house; but +that needn't interfere with the marriage. I'm mighty well satisfied, +doña Bernarda, that we should be related through our children. I'm only +sorry that don Ramon isn't here to see it all." + +And that was true. The one thing lacking to the millionaire's perfect +joy was that he would never have the chance to treat the tall, imposing +Don Ramon on equal terms for once,--the crowning triumph of a self-made +man. + +Doña Bernarda, too, saw in this union the realization of her fondest +dreams: money joined to power; the millions of a business, whose +marvelous successes seemed like deliberate tricks of Chance, coming to +revivify with their sap of gold the Brull family tree, which was showing +the signs of age and long years of struggle! + +Spring had come on apace. Some afternoons doña Bernarda would take "the +children" to her own orchards or to the wealthy holdings of don Matías. +It was a sight worth seeing--the kindly shrewdness with which she +chaperoned the young couple, shouting with shocked alarm if they +disappeared behind the orange-trees for a moment or two in their +frolics. + +"That Rafael of ours," she would say to don Andrés, mimicking the long +face he used to put on when bringing up her troubles with her husband, +"what a rascal he is! I'll bet he's got both arms around her by this +time!" + +"Let 'em alone, let 'em alone, doña Bernarda! The deeper in he gets with +this one, the less likely he'll be to go back to the other." + +Back to her?... There was no fear of that. It was enough to watch Rafael +picking flowers and weaving them into the girl's hair while she +pretended to fight him off, blushing like a rose, and quite moved at +such homage. + +"Now be good, Rafaelito," Remedios would murmur in a sort of entreating +bleat, "don't touch me; don't be so bold." + +But her emotion would so betray her that you could see the thing she +most wanted in the world was for Rafael to place upon her body once +again those hands that made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the +roots of her hair. She resisted only because such was the duty of a +well-educated Christian girl. Like a young she-goat she would dash off +with graceful, tripping bounds between the rows of orange-trees, and _su +señoria_, the member from Alcira, would give chase with all his might, +his nostrils quivering and his eyes ablaze. + +"Let's see if he can catch you!" the mother would call, with a laugh. +"Run and let him try to catch you!" + +Don Andrés would roll up his wrinkled face into the smile of an old +faun. Such play made him feel young again. + +"Huh, _señora_! I believe you. This is getting on--on, and then some. +I'd say, marry them off pretty quick; for, if you don't, mark my word, +there'll soon be something for Alcira to laugh about." + +And they were both mistaken. Neither the mother nor don Andrés was +present to note the expression of dejection and despair on Rafael's face +when he was alone, shut up in his room, where, in the dark corners, he +could still see a pair of green, mysterious eyes gleaming at him and +tempting him. + +Go back to her? Never! He still felt the shame, the humiliation of that +morning. He could see himself in all his tragic ridiculousness, in a heap +on the ground, trampled under foot by that Amazon, covered with dirt, as +humble and abashed as a criminal caught redhanded and with no excuse. +And then that word, that had cut like the lash of a whip: "Go!" As if he +were a lackey who had dared approach a Duchess! And then that gate +slamming behind him, falling like a slab over a tomb, setting up an +eternal barrier between him and the love of his life! + +No, he would never go back! He was not brave enough to face her again. +That morning when he had met her by chance near the market-place, he +thought he would die of shame; his legs sagged under him, and the street +turned black as if night had suddenly fallen. She had disappeared; but +there was a ringing in his ears; and he had had to take hold of +something, as if the earth were swaying under his feet, and he would +fall. + +He needed to forget that unutterable disgrace--a recollection as +tenacious as remorse itself. That was why he had plunged into the +affair with his mother's protegée--as a sort of anaesthetic. She was a +woman! And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that +painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his +vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now +expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive +features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where +the other woman was, offended and in hiding. + +With Remedios he would feel some sign of life, only to relapse into +torpid gloom the moment he was left alone. It was a foamy, frothy +intoxication he felt when with the girl, an effervescence that all +evaporated in solitude. He thought of Remedios as a piece of green +fruit--sound, free of cut or stain, and with all the color of maturity, +but lacking the taste that satisfies and the perfume that enthralls. + +In his strange situation, spending days in childish games with a young +girl who aroused in him nothing more than the bland sense of fraternal +comradeship, and nights in sad and sleepless recollection, the one thing +that pleased him was intimacy with his mother. Peace had been restored +to the home. He could come and go without being conscious of a pair of +eyes glaring upon him and without hearing words of indignation stifled +between grating teeth. + +Don Andrés and his friends at the Club kept asking him when the wedding +would take place. In presence of "the children" doña Bernarda would +speak of alterations that would have to be made in the house. She and +the servants would occupy the ground floor. The whole first story would +be for the couple, with new rooms that would be the talk of the +city--they would get the best decorators in Valencia! Don Matias treated +him familiarly, just as he had in the old days when he came to the +_patio_ to get his orders from don Ramón and found Rafael, as a child, +playing at his father's feet. + +"Everything I have will be for you two. Remedios is an angel, and the +day I die, she will get more than my rascal of a son. All I ask of you +is not to take her off to Madrid. Since she is leaving my roof, at least +let me be able to see her every day." + +And Rafael would listen to all these things as in a dream. In reality he +had not expressed the slightest desire to marry; but there was his +mother, taking everything for granted, arranging everything, imposing +her will, accelerating his sluggish affection, literally forcing +Remedios into his arms! His wedding was a foregone conclusion, the topic +of conversation for the entire city. + +Sunk in this sadness, in the clutch of the tranquillity which now +surrounded him and which he was afraid to break; weak, as a matter of +character, and without will power, he sought consolation in the +reflection that the solution his mother was preparing was perhaps for +the best. + +His friendship with Leonora had been broken forever. Any day she might +take flight! She had said so very often. She would be going very +soon--when the blossoms were off the orange-trees! What would be left +for him then ... except to obey his mother? He would marry, and perhaps +that would serve as a distraction. Little by little his affection for +Remedios might grow. Perhaps in time he would even come to love her. + +Such meditations brought him a little calm, lulling him into an +attitude of agreeable irresponsibility. He would turn child again, as he +once had been, have his mother take charge of everything; let himself be +drawn along, passive, unresisting, by the current of destiny. + +But at times this resignation boiled up into hot, seething ebullitions +of angry protest, of raging passion. At night Rafael could not sleep. +The orange-trees were beginning to bloom. The blossoms, like an odorous +snow, covered the orchards and shed their perfume as far even as the +city streets. The air was heavy with fragrance. To breathe was to scent +a nosegay. Through the window-gratings under the doors, through the +walls, the virginal perfume of the vast orchards filtered--an +intoxicating breath, that Rafael, in his impassioned restlessness, +imagined as wafted from the Blue House, caressing Leonora's lovely +figure, and catching something of the divine fragrance of her redolent +beauty. And he would roll furiously between the sheets, biting the +pillow and moaning. + +"Leonora! Leonora!" + +One night, toward the end of April, Rafael drew back in front of the +door to his room, with the tremor he would have felt on the threshold of +a place of horror. He could not endure the thought of the night that +awaited him. The whole city seemed to have sunk into languor, in that +atmosphere so heavily charged with perfume. The lash of spring was +stirring all the impulses of life with its exciting caress, and goading +every feeling to new intensity. Not the slightest breeze was blowing. +The orchards saturated the calm atmosphere with their odorous +respiration. The lungs expanded as if there were no air, and all space +were being inhaled in each single breath. A voluptuous shudder was +stirring the countryside as it lay dozing under the light of the moon. + +Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rafael went down into the street. +Soon he found himself upon the bridge, where a few strollers, hat in +hand, were breathing the night air eagerly, looking at the clusters of +broken light that the moon was scattering over the river like fragments +of a mirror. + +He went on through the silent, deserted streets of the suburbs, his +footsteps echoing from the sidewalks. One row of houses lay white and +gleaming under the moon. The other was plunged in shadow. He was drawn +on and on into the mysterious silence of the fields. + +His mother was asleep, he suddenly reflected. She would know nothing. He +would be free till dawn. He yielded further to the attraction of the +roads that wound in and out through the orchards, where so many times he +had dreamed and hoped. + +The spectacle was not new to Rafael. Every year he had watched that +fertile plain come to life at the touch of Springtime, cover itself with +flowers, fill the air with perfumes; and yet, that night, as he beheld +the vast mantle of orange-blossoms that had settled over the fields, and +was gleaming in the moonlight like a fall of snow, he felt himself +completely in control of an infinitely sweet emotion. + +The orange-trees, covered from trunk to crown with white, ivory-smooth +flowerets, seemed like webs of spun glass, the vegetation of one of +those fantastic snow-mantled landscapes that quiver sometimes in the +glass spheres of paper-weights. The perfume came in continuous, +successive waves, rolling out upon the infinite with a mysterious +palpitation, transfiguring the country, imparting to it a feeling of +supernaturalness--the vision of a better world, of a distant planet +where men feed on perfume and live in eternal poetry. Everything was +changed in this spacious love-nest softly lighted by a great lantern of +mother-of-pearl. The sharp crackling of the branches sounded in the deep +silence like so many kisses; the murmur of the river became the distant +echo of passionate love-making, hushed voices whispering close to the +loved one's ears words tremulous with adoration. From the canebrake a +nightingale was singing softly, as if the beauty of the night had +subdued its plaintive song. + +How good it was to be alive! The blood tingled more rapidly, more hotly, +through the body! Every sense seemed sharper, more acute; though that +landscape imposed silence with its pale wan beauty, just as certain +emotions of intense joy are tasted with a sense of mystic shrinking! + +Rafael followed the usual path. He had turned instinctively toward the +Blue House. + +The shame of his disgrace still smarted raw within him. Had he met +Leonora now in the middle of the road he would have recoiled in childish +terror; but he would not meet her at such an hour. That reflection gave +him strength to walk on. Behind him, over the roofs of the city, the +tolling of a clock rolled. Midnight! He would go as far as the wall of +her orchard, enter if that were possible, stand there a few moments in +silent humility before the house, looking up adoringly at the windows +behind which Leonora lay sleeping. + +It would be his farewell! The whim had occurred to him as he left the +city and saw the first orange-trees laden with the blossoms whose +perfume had for many months been holding the songstress there in patient +expectation. Leonora would never know he had been near her in the silent +orchard bathed in moonlight, taking leave of her with the unspoken +anguish of an eternal farewell, as to a dream vanishing on the horizon +of life! + +The gate with the green wooden bars came into view among the trees--the +gate that had been slammed behind him in insulting dismissal. Among the +thorns of the hedge he looked for an opening he had discovered in the +days when he used to hover about the house. He went through, and his +feet sank into the fine, sandy soil of the orange-groves. Above the tops +of the trees, the house itself could be seen, white in the moonlight. +The rain-troughs of the roof and the balustrades of the balconies shone +like silver. The windows were all closed. Everything was asleep. + +He was about to step forward, when a dark form shot out from between two +orange-trees and stopped near him with a muffled growl. It was the house +dog, an ugly, ill-tempered animal trained to bite before it barked. + +Rafael recoiled instinctively from the warm breath of that panting, +furious muzzle which was reaching for his leg; but the dog, after a +second's hesitation, began to wag its tail with pleasure; and was +content merely to sniff at the boy's trousers so as to make absolutely +sure of an old friend's identity. Rafael patted him on the head, as he +had done so many times, distractedly, in conversations with Leonora on +the bench in the _plazoleta_. A good omen this encounter seemed! And he +walked on, while the dog resumed his watch in the darkness. + +Timidly he made his way forward in the shelter of a large patch of +shadow cast by the orange-trees, dragging himself along, almost, like a +thief afraid of an ambuscade. + +He reached the walk leading to the _plazoleta_ and was surprised to find +the gate half open. Suddenly he heard a suppressed cry near by. + +He turned around, and there on the tile bench, wrapped in the shadow of +the palm-trees and the rose-bushes, he saw a white form--a woman. As she +rose from her seat the moonlight fell squarely on her features. + +"Leonora!" + +The youth would have gladly sunk into the earth. "Rafael! You here?..." + +And the two stood there in silence, face to face. He kept his eyes fixed +on the ground, ashamed. She looked at him with a certain indecision. + +"You've given me a scare that I'll never forgive you for," she said at +last. "What are you doing here?..." + +Rafael was at a loss for a reply. He stammered with an embarrassment +that quite impressed Leonora; but despite his agitation, he noticed a +strange glitter in the girl's eyes, and a mysterious veiling of her +voice that seemed to transfigure her. + +"Come, now," said Leonora gently, "don't hunt up any far-fetched +excuses.... You were coming to bid me good-bye--and without trying to +see me! What a lot of nonsense! Why don't you say right out that you +are a victim of this dangerous night--as I am, too?" + +And her eyes, glittering with a tearful gleam, swept the _plazoleta_, +which lay white in the moonlight; and the snowy orange-blossoms, the +rose-bushes, the palm-trees, that stood out black against the blue sky +where the stars were twinkling like grains of luminous sand. Her voice +trembled with a soft huskiness, as caressing as velvet. + +Rafael, quite encouraged by this unexpected reception, tried to beg +forgiveness for the madness that had caused his expulsion from the +place; but the actress cut him short. + +"Let's not discuss that unpleasant thing! It hurts me just to think of +it. You're forgiven; and since you've fallen on this spot as though +heaven had dropped you here, you may stay a moment. But ... no +liberties. You know me now." + +And straightening up to her full height as an Amazon sure of herself, +she turned to the bench, motioning to Rafael to take a seat at the other +end. + +"What a night!... I feel a strange intoxication without wine! The +orange-trees seem to inebriate me with their very breath. An hour ago my +room was whirling round and round, as though I were going to faint. My +bed was like a frail bark tossing in a tempest. So I came down as I +often do; and here you can have me until sleep proves more powerful than +the beauty of this beautiful night." + +She spoke with a languid abandonment; her voice quivering, and tremors +rippling across her shoulders, as if all the perfume were hurting her, +oppressing her powerful vitality. Rafael sat looking at her over the +length of the bench--a white, sepulchral figure, wrapped in the hooded +cape of a dressing-gown--the first thing she had laid hands upon when +she had thought of going out into the garden. + +"I was frightened when I saw you," she continued, in a slow, faint +voice. "A little fright, nothing more! A natural surprise, I suppose; +and yet, I was thinking of you that very moment. I confess it. I was +saying to myself: 'What can that crazy boy be doing, at this hour, I +wonder?' And suddenly you appeared, like a ghost. You couldn't sleep; +you were excited by all this fragrance; and you have come to try your +luck anew, with the hope that brought you here at other times." + +She spoke without her usual irony, softly, simply, as if she were +talking to herself. Her body was thrown limply back against the bench, +one arm resting behind her head. + +Rafael started to speak once more of his repentance, of his desire to +kneel in front of the house there in mute entreaty for pardon, while she +would be sleeping in the room above. But Leonora interrupted him again. + +"Hush! Your voice is very loud. They might hear you. My aunt's room is +in the other wing of the house, but she's not a heavy sleeper.... +Besides, I don't care to listen to talk about remorse, pardon, and such +things. It makes me think of that morning. The mere fact that I am +letting you stay here ought to be enough, oughtn't it? I want to forget +all that.... Hush, Rafael! Silence makes the beauty of the night more +wonderful. The fields seem to be talking with the moon, and these waves +of perfume that are sweeping over us are echoes of their passionate +words." + +And she fell silent, keeping absolutely still, her eyes turned upward, +catching the moonbeams in their tear-like moisture. From time to time +Rafael saw her quiver with a mysterious tremor; then extend her arms and +cross them behind her head of golden hair, in a voluptuous stretch that +made her white robe rustle, while her limbs grew taut in a delicious +tension. She seemed upset, ill almost; at times her panting breath was +like a sob. Her head drooped over a shoulder and her breast heaved with +countless sighs. + +The youth was obediently silent, fearing lest the remembrance of his +base audacity should again come up in the conversation; and not +venturing to reduce the distance that separated them on the bench. She +seemed to divine what he was thinking and began to speak, slowly, of the +abnormal state of mind in which she found herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me tonight. I feel like crying, +without knowing why. I am filled with a strange inexplicable happiness, +and yet I could just weep and weep. Oh, I know--it's the Springtime; all +this fragrance that whips my nerves like a lash. I really believe I'm +crazy.... Springtime! My best friend--though she has done me only wrong! +If ever I have been guilty of any foolish thing in my life, Spring was +at the bottom of it.... It's youth reborn in us--madness paying us its +annual visit.... And I--ever faithful to her, adoring her; waiting in +this out-of-the-way spot almost a year for her to come, to see her once +more in her best clothes, crowned with orange-blossoms like a virgin--a +wicked virgin who pays me back for my devotion with betrayal!... Just +see what I've come to! I am ill--I don't know why--with excess of life, +perhaps. She drives me on I don't know where, but certainly where I +ought not to go.... If it weren't for sheer will-power on my part, I'd +collapse in a heap on this bench here. I'm just like a drunken man +bending every effort to keep his feet and walk straight." + +It was true; she was really ill. Her eyes grew more and more tearful; +her body was quivering, shrinking, collapsing, as if life were +overflowing within her and escaping through all her pores. + +Again she was silent, for a long time, her eyes gazing vacantly into +space; then, she murmured, as if in answer to a thought of her own. + +"No one ever understood as well as He. He knew everything, felt as +nobody ever felt the mysterious hidden workings of Nature; and He sang +of Springtime as a god would sing. Hans used to remark that many a time; +and it's so." + +Without turning her head she added, in a dreamy musing voice. + +"Rafael, you don't know _Die Walküre_, do you? You've never heard the +Spring Song?" + +He shook his head. And Leonora, with her eyes still gazing moonward, her +head resting back against her arms, which escaped in all their round, +pearly strength from her drooping sleeves, spoke slowly, collecting her +memories, recreating in her mind's eye that Wagnerian scene of such +intense poetry--the glorification and the triumph of Nature and Love. + +Hunding's hut, a barbaric dwelling, hung with savage trophies of the +chase, suggesting the brutish existence of man scarcely yet possessed of +the world, in perpetual strife with the elements and with wild animals. +The eternal fugitive, forgotten of his father,--Sigmund by name, though +he calls himself "Despair," wandering years and years through the +forests, harrassed by beasts of prey who take him for one of themselves +in his covering of skins, rests at last at the foot of the giant oak +that sustains the hut; and as he drinks the hidromel in the horn offered +to him by the sweet Siglinda, he gazes into her pure eyes and for the +first time becomes aware that Love exists. + +The husband, Hunding, the wild huntsman, takes leave of him at the end +of the rustic supper: "Your father was the Wolf, and I am of the race of +Hunters. Until the break of day, my house protects you; you are my +guest; but as soon as the sun rises in the heavens you become my enemy, +and we will fight.... Woman, prepare the night's drink; and let us be +off to bed." + +And the exile sits alone beside the fireplace, thinking of his immense +loneliness. No home, no family, not even the magic sword promised him by +his father the Wolf. And at daybreak, out of the hut that shelters him +the enemy will come to slay him. The thought of the woman who allayed +his thirst, the sparkle of those pure eyes wrapping him in a gaze of +pity and love, is the one thing that sustains him.... She comes to him +when her wild consort has fallen asleep. She shows him the hilt of the +sword plunged into the oak by the god Wotan; nobody can pull it out: it +will obey only the hand of him to whom it has been destined by the god. + +As she speaks the wandering savage gazes at her in ecstasy, as if she +were a white vision revealing to him the existence of something more +than might and struggle in the world. It is the voice of Love. Slowly he +draws near; embraces her; clasps her to his heart, while the door is +pushed open by the breeze and the green forest appears, odorous in the +moonlight--nocturnal Springtime, radiant and glorious, wrapped in a +mantle of music and perfume. + +Siglinda shudders. "Who has come in?" No one--and yet, a Stranger has +entered the hovel, opening the door with an invisible hand. And Sigmund, +at the inspiration of Love, divines the identity of the visitant. "It is +Springtime laughing in the air about your tresses. The storms are gone; +gone is the dark solitude. The radiant month of May, a young warrior in +an armor of flowers, has come to give chase to bleak Winter, and in all +this festival of rejoicing Nature, seeks his sweetheart: Youth. This +night, which has brought you to me, is the unending night of Spring and +Youth." + +And, Leonora was thrilled as she heard in her memory the murmur of the +orchestra accompanying the song of tenderness inspired by Spring; the +rustle of the forest branches benumbed by the winter, now swaying with +the new sap that had flowed into them like a torrent of vitality; and +out on the brightly lighted _plazoleta_ she could almost see Sigmund and +Siglinda clasping in an eternal unseverable embrace, as she had seen +them from the wings of the opera, where she would be waiting as a +Valkyrie to step out and set an audience wild with her mighty +"_Hojotoho!"_ + +She was feeling the same loneliness and yearning that Sigmund felt in +Hunding's hovel. Without a family, without a home, wandering over the +world, she longed for someone to lean on, someone to clasp tenderly to +her heart! And it was she who unconsciously, instinctively, had drawn +closer to Rafael, and placed her hand in his. + +She was ill. She sighed softly with the appealing entreaty of a child, +as if the intense poetry of that memory of music had shattered the frail +remnant of will that had kept her mistress of herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night. I feel as though I +were dying.... But such a sweet death! So sweet!... What madness, +Rafael! How rash it was of us to have seen each other on such a +night!..." + +And with supplicating eyes, as if entreating forgiveness, she gazed out +into the majestic moonlight, where the silence seemed to be stirring +with the palpitation of a new life. She could divine that something was +dying within her, that her will lay prostrate on the ground, without +strength to defend itself. + +Rafael, too, was overwhelmed. He held her clasped against his breast, +one of her hands in his. She was weak, languid, will-less, incapable of +resistance; yet he did not feel the brutal passion of the previous +meeting; he did not dare to move. A sense of infinite tenderness came +over him. All he yearned for was to sit there hour after hour in contact +with that beautiful form, clasping her tightly to him, making her one +with him, as a jewel-case might guard a jewel. + +He whispered mysteriously into her ear, hardly knowing what he was +saying; tender words that seemed to be coming from someone within him, +thrilling him with a tingling, suffocating passion as they left his +lips. + +Yes, it was true; that night was the night dreamed of by the immortal +Poet; the wedding night of smiling Youth and of martial May in his armor +of flowers. The fields were quivering voluptuously under the rays of the +moon; and they, two young hearts, feeling the flutter of Love's wings +about their hair, why should they sit unresponsive there, blind to the +beauty of the night, deaf to the infinite caress that was echoing from +all around? + +"Leonora! Leonora!" moaned Rafael. + +He had slipped down from the bench. Before he was aware of it, he found +himself kneeling at her feet, clutching her hands, and thrusting his +face upward without daring to reach her lips. + +She drew weakly back, protesting feebly, with a girlish plaint: + +"No, no; it would hurt me.... I feel that I'm dying." + +"You belong to me," the youth continued with an exaltation +ill-suppressed. "You belong to me forever; to gaze into your dear eyes, +and to murmur in your ear, your sweet, beautiful, name, and die, if need +be, here. What do we care for the world and its opinions?" + +And Leonora with weakening resistance, continued to refuse: + +"No, no.... I must not. It's a feeling I can't explain." + +And that was so. The gentle quiver of Nature under the kiss of +Springtime, the intense perfume of the flower that is the emblem of +virginity, had transfigured that madcap singer, that adventuress of a +career so checkered, who had been violently thrust into her first +experience of passion, and now for the first time felt the blush of +modesty in the arms of a man. Nature, intoxicating her, shattering her +will, seemed to have created a strange virginity in that body so +familiar with the call of passion. + +"Oh, Rafael, what is happening to me?... What's happening to me? It must +be love; a new love that I did not think I should ever know.... Rafael ... +Rafael, my own boy!" + +And weeping softly, she took his head in her hands, pressed her lips to +his, and then fell back in her seat with eyes distended, maddened with +the joy of that kiss. + +"I belong to you, Rafael! Yours ... but forever. I have always loved you +from the first, but now ... I adore you.... For the first time in my +life I say that with all my soul." + +Hardly able to realize his good fortune, Rafael was thrilled by a deeply +generous sentiment. There was nothing he would not give to that +woman.... + +"Yes; you belong to me forever.... I will marry you." + +But in his dreamy, wild intoxication he saw the artiste's eyes open wide +in surprise, as a sad smile flitted across her lips. + +"Marry me And why?... That's well enough for other women; but me you +must love, my darling child, ever so much, as much as you can.... Just +love me!... I believe only in Love!" + + + + +V + + +"But my dear child, when are we getting to this island of yours?... It +bores me to be here sitting on this seat, so far away from my little +boy, watching his arms get tired from all that rowing. I must kiss him.. +even if he says no! It will rest him, I am sure." + +And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white +boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times. +He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself. + +"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we +make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island." + +Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the +moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal +pleasure in the romantic escapade. + +It had been one of her caprices--a desire repeated during his visits to +the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of doña Pepa and the +maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge +where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness. + +For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had +he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious +abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved +about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were +invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking +the trouble to look up. + +He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come--that the +family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence +he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and +everybody was asleep. + +Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the +effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his +door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a +sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill, +and of getting the same reply: + +"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing." + +It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself +from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find +the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would +lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she +would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs, +perhaps in his stocking-feet. + +The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in +silence, complaining only to don Andrés of the recrudescence of a +madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen +the counselor kept watch upon the young man. His spies followed Rafael +cautiously through the night, up to the gate of the Blue House. + +"What a scandal!" exclaimed doña Bernarda. "At night, too! He'll wind +up by bringing her into this house! Can it be that that simpleton of a +doña Pepita is blind to all this?" + +And there was Rafael, unaware of the storm that was gathering about his +head, no longer deigning even to speak to Remedios, or look at her, as +with her head bowed like a sulky goat, she went around stifling her +tears at the memory of those happy strolls in the orchard under doña +Bernarda's surveillance. + +The deputy had eyes for nothing outside of the Blue House; his happiness +had blinded him. The one thing that annoyed him was the necessity of +hiding his joy--his inability to make his good fortune public, so that +all his admirers might learn of it. + +He would willingly have gone back to the days of the Roman decadence, +when the love affairs of the powerful became matters of national +adoration. + +"What do I care for their gossip" he once said to Leonora. "I love you +so much that I'd like to see the whole city worship you in public. I'd +like to snatch you up in my arms, and appear upon the bridge at high +noon, before a concourse stupefied by your beauty: 'Am I or am I not +your "_quefe_"?' I'd ask. 'Well, if I am, adore this woman, who is my +very soul and without whom I could not live. The affection which you +have for me you must have also for her.' And I'd do just as I say if it +were possible." + +"Silly boy ... adorable child," she had replied, showering him with +kisses, brushing his dark beard with her soft, quivering lips. + +And it was during one of their meetings--when their words were broken +by sudden impulses of affection, and their lips were tightly pressed +together--that Leonora had expressed her capricious desire. + +"I'm stifling in this house. I hate to caress you inside four walls, as +if you were only a passing whim. This is unworthy of you. You are Love, +who came to seek me out on the most beautiful of nights. I like you +better in the open air. You look more handsome to me then, and I feel +younger." + +And recalling those trips down the river about which Rafael had told her +so many times when they were only friends--that islet with its curtains +of reeds, the willows bending over the water and the nightingale singing +from its hiding-place--she had asked him, eagerly: + +"What night are you going to take me there? It's a whim of mine, a wild +idea; but, what does love exist for, if not to make people do the +foolish things that sweeten life?... Carry me off in your boat! The bark +that bore you there will transport the two of us to your enchanted +island; we will spend the whole night in the open air." + +And Rafael, who was flattered by the idea of taking his love publicly +down the river, through the slumbering countryside, unfastened his boat +at midnight under the bridge and rowed it to a canebrake near Leonora's +orchard. + +An hour later they emerged through the opening in the hedge, arm in arm, +laughing at the mischievous escapade, disturbing the majestic silence of +the landscape with noisy, insolent kisses. + +They got into the boat, and with a favoring current, began to descend +the Júcar, lulled by the murmur of the river as it glided between the +high mudbanks covered with reeds that bent low over the water and +formed mysterious hiding places. + +Leonora clapped her hands with delight. She threw over her neck the silk +shawl with which she had covered her head. She unbuttoned her light +traveling coat, and inhaled with deep enjoyment the moist, somewhat +muggy breeze that was curling along the surface of the river. Her hand +trembled as it dipped into the water from time to time. + +How beautiful it was! All by themselves, and wandering about, as if the +world did not exist; as if all Nature belonged to them, to them alone! +Here they were, slipping past clusters of slumbering houses, leaving the +city far behind. And nobody had suspected that passion, which in its +enthusiasm had broken its chains and left its mysterious lair to have +the heavens and the fields for sympathetic witnesses. Leonora would have +wished that the night should never end; that the waning moon, which +seemed to have been slashed by a sword, should stop eternally in the sky +to wrap them forever in its feeble, dying light; that the river should +be endless, and the boat float on and on until, overwhelmed by so much +love, they should breathe the last gasp of life away in a kiss as +tenuous as a sigh. + +"If you could only know how grateful I am to you for this excursion, +Rafael!... I'm happy, so happy. Never have I had such a night as this. +But where is the island? Have we gone astray, as you did the night of +the flood?" + +No! At last they reached the place. There Rafael had spent many an +afternoon hidden in the bushes, cut off by the encircling waters, +dreaming that he was an adventurer on the virgin prairies or the vast +rivers of America, performing exploits he had read about in the novels +of Fenimore Cooper and Mayne Reid. + +A tributary joined the Júcar at this point, emptying gently into the +main stream from under a thicket of reeds and trees that formed a +triumphal arch of foliage. At the confluence rose the island--a tiny +piece of land almost level with the water, but as fresh as green and +fragrant as an aquatic bouquet. The banks were lined with dense clumps +of cane, and a few willows that bent their hairy foliage low over the +water, forming dark vaults through which the boat could make its way. + +The two lovers entered the shade. The curtain of branches concealed them +from the river; a bare tear of moonlight managed to filter through the +mane of willows. + +Leonora felt a first sense of uneasiness in this dark, damp, cave-like +haunt. Invisible animals took to the water with dull splashes as they +heard the boat's bow touch the mud of the bank. The actress clutched her +lover's arm with nervous pleasure. + +"Here we are," murmured Rafael. "Hold on to something and get out. +Careful, careful! Don't you want to hear the nightingale? Here we have +him. Listen." + +It was true. In one of the willows, at the other side of the island, the +mysterious bird was trilling from his hiding place, a dizzying shower of +notes, which broke at the crescendo of the musical whirl-pool into a +plaint as soft and long-sustained as a golden thread stretched in the +silence of the night across the river, that seemed to be applauding +with its hushed murmur. To get nearer, the lovers went up through the +rushes, stopping, bending over at each step, to keep the branches from +crackling underneath their feet. + +Favoring moisture had covered the islet with an exuberant undergrowth. +Leonora repressed exclamations of glee as she found her feet caught in +meshes of reeds or received the rude caresses of the branches that +snapped back, as Rafael went ahead, and brushed against her face. She +called for help in a muffled voice; and Rafael, laughing also, would +hold out his hand to her, taking her finally to the very foot of the +tree where the nightingale was singing. + +The bird, divining the presence of intruders, ceased his song. Doubtless +he had heard the rustle of their clothing as they sat down at the foot +of the tree, or the tender words they were murmuring into each other's +ear. + +Over all, the silence of slumbering Nature reigned--that silence made up +of a thousand sounds, harmonizing and blending in one majestic calm; the +murmur of the water, the stirring of the foliage, the mysterious +movements of unseen creatures crawling along under the leaves or +patiently boring their winding galleries in the creaking trunks. + +The nightingale began again to sing, timidly, like an artist afraid of +an impending interruption. He uttered a few disconnected notes with +anxious rests between them--love sighs they seemed, broken by sobs of +passion. Then gradually he took courage, regained self-confidence, and +entered on his full song, just as a soft breeze rose, swept over the +island, and set all the trees and reeds rustling in mysterious +accompaniment. + +The bird gradually grew intoxicated with the sound of his own trilling, +cadenced, voice; one could almost see him up there in the thick +darkness, panting, ardent, in the spasm of his musical inspiration, +utterly engrossed in his own beautiful little world of song, overwhelmed +by the charm of his own artistry. + +But the bird had ceased his music when the two lovers awoke in a tight +embrace, still in ecstasy from the song of love to which they had fallen +asleep. Leonora was resting a dishevelled head on Rafael's shoulder, +caressing his neck with an eager, wearied breathing, whispering in his +ear, random, incoherent words that still were vibrant with emotion. + +How happy she was there! Everything comes for true love! Many a time, +during the days of her unkindness to him, she had looked out from her +balcony upon the river winding down through the slumbering countryside; +and she had thought with rapture of a stroll some day through that +immense garden on Rafael's arm--of gliding, gliding down the Júcar, to +that very island. + +"My love is an ancient thing," she murmured. "Do you suppose, I have +been loving you only since the other night? No, I have loved you for a +long, long time.... But don't you go and get conceited on that account, +_su señoria_! I don't know how it began: It must have been when you were +away in Madrid. When I saw you again I knew that I was lost. If I still +resisted, it was because I was a wise woman; because I saw things +clearly. Now I'm mad and I've thrown my better judgment to the winds. +God knows what will become of us.... But come what may, love me, Rafael, +love me. Swear that you'll love me always. It would be cruel to desert +me after awakening a passion like this." + +And, in an impulse of dread, she nestled closer against his breast, sank +her hands into his hair, lifted her head back to kiss him avidly on the +face, the forehead, the eyes, the lips, nibbling playfully, tenderly at +his nose and chin, yet with an affectionate vehemence that drew cries of +mock protest from Rafael. + +"Madcap!" he muttered, smiling. "You're hurting me." + +Leonora looked steadily at him out of her two great eyes that were +a-gleam with love. + +"I could eat you up," she murmured. "I feel like devouring you, my +heaven, my king, my god.... What have you given me, tell me, little boy? +How have you been able to fascinate me, make me feel a passion that I +never, never felt before?" + +And again they fell asleep. + +Rafael stirred in his lover's arms, and suddenly sat up. + +"It must be late. How many hours have we been here, do you suppose?" + +"Many, many hours," Leonora answered sadly. "Hours of happiness always +go so fast." + +It was still dark. The moon had set. They arose and, hand in hand, +groping their way along, they reached the boat. The splash of the oars +began again to sound along the dark stream. + +Suddenly the nightingale again piped gloomily in the willow wood, as if +in farewell to a departing dream. + +"Listen, my darling," said Leonora. "The poor little fellow is bidding +us good-bye. Just hear how plaintively he says farewell." + +And in the strange exhiliration that comes from fatigue, Leonora felt +the flames of art flaring up within her, seething through her organism +from head to foot. + +A melody from _Die Meistersinger_ came to her mind, the hymn that the +good people of Nuremberg sing when Hans Sachs, their favorite singer, as +bounteous and gentle as the Eternal Father, steps out on the platform +for the contest in poetry. It was the song that the poet-minstrel, the +friend of Albrecht Dürer, wrote in honor of Luther when the great +Reformation broke; and the prima donna, rising to her feet in the stern, +and returning the greeting of the nightingale began: + + "_Sorgiam, che spunta il dolce albor, + cantar ascolto in mezzo ai fior + voluttuoso un usignol + spiegando a noi l'amante vol_!..." + +Her ardent, powerful voice seemed to make the dark surface of the river +tremble; it rolled in harmonious waves across the fields, and died away +in the foliage of the distant island, whence the nightingale trilled an +answer that was like a fainting sigh. Leonora tried to reproduce with +her lips the majestic sonorousness of the Wagnerian chorus, mimicking +the rumbling accompaniment of the orchestra, while Rafael beat the +water with his oars in time with the pious, exalted melody with which +the great Master had turned to popular poetry adequately to greet the +outbreak of Reform. + +They went on and on up the river against the current, Leonora singing, +Rafael bending over the oars, moving his sinewy arms like steel springs. +He kept the boat inshore, where the current was not so strong. At times +low branches brushed the heads of the lovers, and drops of dew fell on +their faces. Many a time the boat glided through one of the verdant +archways of foliage, making its way slowly through the lily-pads; and +the green overhead would tremble with the harmonious violence of that +wonderful voice, as vibrant and as resonant as a great silver bell. + +Day had not yet dawned--the _dolce albor_ of Hans Sachs' song--but at +any moment the rosy rim of sunrise would begin to climb the sky. + +Rafael was hurrying to get back as soon as possible. Her sonorous voice +of such tremendous range seemed to be awakening the whole countryside. +In one cottage a window lighted up. Several times along the river-bank, +as they rowed past the reeds, Rafael thought he heard the noise of +snapping branches, the cautious footsteps of spies who were following +them. + +"Hush, my darling. You had better stop singing; they'll recognize you. +They'll guess who you are." + +They reached the bank where they had embarked. Leonora leaped ashore. +They must separate there; for she insisted on going home alone. And +their parting was sweet, slow, endless. + +"Good-bye, my love; one kiss. Until tomorrow ... no, later--today." + +She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to +snuggle again in her lover's arms. + +"Another, my prince ... the last." + +Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the +garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, +creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy +melody of an orchard boy. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Now I must really go. They'll discover us." + +Wrapping her coat about her she hurried away, waving a final farewell to +him with her handkerchief. + +Rafael rowed upstream toward the city. That part of the trip--he +reflected--alone, tired, and struggling against the current, was the one +bad part of the wonderful night. When he moored his boat near the bridge +it was already broad day. The windows of the river houses were opening. +Over the bridge carts laden with produce for the market were rumbling, +and orchard women were going by with huge baskets on their heads. All +these people looked down with interest on their deputy. He must have +spent the night fishing. And this news passed from one to the other, +though not a trace of fishing tackle was visible in the boat. How they +envied rich folks, who could sleep all day and spend their time just as +they pleased! + +Rafael jumped ashore. All that curiosity he was attracting annoyed him. +His mother would know everything by the time he got home! + +As he climbed slowly and wearily, his arms numb from rowing, to the +bridge, he heard his name called. + +Don Andrés was standing there, gazing at him out of those yellow eyes of +his, scowling through his wrinkles with an expression of stern +authority. + +"You've given me a fine night, Rafael. I know where you've been. I saw +you row off last night with that woman; and plenty of my friends were on +hand to follow you and find out just where you went. You've been on the +island all night; that woman was singing away like a lunatic.... God of +Gods, boy! Aren't there any houses in the world? Do you have to play the +band when you're having an affair, so that everybody in the Kingdom can +come and look?" + +The old man was truly riled; all the more because he was himself the +secretive, the dexterous, libertine, adopting every precaution not to be +discovered in his "weaknesses." Was it anger or envy that he felt on +seeing a couple enough in love with each other to be fearless of gossip +and indifferent to danger, to throw prudence to the winds, and flaunt +their passion before the world with the reckless insolence of happiness? + +"Besides, your mother knows everything. She's discovered what you've +been up to, these nights past. She knows you haven't been in your room. +You're going to break that woman's heart!" + +And with paternal severity he went on to speak of doña Bernarda's +despair, of the danger to the future of the House, of the obligations +they were under to don Matías, of the solemn promise given, of that poor +girl waiting to be married! + +Rafael walked along in silence and like an automaton. That old man's +chatter brought down around his head, like a swarm of pestering +mosquitoes, all the provoking, irritating obligations of his life. He +felt like a man rudely awakened by a tactless servant in the middle of a +sweet dream. His lips were still tingling with Leonora's kisses! His +whole body was aglow with her gentle warmth! And here was this old +curmudgeon coming along with a sermon on "duty," "family," "what they +would say"--as if love amounted to nothing in this life! It was a plot +against his happiness, and he felt stirred to the depths with a sense of +outrage and revolt. + +They had reached the entrance to the Brull mansion. Rafael was fumbling +about for the key-hole with his key. + +"Well," growled the old man. "What have you got to say to all this? What +do you propose to do? Answer me! Haven't you got a tongue in your head?" + +"I," replied the young man energetically--"will do as I please." + +Don Andrés jumped as though he had been stung. My, how this Rafael had +changed!... Never before had he seen that gleam of aggressiveness, +arrogance, belligerency in the eye of the boy! + +"Rafael, is that the way you answer me,--a man who has known you since +you were born? Is that the tone of voice you use toward one who loves +you as your own father loved you?" + +"I'm of age, if you don't mind my saying so!" Rafael replied. "I'm not +going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the +street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to +yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!" + +As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the +semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that +entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning, +tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice. + +But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless +and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for +some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own. + + + + +VI + + +"You're right, don Andrés. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That +wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse, +than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I +should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to +you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The +other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he +treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he +pleases, or--what amounts to the same thing--he'll keep up his affair +with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand +debauch, like his father.... My God! And that's what I've suffered for +all these years. That's what I get for sacrificing myself, day in day +out, trying to make somebody out of him!" + +The austere doña Bernarda, dethroned by her son's resolute +rebelliousness, wept as she said this. In her tears of a mother's grief +there was something also of the chagrin of the authoritarian on finding +in her own home a will rebellious to hers and stronger than hers. + +Between sobs she told don Andrés how her son had been carrying on since +his declaration of independence. He was no longer cautious about +spending the night away from home. He was coming in now in broad +daylight; and, afternoons, with his meals "still in his mouth" as she +said, he would take the road to the Blue House, on the run almost, as if +he could not get to perdition soon enough. The dead hand of his father +was upon him! + +All you had to do was look at him. His face discolored, yellow, pale; +his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones; and--the only sign of +life--the fire that gleamed in his eyes like a spark of wild joy! Oh, a +curse was on the family! They were all alike ...! + +The mother did her best to conceal the truth from Remedios. Poor girl! +She was going about crestfallen and in deep dejection, unable to explain +Rafael's sudden withdrawal. + +The matter had to be kept secret; and that was what held doña Bernarda's +rage within bounds during her rapid, heated exchanges with her son. + +Perhaps everything would come out all right in the end--something +unforeseen would turn up to undo the evil spell that had been cast over +Rafael. And in this hope she used every effort to keep Remedios and her +father from learning what had happened. She feigned contentment in their +presence, and invented a thousand pretexts--studies, work, even +illness--to justify her son's neglect of his "fiancee." At the same +time, the disconsolate mother feared the people around her--the gossip +of a small town, bored with itself, ever on the alert, hunting for +something interesting to talk about and get scandalized about. + +The news of Rafael's affair spread like wildfire meanwhile, considerably +magnified as it passed from mouth to mouth. People told hair-raising +tales of that expedition down the river, of walks through the orange +groves, of nights spent at doña Pepa's house, Rafael entering in the +dark, in his stocking feet, like a thief; of silhouettes of the lovers +outlined in suggestive poses against the bedroom curtain; of their +appearing in windows their arms about each other's waists, looking at +the stars--everything sworn to by voluntary spies, who could say "I saw +it with my own eyes"--persons who had spent whole nights, on the +river-bank, behind some fence, in some clump of bushes, to surprise the +deputy on his way to or from his assignations. + +In the cafés or at the Casino, the men openly envied Rafael, commenting +with eyes a-glitter on his good fortune. That fellow had been born under +a lucky star! But later at home they would add their stern voices to the +chorus of indignant women. What a scandal! A deputy, a public man, a +"personage" who ought to set an example for others! That was a disgrace +to the constituency! And when the murmur of general protest reached the +ears of doña Bernarda, she lifted her hands to heaven in despair. Where +would it all end! Where would it all end! That son of hers was bent on +ruining himself! + +Don Matías, the rustic millionaire, said nothing; and, in the presence +of doña Bernarda, at least, pretended to know nothing. His interest in a +marriage connection with the Brull family counselled prudence. He, too, +hoped that it would all blow over, prove to be the blind infatuation of +a young man. Feeling himself a father, more or less, to the boy, he +thought of giving Rafael just a bit of advice when he came upon him in +the street one day. But he desisted after a word or two. A proud glance +of the youth completely floored him, making him feel like the poor +orange-grower of former days, who had cringed before the majestic, +grandiose don Ramón! + +Rafael was intrenched in haughty silence. He needed no advice. But alas! +When at night he reached his beloved's house--it seemed to be redolent +with the very perfume of her, as if the furniture, the curtains, the +very walls about her had absorbed the essence of her spirit--he felt the +strain of that insistent gossip, of the persecution of an entire city +that had fixed its eyes upon his love. + +Two against a multitude! With the serene immodesty of the ancient +idylls, they had abandoned themselves to passion in a stupid, narrow +environment, where sprightly gossip was the most appreciated of the +moral talents! + +Leonora grew sad. She smiled as usual; she flattered him with the same +worship, as if he were an idol; she was playful and gay; but in moments +of distraction, when she did not notice that he was watching, Rafael +would surprise a cast of bitterness about her lips--and a sinister light +in her eyes, the reflection of painful thoughts. + +She referred with acrid mirth one night to what people were saying about +them. Everything was found out sooner or later in that city! The gossip +had gotten even to the Blue House! Her kitchen woman had hinted that she +had better not walk so much along the river front--she might catch +malaria. On the market place the sole topic of conversation was that +night trip down the Júcar ... the deputy, sweating his life out over +the oars, and she waking half the country up with her strange songs!... +And she laughed, but with a hard, harsh laugh of affected gaiety that +showed the nervousness underneath, though without a word of complaint. + +Rafael remorsefully reflected that she had foreseen all that in first +repelling his advances. He admired her resignation. She would have been +justified in rebuking him for the harm he had done her. As it was, she +was not even telling him all she knew! Ah, the wretches! To harass an +innocent woman so! She had loved him, given herself to him, bestowed on +him the royal gift of her person. And the deputy began to hate his city, +for repaying in insult and scandal the wondrous happiness she had +conferred on its "chief"! + +On another night Leonora received him with a smile that frightened him. +She was affecting a mood of hectic cheerfulness, trying to drown her +worries by sheer force, overwhelming her lover with a flood of light, +frivolous chatter; but suddenly, at the limit of her endurance, she gave +way, and in the middle of a caress, burst into tears and sank to a +divan, sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"Why what's the matter? What has happened ...?" + +For a time she could not answer, her voice was too choked with weeping. +At last, however, between sobs, burying her tear-stained face on +Rafael's shoulder, she began to speak, completely crushed, fainting from +virtual prostration. + +She could stand it no longer! The torture was becoming unbearable. It +was useless for her to pretend. She knew as well as he what people were +saying in the city. They were spied upon continuously. On the roads, in +the orchard, along the river, there were people constantly on the watch +for something new to report. That passion of hers, so sweet, so +youthful, so sincere, was a butt of public laughter, a theme for idle +tongues, who flayed her as if she were a common street-woman, because +she had been good to him, because she had not been cruel enough to watch +a young man writhe in the torment of passion, indifferently.... But +though this persecution from a scandalized public was bad enough, she +did not mind it. Why should she care what those stupid people said? But, +alas, there were others--the people around Rafael, his friends, his +family, ... his mother! + +Leonora sat silent for a moment, as if waiting to see the effect of that +last word; unless, indeed, she were hesitating, out of delicacy, to +include her lover's family in her complaint. The young man shrank with a +terrible presentiment. Doña Bernarda was not the woman to stand by idle +and resigned in the face of opposition, even from him! + +"I see ... mother!" he said in a stifled voice. "She has been up to +something. Tell me what it is. Don't be afraid. To me you are dearer +than anything else in the world." + +"Well ... there is auntie ..." Leonora resumed; and Rafael remembered +that doña Pepa, remarking his assiduous visits to the Blue House, had +thought her niece might be contemplating marriage. In the afternoon, +Leonora explained, she had had a _scene_ with her aunt. Doña Pepa had +gone into town to confession, and on coming out of church had met doña +Bernarda. Poor old woman! Her abject terror on returning home betrayed +the intense emotion Rafael's mother had succeeded in wakening in her. +Leonora, her niece, her idol, lay in the dust, stripped of that blind, +enthusiastic, affectionate trust her aunt had always had for her. All +the gossip, all the echoes of Leonora's adventurous life, that +had--heretofore but feebly--come to her ears, the old lady had never +believed, regarding them as the work of envy. But now they had been +repeated to her by doña Bernarda, by a lady "in good standing," a good +Christian, a person incapable of falsehood. And then after rehearsing +that scandalous biography, Rafael's mother had come to the shocking +effrontery with which her niece and Rafael were rousing the whole city; +flaunting their wrong-doing in the face of the public; and turning her +home, the respectable, irreproachable home of doña Pepa, into a den of +vice, a brothel! + +And the poor woman had wept like a child in her niece's presence, +adjuring her to "abandon the wicked path of transgression," shuddering +with horror at the great responsibility she, doña Pepa, had unwittingly +assumed before God. All her life she had labored and prayed and fasted +to keep her soul clean. She had thought herself almost in a state of +grace, only to awaken suddenly and find herself in the very midst of sin +through no fault of her own--all on account of her niece, who had +converted her holy, her pure, her pious home into an ante-chamber of +hell! And it was the poor woman's superstitious terror, the conviction +of damnation that had seized on doña Pepa's simple soul, that wounded +Leonora most deeply. + +"They've robbed me of all I had in the world," she murmured desperately, +"of the affection of the only dear one left after my father died. I am +not the child of former days to auntie; that is apparent from the way +she looks at me, the way she shuns me, avoiding all contact with me.... +And just because of you, because I love you, because I was not cruel to +you! Oh, that night! How I shall suffer for it!... How clearly I foresaw +how it would all end!" + +Rafael was humiliated, crushed, filled with shame and remorse at the +suffering that had fallen upon this woman, because she had given herself +to him. What was he to do? The time had come to prove himself the +strong, the resourceful man, able to protect the beloved woman in her +moment of danger. But where should he strike first to defend her?... + +Leonora lifted her head from her lover's shoulder, and withdrew from his +embrace. She wiped away her tears and rose to her feet with the +determination of irrevocable resolution. + +"I have made up my mind. It hurts me very much to say what I am going to +say; but I can't help it. It will do you no good to say 'no'--I cannot +stay under this roof another day. Everything is over between my aunt and +me. Poor old woman! The dream I cherished was to care for her lovingly, +tenderly till she died in my arms, be to her what I failed to be to +father.... But they have opened her eyes. To her I am nothing but a +sinner now and my presence upsets everything for her.... I must go away. +I've already told Beppa to pack my things.... Rafael, my love, this is +our last night together.... To-morrow ... and you will never see me +again." + +The youth recoiled as if someone had struck him in the breast. + +"Going? Going ...? And you can say that coolly, simply, just like that? +You are leaving me ... this way ... just when we are happiest ...?" + +But soon he had himself in hand again. This surely could be nothing more +than a passing impulse, a notion arrived at in a flash of anger. Of +course she did not really mean to go! She must think things over, see +things clearly. That was a crazy idea! Desert her Rafaelito? Absurd! +Impossible! + +Leonora smiled sadly. She had expected him to talk that way. She, too, +had suffered much, ever so much, before deciding to do it! It made her +shudder to think that within two days she would be off again, alone, +wandering through Europe, caught up again in that wild, tumultuous life +of art and love, after tasting the full sweetness of the most powerful +passion she had ever known--of what she believed was her "first love." +It was like putting to sea in a tempest with destination unknown. She +loved him, adored him, worshipped him, more than ever now that she was +about to lose him. + +"Well, why are you going?" the young man asked. "If you love me, why are +you forsaking me?" + +"Just because I love you, Rafael.... Because I want you to be happy." + +For her to remain would mean ruin for him: a long battle with his +mother, who was an implacable, a merciless foe. Doña Bernarda might be +killed, but never conquered! Oh, no! How horrible! Leonora knew what +filial cruelty was! How had she treated her father? She must not now +come between a son and a mother! Was she, perhaps, a creature accursed, +born forever to corrupt with her very name the sacredest, purest +relations on earth? + +"No, you must be good, my heart. I must go away. We can't go on loving +each other here. I'll write to you, I'll let you know all I'm doing.... +You'll hear from me every day, if I have to write from the North Pole! +But you must stay! Don't drive your mother to despair! Shut your eyes to +the poor woman's injustice! For after all, she is doing it all out of +her immense love for you.... Do you imagine I am glad to be leaving +you--the greatest happiness I have ever known?" + +And she threw her arms about Rafael, kissing him over and over again, +caressing his bowed, pensive head, within which a tempest of conflicting +ideas and resolutions was boiling. + +So those bonds which he had come to believe eternal were to be broken? +So he was to lose so easily that beauty which the world had admired, the +possession of which had made him feel himself the first among men? She +talked of a love from a distance, of a love persisting through years of +separation, travel, all the hazards of a wandering life; she promised to +write to him every day!... Write to him ... from the arms of another +man, perhaps! No! He would never give up such a treasure; never! + +"You shall not go," he answered at last decisively. "A love like ours is +not ended so easily. Your flight would be a disgrace to me--it would +look as if I had affronted you in some way, as if you were tired of me." + +Deep in his soul he felt eager to make some chivalrous gesture. She was +going away because she had loved him! He should stay behind, sad and +resigned like a maid abandoned by a lover, and with the sense of having +harmed her on his conscience! _Ira de diós_! He, as a man, could not +stand by with folded arms accepting the abnegation of a woman, to stick +tied to his mother's apron-strings in boobified contentment. Even girls +ran away from home and parents sometimes, in the grip of a powerful +love; and he, a man, a man "in the public eye" also--was he to let a +beautiful girl like Leonora go away sorrowful and in tears, so that he +could keep the respect of a city that bored him and the affection of a +mother who had never really loved him? Besides, what sort of a love was +it that stepped aside in a cowardly, listless way like that, when a +woman was at stake, a woman for whom far richer, far more powerful men +than he, men bound to life by attractions that he had never dreamed of +in his countrified existence, had died or gone to ruin?... + +"You shall not go," he repeated, with sullen obstinacy. "I won't give up +my happiness so easily. And if you insist on going, we will go +together." + +Leonora rose to her feet all quivering. She had been expecting that; her +heart had told her it was coming. Flee together! Have her appear like an +adventuress, drawing Rafael on, tearing him from his mother's arms after +crazing him with love? Oh, no! Thanks! She had a conscience! She did +not care to burden it with the execration of a whole city. Rafael must +consider the matter calmly, face the situation bravely. She must go away +alone. Afterwards, later on, she would see. They might chance to meet +again; perhaps in Madrid, when the Cortes reassembled! He would be +there, and alone; she could find a place at the _Real_, singing for +nothing if that should prove necessary. + +But Rafael writhed angrily at her resistance. He could not live without +her! A single night without seeing her would mean despair. He would end +as Macchia ended! He would shoot himself! + +And he seemed to mean it. His eyes were fixed on the floor as if he were +staring at his own corpse, lying there on the pavement, motionless, +covered with blood, a revolver in its stiffened hand. + +"Oh, no! How horrible! Rafael, my Rafael!" Leonora groaned, clasping him +around the neck, hanging upon him in terror. + +Her lover continued to protest. He was free. Had he been a married man; +if, in his flight, he were leaving a wife behind to cry betrayal, or +children calling for his help in vain, it would all be a different +matter. She could properly feel the repugnance of a kind heart unwilling +that love should mean a shattered home! But whom was he abandoning? A +mother, who, in a short time, would find consolation in the thought that +he was well and happy, a mother jealous of any rivalry in her son's +affection, and to that jealousy willing to sacrifice his very happiness! +Any harm an elopement would bring would by no means be irreparable. No, +they must go away together, parade their love through the whole world! + +But Leonora, lowering her head again, repeated feebly: + +"No, my mind is made up. I must go alone. I haven't the strength to face +a mother's hatred." + +Rafael flushed indignantly: + +"Why not say outright that you don't love me. You're tired of me, and of +this environment. The hankering for your old life has come over you +again; your old world is calling!" + +The actress fixed her great, luminous, tear-stained eyes upon him. And +they were filled with tenderness and pity. + +"Tired of you!... When I have never felt such desperation as tonight! +You say I want my old life back. You don't realize that to leave here +seems like entering a den of torture.... Oh, dear heart, you'll never +know how much I love you." + +"Well, then ...?" + +And to tell everything, to spare no detail of the danger he would face +after separation, Rafael spoke of the life he would lead alone with his +mother in that dull, unspeakable city. Leonora was assuming that +affection played some part in his mother's indignant opposition. Well, +doña Bernarda did love him--agreed: he was her only son; but ambition +was the decisive thing in her schemes, her passion for the +aggrandizement of the House--the controlling motive of her whole life. +She was openly, frankly, using him as security in an alliance she was +planning with a great fortune. She wanted to marry him to money: and if +Leonora were to go, if he were left alone, forsaken, then despair--and +time, which can do all things--would break his will; and eventually he +would succumb, like a victim at the altar, who, in his terror and +abasement, does not sense the real significance of the sacrifice forced +upon him. + +The words reached a jealous spot in Leonora's heart. All the scattered +rumors that had come to her ears in former days now echoed in her +memory. She knew that Rafael was telling the truth. The man she loved, +given away by his mother--to another woman!... Lost forever if she lost +him now!... And her eyes opened wide with horror and revulsion. + +"And I refuse, Leonora, do you understand? I refuse!" continued her +lover with unaffected resolution. "I belong to you, you are the only +woman I love. I shall follow you all over the world, even against your +wishes, to be your servant, see you, speak to you, and there are not +millions enough in the world to stop me!" + +"Oh, my darling! My darling! You love me, you love me--as I love you!" + +And in a frenzy of passion she fell impetuously, madly upon him, +clutching him in her arms like a fury. In her caresses Rafael felt an +intensity that almost frightened him. The room seemed to be whirling +about him. Trembling, limp and weak, he sank to the divan, overwhelmed, +pounded to pieces, it seemed, by that vehement adoration, that caught +him up and carried him away like a tumultuous avalanche. His senses left +him in that trembling confusion, and he closed his eyes. + +When he opened them, the room was dark. Around his neck he could feel a +gentle arm that was tenderly sustaining him, and Leonora was whispering +in his ear. + +Agreed! They would go together: to continue their love duct in some +charming place, where nobody knew them, where envy and vulgarity would +not disturb. Leonora knew every nook in the world. She would have none +of Nice and the other cities of the Blue Coast, pretty places, +coquettish, bepowdered and rouged like women fresh from their dressing +tables! Besides there would be too many people there. Venice was better. +They would thread the narrow, solitary silent canals there, stretched +out in a gondola, kissing each other between smiles, pitying the poor +unfortunate mortals crossing the bridges over them, unaware of how great +a love was gliding beneath their feet! + +But no, Venice is a sad place after all: when it rains, it rains and +rains! Naples rather; Naples! _Viva Napoli_! And Leonora clapped her +hands in glee! Live in perpetual sunshine, freedom, freedom, freedom to +love openly, as nakedly as the _lazzaroni_ walk about the streets! She +owned a house in Naples,--at Posilipo, that is--a _villino_, in pink +stucco, a dainty little place with fig trees, nopals and parasol pines, +that ran in a grove down a steep promontory to the sea I They would fish +in the bay there--it was as smooth and blue as a looking-glass! And +afternoons he would row her out to sea, and she would sing, looking at +the waters ablaze with the sunset, at the plume of smoke curling up from +Vesuvius, at the immense white city with its endless rows of windows +flaming like plaques of gold in the afterglow. Like gipsies they would +wander through the countless towns dotting the shores of the miraculous +Bay; kissing on the open sea among the fisherboats, to the accompaniment +of passionate Neapolitan boat-songs; spending whole nights in the open +air, lying in each other's arms on the sands, hearing the pearly +laughter of mandolins in the distance, just as that night on the island, +they had heard the nightingale! "Oh, Rafael, my god, my king! How +wonderful!" + +When day dawned, they were still sitting there weaving fanciful plans +for the future, arranging all the details of their elopement. She would +leave Alcira as soon as possible. He would join her two days later, when +all suspicion had been quieted, when everybody would imagine she was +far, far away. Where would they meet? At first they thought of +Marseilles, but that was a long way off! Then they thought of Barcelona. +But that, too, meant hours of travel, when hours, minutes, counted for +so much. It seemed utterly incredible that they could live two days +without each other! No, the sooner they met again the better! And, +bargaining with time like peasants in a market, at last they chose the +nearest city possible, Valencia. + +For love--true love--is fond of brazenness! + + + + +VII + + +They had just finished lunch among the trunks and boxes that occupied a +great part of Leonora's room in the _Hôtel de Roma_ in Valencia. + +For the first time they were at a table in familiar intimacy, with no +other witness than Beppa, who was quite accustomed to every sort of +surprise in her mistress's adventurous career. The faithful maid was +examining Rafael with a respectful kindliness, as if he were a new idol +that must share the unswerving devotion she showed for Leonora. + +This was the first moment of tranquillity and happiness the young man +had tasted for some days. The old hotel, with its spacious rooms, its +high ceilings, its darkened corridors, its monastic silence, seemed to +him a veritable abode of delight, a grateful place of refuge where for +once he would be free of the gossip and the strife that had been +oppressing him like a belt of steel. Besides, he could already feel the +exotic charm that lingers around harbors and great railroad terminals. +Everything about the place, from the macaroni of the lunch, and the +Chianti in its straw-covered, heavy-paunched bottle, to the musical, +incorrect Spanish of the hotel-proprietors--fleshy, massive men with +huge mustaches in Victor Emmanuel style--spoke of flight, of delightful +seclusion in that land so glowingly described by Leonora. + +She had made an appointment with him in that hotel, a favorite haunt of +artists. Somewhat off the main thoroughfares, the "Roma" occupies one +whole side of a sleepy, peaceful, aristocratic square with no noise save +the shouting of cab-drivers and the beating of horses' hoofs. + +Rafael had arrived on the first morning train--and with no baggage; like +a schoolboy playing truant, running off with just the clothes he had on +his back. The two days since Leonora left Alcira had been days of +torture to him. The singer's flight was the talk of the town. People +were scandalized at the amount of luggage she had. Counted over in the +imagination of that imaginative city, it eventually came to fill all the +carts in the province. + +The man who knew the business to the bottom was Cupido, the barber, who +had dispatched the trunks and cases for her. He knew where the dangerous +woman was bound, and he kept it so secret that everybody found it out +before the train started. She was going back to Italy! He himself had +checked and labelled the baggage to the Customs' House at the +frontier--cases as big as a house, man! Trunks he could have lain down +comfortable in, with his two "Chinamen" to boot! And the women, as they +listened to his tale, applauded the departure with undissimulated +pleasure. They had been liberated from a great danger. Joy go with her! + +Rafael kept quite to himself. He was vexed at the curiosity of people, +at the scoffing sympathy of his friends who condoled with him that his +happiness was ending. For two days he remained indoors, followed by his +mother's inquiring glances. Doña Bernarda felt more at ease now that the +evil influence of the "chorus girl" promised to be over; but none the +less she did not lose her frown. With a woman's instinct, she still +scented the presence of danger. + +The young man could hardly wait for the time to come. It seemed +unbearable for him to be there at home while "she" was away off +somewhere, alone, shut up in a hotel, waiting just as impatiently as he +was for the moment of reunion. + +What a sunrise it had been that day when he set out! Rafael burned with +shame as he crept like a burglar in his stockings and on tip-toe, +through the room where his mother received the orchard-folk and adjusted +all accounts pertaining to the tilling of the land. He groped his way +along guided by the light that came in through the chinks in the closed +windows. His mother was sleeping in a room close by; he could hear her +breathe--the labored respiration of a deep sleep that spelled recovery +from the insomnia of the days of his love trysts. He could still feel +the criminal shudder that rippled through him at a slight rattle of the +keys, which had been left with the confidence of unlimited authority in +the lock of an old chest where doña Bernarda kept her savings. With +tremulous hands he had collected all the money she had put away in the +small boxes there. A thief, a thief! But, after all, he was taking only +what belonged to him. He had never asked for his share of his father's +estate. Leonora was rich. With admirable delicacy she had refused to +talk of money during their preparations for the journey; but he would +refuse to live on her! He did not care to be like Salvatti, who had +exploited the singer in her youth! That thought it had been which gave +him strength to take the money finally and steal out of the house. But +even on the train he felt uneasy; and _su señoria_, the deputy, shivered +with an instinctive thrill of fear, every time a tricorne of the Civil +Guard appeared at a railroad station. What would his mother say when she +got up and found the money gone? + +As he entered the hotel his self-confidence returned and his spirits +revived. He felt as if he were entering port after a storm. He found +Leonora in bed, her hair spread over the pillow in waves of gold, her +eyes closed, and a smile on her lips, as if he had surprised her in the +middle of a dream, where she had been tasting her memories of love. They +ordered lunch in the room early, intending to set out on their journey +at once. Circumspection, prudence, until they should be once beyond the +Spanish border! They would leave that evening on the Barcelona mail for +the frontier. And calmly, tranquilly, like a married couple discussing +details of house-keeping in the calm of a quiet home, they ran over the +list of things they would need on the train. + +Rafael had nothing. He had fled like a fugitive from a fire, with the +first clothes he laid hands on as he bounded out of bed. He needed many +indispensable articles, and he thought of going out to buy them--a +matter of a moment. + +"But are you really going out?" asked Leonora with a certain anguish, as +if her feminine instinct sensed a danger. "Are you going to leave me +alone?..." + +"Only a moment. I won't keep you waiting long." + +They took leave of each other in the corridor with the noisy, +nonchalant joy of passion, indifferent to the chamber-maids who were +walking to and fro at the other end of the passageway. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Another hug; just one more." + +And as, with the taste of the last kiss still fresh on his lips, he +reached the square, he saw a bejewelled hand still waving to him from a +balcony. + +Anxious to get back as soon as possible, the young man walked hurriedly +along, elbowing his way among the cab-drivers swarming in front of the +great _Palacio de Dos Aguas_, closed, silent, slumbering, like the two +giants that guarded its portals, displaying in the golden downpour of +sunlight the overdecorated yet graceful sumptuousness of its roccocò +facade. + +"Rafael! Rafael!..." + +The deputy turned around at the sound of his name, and blanched as if he +had seen a ghost. It was don Andrés, calling to him. + +"Rafael! Rafael!" + +"You?... Here?" + +"I came by the Madrid express. For two hours I've been hunting for you +in all the hotels of Valencia. I knew you were here.... But come, we +have a great deal to talk over. This is not just the place to do it." + +And the old Mentor glowered hatefully at the _Hôtel de Roma_, as if he +wanted to annihilate the huge edifice with everybody in it. + +They walked off, slowly, without knowing just where they were going, +turning corners, passing several times through the same streets, their +nerves tense and quivering, ready to shout at the top of their lungs, +yet using every effort to speak softly, so as not to attract attention +from the passers-by who were rubbing against them on the narrow +side-walks. + +Don Andrés, naturally, was the first to speak: + +"You approve of what you've done?" + +And seeing that Rafael, like a coward, was trying to pretend innocent +astonishment, asking "what" he had done, observing that he had come to +Valencia on a matter of business, the old man broke into a rage. + +"Now, see here, don't you go lying to me: either we're men or we're not +men. If you think you've acted properly, you ought to stand up for it +and say so. Don't imagine you're going to pull the wool over my eyes and +then run off with that woman to God knows where. I've found you and I'm +not going to let you go. I want you to know the truth. Your mother is +sick abed; she tipped me off and I caught the first train to get here. +The whole house is upside down! At first it was thought a robbery had +been committed. By this time the whole city must be agog about you. Come +now!... What do you say to that? Do you want to kill your mother? Well, +you're going about it right! Good God! And this is what they call a 'boy +of talent,' a 'young man of promise'! How much better it would have been +if you were a dunce like me or your father--but a dunce at least who +knows how to get a woman if he has to, without making a public ass of +himself!" + +Then he went into detail. Rafael's mother had gone to the old chest to +get some money for one of her laborers. Her cry of horror and alarm had +thrown the whole house into an uproar. Don Andrés had been hastily +summoned. Suspicions against the servants, a "third degree" for the +whole lot, all of them protesting and weeping, in outrage! Until finally +doña Bernarda sank to a chair in a swoon, whispering into her adviser's +ear: + +"Rafael is not in the house. He has gone ... perhaps never to return. I +am sure of it--he took the money!" + +While the others were getting the sobbing mother to bed, and sending for +the doctor, don Andrés had made for the station to catch the express. He +could tell from the way people looked at him that everybody knew what +had been going on. Gossip had already connected the excitement in the +Brull mansion with Rafael's taking the early train! He had been seen by +several persons, in spite of his precautions. + +"Well, is the Hon. don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, satisfied with +his morning's work? Don't you think the laugh your enemies have raised +deserves an _encore_!" + +For all his bitter sarcasm the old man spoke in a faltering voice, and +seemed on the verge of tears. The labor of his entire life, the great +victories won with don Ramón, that political power which had been so +carefully built up and sustained over decades, was about to crumble to +ruins; all because of a light-headed, erratic boy who had handed to the +first skirt who came along everything that belonged to him and +everything that belonged to his friends as well. + +Rafael had gone into the interview in an aggressive mood, ready to +answer with plain talk if that sodden idiot should go too far in his +recriminations. But the sincere grief of the old man touched him deeply. +Don Andrés, who resembled Rafael's father as the cat resembles the +tiger, could think of nothing but Brull politics; and he was almost +sobbing as he saw the danger which the prestige of the Brull House was +running. + +With bowed head, crushed by the realization of the scene that had +followed his flight, Rafael did not notice where they were going. But +soon he became conscious of the perfume of flowers. They were crossing a +garden; and as he looked up he saw the figure of Valencia's conqueror on +his sinewy charger glistening in the sun. + +They walked on. The old man began in wailing accents to describe the +situation which the Brull House was facing. That money, which perhaps +Rafael still had in his pocket--more than thirty thousand +_pesetas_--represented the final desperate efforts of his mother to +rescue the family fortune, which had been endangered by don Ramón's +prodigal habits. The money was his, and don Andrés had nothing to say in +that regard. Rafael was at liberty to squander it, scatter it to the +four winds of heaven; but don Andrés wasn't talking to a child, he was +talking to a man with a heart: so he begged him, as his childhood +preceptor, as his oldest friend, to consider the sacrifices his mother +had been making--the privations she had imposed upon herself, going +without new clothes, quarreling with her help over a _céntimo_, despite +all her airs as a grand lady, depriving herself of all the dainties and +comforts that are so pleasant to old age--all that her son, her _señor +hijo_, might waste it in gay living on a woman! Thirty thousand! And +don Andrés mentioned the sum with bated breath! It had taken so much +trouble to hoard it! Come, man! The sight of such things was enough to +make a fellow cry like a baby!... + +And suppose his father, don Ramón, were to rise from the grave? Suppose +he could see how his Rafael were destroying at a single stroke what it +had cost him so many years to build up, just because of a woman!... + +They were now crossing a bridge. Below, against the background of white +gravel in the river-bed the red and blue uniforms of a group of soldiers +could be seen; and the drums were beating, sounding in the distance like +the humming of a huge bee-hive--worthy accompaniment, Rafael reflected, +to the old man's evocation of the youth's father. Rafael thought he +could almost see in front of him the massive body, the flourishing +mustache, the proud, arrogant brow of don Ramón, a born fighter, an +adventurer destined from the cradle to lead men and impose his will upon +inferiors. + +What would that heroic master of men have said of this? Don Ramón would +give a lot of money to a woman--granted--but he wouldn't have swapped +all the beauties on earth put together for a single vote! + +But his son, the boy on whom he had grounded his fondest hopes--the +redeemer destined to raise the House of Brull to its loftiest glory--the +future "personage" in Madrid, the fondled heir-apparent, who had found +his pathway already cleared for him at birth--was throwing all his +father's labors through the window, the way you toss overboard +something it has cost you nothing to earn! It was easy to see that +Rafael had never known what hard times were--those days of the +Revolution, when the Brulls were out of power and held their own just +because don Ramón was a bad man with a gun--desperate election +campaigns, when you marched to victory over somebody's dead body, bold +cross-country rides on election night, never knowing when you would meet +the _roder_ in ambush--the outlaw sharpshooter who had vowed to kill don +Ramón; then endless prosecutions for intimidation and violence, which +had given doña Bernarda and her husband months and months of anxiety, +lest a catastrophe from one moment to the next bring prison and +forfeiture of all their property! All that his father had gone through, +for his boy's sake; to carve out a pedestal for Rafael, pass on to him a +District that would be his own, blazing a path over which he might go to +no visible limit of glory! And he was just throwing it all away, +relinquishing forever a position that had been built up at the cost of +years and years of labor and peril! That is what he would be doing, +unless that very night he returned home, refuting by his presence there +the rumors his scandalized adherents were circulating. + +Rafael shook his head. The mention of his father had touched him, and he +was convinced by the old man's arguments; but none the less he was +determined to resist. No, and again no; his die was cast: he would +continue on his way. + +They were now under the trees of the Alameda. The carriages were rolling +by, forming an immense wheel in the center of the avenue. The harnesses +of the horses and the lamps of the drivers' boxes gleamed in the +sunlight. Women's hats and the white lace shawls of children could be +seen through the coach windows as they passed. + +Don Andrés became impatient with the youth's stubbornness. He pointed to +all those happy, peaceful-looking families out for their afternoon +drive--wealth, comfort, public esteem, abundance, freedom from struggle +and toil! _Cristo_, boy! Was that so bad, after all? Well, that was just +the life he could have if he would be good and not turn his back on his +plain duty--rich, influential, respected, growing old with a circle of +nice children about him. What more could a decent person ask for in this +world? + +All that bohemian nonsense about pure love, love free from law and +restraint, love that scoffs at society and its customs, sufficient unto +itself and despising public opinion, that was just bosh, the humbug of +poets, musicians and dancers--a set of outcasts like that woman who was +taking him away, cutting him off forever from all the ties that bound +him to family and country! + +The old man seemed to take courage from Rafael's silence. He judged the +moment opportune for launching the final attack upon the boy's +infatuation. + +"And then, what a woman! I have been young, like you, Rafael. It's true +I didn't know a stylish woman like this one, but, bah! they're all +alike. I have had my weaknesses; but I tell you I wouldn't have lifted a +finger for this actress of yours! Any one of the girls we have down home +is worth two of her. Clothes, yes, talk, yes, powder and rouge inches +deep!... I'm not saying she's bad to look at--not that; what I say +is... well, it doesn't take much to turn your head--you're satisfied +with the leavings of half the men in Europe...." + +And he came to Leonora's past, the lurid, much exaggerated legend of her +journey through life--lovers by the dozens; statues and paintings of her +in the nude; the eyes of all Europe centered on her beauty; the public +property of a continent! "That was virtue to go crazy about, come now! +Quite worth leaving house and home for, no doubt of that!" + +The old man winced under the flash of anger that blazed in Rafael's +eyes. They had just crossed another bridge, and were entering the city +again. Don Andrés, wretched coward that he was, sidled away to be within +reach of the customs' office if the fist he could already see cleaving +the air should come his way. + +Rafael, in fact, stopped in his tracks, glaring. But in a second or two +he went on his way again, dejected, with bowed head, ignoring the +presence of the old man. Don Andrés resumed his place at the boy's side. + +The cursed old fox! He had stuck the knife in the right place! Leonora's +past! Her favors distributed with mad lavishness over the four corners +of the globe! An army of men of every nation owning her for a moment +with the appeal of luxury or the enchantment of art! A palace today and +a hotel tomorrow! Her lips repeating in all the languages of Babel the +very words of love that had fired him as if he had been the first to +hear them! He was going to lose everything for that--that refuse, as don +Andrés said--a public scandal, a ruined reputation; and a murdered +mother perhaps,--for that! Oh, that devil of a don Andrés! How cunningly +he had slashed him, and then plunged his fingers into the bleeding gash +to make the wound deeper! The old man's plain common-sense had shattered +his dream. That man had been the rustic, cunning Sancho at the side of +the quixotic don Ramón; and he was playing the same role with Rafael! + +Leonora's story came back to the boy in one flash--the frank confession +she had made during the days of their mere friendship, when she had told +him everything to prevent his continuing to desire her. However much she +might adore him, he would be nothing after all but a successor to a +Russian count, and a German musician; the latest, simply among those +countless ephemeral lovers, whom she had barely mentioned but who must +none the less have left some trace in her memory. The last item in a +long inventory! The most recent arrival, coming several years late, and +content to nibble at the soggy over-ripe fruit which they had known when +it was fresh and firm. Her kisses that so deeply disturbed him! What +were they but the intoxicating, unhealthful perfume of a whole career of +corruptness and licentiousness, the concentrated essence of a world +madly dashing at her seductive beauty, as a bird of night breaks its +head against the globe of a lighthouse? Give up everything for that! The +two of them traveling about the world, free, and proud of their +passion!... And out in that world he would encounter many of his +predecessors; and they would look at him with curious, ironic eyes, +knowing of her all that he would know, able to repeat all the panting +phrases she would speak to him in the exaggerations of her insatiable +passion! The strange thing about it was that all this had not occurred +to him sooner. Blind with happiness, he had never thought an instant of +his real place in that woman's life! + +How long had they been walking through the streets of Valencia?... His +legs were sagging under him! He was faint with weariness. He could +hardly see. The gables of the houses were still tipped with sunlight, +yet he seemed to be groping about in a deep night. + +"I'm thirsty, don Andrés. Let's go in somewhere." + +The old man headed him toward the Café de España, his favorite resort. +He selected the table in the center of the big square salon under the +four clocks supported by the angel of Fame. The walls were covered with +great mirrors that opened up fantastic perspectives in the dingy room +where the gilded ornaments were blackened by the smoke and a crepuscular +light filtered in through the lofty skylight as into a sombre crypt. + +Rafael drank, without realizing just what his glass contained--a poison, +it felt like, that froze his heart. Don Andrés sat looking at the +writing articles on the marble table: a letter-case of wrinkled +oil-cloth, and a grimy ink-well. He began to rap upon them with the +holder of the public pen--rusty and with the points bent--an instrument +of torture well fitted for a hand committed to despair! + +"We have just an hour to catch our train! Come, Rafael, be a man! +There's still time! Come, let's get out of this mess we're in!" + +And he held out the pen, though he had not said a word about writing to +anybody. + +"I can't, don Andrés. I'm a gentleman. I've given my word; and I will +not go back upon it, come what may!" + +The old man smiled ironically. + +"Very well, be as much of a gentleman as you please. She deserves it! +But when you break with her, when she leaves you, or you leave her, +don't come back to Alcira. Your mother won't be there to welcome you! I +shall be--I don't know where; and those who made you deputy will look +upon you as a thief who robbed and killed his mother.... Oh, get mad if +you want to--beat me up even; people at the other tables are already +looking at us.... Why not top the whole business off with a saloon +brawl? But just the same, everything I've been saying to you is gospel +truth!..." + +In the meantime Leonora was growing impatient in her hotel room. Three +hours had gone by. To relieve her nervousness she sat down behind the +green curtain at the window watching pedestrians crossing the square. + +How like a small piazza of old Florence this place was, with its stately +aristocratic residences, shrouded in imposing gloom; it's grass-grown, +cobblestone pavements hot from the sun; its sleepy solitude: an +occasional woman, or a priest, or a tourist,--and you could hear their +footsteps even when they were far away! Here was a curious corner of the +_Palacio de Dos Agnas_--panels of jasper stucco with a leaf design on +the mouldings! That talking came from the drivers gathered in the hotel +door--the innkeeper and the servants were setting the chairs out on the +sidewalk as if they were back at home--in a small Italian town! Behind +the roof opposite, the sunlight was gradually fading, growing paler and +softer every moment. + +She looked at her watch. Six o'clock! Where on earth could that Rafael +have gone? They were going to lose the train. In order to waste no time, +she ordered Beppa to have everything in readiness for departure. She +packed her toilet articles; then closed her trunks, casting an inquiring +glance over the room with the uneasiness of a hasty leave-taking. On an +armchair near the window she laid her traveling coat, then her hand-bag, +and her hat and veil. They would have to run the moment Rafael came in. +He would probably be very tired and nervous from returning so late. + +But Rafael did not come!... She felt an impulse to go out and look for +him; but where? She had not been in Valencia since she was a child. She +had forgotten the streets. Then she might actually pass Rafael on the +way without knowing it, and wander aimlessly about while he would be +waiting for her at the hotel. No. It would be better to stay there! + +It was now dusk and the hotel-room was virtually dark. She went to the +window again, trembling with impatience, filled with all the gloom of +the violet light that was falling from the sky with a few red streaks +from the sunset. They would surely lose the train now! They would have +to wait until the next day. That was a disappointment! They might have +trouble in getting away! + +She whirled nervously about as she heard someone calling from the +corridor. + +"Madame, madame, a letter for you!" + +A letter for her!... She snatched it feverishly from the bell-boy's +hand, while Beppa, seated on a trunk, looked on vacantly, without +expression. + +She began to tremble violently. The thought of Hans Keller, the +ungrateful artist, suddenly rose in her memory. She looked for a candle +on the chiffonier. There was none. Finally she went to the balcony and +tried to read the letter in the little light there was. + +It was his handwriting on the envelope--but tortuous, labored, as if it +were the product of a painful effort. She felt all her blood rush back +upon her heart. Madly she tore the letter open, and read with the haste +of a person anxious to drain the cup of bitterness at a single draught, +skipping a line here and a line there, taking in only the significant +words. + +"My mother very ill.... I must go home for a day or two ... my duty as a +son ... we'll soon meet again." And then all the cowardly, conventional +excuses that chivalry has created to soften the harshness of +desertion--the promise to join her again as soon as possible; passionate +protestations that she was the only woman in the world he loved. + +Her first thought was to go back to Alcira at once, walk there if +necessary, find the scamp somewhere, throw the letter into his face, +beat him, claw him to pieces! + +"Ah, the wretch! The infamous, cowardly, unspeakable wretch!" she cried. + +Beppa had found a candle. She lighted it. And there her mistress +was--staggering, deathly pale, her eyes wide open, her lips white with +anguish! Leonora began to walk up and down the apartment, taut and +strained, as if her feet were not moving at all, as if she were being +thrust about by an invisible hand. + +"Beppa," she groaned finally, "he has gone. He is deserting me." + +The maid did not care about the desertion particularly. She had been +through that before. She was thinking about Leonora, waiting for the +impending crisis, studying the anguished countenance of her mistress +with her own placid, bovine eyes. + +"The wretch!" Leonora hissed, pacing back and forth in the chamber. +"What a fool, what a complete, unconscionable fool I have been! Giving +myself to that man, believing in that man, trusting that man, giving up +my peace of mind, the last relative I had in the world for that man!... +And why would he not let me go off alone? He made me dream of an eternal +springtime of love, and now he deserts me.... He has tricked me ... he +is laughing at me ... and I can not hate him. Why did he insist on +rousing me when I was there alone, quite peaceful, forgetting +everything, sunk in a placid indulgent calm!... The cool fraud that he +was!... But what do I care, after all?... It's all over. Come Beppa, +cheer up! Hah-hah! Come, Beppa! We're off! We're off! We're going to +sing again! Off over the whole globe. Good-bye to this rat-hole forever! +I'm through educating children! Now for life again! And we'll drain them +dry, the brutes! Kick them about like the selfish donkeys they are! +Well, well! I can't believe I've been taken in this way! Isn't it a +joke? The best joke you ever heard! Ha, ha, ha! And I thought I knew the +world ...! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!..." + +And her laugh was audible distinctly down in the square. It was a wild, +shrill, metallic laughter, that seemed to be rending her flesh! The +whole hotel was in commotion, while the actress, with foaming lips, fell +to the floor and began to writhe in fury, overturning the furniture and +bruising her body on the iron trimmings of her trunks. + + + + +PART THREE + + +I + +"Don Rafael, the gentlemen of the Committee on the Budget are waiting +for you in the second section." + +"I'll be there directly." + +And the deputy bent low over his desk in the writing-room of the +Congress, went on with his last letter, adding one more envelope to the +heap of correspondence piled up at the end of the table, near his cane +and his silk hat. + +This was his daily grind, the boresome drudgery of every afternoon; and +around him, with similar expressions of disgust on their faces, a large +number of the country's representatives were busy at the same task. +Rafael was answering petitions and queries, stifling the complaints and +acknowledging the wild suggestions that came in from the District--the +endless clamor of the voters at home, who never met the slightest +annoyance in their various paths of life without at once running to +their deputy, the way a pious worshipper appeals to the miracle-working +saint. + +He gathered up his letters, gave them to an usher to mail, and +sauntering off with a counterfeit sprightliness that was more +counterfeit as he grew fatter and fatter with the years, walked through +to the central corridor, a prolongation of the lobby in front of the +_Salón de Conferencias_. + +The Honorable señor don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, felt as much +at ease as if he were in his own house when he entered that corridor,--a +dark hole, thick with tobacco smoke, and peopled with black suits +standing around in groups or laboriously elbowing their way through the +crowds. + +He had been there eight years; though he had almost lost count of the +times he had been "duly elected" in the capricious ups and downs of +Spanish politics, which give to Parliaments only a fleeting existence. +The ushers, the personnel of the Secretariat, the guards and janitors, +treated him with deferential intimacy, as a comrade on a somewhat higher +level, but as much of a fixture as they were to the Spanish Congress. He +was not one of those men who are miraculously washed into office on the +crest of a reform wave, but never succeed in repeating the trick, and +spend the rest of their lives idling on the sofas of the Conference +Chamber, with wistful memories of lost greatness, waiting to enter +Congress afternoons, to preserve their standing as ex-deputies, and +forever hoping that their party will some day return to power, so that +once again they may sit on the red benches. No, don Rafael Brull was a +gentleman with a District all his own: he came with a clean, undisputed +and indisputable certificate of election, whether his own party or the +Opposition were in the saddle. For lack of other discoverable merit in +him, his fellow-partisans would say: "Brull is one of the few who come +here on honest returns." His name did not figure brilliantly in the +Congressional record, but there was not an employee, not a journalist, +not a member of the "ex-honorables" who, on noticing the word "Brull" on +all the committees, did not at once exclaim: "Ah, yes! Brull ... of +Alcira." + +Eight years of "service to the country." Eight years of lodging-house +life, while yonder lay a sumptuous home adorned with a luxuriousness +that had cost his mother and his father-in-law half a fortune! Long +seasons of separation from his wife and his children--and without +amusements, to avoid spending money lest the folks at home suspect him +of dereliction in public--and private--duty! What a dog's life his eight +years as deputy had been! Indigestion from the countless gallons of +sugared water drunk at the Congressional bar; callouses on his feet from +endless promenades along the central corridor, absentmindedly knocking +the varnish off the tiles of the wainscoating with the tip of his cane; +an incalculable quantity of _pesetas_ spent on carriages, through fault +of his supporters, who sent him trotting every morning from one Ministry +to the next, asking for the earth, and getting a grain of sand! + +He had not as yet gotten anywhere in particular; but according to +Chamber gossip he was a "serious" well-balanced young man, of few words, +but good ones, and sure some day to be rewarded with a Portfolio. +Content with the rôle of safety and sanity that had been assigned to +him, he laughed very seldom, and dressed soberly, with not a dissonant +color to brighten his black attire. He would listen patiently to things +that did not concern him in the least, rather than venture a personal +opinion with the chance of going wrong--satisfied with premature +wrinkles, premature corpulency, and premature baldness, since nothing +could be more respectable than a thoughtful face, a conspicuous paunch, +and a pate that could shine with venerable brilliancy under the lamps of +the Chamber. At thirty-four, he looked more like forty-five. When he +spoke he would remove his spectacles with a gesture he had carefully +imitated from the deceased leader of "the Party." He would never take +the floor without prefacing his remarks with: "My understanding is ...," +or "I have my own humble opinion on this matter...." And this was what +don Rafael Brull had learned in eight years of parliamentary assiduity! + +The new Conservative leader, seeing that he could always depend on +Brull's vote and that Alcira elections cost "the Party" nothing, had a +certain consideration for Rafael. He was a soldier always on hand for +roll-call, whenever a new Parliament was formed. He would present +himself with his certificate of election, whether his party, with all +the insolence of victory, occupied the benches on the Right, or hungry +and defiant, and reduced in numbers, was huddled on the Left, determined +to find fault with everything the reigning Ministry did. Two sessions as +part of the minority had won him a certain intimacy with the leader in +that frank comradeship that Oppositions always have, since, from leader +down to the most silent member, all the deputies "out of power" are on a +level. Besides, in those two seasons of misfortune, to aid in the +destructive tactics of his faction, he put little interpellations to the +government, at the openings of the sessions when the crowds were small; +and more than once he heard from the pale smiling lips of the chief: +"Very good, Brull; that was to the point." And such congratulations +were duly echoed in his home city, where rustic imagination did the +rest. + +In addition, a few parliamentary honors had come his way; the "Grand +Cross" had been given him, as it is given to most deputies of a certain +length of service--from membership, eventually, on committees charged +with representing the legislative branch of the government at formal +public functions. If an "Answer to the Message" was to be taken "to the +Palace," he was one of those chosen for the purpose; and he trembled +with emotion to think of what his mother, his wife, all the people down +yonder at home would say if they could see him riding there in the +sumptuous carriage of state, preceded by bright-liveried horsemen and +saluted by trumpets blaring the royal march! He was also usually among +the delegates who came out on the staircase of the Congress to welcome +Their Majesties on the opening of a parliament. Finally, for one +session, he was on "the Committee for the Interior," an appointment that +raised his prestige a thousand percent among the ushers. + +"That fellow Brull," they would say in the Chamber, "will be somebody +the day his party returns to power." + +Well, now "the Party" was in power again. During one of those ordered, +calculated "changes of direction" to which Spain lives subject, because +of its parliamentary system of party weights and party balances, the +Conservatives captured the premiership; and Rafael went on the budget +committee. There he would do something more than make interpellations +when he opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had to win his spurs, +justify his filling one of those posts which, according to report, his +chief was holding for him. + +The green deputies, the younger set constituting the new majority, elect +and triumphant through grace of the Ministry of the Interior, respected +him and deferred to what he said, much as students listen to a tutor who +they know receives his orders from the master directly--the +subordination of freshmen, as it were, to the sophomore who knows the +rules. + +Whenever a vote was being taken and the Opposition was excited over the +chance of putting the government in the minority, the Premier would look +about anxiously over the hall for Brull. + +"See here, Brull, better bring your people in; we're going to have a +close call." + +And Brull, proud at being noticed thus, would dash out like a streak of +lightning while the bells were ringing and the ushers were running about +summoning the deputies to vote. He would make the rounds of the desks in +the writing rooms, elbow his way into groups in the corridors; and +filling with self-importance because of the authority conferred upon +him, he would rudely shoo the ministerial flock off toward the Chamber, +grumbling fogeywise and assuring them that "in his time," when he was +serving his first term, there was "far better discipline." When the vote +was all in and the victory won, he would sigh with satisfaction. He had +saved the government! And perhaps the nation! + +At times a residue of the sincerity and frankness of his character as a +boy would rise to the surface in him. Then cruel doubts would assail his +faith in himself. Weren't they all playing a stupid comedy there +without the slightest wit or sense in it? Really was what they said and +did there of the slightest importance to the country--to anybody? + +Standing in the corridor, he would feel the nervous flutter of the +journalists about him--those poor, intelligent, attractive, young +fellows, who found it so hard to make a living. From the press-gallery +they would sit and look down on the legislators the way birds in the +treetops must look down on the wretchedness of the streets below, +laughing at the nonsense those solemn baldpates were talking! Could a +farce on the stage be more amusing? + +To Rafael those "intellectuals" seemed to bring a breeze from out of +doors into the close, sordid, vitiated air of the Chamber. They stood +for the thought of the world outside--the idea fatherless, unsponsored, +the aspiration of the great masses--a breath of fresh air in the +sick-room of a chronic invalid forever dying, forever unburiable. + +Their judgment always differed from that of the country's +representatives. His Excellency señor don What's-his-Name was in their +eyes, a mud-eel, and in their lingo a _congrio_; the illustrious orator +What-do-you-call-him, who took up a sixteen-page sheet in the +Congressional Record every time he spoke, was a _percebe_, a "barnacle +on the keel of Progress"; every act of parliament struck them as a bit +of balderdash, though, to hold their jobs, they praised it to the skies +in their articles. And why was it that the country, in some mysterious +way, would always think eventually what those boys thought, so long, and +only so long, as they remained boys? Would they have to come down from +their scats in the press-gallery to the red benches on the floor before +the real will of the country would make itself felt? + +Rafael Brull finally realized that national opinion was present on the +floor, among his fellow members, also, but like a mummy in a +sarcophagus: bound hand and foot in rhetoric and conventional utterance, +spiced, embalmed with proprieties that made any outburst of sincerity, +any explosion of real feeling, evidence of "bad taste!" + +In reality everything was going well with the Ship of State. The nation +had passed from action to talk, and from talk to passivity, and from +passivity to resignation. The era of revolutions was gone forever. The +infallible system of government had proved to be this mechanism of +pre-arranged "crises" and amicable exchanges of patronage between +Liberals and Conservatives, each member of the party in power and each +member of the party out of power knowing just what he was to say and +just what he was to get. + +So, in that palace of over-ornate architecture, as pretentious and as +showy as the mansion of a millionaire _parvenu_, Rafael was condemned to +spend his lifetime, foregoing the blue sky and the flowering fields and +orchards of Alcira that a family ambition might be realized. + +Nothing noteworthy had occurred during those eight years. His life had +been a muddy, monotonous stream, with neither brilliancy nor beauty in +its waters, lazily meandering along, like the Júcar in winter. As he +looked back over his career as a "personage," he could have summed it up +in three words: he had married. + +Remedios was his wife. Don Matias was his father-in-law. He was +wealthy. He had control over a vast fortune, for he exercised despotic +rule over his wife's peasant father, the most fervent of his admirers. +His mother seemed to have put the last of her strength into the +arrangement of that "marriage of convenience." She had fallen into a +senile decrepitude that bordered on dotage. Her sole evidence of being +alive was her habit of staying in church until the doors were closed and +she could stay no longer. At home she did nothing but recite the rosary, +mumbling away in some corner of the house, and taking no part in the +noisy play of her grandchildren. Don Andrés had died, leaving Rafael +sole "boss" of "the Party." He had had three children. They had had +their teeth, their measles, their whooping-cough. These episodes, with a +few escapades of that brother of Remedios, who feared Rafael's paunch +and bald head more than the wrath of don Matias, were the only +distractions in a thoroughly dull existence. + +Every year he bought a new piece of land. He felt a thrill of pride when +from the top of San Salvador--that Hermitage, alas, of such desperate +and unfading memory!--he looked down upon the vast patches of land with +orange-trees in straight rows and fenced in by green walls, that all, +all, belonged to him. The joy of ownership, the intoxication of property +had gone to his head. + +As he entered the old mansion, entirely made over now, he felt the same +sense of well-being and power. The old chest in which his mother used to +keep her money stood where it had always stood; but it was no longer +devoted to savings hoarded slowly at the cost of untold sacrifice and +privation to raise mortgages and temporize with creditors. Never again +had he tip-toed up in the dark to rifle it. Now it was his own. And at +harvest time it became literally crammed with the huge rolls of +banknotes his father-in-law paid over in exchange for the oranges of the +Brull orchards. And Rafael had a covetous eye on what don Matías had in +the banks; for all that, too, would come to him when the old man died. +Acquisitiveness--money and land--had become his one, his ruling passion. +Monotony, meanwhile, had turned him into an accurate, methodical, +meticulous machine; so that every night he would make out a schedule, +hour for hour, of all that he would do on the following day. At the +bottom of this passion for riches conjugal contagion probably lay. Eight +years of unbroken familiarity had finally inoculated him with most of +the obsessions and most of the predilections of his wife. + +The shrinking, timorous little she-goat that used to gambol about with +him in pursuit, the poor child who had been so wistful and downcast +during the days of his wantonness, had now become a woman with all the +imperious obstinacy, all the domineering superiority of the female of +the species as it has evolved in the countries of the South. Cleanliness +and frugality in Remedios took the form of unendurable tyranny. She +scolded her husband if he brought the slightest speck of dust into the +house on his shoes. She would turn the place upside down, flay all the +servants alive, if ever a few drops of oil were spilled from a jar, or a +crumb of bread were wasted on the table. + +"A jewel for the home! And didn't I tell you so?" her father would +whisper, satisfied with his daughter's obtrusive qualities. + +Rafael, for his part, found them intolerable. He had tried to love his +bride in the early months of their marriage. He made an honest effort to +forget, and recall the playful, passionate impulses he had felt on those +days when he had chased her around the orchards. But after a first fever +of passion had passed, she had proved to be a cold, calculating +child-bearer, hostile to expansiveness of love out of religious +scruples, viewing it her duty to bring new offsprings into the world to +perpetuate the House of Brull and to fill "grandaddy" don Matías with +pride at sight of a nursery full of future "personages" destined to the +heights of political greatness in the District and in the nation. + +Rafael had one of those gentle, temperate, honest, households that, on +the afternoon of their walk through Valencia, don Andrés had pointed out +to him as a radiant hope, if only he would turn his back on his mad +adventure. He had a wife; and he had children; and he was rich. His +father-in-law ordered shotguns for him from his correspondents in +England. Every year a new horse was added to the stable, and don Matias +would see to purchasing the best that could be found in the fairs of +Andalusia. He hunted, took long horseback rides over the roads of the +district, dispensed justice in the _patio_ of the house, just as his +father don Ramón had done. His three little ones, finding him somewhat +strange after his long absences in Madrid and more at home with their +grand-parents than with him, would group themselves with bowed, bashful +heads around his knees, silently waiting for his paternal kiss. +Everything attainable around him was within his reach for the asking; +and yet--he was not happy. + +From time to time the adventure of his youth would come back to his +mind. The eight years that had passed seemed to have put a century +between him and those ancient days. Leonora's face had slowly, slowly, +faded in his memory, till all he could remember were her two green eyes, +and her blond hair that crowned her with a crown of gold. Her aunt, the +devout, ingenuous doña Pepa, had died some time since--leaving her +property for the salvation of her soul. The orchard and the Blue House +belonged now to Rafael's father-in-law, who had transferred to his own +home the best of its equipment--all the furniture and decorations that +Leonora had bought during her period of exile, while Rafael had been in +Madrid and she had thought of living the rest of her life in Alcira. + +Rafael carefully avoided revisiting the Blue House, out of regard for +his wife's possible susceptibilities. As it was, the woman's silence +sometimes weighed heavily upon him, a strange circumspection, which +never permitted the slightest allusion to the past. In the coldness and +the uncompromising scorn with which she abominated any poetic madness in +love, an important part was doubtless played by the suppressed memory of +her husband's adventure with the actress, which everybody had tried to +conceal from her and which had deeply disturbed the preparations for her +wedding. + +When the deputy was alone in Madrid, as much at liberty as before his +marriage, he could think of Leonora freely, without those restraints +which seemed to disturb him back at home in the bosom of his family. +What could have become of her? To what limits of mad frolic had she gone +after that parting which even after years had passed, still brought a +blush of shame to Rafael's cheeks? The Spanish papers paid very little +attention to matters of foreign art. Only twice in their columns did he +discover Leonora's stage name with an account of her new triumphs. She +had sung in Paris in French, with as much success as a native _artiste_. +The purity of her accent had surprised everyone. In Rome she had played +the "lead" in an opera by a young Italian composer, and her coming had +been announced by press agents as a great event. The opera had failed to +please; not so the singer. Her audience had been moved to tears by her +execution of a scene in the last act, where she wept for a lost love. + +After that--silence, no news whatever! She had disappeared. A new love +affair, Rafael supposed, a new outburst of that vehement passion which +made her follow her chosen man like a slave. And Rafael felt a flash of +jealousy at the thought, as if he had rights over the woman still, as if +he had forgotten the cruelty with which he had bidden her farewell. + +That, fundamentally, had been the cause of all the bitterness and +remorse in his life. He understood now that Leonora had been his one +genuine passion: the love that comes to people once in a lifetime. It +had been within reach of his hand, and he had failed to grasp it, had +frightened it away forever with a cowardly act of villany, a cruel +farewell, the shame of which would go to the grave with him. Garlanded +in the orange-blossoms of the orchard, Love had passed before him, +singing the Hymn of wild Youth that knows neither scruples nor ambition. +Love, true love had invited him to follow--and he had answered with a +stab--in the back! That love would never return, as he well knew. That +mysterious being with its smiles and with its frolics, goes forever when +once it goes. It knows no bartering with destiny. It demands blind +obedience and bids the lover take the woman who offers her hand, +orchard-maid or prima donna as she may be. The man who hesitates is +lost. + +And Rafael felt that an endless night had closed around him! He found +all his efforts to escape from his dullness and depression vain. He +could not shake off the senility that was creeping over his spirit. +Sadly he bowed to the conviction that another love like the first was +impossible. + +For two months he had been the lover of Cora, a popular girl of the +private rooms of the Fornos, a tall, thin, strong Galician beauty--as +strong, alas, as the other. Cora had spent a few months in Paris, and +had returned thence with her hair bleached and a distinctly French +manner of lifting her skirt as if she were strolling along the +_trottoir_ of the _boulevards_. She had a sweet way of mixing French +words in her conversation, calling everybody _mon cher_ and pretending +expertness in the organization of a supper. At all events she shone like +a great _cocotte_ among her competitors, though her real asset was a +line of _risqué_ stories, and a certain gift for low songs. + +Rafael soon wearied of this affair. He did not like her manufactured +beauty, nor her tiresome chatter that always turned on fashions. She was +always wanting money for herself and for her friends. Rafael, as a +wealthy miser, grew alarmed. Remorsefully he thought of his children's +future, as if he were ruining them; and of what his economical Remedios +would say of his considerably augmented expenditures. Well he knew that +Remedios haggled for everything down to the last _céntimo_, and that her +one extravagance was an occasional new shawl for the local Virgin, and +an annual _fiesta_ for the Saint with a large orchestra and hundreds of +candles! He broke off relations with the Galician _boulevardière_, and +found the rupture a sweet relief. It seemed to remove a sully from the +memory of his youthful passion. Moreover, his Party had just returned to +power and it was important to have no blemish on his standing as a +"serious" person! He resumed his seat on the Right, and near the Blue +Bench this time, as one of the senior deputies. The moment for work had +come! Now, it was time to see whether he could not make a position for +himself with one good boost! + +They named him to the Committee on the Budget, and he took it upon +himself to refute certain strictures presented by the Opposition to the +Government program on Pardon and Justice. One friend he could count on +was the minister: a respectable, solemn marquis who had once been an +Absolutist, and who, wearied of platonisms, as he put it, had finally +"recognized" the liberal regime, without amending his former ideas, +however. + +Rafael was as nervous as a schoolboy on the eve of his first +examinations. At the library he studied everything that had been said on +the subject by countless deputies in a century of Parliamentary +government. His friends in the Conference Chamber--the legislative +bohemia of "ex-honorables" and unsuccessful aspirants, who were loyal to +him in gratitude for passes to the floor--were encouraging him and +prophesying victory. They no longer approached him to begin: "When I was +auditor ..." to indulge in a veritable intoxication on the fumes of +their past glory; no longer did they ask him what don Francisco thought +of this, that, or the other thing, to draw their own wild inferences +from his replies and start rumors going based on "inside information." +Now, quite frankly, they "advised" him, giving him hints in accordance +with what they had said or meant to say during that discussion of the +budget back in González Brabo's time, to end by murmuring, with a smile +that gave him the shudders: "Well, anyhow, we'll see! Good luck to you!" + +And that flock of disgruntled spirits who sat around waiting for an +election that would never come and ran like old war-horses at the scent +of gun-powder to group themselves, as soon as a row started and the bell +began to ring for order, in two factions on either side of the +president's chair, could never have imagined that the young deputy, on +many a night, broke off his study with a temptation to throw the thick +tomes of records against the wall, yielding finally, with thrills of +intense voluptuousness, to the thought of what might have become of him +had he gone out into life on his own in the trail of a pair of green +eyes whose golden lights he thought he could still see glittering in +front of him between the lines of clumsy parliamentary prose, tempting +him as they had tempted him of yore! + + + + +II + + +"Order of the day. Resumption of debate on ecclesiastical +appropriations!" + +The Chamber suddenly came to life with a wild movement of dispersion, +something comparable to the stampede of a herd or the panic of an army. +The deputies of quickest motory reactions were on their feet in an +instant, followed by dozens and dozens of others, all making for the +doors. Whole blocks of seats were emptied. + +The Chamber had been packed from the opening of the Session. It was a +day of intense excitement: a debate between the leader of the Right and +a former comrade who was now in the Opposition. The jealousy between the +two old cronies was resulting in a small-sized scandal. Mutual secrets +of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light--many of +the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the +premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to +enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either +hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two +hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And +the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm. +Run--do not walk--to the nearest exit! + +However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor +served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped +by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their +benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where, +a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a +gently ironical smile, was coming into view. + +The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person, +that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies +had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink +at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale +countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age. +To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with +which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty. + +The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the +Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared +through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the +press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for +silence in order not to lose a word. + +This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the +Revolution"--not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but +the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all +present systems of government and society. His theories irritated +everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering +ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired +by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious +feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the +silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the +vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the +revelation of a perfect society of the future, where there would be no +oppression and no misery, the dream he had so often dreamed in the +solitude of his study. + +Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart +from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters +do their _matador_. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at +his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to +the venerable orator. + +He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence. What a strong, +sturdy spirit, as hard and cold and clear as ice! That veteran had +doubtless had his passions like other men. At moments, through his calm +impassive exterior, a romantic vehemence would seem to burn, a poetic +ardor, that politics had smothered, but which smouldered on as volcanic +fires lie dormant rumbling from time to time under the mantle of snow on +a mountain peak. But he had known how to adjust his life to duty; and +without belief in God, with the support of philosophy only, his virtue +had been strong enough to disarm his most violent enemies. + +And a weakling, a dawdler like himself, must reply to a hero like +that!... Rafael began to be afraid; and to recover his spirits he swept +the hall with his eyes. What the regular hangers-on of the sessions +would have called a medium-sized house! A few deputies scattered about +the benches! But the public galleries were filled with spectators, +workingmen mostly, absolutely quiet, and all ears, as if they were +drinking in every word of the old republican! In the reserved seats, +just previously packed with curiosity-seekers interested in the set-to +scheduled for the opening of the session, only a few foreign tourists +were left. They were taking in everything--even the fantastic uniforms +of the mace-bearers; and they were determined not to leave until they +were put out. A few women of the so-called "parliament set," who came +every afternoon when there was a squabble on the program, were munching +caramels and staring in wonderment at the old man. There he was, the +arch enemy of law and order! The man whose name it was bad form to +mention at their afternoon teas! Who would have supposed he had such a +kindly, harmless face? How easily, with what naturalness and grace, he +wore his frock coat! Incredible!... In the diplomatic gallery a solitary +lady! She was extravagantly attired in a huge picture hat with black +plumes. Almost hidden behind her was a fair haired youth, his hair +parted in the middle, his dress the height of correctness and foppery. +Some rich tourist-woman probably! She was directly opposite Rafael's +bench. He could see that her gloved hand rested on the railing, as she +moved her fan to and fro with an almost discourteous noise. The rest of +her body was lost in the darkness of the gallery. She bent back from +time to time to whisper and laugh with her escort. + +Somewhat reassured by the empty appearance of the house, Rafael scarcely +paid any further attention to the orator. He had guessed all that the +man would say, and he was satisfied. The outline of the long answer he +had prepared would not in the least be affected. + +The old man was inflexible and unchangeable. For thirty years he had +been saying the same thing over and over again. Rafael had read that +speech any number of times. The man had made a close study of national +evils and abuses, and had formulated a complete and pitiless criticism +of them in which the absurdities stood out by force of contrast. With +the conviction that truth is forever the same and that there is nothing +ever so novel as the truth, he had kept repeating his criticism year +after year in a pure, concise, sonorous style that seemed to scatter the +ripe perfume of the classics about the muggy Chamber. + +He spoke in the name of the future Spain, of a Spain that would have no +kings, because it would be governed by itself; that would pay no +priests, because, respecting freedom of conscience, it would recognize +all cults and give privileges to none. And with a simple, unaffected +urbanity, as if he were constructing rhyming verses, he would pair +statistics off, underscoring the absurd manner in which the nation was +taking leave of a century of revolution during which all peoples had +done things while Spain was lying stagnant. + +More money, he pointed out, was spent on the maintenance of the Royal +House than upon public education. Conclusion: the support of a single +family in idleness was worth more than the awakening of an entire people +to modern life! In Madrid, in the very capital, within sight of every +one of his hearers, the schools remained in filthy hovels, while +churches and convents rose overnight on the principal streets like +magic palaces. During twenty-odd years of Restoration, more than fifty +completely new, religious edifices, girding the capital with a belt of +glittering structures, had been built. On the other hand, only a single +modern school, at all comparable to the ordinary public schools of any +town in England or Switzerland! The young men of the nation were feeble, +unenthusiastic, selfish and--pious--in contrast with fathers, who had +adored the generous ideals of liberty and democracy and had stood for +action, revolt! The son was an old man at majority, his breast laden +with medals, with no other intellectual stimulus than the debates of his +religious fraternity, trusting his future and his thinking to the Jesuit +introduced into the family by the mother, while the father smiled +bitterly, realizing that he was a back-number, belonging to a different +world, to a dying generation--though to a generation which had +galvanized the nation for a moment with the spirit of revolutionary +protest! + +Here was the Church collecting pay for its services from the faithful, +and then over again from the State! Here was the Ministry of the +Interior appealing for a reduction in taxes--a program of strict +economy--while new bishoprics were being created and ecclesiastical +appropriations swelled for the benefit of the upper clergy; and with no +advantage at all, meanwhile, to the proletariat of the soutane, to the +poor curates who, to make a bare living, had to practice the most +impious worldliness and unscrupulously exploit the house of God! And +while this was going on public works could wait, towns could go without +roads, Districts without railroads, though the wildest savages of Asia +and Africa had both! Fields could continue to perish of drought while +nearby rivers continued to pour their unutilized waters into the sea! + +A thrill of conviction rippled through the Chamber. The silence was +absolute. Everybody was holding his breath so as not to lose a syllable +from that faint voice, which sounded like a cry from a distant tomb. It +was as though Truth in person were passing through those murky +precincts; and when the orator ended with an invocation to the future, +in which social absurdities and injustice should no longer exist, the +silence became deeper still, as if a glacial blast of death were blowing +upon those brains that had thought themselves deliberating in the best +of all possible worlds. + +It was now time for the reply. Rafael arose, pale, pulling at his cuffs, +waiting a few minutes for the excitement in the Chamber to subside. The +audience had relaxed and was whispering and stirring about, after the +sustained attention compelled by the concise style and the barely +audible voice of the old man. + +If Rafael was depending on the sympathy of an audience to encourage him, +things looked promising indeed! The hall began to empty. Why not? Who is +interested in a committee's reply to the Opposition? Besides, Brull had +a bundle of documents on hand. A long-winded affair! Let's escape! +Deputies filed by in line across the semi-circle in front of him; while +above, in the galleries, the desertion was general. The caramel-chewers, +noting that the display of celebrities was over for the day, rose from +their places. Their coaches were ready outside for a ride through the +Castellana. That strange woman in the diplomatic gallery had also risen +to go. But no: she was giving her hand to her companion, bidding him +good-bye. Now she had resumed her seat, continuing the busy movement of +her fan that annoyed Rafael so. Thanks for the compliment, my fair one I +Though as far as he was concerned, the whole audience might have gone, +leaving only the president and the mace-bearers. Then he could speak +without any fear at all! The public galleries, especially, unnerved him. +Nobody had moved there. Those workingmen were without doubt waiting for +the rebuttal of his answer from their venerable spokesman. Rafael felt +that the swarthy heads above all those dirty blouses and shirt-fronts +without collars or neckties were eyeing him with stony coldness. "Now +we'll see what this ninny has got to say!" + +Rafael began with a eulogy on the immaculate character, the political +importance and the profound learning of that venerable septuagenarian +who still had strength to battle consistently and nobly for the lost +cause of his youth. An exordium of this nature was the regular +procedure. That was how "the Chief" did things. And as he spoke, +Rafael's eyes turned anxiously upon the clock. He wanted to be long, +very long. If he did not talk for an hour and a half or two hours he +would feel disgraced. Two hours was the least to be expected from a man +of his promise. He had seen party chiefs and faction leaders go it for a +whole afternoon, from four to eight, hoarse and puffing, sweating like +diggers in a sewer, with their collars wilted to rags, watching the +great hall-clock with the intentness of a man waiting to be hanged. +"Still an hour left before closing time!" a speaker's friends would say. +And the great orator, like a wearied horse, but a thoroughbred, would +find new energy somewhere and start on another lap, round and round, +repeating what he had already said a dozen times, summarizing the two +ideas he had managed to produce in four hours of sonorous chatter. With +duration as the test of quality, no one on the government had yet +succeeded in equaling a certain redheaded deputy of the Opposition who +was forever heckling the Premier, and could talk, if need be, three days +in succession for four hours a day. + +Rafael had heard people praise the conciseness and the clarity of +new-fangled oratory in the parliaments of Europe. The speeches of party +leaders in Paris or in London took up never more than half a column in a +newspaper. Even the old man he was answering had adopted, to be original +in everything, that selfsame conciseness: every sentence of his +contained two or three ideas. But the member from Alcira would not be +led astray by such niggardly parsimony. He believed that ponderousness +and extension were qualities indispensable to eloquence. He must fill a +whole issue of the Congressional Record, to impress his friends back +home in the District. So he talked and talked on, trying deliberately to +avoid ideas. Those he had he would keep in reserve as long as possible, +certain that the longer he held them prisoner the longer and more solemn +would his oration be. + +He had gained a quarter of an hour without making any reply to the +previous speech whatever, and literally burying his illustrious +antagonist in flowers. _Su señoria_ was noteworthy firstly, because, +secondly, because, fourteenthly, because ... Nay more, he had +accomplished this, performed that, endeavored the other +thing--"But"--and with this _but_, alas, Rafael must begin to loosen up +on a little of what he had prepared in advance. _Su señoria_ was an +"ideologue" of immense talent, but ever removed from reality; he would +govern peoples in accordance with theories dug out of books, without +paying any attention to practical considerations, to the individual and +indestructible character possessed by every nation!... + +And it was worth sitting an afternoon even in that Chamber to hear the +slighting tone of scorn with which the member from Alcira emphasized +that word _ideologue_ and that phrase about "theories dug out of books" +and "living removed from reality!" + +"Good, fine. That's the way to give it to him," his comrades encouraged, +nodding their sleek bald-pates in indignation against anybody who tried +to live apart from reality. Those _ideologues_ needed somebody to tell +them what was what! + +And the minister, Rafael's friend, the only auditor left on the Blue +Bench, pressing his huge paunch against the desk, turned his head--an +owlish, hairy head with a sharp beak--to smile indulgently on the young +man. + +The orator continued, his confidence increasing as he went on, fortified +by these signs of approval. He spoke of the patient, deliberate study +the committee had made of this matter of the ecclesiastical bud-gets. He +was the most modest, the least among them, but there were his +comrades--they were there, in truth, solemn gentlemen in English +frock-coats, with their hair parted in the middle, from their foreheads +to the napes of their necks--studious young men--who had flattered him +with the honor of speaking for them--and if they had not been more +economical, it was because greater economy had been impossible. + +And the heads of the committee-men nodded as they murmured gratefully: + +"Say, this fellow Brull can make quite a speech!" + +The government was ready to exercise any economy that should prove +prudent and feasible, without prejudice to the dignity of the nation; +but Spain was an eminently religious country, favored by God in all her +crises; and no government loyal to the national genius could ever touch +a _céntimo_ of the ecclesiastical appropriation. Never! Never!... + +On the word _never_ his voice resounded with the melancholy echo that +rings in empty houses. Rafael looked in anguish at the clock. Half an +hour. Half an hour gained, and still he had not really damaged his +outline. His talk was going so well that he was sorry the Chamber was +far from crowded!... Before him, in the shadows of the diplomatic +gallery, that fan kept fluttering. Pesky woman! Why couldn't she keep +quiet and not spoil his speech! + +The president, so restless and vigilant, so ever-ready with watch and +bell in hand when any of the Opposition had the floor, was now sitting +back in his chair with his eyes shut, dozing away with the confidence of +a stage director who is sure the show will go off without a hitch. The +panes of the glass dome were glowing under the rays of the sun, but they +allowed only a diffuse, green light, a discreet, soft, crypt-like +clarity to seep through into the Chamber that lay below in monastic +calm. Through the windows over the president's chair, Rafael glimpsed +patches of the blue sky, drenched in the gentle light of an afternoon of +Springtime. A white dove was hovering in the perspective of those blue +squares. + +Rafael felt a slackening of his powers of endurance, as if an +irresistible languor were stealing over him. The sweet smile of Nature +peering at him through the transoms of that gloomy, parliamentary tomb +had taken him back to his orange-orchards, and to his Valencian meadows +covered with flowers. He felt a curious impulse to finish his speech in +a few hasty words, grab his hat and flee, losing himself out among the +groves of the Royal Gardens. With that sun and those flowers outside, +what was he doing in that hole, talking of things that did not concern +him in the least?... But he successfully passed this fleeting crisis. He +ceased rummaging among the bundles of documents piled up on the bench, +stopped thumbing papers so as to hide his perturbation, and waving the +first sheet that came to his hand, he went on. + +The intention of the gentleman in opposing this appropriation was not +hidden from him. On this matter he had his own, his private and personal +ideas. "I understand that _su señoria_, in here proposing retrenchment, +is really seeking to combat religious institutions, of which he is a +declared enemy." + +And as he reached this point, Rafael dashed wildly into the fray. He was +treading firm and familiar ground. All this part of the speech he had +prepared, paragraph by paragraph: a defense of Catholicism, an apology +_pro fide_, so intimately bound up with the history of Spain. He could +now use impassioned outbursts and tremors of lyric enthusiasm, as if he +were preaching a new crusade. + +On the Opposition benches he caught the ironic glitter of a pair of +spectacles, the convulsions of a white chin quivering over two folded +arms, as if a kindly, indulgent smile had greeted his parade of so many +musty and faded commonplaces. But Rafael was not to be intimidated. He +had gotten away with an hour almost! Forward, to "Section Two" of the +outline, the part about the great national and Christian epic! And he +began to reel off visions of the cave of Covadonga; the fantastic tree +of the Reconquest "where the warrior hung up his sword, the poet his +harp," and so on and so on, for everybody hung up something there; seven +centuries of wars for the cross, a rather long time, believe me, +gentlemen, during which Saracen impiety was expelled from Spanish soil! +Then came the great triumphs of Catholic unity. Spain mistress of almost +the whole world, the sun never allowed to set on Spanish domains; the +caravels of Columbus bearing the cross to virgin lands; the light of +Christianity blazing forth from the folds of the national banner to shed +its illuminating rays throughout the earth. + +And as if this hymn to enlightening Christianity, chanted by an orator +who could now hardly see across the gloomy hall, had been a signal, the +electric lights went on; and the statues, the escutcheons, and the +harsh, blatant figures painted on the cupola, sprang forth from +obscurity. + +Rafael could hardly contain his joy at the facility with which his +speech was developing. That wave of light which was shed over the hall, +in the middle of the afternoon, while the sun was still shining, seemed +to him like the sudden entrance of Glory, approaching to give him the +accolade of renown. + +Caught up now in the real torrent of his premeditated verbosity, he +continued to relieve himself of all that he had learned by cramming +during the past few days. "In vain does _su señoria_ fatigue his wits. +Spain is and will remain a profoundly religious country. Her history is +the history of Catholicism: she has survived in all her times of storm +and stress by tightly embracing the Cross." And he could now come to the +national wars; from the battles in which popular piety saw Saint James, +on his white steed, lopping off the heads of the Moors with his golden +cutlass, to the uprising of the people against Napoleon, behind the +banner of the parish and with their scapularies on their bosoms. He did +not have a word to say about the present. He left the pitiless criticism +of the old revolutionist intact. Why not? The dream of an ideologue! He +was absorbed in his song of the past, affirming for the hundredth time +that Spain had been great because she had been Catholic and that when +for a moment she had ceased to be Catholic, all the evils of the world +had descended upon her. He spoke of the excesses of the Revolution, of +the turbulent Republic of '73, (a cruel nightmare to all right-thinking +persons) and of the "canton" of Cartagena (the supreme recourse of +ministerial oratory),--a veritable cannibal feast, a horror that had +never been known even in this land of _pronunciamientos_ and civil wars. +He tried his best to make his hearers feel the terror of those +revolutions, whose chief defect had been that they had revolutionized +nothing.... And then came a panegyric on the Christian family, on the +Catholic home, a nest of virtues and blessings, whereas in nations where +Catholicism did not reign all homes were repulsive brothels or horrible +bandit caves. + +"Fine, Brull, very good," grunted the minister, his elbows stretched +forward over his desk, delighted to hear his own ideas echoing from the +young man's mouth. + +The orator rested for a moment, with his glance sweeping the galleries +now bright with the electric lighting. The woman in the diplomatic +section had stopped fanning herself. She was following him closely. Her +eyes met his. + +Of a sudden Rafael nearly fell to his seat. Those eyes!... Perhaps an +astonishing resemblance! But no; it was she--she was smiling to him with +that same jesting, mocking smile of their earlier acquaintance! + +He felt like the bird writhing on the tree unable to free itself from +the hypnotic stare of the serpent coiled near the trunk. Those +sarcastic, mischievous eyes had upset all his train of thought. He tried +to finish in some way or other, to end his speech as soon as possible. +Every minute was an added torment to him; he imagined he could hear the +mute gibes that mouth must be uttering at his expense. + +Again he looked at the clock; in fifteen minutes more he would be +through. And he spurted on at a mad pace, with a hurried voice, +forgetting the devices he had thought of to prolong the peroration, +dumping them out all in a heap--anything to get through! "The +Concordate... sacred obligations toward the clergy ... their services +of old ... promises of close friendship with the Pope ... the generous +father of Spain ... in short, we cannot reduce the budget by a _céntimo_ +and the committee stands, by its proposals without accepting a single +amendment." + +As he sat down, perspiring, excited, wiping his congested face +energetically, his bench companions gathered around him congratulating +him, shaking his hands. He was every inch an orator! He should have gone +deeper into the matter and taken even more time! He shouldn't have been +so modest! + +And from the bench below came the grunt of the minister: + +"Very good, very good. You said exactly what I would have said." + +The old revolutionist arose to make a short rebuttal, repeating the +contentions of his original speech, of which no denial had been +attempted. + +"I'm quite tired," sighed Rafael, in reply to the felicitations. + +"You can go out if you wish," said the minister. "I think I'll answer +the rebuttal myself. It's a courtesy due to so old a deputy." + +Rafael raised his eyes toward the diplomatic gallery. It was empty. But +he imagined he could still make out the plumes of a woman's hat in the +dark background. + +He left his bench hastily and hurried to the corridor, where a number of +deputies were waiting with their congratulations. + +Not one of them had heard him, but they were all profuse in their +flattering remarks. They shook his hand and detained him maddeningly. +Once more he thought he could descry at the end of the corridor, at the +foot of the gallery staircase, standing out against the glass exit-door, +those black, waving plumes. + +He elbowed his way through the crowds, deaf to all congratulations, +brushing aside the hands that were proferred to him. + +Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking +out with eyes radiant with admiration. + +"What a woman? Eh?" + +"She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!" + + + + +III + + +As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step +into a vehicle. An usher of the Congress was holding the carriage door +open, with the demonstrative respect inspired by the goldbraid shining +on the driver's hat. It was an embassy coach! + +Rafael approached, believing, from the carriage, that it still might +prove to be a case of an astonishing resemblance. But no; it was she; +the same woman she had always been, as if eight hours and not eight +years had passed: + +"Leonora! You here!..." + +She smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him +again. + +"I saw you and heard you. You did very well, Rafael: I enjoyed it." + +And grasping his hand in a frank, hearty clasp of friendship, she +entered the carriage with a rustle of silk and fine linen. + +"Come! Won't you step in too?" she asked, smiling. "Join me for a little +drive along the Castellana. It's a magnificent afternoon; a little fresh +air won't do any harm after that muggy room." + +Rafael, to the astonishment of the usher, who was surprised to see him +in such seductive company, got in; and the carriage rolled off. There +they were, together again, sitting side by side, swaying gently back and +forth with the motion of the soft springs. + +Rafael was at a loss for words. The cold, ironic smile of his former +lover chilled him. He was flushed with shame at the thought of how he +had treated that beautiful creature the last time they had seen each +other. He wanted to say something, and yet he could not find a way to +begin. The ceremonious, formal _usted_ she had employed in inviting him +into the carriage embarrassed him. At last he ventured, timidly, also +avoiding the intimate _tu_! + +"Imagine our meeting here! What a surprise!" + +"I got in yesterday; tomorrow I leave for Lisbon. A short stop, isn't +it! Just time for a word with the director of the _Real_; perhaps I'll +come next winter to sing _Die Walküre_ here. But let's talk about you, +illustrious orator.... But I may say _tu_ to you, mayn't I?" she +corrected--"for I believe we are still friends." + +"Yes, friends, Leonora.... I have never been able to forget you." + +But the feeling he put into the words vanished before the cold smile +with which she answered. + +"Friends; that's it," she said, slowly. "Friends, and nothing more. +Between us there lies a corpse that prevents us from getting very close +to each other again." + +"A corpse?" asked Rafael, not catching her meaning. + +"Yes; the love you murdered.... Friends, nothing more; comrades united +by complicity in a crime." + +And she laughed with cruel sarcasm, while the carriage turned into one +of the avenues of Recoletos. Leonora looked vacantly out upon the +central boulevard. The rows of iron benches were filled with people. +Groups of children in charge of governesses were playing gaily about in +the soft, golden splendor of the afternoon. + +"I read in the papers this morning that don Rafael Brull, 'of the +Finance Commission,' if you please, would undertake to speak for the +Ministry on the matter of the budget; so I got down on my knees to an +old friend of mine, the secretary of the English embassy, and begged him +to come and take me to the session. This coach is his.... Poor fellow! +He doesn't know you, but the moment he saw you stand up to speak, he +took to his heels.... He missed something though; for really, you +weren't half bad. I'm quite impressed. Say, Rafael, where do you dig up +all those things?" + +But Rafael looked uneasily at her cruel smile and refused to accept her +praise. Besides, what did he care about his speech? It seemed to him +that he had been for years and years in that coach; that a whole +lifetime had gone by since he left the halls of the Congress. His gaze +was fixed on her in admiration, and his astonished eyes were drinking in +the beauty of her face, and of her figure. + +"How beautiful you are!" he murmured in impulsive enchantment. "The same +as you were then. It seems impossible that eight years can have flown +by." + +"Yes; I admit that I bear up well. Time seems not to touch me. A little +longer at the dressing table--that's all. I'm one of the people who die +in harness, so to speak, making no concessions, so far as looks go, to +old age. Rather than surrender, I'd kill myself. I intend to put Ninon +de Lenclos in the shade!" + +It was true. Eight years had made not the slightest impression on her. +The same freshness, the same robust, energetic slenderness, the +identical flames of arrogant vitality in her green eyes. Instead of +withering under the incessant parching of passion's flame, she seemed to +grow stronger, hardier, in the crucible. + +She measured the deputy with sarcastic playfulness. + +"Poor Rafael! I'm sorry I can't say as much for you. How you've changed! +You look almost like a Knight of the Crown. You're fat! You're bald! And +those eyeglasses! Why, I could hardly recognize you in the Chamber. How +my romantic Moor has aged! You poor dear! You even have wrinkles!..." + +And she laughed, as if it filled her with intense joy, the joy of +vengeance, to see her former lover so crestfallen at her portrayal of +his decrepitude. + +"You're not happy, are you! I can see that. And yet, you ought to be. +You must have married that girl your mother picked for you. You +doubtless have children.... Don't try to fib to me, just to seem more... +what shall I say ... more interesting! I can see it from the looks of +you. You are the _pater familias_ all over. I am never mistaken in such +things!... Well, why aren't you happy? You have all the requisites for a +personage of note, and you will shortly be one. I'll bet you wear that +sash to hold your paunch in! You are rich, you make speeches in that +horrid, gloomy, cave. Your friends back home will go into ecstasies when +they read the oration their honorable deputy has delivered; and I +imagine they're already preparing fireworks and music for a reception +to you. What more could you ask for?" + +And with her eyes half-closed, smiling maliciously, she waited for his +reply, knowing in advance what it would be. + +"What more can I ask for? Love; Leonora, the love I once had ... with +you." + +And with the vehemence of other days, as if they were still among the +orange-trees of the old Blue House, the deputy gave way to his eight +years of longing. + +He told her of the image he nourished in his sadness. Love! The Love +that passes but once in a lifetime, crowned with flowers, and followed +by a retinue of kisses and laughter. And whosoever follows him in +obedience, finds happiness at the end of the joyous pathway; but +whosoever, through pride or selfishness, lags by the wayside, comes to +lament his folly and to expiate his cowardice in an everlasting life of +tedium and sorrow! He had sinned, grievously. That he would confess! But +could she not forgive him? He had paid for his deliquency with eight +long, monotonous, crushing, meaningless years, one suffocating stifling +night that never broke into morning. But they had met again! There was +still time, Leonora! They could still call back the Springtime of their +lives, make it burgeon anew, compel Love to retrace his footsteps, pass +their way again, stretching forth his sweet hands of youth to them! + +The actress was listening with a smile upon her lips, her eyes closed, +her head thrown back in the carriage. It was an expression of intense +pleasure, as if she were tasting with delight the fire of love that was +still burning in Rafael, and that, to her, meant vengeance. + +The horses were proceeding at a walk along la Castellana. Other +carriages were going by and the people in them peered back at the coach +with that beautiful, unknown woman. + +"What is your answer, Leonora? We can still be happy! Forget the past +and the wrong I did you! Imagine it was only yesterday that we said +good-bye in the orchard, and that we are meeting again today to begin +our lives over again from the beginning, to live together always, +always." + +"No," she replied coldly. "You yourself just said so: Love passes but +once in a lifetime. I know that from cruel experience. I have done my +best to forget. No, Love has passed us by! It would be sheer folly for +us to ask him to hunt us up again. He never comes back! Our most +desperate effort could revive barely the shadow of him. You let him +escape. Well, you must weep for your loss, just as I had to weep for +your baseness ... Besides, you don't realize the situation we are in +now! Don't you remember what we talked about on our first night there in +the moonlight? 'The arrogant month of May, the young warrior in an armor +of flowers, seeks out his beloved, Youth.' Well, where is our youth now? +Quite frankly, you can find mine on my dressing-table! I buy it at the +perfumer's; and though that gentleman is quite skilled at disguising me, +there's an oldness of the spirit underneath, a terrible thing I don't +dare think about, because it frightens me so. And yours, poor +Rafael--you just haven't any, not even the kind you can buy! Take a good +look at yourself! You're ugly, to put it mildly, my dear boy! You're +lost that attractive slimness of your younger days. Your dreams make me +laugh! A passion at this late date! The idyll of a middle-aged siren and +a bald-headed father of a litter of children, with a paunch, with a +paunch, with a paunch! Oh, Rafael! Ha, ha, ha!" + +The cruel mocker! How she laughed! How she was avenging herself. Rafael +grew angry at this cutting, ironic resistance. He began to flame with a +more excited passion.... The ravages of time made no difference. Could +not Love work miracles! He loved her more than he had ever loved her in +the olden days. He felt a mad hunger for her. Passion would give them +back the fires of youth. Love was like a springtime that brings new sap +to branches grown numb in the winter's cold. Let her say "Yes," and on +the instant she would behold the miracle, the resurrection of their +slumbering past, the awakening of their souls to the future of love! + +"And your wife? And your children?" Leonora asked, brutally, as if she +wished to bring him back to realities, with a smarting lash from a whip. + +But Rafael was now beside himself, drunk with the nearness of all that +beauty, and with the waves of perfume that filled the interior of the +carriage. + +Wife? Family? He would leave everything for her: family, future, +position. It was she he needed to live and be happy! + +"I will go with you; everybody is a stranger to me when I think of you. +You, you alone, are my life, my love!" + +"Many thanks," Leonora answered curtly. "I could not accept such a +sacrifice.... Besides, all that sanctity of the home you were just +talking about a few moments ago in the Chamber? And all that Christian +morality, without which civilization would go to the damnation bow wows! +How I laughed when I heard you say that. How you were stuffing those +poor ninkampoops!..." + +And again she laughed cruelly, at the contrast between his pious words +in Congress and his mad idea of forsaking everything to follow her +around the world. Oh, the hypocrite! She had felt, as she sat listening +to him, that his speech was a pack of lies, a mess of conventional +trumpery and platitudes! The only one there who had spoken with any real +sincerity, any real virtue, was that little old man, whom she had +listened to with veneration because he had been one of her father's +idols! + +Rafael was crushed with bitter shame. Leonora's flat refusal, her +pitiless mockery of his speech, had brought him to realize the enormity +of his baseness. She was avenging herself by bringing him face to face +with the abjectness of his mad, hopeless passion, which made him capable +of committing the lowest deeds! + +Dusk was gathering. Leonora ordered the driver to the Plaza de Oriente. +She was stopping in one of the houses near the Opera where many +theatrical people lodged. She was in a hurry! She had a dinner +engagement with that young man from the Embassy, and two musical critics +were to be introduced to her. + +"And I, Leonora? Are we not to see each other any longer?" + +"As far as my door, if you wish, and then ... till we meet again!" + +"Oh, please, Leonora, stay here a few days! Let me see you! Let me have +the consolation of talking to you, of feeling the bitter pleasure of +your ridicule, at least!" + +Stay a few days!... Her days did not belong to her. She traveled from +one end of the world to the other, with her life marked off to the tick +of the clock. From Madrid to Lisbon--an engagement at the San +Carlos--three performances of Wagner! Then, a jump to Stockholm! After +that she was not quite sure where she would go; to Odessa, or to Cairo. +She was the Wandering Jew, the Valkyrie galloping along on the clouds of +a musical tempest, from frontier to frontier, from pole to pole, +arrogant, victorious, suffering not the slightest harm to health or +beauty. + +"Oh, if you only would! If you would let me follow you! As your friend, +nothing more! As your servant, if necessary!" + +And he grasped her hand, passionately, thrusting his fingers up her +sleeve, fondling the delicate arm underneath her glove. She did not +resist. + +"There! Do you see, Rafael?" she said, smiling coldly. "You have touched +me, and it's useless; not the slightest thrill. You're as good as dead +to me. My flesh does not tingle at your fondling. In fact, I find it all +decidedly annoying!" + +Rafael realized that it was true. She had once trembled madly under his +caresses. Now she was quite insensible, quite cold! + +"Don't worry, Rafael. It's over, spelled with a capital _O_. It's not +worth wasting a moment's thought on. As I look at you now I feel the way +I do when I see one of my old dresses that, in its time, I went mad +over. I see nothing but the defects--the absurdities of the fashion that +is out of date. Our passion died as it should properly have died. +Perhaps your deserting me was for the best. It was better for you to +default in the full splendor of our honeymoon than to have broken with +me afterwards, when I should have moulded my nature forever to your +caresses. We were brought together ... oh, by the orange perfume, by +that cursed Springtime; but you were not meant for me, nor was I ever +meant for you. We are of different breeds. You were born a bourgeois. I +am an out-and-out bohemian! Love and the novelty of my kind quite, +dazzled you. You struggled hard, you beat your wings, to follow me, but +you fell to earth from the very weight of your inherited traits. You +have the appetites and the ambitions of people like you! Now you imagine +you are unhappy! But you'll find you're not when you see yourself become +a personage,' when you count the acreage of your orchards over, when you +see your children growing up to inherit papa's power and fortune. This +business of love for love's sake, mocking at law and morality, scorning +life and peacefulness, that is our privilege, the privilege of us +bohemians--the sole blessing left to us mad creatures whom society looks +upon--quite properly, I suppose--with disdainful mistrust. Each to his +own! The poultry to their quiet roost, where they can fatten in the sun; +the birds of passage to their wandering life of song, sometimes in a +flowering garden, sometimes in the cold and storm!" + +And smiling again, as if those words, uttered with such gravity and +conviction, had been too cruel in their effective summary of the whole +story of their love, she added in a jesting tone: + +"That was a fine little paragraph, wasn't it? What a pity you didn't +hear it in time to tack it on at the end of your speech!" + +The carriage had entered the _Plaza de Oriente_; and was drawing up in +front of Leonora's house. + +"May I go in with you?" the deputy asked anxiously, much as a child +might beg for a toy. + +"Why? You'll only be bored. It will be the same as here. Upstairs there +is no moon, and there are no orange-trees in bloom. You can't expect two +nights like that in a life like yours. Besides, I don't want Beppa to +see you. She has a vivid recollection of that afternoon in the Hôtel de +Roma when I got your note. I'd lose prestige with her if she saw me in +your company." + +With a commanding gesture she motioned him to the sidewalk. When the +carriage had gone they stood there together for a moment looking at each +other for the last time. + +"Farewell, Rafael. Take good care of yourself, and try not to grow old +so rapidly. I believe it's been a real pleasure, though, to see you +again. I needed just this to convince myself it was really all over!" + +"But are you going like this!... Is this the way you let a passion end +that still fills my life!... When shall we see each other again?" + +"I don't know: never ... perhaps when you least expect it. The world is +large, but when a person gads about it the way I do, you never can tell +whom you are going to meet." + +Rafael pointed to the Opera nearby. + +"And if you should come to sing ... here?... If I were actually to see +you again?...." + +Leonora smiled haughtily, guessing what he meant. + +"In that case, you will be one of my countless friends, I suppose, but +nothing more. Don't imagine that I'm a saint even now. I'm just as I was +before you knew me. The property of everybody--understand--and of +nobody! But of the janitor of the opera, if necessary, sooner than of +you. You are a corpse, in my eyes, Rafael.... Farewell!" + +He saw her vanish through the doorway; and he stood for a long time +there on the sidewalk, completely crushed, staring vacantly into the +last glow of twilight that was growing pale beyond the gables of the +Royal Palace. + +Some birds were twittering on the trees of the garden, shaking the +leaves with their mischievous playfulness, as if the fires of Springtime +were coursing in their veins. For Spring had come again, faithful and +punctual, as every year. + +He staggered off toward the center of the city, slowly, dejectedly, with +the thought of death in his mind, bidding farewell to all his dreams, +which that woman seemed to have destroyed forever in turning her back +implacably upon him. Yes! A corpse, indeed! He was a dead man dragging a +soulless body along under the sad glimmering of the first street-lamps. +Farewell! Farewell to Love! Farewell to Youth! For him Springtime would +never return again. Joyous Folly repelled him as an unworthy deserter. +His future was to grow a fatter and fatter paunch under the frock coat +of a "personage"! + +At the corner of the Calle del Arenal he heard his name called. It was +a deputy, a comrade of "the Party" who had just come from the session. + +"Let me congratulate you, Brull; you were simply monumental! The Chief +spoke enthusiastically of your speech to the Prime Minister! It's a +foregone conclusion. At the first new deal you'll be made +director-general or undersecretary at least! Again, my congratulations, +old fellow!" + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + +***** This file should be named 11674-8.txt or 11674-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/7/11674/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Torrent + Entre Naranjos + +Author: Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +Release Date: March 22, 2004 [EBook #11674] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>THE TORRENT</h1> + +<h3>(ENTRE NARANJOS)</h3> + + +<h2>By VICENTE BLASCO IBAÑEZ</h2> +<br /> + +<h3>TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY</h3> + +<h2>ISAAC GOLDBERG</h2> + +<h3>AND</h3> + +<h2>ARTHUR LIVINGSTON</h2> + +<h3>1921</h3> + + + +<h1>THE TORRENT</h1> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART ONE</h2> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"Your friends are waiting for you at the Club. They saw you for a moment +only, this morning; they'll be wanting to hear all your stories about +life in Madrid."</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda fixed upon the young deputy a pair of deep, scrutinizing, +severely maternal eyes that recalled to Rafael all the roguish anxieties +of his childhood.</p> + +<p>"Are you going directly to the Club?..." she added. "Andrés will be +starting too, right away."</p> + +<p>Rafael, in reply, wished a blunt "good-afternoon" to his mother and don +Andrés, who were still at table sipping their coffee, and strode out of +the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Finding himself on the broad, red-marble staircase in the silence of +that ancient mansion, of such princely magnificence, he experienced the +sudden sense of comfort and wellbeing that a traveler feels on plunging +into a bath after a tedious journey.</p> + +<p>Ever since he had arrived, with the noisy reception at the station, the +hurrahs, the deafening music, handshakes here, crowding there, the +pushing and elbowing of more than a thousand people who had thronged +the streets of Alcira to get a close look at him, this was the first +moment he had found himself alone, his own master, able to do exactly as +he pleased, without needing to smile automatically in all directions and +welcome with demonstrations of affection persons whose faces he could +scarcely recall.</p> + +<p>What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted +staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the +<em>patio</em> was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains +flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of +his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding +behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the +powerful don Ramón Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard +workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving +their arms, and shouting <em>vivas</em> for their deputy—Alcira's "favorite +son."</p> + +<p>This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, +though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his +mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his +noisy reception, not to mention don Andrés, and numerous other friends, +ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, +<em>caciques</em>—political bosses—and leading citizens of the district.</p> + +<p>To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding +himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for +some time motionless in the <em>patio</em>, looking up at the balconies of the +first story, then at the attic windows—from which in mischievous years +gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his +mother's scolding voice—and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue +above—a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the +oranges to clusters of flaming gold.</p> + +<p>He thought he could still see his father—the imposing, solemn don +Ramón—sauntering about the <em>patio</em>, his hands behind his back, +answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his +party adherents, who followed him about with idolatrous eyes. If the old +man could only have come back to life that morning to see how his son +had been acclaimed by the entire city!...</p> + +<p>A barely perceptible sound like the buzzing of two flies broke the deep +silence of the mansion. The deputy looked toward the only balcony window +that was open, though but slightly. His mother and don Andrés were still +talking in the dining-room—and of him, as usual, without a doubt! And, +lest they should call him, and suddenly deprive him of his keen +enjoyment at being alone, he left the <em>patio</em> and went out into the +street.</p> + +<p>It was only the month of March; but at two in the afternoon the air was +almost uncomfortably hot. Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to +the winter rains, Rafael inhaled, with a sense of voluptuous pleasure, +the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards +through the narrow lanes of the ancient town.</p> + +<p>Once, years before, he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage, +entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia, who would +not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos. A +memory of a Venetian <em>calle</em> now came back to Rafael's mind as he +traversed the streets of old Alcira—shadowy, cramped, sunk deep as +wells between rows of high houses. With all the economy of a city built +on an island, Alcira rears its edifices higher and higher as its +population grows, leaving just enough space free for the bare needs of +traffic.</p> + +<p>The streets were deserted. The noisy, orchard workers who had welcomed +Rafael had gone back to the fields again. All the idlers had fled to the +cafés, and as the deputy walked smartly by in front of these, warm waves +of air came out upon him through the windows, with the clatter of poker +chips, the noise of billiard balls, and the uproar of heated argument.</p> + +<p>Rafael reached the Suburban Bridge, one of the two means of egress from +the Old City. The Júcar was combing its muddy, reddish waters on the +piles of the ancient structure. A number of row-boats, made fast to the +houses on the shore, were tugging at their moorings. Rafael recognized +among them the fine craft that he had once used for lonely trips on the +river. It lay there quite forgotten, gradually shedding its coat of +white paint out in the weather.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at the bridge itself; the Gothic-arched gate, a relic of +the old fortifications; the battlements of yellowish, chipped rock, +which looked as if all the rats of the river had come at night to nibble +at them; then two niches with a collection of mutilated, dust-laden +images—San Bernardo, patron Saint of Alcira, and his estimable sisters. +Dear old San Bernardo, <em>alias</em> Prince Hamete, son of the Moorish king +of Carlet, converted to Christ by the mystic poesy of the Christian +cult,—and still wearing in his mangled forehead the nail of martyrdom!</p> + +<p>As Rafael walked past the rude, disfigured statue he thought of all the +stories his mother, an uncompromising clerical and a woman of credulous +faith, had told him of the patron of Alcira, particularly the legend of +the enmity and struggle between San Vicente and San Bernardo, an +ingenuous fancy of popular superstition.</p> + +<p>Saint Vincent, who was an eloquent preacher arrived at Alcira on one of +his tours, and stopped at a blacksmith's shop near the bridge to get his +donkey shod. When the work was done the horseshoer asked for the usual +price for his labor; but San Vicente, accustomed to living on the bounty +of the faithful, waxed indignant, and looking at the Júcar, exclaimed, +vindictively:</p> + +<p>"Some day folks will say: 'This is where Alcira used to be'."</p> + +<p>"Not while Bernardo is here!" the statue of San Bernardo remarked from +its pedestal.</p> + +<p>And there the statue of the saint still stood, like an eternal sentinel, +watching over the Júcar to exorcise the curse of the rancorous Saint +Vincent! To be sure the river would rise and overflow its banks every +year, reaching to the very feet of San Bernardo sometimes, and coming +within an ace of pulling the wily saint down from his perch. It is also +true that every five or six years the flood would shake houses loose +from their foundations, destroy good farm land, drown people, and commit +other horrible depredations—all in obedience to the curse of Valencia's +patron; but the saint of Alcira was the better man of the two for all +of that! And, if you didn't believe it, there the city was, still +planted firmly on its feet and quite unscathed, except for a scratch +here and there from times when the rains were exceptionally heavy and +the waters came down from Cuenca in a great roaring torrent!</p> + +<p>With a smile and a nod to the powerful saint, as to an old friend of +childhood, Rafael crossed the bridge and entered the <em>arrabal</em>, the "New +City," ample, roomy, unobstructed, as if the close-packed houses of the +island, to get elbow-room and a breath of air, had stampeded in a flock +to the other bank of the river, scattering hither and thither in the +hilarious disorder of children let loose from school.</p> + +<p>The deputy paused at the head of the street on which his club was +located. Even from there he could hear the talking and laughing of the +many members, who had gathered in much greater number than usual because +of his arrival. What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! +A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the +orange crop, or cock-fighting. He would be expected to tell them what +kind of a man the Premier was—and then spend the afternoon analyzing +the character of every minister! Then don Andrés would be there, that +boresome Mentor who, at the instance of Rafael's mother, would never let +him out of sight for a moment. Bah! The Club could wait! He would have +plenty of time later in the day to stifle in that smoke-filled parlor +where, the moment he showed his face, everybody would be upon him and +pester the life out of him with questions and wire-pulling!</p> + +<p>And more and more yielding to the lure of the southern sunshine and to +those perfumes of May floating about him in wintertime, he turned off +into a lane that led to the fields.</p> + +<p>As he emerged from the ancient Ghetto and found himself in the open +country, he drew a deep breath, as if to imprison in his lungs all the +life, bloom and color of his native soil.</p> + +<p>The orange orchards lined both banks of the stream with straight rows of +green, round tree-tops. The sun glistened off the varnished leaves; the +wheels of irrigating machines sounded from the distance like humming +insects. The moisture rising from the canals, joined the clouds from the +chimneys of the motors, to form a thin veil of mist over the +countryside, that gave a pearly transparency to the golden light of the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>To one side rose the hill of San Salvador, its crest topped with the +Hermitage, and the pines, the cypresses, and the prickly pears around +that rough testimonial of popular piety. The sanctuary seemed to be +talking to him like an indiscreet friend, betraying the real motive that +had caused him to evade his appointment with his political friends and +disobey his mother into the bargain.</p> + +<p>Something more than the beauty of the fields had enticed him from the +city. When the rays of the rising sun had awakened him that morning on +the train, the first thing he had seen, before opening his eyes even, +was an orange orchard, the bank of the Júcar, and a house painted +blue,—the very one that was now in sight away off there, among the +round tree-tops along the river.</p> + +<p>How many times in past months his thoughts had lingered on the memory of +that same scene!</p> + +<p>Afternoons, in the Congress, while the Premier on the Blue Bench would +be answering the interpellations of the Opposition in sharp incisive +tones, Rafael's brain would begin to doze, reduced to jelly, as it were, +by the incessant hammering of words, words, words! Before his closed +eyes a dark veil would begin to unroll as if the moist, cellar-like +gloom in which the Chamber is always plunged, had thickened suddenly, +and against this curtain, like a cinema dream, rows of orange-trees +would come into view, and a blue house with open windows; and pouring +through the windows a stream of notes from a soft voice, ever so sweet, +singing <em>lieder</em> and ballads as an accompaniment to the hard, sonorous +paragraphs snapping from the Premier's teeth. Then applause and +disorder! The moment for voting had arrived, and the fading outlines of +the Blue House still hovering before his dreamy eyes, the member for +Alcira would ask his neighbor:</p> + +<p>"How do we vote? Yes or no?"</p> + +<p>The same it was at night at the Opera, where music served only to remind +him of a familiar voice winding like a thread of gold out across the +orchards through the orange trees; and the same again, after dinner with +his colleagues on committees, when the deputies, their cigars tilted +cockily upwards between their lips, and with all the voluptuous gaiety +inspired by good digestions, would troop off to see the night out in +some trustworthy house of assignation where their dignity as +representatives of the country would not be compromised!</p> + +<p>Now that blue house was actually before his eyes! And he was hurrying +toward it,—not without some hesitation; a vague uneasiness he could not +explain. His heart was in his mouth, it seemed, and he found it hard to +breathe.</p> + +<p>Orchard workers came along the road, occasionally, stepping aside to +make room for the famous man, though he answered their greeting +absent-mindedly. What a nuisance! They would all be sure to tell where +they had seen him! His mother would know all about it within half an +hour! And, that evening, a scene in the dining-room! As Rafael walked on +toward the Blue House, he thought bitterly of his situation. Why was he +going there anyhow? Why insist on living in a stew all the time? He had +had two or three short but violent scenes with his mother a few months +before. What a fury that stern, pious, and puritanic woman became when +she found out that her son had been calling down at the Blue House and +was on friendly terms with a strange lady, an outsider, whom the +respectable folk of the city would have nothing to do with, and of whom +not a good word was ever heard except from the men at the Club, when +they were sure their wives were not in hearing distance!</p> + +<p>Tempestuous scenes they had been! He was running for Congress at the +time. Was he trying—she wanted to know—to dishonor the family and +compromise his political future? Was that what his poor father had lived +for—a life of sacrifice and struggle, of service to "the Party," which, +many a time, had meant shouldering a gun? And a loose woman was to be +allowed to ruin the House of Brull, which for thirty years had been +putting every cent it owned into politics, for the benefit of My Lords +up in Madrid! And just when a Brull was about to reap the reward of so +many sacrifices at last, and become a deputy—the means perhaps of +clearing off the property, which was lousy with attachments and +mortgages!...</p> + +<p>Rafael had been no match for that energetic mother, the soul of "the +Party." Meekly he had promised never to return to the Blue House, never +to call again on that "loose woman"—doña Bernarda actually hissed as +she said the word.</p> + +<p>However, the upshot of it all had been that Rafael simply discovered how +weak he was. Despite his promise, he returned to the Blue House often, +but by round-about ways and over long detours, skulking from cover to +cover, as he had done in childhood days when stealing oranges from the +orchards. There he was, a man whose name was on the lips of the whole +county, and who at any moment might be invested with authority from the +people, thus realizing the life-long dream of his father! But the sight +of a woman in the fields, a child, a beggar, would make him blanch with +terror! And that was not the worst of it! Whenever he entered the Blue +House now he had to pretend he came openly, without any fear whatever. +And so things had gone on down to the very eve of his departure for +Madrid.</p> + +<p>As Rafael reached this point in his reminiscences, he asked himself what +hope had led him to disobey his mother and brook her truly formidable +wrath.</p> + +<p>In that blue house he had found only frank, disinterested friendship,—a +somewhat ironic comradeship, the condescending tolerance of a person +compelled by solitude to choose as her comrade the least repulsive among +a host of inferiors. Alas! How clearly he remembered and could again +foresee the sceptical, cold smile with which his words were always +received, though he was sure he had crammed them with burning passion! +What a laugh she had given,—as insolent and as cutting as a lash,—the +day he had dared to declare his love!</p> + +<p>"Now the soft-pedal on slush, eh, Rafaelito?... If you want us to go on +being friends, all right, but it's on condition you treat me as a man. +Comrades, eh, and nothing more."</p> + +<p>And with a look at him through those green, luminous, devilish eyes of +hers, she had taken her seat at the piano and begun one of her divine +songs, as if she thought the magic of her art might raise a barrier +between them.</p> + +<p>On another occasion, she was irritable rather; Rafael's appealing eyes, +his words of amorous adoration, seemed to provoke her, and she had said +with brutal frankness:</p> + +<p>"Don't waste your breath, please! I am through with love. I know men too +well! But even if anyone were to upset me again, it would not be you, +Rafaelito dear."</p> + +<p>And yet he had persisted, insensible to the irony and the scorn of this +terrible <em>amigo</em> in skirts, and indifferent as well to the conflicts +that his blind passion might provoke at home if his mother knew.</p> + +<p>He tried to free himself from his infatuation, but unsuccessfully. With +that in view he fixed his attention on the woman's past; it was said +that despite her beauty, her aristrocratic manners, the brilliancy of +mind with which she had dazzled him—a poor country boy—she was only an +adventuress who had made her way over half the globe from one pair of +arms to another. Well, in that case, it would be a great exploit to win +a woman whom princes and celebrated men had loved! But since that was +impossible, why go on, why continue endangering his career and having +trouble with his mother all the time?</p> + +<p>To forget her, he stressed, before his own mind, words and attitudes of +hers that might be judged defects; and he would taste the joy of duty +well done when, after such gymnastics of the will, he could think of her +without great emotion.</p> + +<p>At the beginning of his life in Madrid he imagined he had recovered. New +surroundings; continuous and petty satisfactions to vanity; the +kow-towing of doorkeepers in Congress; the flattery of visitors from +here, there and everywhere who came with requests for passes to admit +them to the galleries; the sense of being treated as a comrade by +celebrities, whose names his father had always mentioned with bated +breath; the "honorable" always written before his name; all Alcira +speaking to him with affectionate familiarity; this rubbing elbows, on +the benches of the conservative majority, with a battalion of dukes, +counts and marquises—young men who had become deputies to round out the +distinction conferred by beautiful sweethearts or winning +thoroughbreds,—all this had intoxicated him, filled his mind +completely, crowding out all other thoughts, and persuading him that he +had been completely cured.</p> + +<p>But as he grew familiar with his new life, and the novelty of all this +adulation wore off, tenacious recollections rose again in his memory. At +night, when sleep relaxed the will to forget, which his vigilance kept +at painful tension, that blue house, the green, diabolical eyes of its +principal denizen, that pair of fresh lips with their ironic smile that +seemed to quiver between two rows of gleaming white teeth, would become +the inevitable center of all his dreams.</p> + +<p>Why resist any longer? He could think of her as much as he +pleased—that, at least, his mother would never learn. And he gave +himself up to the imagination of love, where distance lent an ever +stronger enchantment to that woman.</p> + +<p>He felt a vehement longing to return to his city. Absence seemed to do +away with all the obstacles at home. His mother was not so formidable as +he had thought. Who could tell whether, when he went back—changed as he +felt himself to be by his new experiences—it would not be easier to +continue the old relations? After so much isolation and solitude she +might receive him in more cordial fashion!</p> + +<p>The Cortes were about to adjourn, so, in obedience to repeated urging +from his fellow-partisans, and from doña Bernarda, to <em>do +something</em>—anything at all—to show interest in the home town—he took +the floor one afternoon at the opening of the session, when only the +president, the sergeant-at-arms, and a few reporters asleep in the +press-gallery, were present, and, with his lunch rising in his throat +from emotion, asked the Minister of Internal Affairs to show a little +more despatch in the matter of flood protection at Alcira—a bill still +in its in-fancy, though it had been pending some seventy years.</p> + +<p>After this he was free to return with the halo of a "business-like" +deputy shining about his head—"a zealous defender of the region's +interests," the local weekly and party organ called him. And that +morning, as he stepped off the train, the deputy, deaf to the Royal +March and to the <em>vivas</em>, stood up on tiptoe, trying to descry through +the waving banners the Blue House nestling in the distance among the +orange-trees.</p> + +<p>As he approached the place that afternoon he was almost sick with +nervousness and emotion. For one last time he thought of his mother, so +intent upon maintaining her prestige and so fearful of hostile gossip; +of the demagogues who had thronged the doors of the cafes that morning, +making fun of the demonstration in his honor; but all his scruples +vanished at sight of the hedge of tall rose-bays and prickly hawthorns +and of the two blue pillars supporting a barrier of green wooden bars. +Resolutely he pushed the gate open, and entered the garden.</p> + +<p>Orange-trees stretched in rows along broad straight walks of red earth. +On either side of the approach to the house was a tangle of tall +rose-bushes on which the first buds, heralds of an early spring, were +already beginning to appear.</p> + +<p>Above the chattering of the sparrows and the rustle of the wind in the +trees, Rafael could hear the sound of a piano—the keys barely touched +by the player's fingers—and a soft, timid voice, as if the song were +meant for the singer alone.</p> + +<p>It was she. Rafael knew the music: a <em>Lied</em> by Schubert—the favorite +composer of the day; a master "whose best work was still unknown," as +she said in the cant she had learned from the critics, alluding to the +fact that only the least subtle of the melancholy composer's works had +thus far been popularized.</p> + +<p>The young man advanced slowly, cautiously, as if afraid lest the sound +of his footsteps break in upon that melody which seemed to be rocking +the garden lovingly to sleep in the afternoon's golden sunlight.</p> + +<p>He reached the open space in front of the house and once more found +there the same murmuring palms, the same rubblework benches with seats +and backs of flowered tile that he knew so well. There, in fact, she had +so often laughed at his feverish protestations.</p> + +<p>The door was closed; but through a half-opened window he could see a +patch of silk; a woman's back, bending slightly forward over the music.</p> + +<p>As Rafael came up a dog began to bark at the end of the garden. Some +hens that had been scratching about in sand of the drive, scampered off +cackling with fright. The music stopped. A chair scraped as it was +pushed back. The lady was rising to her feet.</p> + +<p>At the balcony a flowing gown of blue appeared; but all that Rafael saw +was a pair of eyes—green eyes, that seemed to fill the entire window +with a flood of light.</p> + +<p>"Beppa! Beppina!" cried a firm, a warm, a sonorous, soprano voice. +"<em>Apri la porta</em>. Open the door."</p> + +<p>And with a slight inclination of her splendid head of thick auburn hair +that seemed to crown her with a helmet of old gold, she smiled to him +with a friendly, somewhat mocking, intimacy:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Rafaelito. I don't know why, but I was expecting you this +afternoon. We have heard all about your triumphs; the music and the +tumult reached even to our desert. My congratulations to the Honorable +don Rafael Brull. Come right in, I <em>su señoría</em>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>From Valencia to Játiva, in all that immense territory covered with +rice-fields and orange groves which Valencians embrace under the general +and rather vague designation of <em>La Ribera</em>, there was no one unfamiliar +with the name of Brull and the political power it stood for.</p> + +<p>As if national unity had not yet been effected and the country were +still divided into <em>taifas</em> and <em>waliatos</em> as in the days when one +Moorish King reigned over Carlet, another over Denia, and a third over +Játiva, the election system maintained a sort of inviolable rulership in +every district; and when the Administration people came to Alcira in +forecasting their political prospects, they always said the same thing:</p> + +<p>"We're all right there. We can rely on Brull."</p> + +<p>The Brull dynasty had been bossing the district for thirty years, with +ever-increasing power.</p> + +<p>The founder of this sovereign house had been Rafael's grandfather, the +shrewd don Jaime, who had established the family fortune by fifty years +of slow exploitation of ignorance and poverty. He began life as a clerk +in the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> of Alcira; then he became secretary to the +municipal judge, then assistant to the city clerk, then +assistant-registrar of deeds. There was not a subordinate position in +those offices where the poor come in contact with the law that he did +not get his hands on; and from such points of vantage, by selling +justice as a favor and using power or adroitness to subdue the +refractory, he felt his way along, appropriating parcel after parcel of +that fertile soil which he adored with a miser's covetousness.</p> + +<p>A brazen charlatan he was, every moment talking of "Article Number +So-and-So" of the law that applied to the case. The poor orchard workers +came to have as much awe for his learning as fear of his malice, and in +all their controversies they sought his advice and paid for it, as if he +were a lawyer.</p> + +<p>When he had gotten a small fortune together, he continued holding his +menial posts in the city administration to retain the superstitious +respect which is inspired in peasant-folk by all who are on good terms +with the law; but not content with playing the eternal beggar, dependent +on the humble gratuities of the poor, he took to pulling them out of +their financial difficulties, lending them money on the collateral of +their future harvests.</p> + +<p>But six per cent seemed too petty a profit for him. The real plight of +these folk came when a horse died and they had to buy another. Don Jaime +became a dealer in dray horses, buying more or less defective animals +from gypsies in Valencia, praising their virtues to the skies, and +reselling them as thoroughbreds. And no sale on the instalment plan! +Cash down! The horses did not belong to him—as he vowed with his hand +pressed solemnly to his bosom—and their owners wished to realize on +their value at once. The best he could do in the circumstances prompted +by his greatness of heart, which always overflowed at the sight of +poverty was to borrow money for the purchase from a friend of his.</p> + +<p>The peasant in his desperate need would fall into the snare, and carry +off the horse after signing all kinds of notes and mortgages to cover +the loan of money he had not seen! For the don Jaime who spoke for the +unknown party in the deal transferred the cash to the same don Jaime who +spoke for the owner of the horse. Result: the rustic bought an animal, +without chaffering, at double its value, having in addition borrowed a +lot of money at cut-throat interest. In every turn-over of this sort don +Jaime doubled his principal. New straits inevitably developed for the +dupe; the interest kept piling up; hence new concessions, still more +ruinous than the first, that don Jaime might be placated and give the +purchaser a month's reprieve.</p> + +<p>Every Wednesday, which was market-day in Alcira and brought a great +crowd of orchard-folk to town, the street where don Jaime lived was the +busiest in the city. People came in droves to ask for renewal of their +notes, each leaving a tip of several <em>pesetas</em> usually, not to be +counted against the debt itself. Others, humbly, timidly, as if they had +come to rob the grasping Shylock, would ask for loans; and the strange +thing about it, as the malicious noted, was that all these people, after +leaving everything they owned in don Jaime's hands, went off content, +their faces beaming with satisfaction, as if they had just been rescued +from a danger.</p> + +<p>This was don Jaime's chief skill. He had the trick of making usury look +like kindness; he always spoke of <em>those fellows</em>, those hidden owners +of the money and the horses—heartless wretches who were "after him," +holding him responsible for the short-comings of all their debtors. The +burdens he thus supposedly assumed won him a reputation as a +kind-hearted soul, and such confidence was the wily old demon able to +instill in his victims that when mortgages were foreclosed on homes or +fields, many of the unfortunates despoiled, would say, resignedly:</p> + +<p>"It's not his fault. What could the poor man do if they forced him to +it? It's those <em>other fellows</em> who are sucking the blood of us poor +folks."</p> + +<p>And so, quietly, leisurely, tranquilly, don Jaime got possession of a +field here, then another there, then a third between the two; and in a +few years he had rounded out a beautiful orchard of orange-trees with +virtually no expenditure of capital at all. Thus his property went on +increasing, and, with his radiant smile, his spectacles on his forehead +and his paunch growing fatter and fatter, he could be seen surrounded by +new victims, addressing them with the affectionate <em>tu</em>, patting them on +the back, and vowing that this weakness he had for the doing of favors +would some day bring him to dying like a dog in the gutter.</p> + +<p>Thus he went on prospering. Nor was all the scoffing of city people of +any avail in shaking the confidence reposed in him by that flock of +rustics, who feared him as they feared the Law itself and believed in +him as they believed in God.</p> + +<p>A loan to a spendthrift eldest son made him the proprietor of the fine +city mansion, which came to be known as "the Brull place." From that +date he began to hob-nob with the large real-estate owners of the city, +who, though they despised this upstart, made a small place for him in +their midst with the instinctive solidarity that characterizes the +freemasonry of money. To gain a little more standing for his name, he +became a votary of San Bernardo, contributed to the funds for church +festivals, and danced attendance on the <em>alcalde</em>, whoever that "mayor" +might be. In his eyes now, the only people in Alcira were such as +collected thousands of <em>duros</em>, whenever harvest time came around. The +rest were rabble, rabble, sir!</p> + +<p>Then, at last he resigned the petty offices he had been filling; and +handing his usury business over to those who formerly had served him as +go-betweens, he set himself to the task of marrying off his son and sole +heir, Ramon, an idling ne'er-do-well, who was always getting into +trouble and upsetting the tranquil comfort that surrounded old Brull as +he rested from his plunderings.</p> + +<p>The father felt the satisfaction of a bully in having such a tall, +strong, daring and insolent son, a boy who compelled respect in cafes +and clubs more with his fists than with the special privileges conferred +in small towns by wealth. Let anyone dare make fun of the old usurer +when he had such a fire-eater to protect him!</p> + +<p>Ramon had wanted to join the Army; but every time he referred to what he +called his vocation, his father would fly into a rage. "Do you think +that is what I've worked for all these years?" He could remember the +time when, as a poor clerk, he had been forced to fawn on his superiors +and listen humbly, cringingly, to their reprimands. He did not want a +boy of his to be shoved about hither and thither like a mere machine. +"Plenty of brass buttons," he exclaimed with the scorn of a man never to +be taken in by external show, "and plenty of gold braid! But after all, +a slave, a slave!"</p> + +<p>No, he wanted to see his son free and influential, continuing the +conquest of the city, completing the family greatness of which he had +laid the foundations, getting power over people much as he himself had +gotten power over money. Ramón must become a lawyer, the only career for +a man destined to rule others. It was a passionate ambition the old +pettifogger had, to see his scion enter through the front door and with +head proudly erect, the precincts of the law, into which he had crawled +so cautiously and at the risk, more than once, of being dragged out with +a chain fastened to his ankle.</p> + +<p>Ramón spent several years in Valencia without getting beyond the +elementary courses in Common Law. The cursed classes were held in the +morning, you see, and he had to go to bed at dawn—the hour when the +lights in the pool-rooms went out. Besides, in his quarters at the hotel +he had a magnificent shotgun—a present from his father; and +homesickness for the orchards made him pass many an afternoon at the +pigeon traps where he was far better known than at the University.</p> + +<p>This fine specimen of masculine youth—tall, muscular, tanned, with a +pair of domineering eyes to which thick eyebrows gave a touch of +harshness—had been born for action, and excitement; Ramón simply +couldn't concentrate on books!</p> + +<p>Old Brull, who through niggardliness and prudence had placed his son on +"half rations," as he put it, sent the boy just money enough to keep him +going; but dupe, in turn, of the wiles he had formerly practiced on the +rustics of Alcira, he was compelled to make frequent trips to Valencia, +to come to some understanding with money lenders there, who had +advanced loans to his son on such terms that insolvency might lead Ramón +to a prison cell.</p> + +<p>Home to Alcira came rumors of other exploits by the "Prince," as don +Jaime called his boy in view of the latter's ability to run through +money. In parties with friends of the family, don Ramón's doings were +spoken of as scandalous actually—a duel after a quarrel at cards; then +a father and a brother—common workingmen in flannel shirts!--who had +sworn they would kill him if he didn't marry a certain girl he had been +taking to her shop by day and to dance-halls by night.</p> + +<p>Old Brull made up his mind to tolerate these escapades of his son no +longer; and he made him give up his studies. Ramón would not be a +lawyer; well, after all, one didn't have to have a degree to be a man of +importance. Besides the father felt he was getting old; it was hard for +him to look after the working of his orchards personally. He could make +good use of that son who seemed to have been born to impose his will +upon everybody around him.</p> + +<p>For some time past don Jaime had had his eye on the daughter of a friend +of his. The Brull house showed noticeable lack of a woman's presence. +His wife had died shortly after his retirement from business, and the +old codger stamped in rage at the slovenliness and laziness displayed by +his servants. He would marry Ramón to Bernarda—an ugly, ill-humored, +yellowish, skinny creature—but sole heiress to her father's three +beautiful orchards. Besides, she was conspicuous for her industrious, +economical ways, and a parsimony in her expenditures that came pretty +close to stinginess.</p> + +<p>Ramón did as his father bade him. Brought up with all the ideas of a +rural skinflint, he thought no decent person could object to marrying an +ugly bad-tempered woman, so long as she had plenty of money.</p> + +<p>The father-in-law and the daughter-in-law understood each other +perfectly. The old man's eyes would water at sight of that stern, +long-faced puritan, who never had much to say in the house, but went +into high dudgeon over the slightest waste on the part of the domestics, +scolding the farmhands for the merest oversight in the orchards, +haggling and wrangling with the orange drummers for a <em>centime</em> more or +less per hundredweight. That new daughter of his was to be the solace of +his old age!</p> + +<p>Meantime, the "prince" would be off hunting every morning in the nearby +mountains and lounging every afternoon in the cafe; but he was no longer +content with the admiration of the idlers hanging around a billiard +table, nor was he taking part in the game upstairs. He was frequenting +the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with the <em>alcalde</em> +and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all "decent" +folk together to take the "rabble" in hand!</p> + +<p>"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his +daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get +there... That's the way I like to see him."</p> + +<p>Ramón began by winning a seat in the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>, and soon was an +outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded +as a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the +streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest +glory was to have his enemies say of him:</p> + +<p>"Look out for that Ramón ... He's a tough proposition."</p> + +<p>Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish +hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living, +that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched" +by anyone who could serve, in tavern and café, as advertising agent of +his rising fame.</p> + +<p>And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward +with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a +short time he had become <em>alcalde;</em> his prestige outgrew the limits of +the city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the +capital of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from +military service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that +backed him, although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw +to it that the constabulary was not too energetic in running down the +<em>roders</em>, the "wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election +time, would be forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole +country dared make a move without the previous consent of don Ramón, +whom his adherents always respectfully called their <em>quefe</em>, their +"chief."</p> + +<p>Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramón reach the zenith of his fame. +That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the +city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in +addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty +assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who +had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and +ambition.</p> + +<p>Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation +of all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his +soul heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And, +though the rabble—the political opponents of the son, that is—recalled +those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would come +to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and sane +people—people who had something in this world to lose—mourned the +death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen from the +lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune by hard +work, honest hard work!</p> + +<p>In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had +caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings with +peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the <em>cacique's</em> power stifled +all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women cost very +little money, doña Bernarda pretended to know nothing about them. She +did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow, +self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties +are fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving +money.</p> + +<p>By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to +start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money +against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the +lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political +sovereignty over the region.</p> + +<p>Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramón +would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who +might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who governed +yonder in Madrid had ordered—and orders must be obeyed. In every town +whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern wine would +flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of <em>pesetas</em> +would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don Ramón's +expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper to save on +clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly anything left +for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when the day for +the contest came around, ready in her excitement to help her husband +throw the entire house through the window, if need be.</p> + +<p>This, however, was all pure speculation on her part. The money that was +being scattered so madly broadcast was a "loan" simply. Some day she +would get it back with interest. Already her piercing eyes were +caressing the tiny, dark-complexioned, restless little creature that lay +across her knees, seeing in him the privileged heir-apparent who would +one day reap the harvest from all such family sacrifices.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda had taken refuge in religion as in a cool, refreshing +oasis in the desert of vulgarity and monotony in her life. Her heart +would swell with pride every time a priest would say to her in the +church:</p> + +<p>"Take good care of don Ramón. Thanks to him the wave of demagogy halts +at the temple door and evil fails to triumph in the District. He is the +bulwark of the Lord against the impious!"</p> + +<p>And when, after such a declaration, which flattered her worldly vanity +and assured her of a mansion in Heaven, she would pass through the +streets of Alcira in her calico wrapper and a shawl not over-clean, +greeted affectionately, effusively, by the leading citizens, she would +pardon don Ramón all the infidelities she knew about and consider the +sacrifice of her fortune a good investment.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for what we do, what would happen to the District.... +The lower scum would conquer—those wild-eyed mechanics and common +laborers who read the Valencian newspapers and talk about equality all +the time. And they would divide up the orchards, and demand that the +product of the harvests—thousands and thousands of <em>duros</em> paid for +oranges by the Englishmen and the French—should belong to all." But to +stave off such a cataclysm, there stood don Ramón, the scourge of the +wicked, the champion of "the cause" which he led to triumph, gun in +hand, at election time; and just as he was able to send any rebellious +trouble-maker off to the penal settlement, so he found it easy to keep +at liberty all those who, despite the various murders that figured in +their biographies, lent themselves to the service of the government in +this support of "law and order!"</p> + +<p>The patrimony of the House of Brull went down and down, but its prestige +rose higher and higher. The sacks of money filled by the old man at the +cost of so much roguery were shaken empty over all the District; nor +were several assaults upon the municipal treasury sufficient to bring +them back to normal roundness. Don Ramón contemplated this squandering +impassively, proud that people should be talking of his generosity as +much as of his power.</p> + +<p>The whole District worshipped as a sacred flagstaff that bronzed, +muscular, massive figure, which floated a huge, flowing, gray-flecked +mustache from its upper end.</p> + +<p>"Don Ramón, you ought to remove that bush," his clerical friends would +say to him with a smile of affectionate banter. "Why, man, you look just +like Victor Emmanuel himself, the Pope's jailer."</p> + +<p>But though don Ramón was a fervent Catholic (who never went to mass), +and hated all the infidel turnkeys of the Holy Father, he would grin and +give a satisfied twirl at the offending mouth-piece, quite flattered at +bottom to be likened to a king.</p> + +<p>The <em>patio</em> of the Brull mansion was the throne of his sovereignty. His +partisans would find him there, pacing up and down among the green boxes +of plantain trees, his hands clasped behind his broad, strong, but now +somewhat stooping back—a majestic back withal, capable of supporting +hosts and hosts of friends.</p> + +<p>There he "administered justice," decided the fate of families, settled +the affairs of towns—all in a few off-hand but short and decisive +words, like one of those ancient Moorish kings who, in that selfsame +territory, centuries before, legislated for their subjects under the +open sky. On market-days the <em>patio</em> would be thronged. Carts would stop +in long lines on either side of the door. All the hitching-posts along +the streets would have horses tied to them, and inside, the house would +be buzzing like a bee-hive with the chatter of that rustic gentry.</p> + +<p>Don Ramón would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his +chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his +side—a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown +Prince.</p> + +<p>On afternoons when the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> was in session, the chief could +never leave his <em>patio</em>. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be +dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible, +like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it +spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind.</p> + +<p>All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the +City Hall to the Brull <em>patio.</em> The few enemies don Ramón had in the +Council—meddlers, doña Bernarda called them—idiots who swallowed +everything in print provided it were against the King and +religion—attacked the <em>cacique</em> persistently, censuring everything he +did. Don Ramón's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge +must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!"</p> + +<p>And a <em>regidor</em> would be off to don Ramón's like a greyhound; and +arriving at the <em>patio</em> panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of +relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down +as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the +limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said +this-and-that!" Don Ramón would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and +finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put +this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape, +would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would +gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramón's wisdom had +deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to +have the privilege of annihilating the enemy with the magic words—all +talking at the same time like magpies suddenly set chattering by the +dawn of a new light.</p> + +<p>If the opposition held its ground, again stupefaction would come over +them. Another mad dash in quest of a new consultation. Thus the sessions +would go by, to the great delight of the barber Cupido—the sharpest and +meanest tongue in the city—who, whenever the Council met, would observe +to his early morning shaves:</p> + +<p>"Holiday today: the usual race of councilors bare-back."</p> + +<p>When party exigencies forced don Ramón to be out of town, it was his +wife, the energetic doña Bernarda, who attended to the consultations, +issuing statements on party policy, as wise and apt as those of "the +chief" himself.</p> + +<p>This collaboration in the upbuilding and the up-holding of the family +influence was the single bond of union between husband and wife. This +cold woman, a complete stranger to tenderness, would flush with pleasure +every time the chief approved her ideas. If only she were "boss" of "the +Party!" ...Don Andrés had often said as much himself!</p> + +<p>This don Andrés was her husband's most intimate friend, one of those men +who are born to be second everywhere and in everything. Loyal to the +family to the point of sacrifice, he served, with the couple itself, to +fill out the Holy Trinity of the Brull religion that was the faith of +all the District. Where don Ramón could not go in person, don Andrés +would be present for him, as the chief's <em>alter ego</em>. In the towns he +was respected as the supreme vicar of that god whose throne was in the +<em>patio</em> of the plantain trees; and people too shy to lay their +supplications before the god himself, would seek out that jolly +advocate,—a very approachable bachelor, who always had a smile on his +tanned, wrinkled face, and a story under his stiff cigar-stained +mustache.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés had no relatives, and spent almost all his time at the +Brull's. He was like a piece of furniture that seems always to be +getting in the way at first; but when all were once accustomed to him, +he became an indispensable fixture in the family. In the days when don +Ramón had been a young subordinate of the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>, he had met and +liked the man, and taking him into the ranks of his "heelers," had +promoted him rapidly to be chief of staff. In the opinion of the "boss," +there wasn't a cleverer, shrewder fellow in the world than don Andrés, +nor one with a better memory for names and faces. Brull was the +strategist who directed the campaign; don Andrés the tactician who +commanded actual operations and cleaned up behind the lines when the +enemy was divided and undone. Don Ramón was given to settling everything +in a violent manner, and drew his gun at the slightest provocation. If +his methods had been followed, "the Party" would have murdered someone +every day. Don Andrés had a smooth tongue and a seraphic smile that +simply wound <em>alcaldes</em> or rebellious electors around his little +finger, and his specialty was the art of letting loose a rain of sealed +documents over the District that started complicated and never-ending +prosecutions against troublesome opponents.</p> + +<p>He attended to "the chief's" correspondence, and was tutor and playmate +to the little Rafael, taking the boy on long walks through the orchard +country. To doña Bernarda he was confidential adviser.</p> + +<p>That surly, severe woman showed her bare heart to no one in the world +save don Andrés. Whenever he called her his "señora," or his "worthy +mistress," she could not restrain a gesture of satisfaction; and it was +to him that she poured out her complaints against her husband's +misdeeds. Her affection for him was that of a dame of ancient chivalry +for her private squire. Enthusiasm for the glory of the house united +them in such intimacy that the opposition wagged its tongues, asserting +that doña Bernarda was getting even for her husband's waywardness. But +don Andrés, who smiled scornfully when accused of taking advantage of +the chief's influence to drive hard bargains to his own advantage, was +not the man to be trifled with if gossip ventured to smirch his +friendship with the <em>señora</em>.</p> + +<p>Their Trinity was most closely cemented, however, by their fondness for +Rafael, the little tot destined to bring fame to the name of Brull and +realize the ambitions of both his grandfather and his father.</p> + +<p>Rafael was a quiet, morose little boy, whose gentleness of disposition +seemed to irritate the hard-hearted doña Bernarda. He was always hanging +on to her skirts. Every time she raised her eyes she would find the +little fellow's gaze fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>"Go out and play in <em>the patio</em>," the mother would say.</p> + +<p>And the little fellow, moody and resigned, would leave the room, as if +in obedience to a disagreeable command.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés alone was successful in amusing the child, with his tales and +his strolls through the orchards, picking flowers for him, making +whistles for him out of reeds. It was don Andrés who took him to school, +also, and who advertised the boy's fondness for study everywhere.</p> + +<p>If don Rafael were a serious, melancholy lad, that defect was chargeable +to his interest in books, and at the Casino, the "Party's" Club, he +would say to his fellow-worshippers:</p> + +<p>"You'll see something doing when Rafaelito grows up. That kid is going +to be another Canovas."</p> + +<p>And before all those rustic minds the vision of a Brull at the head of +the Government would suddenly flash, filling the first page of the +newspapers with speeches six columns long, and a <em>To Be Continued</em> at +the end; and they could see themselves rolling in money and running all +Spain, just as they now ran their District, to their own sweet wills.</p> + +<p>Never did a Prince of Wales grow up amid the respect and the adulation +heaped upon little Brull. At school, the children regarded him as a +superior being who had condescended to come down among them for his +education. A well-scribbled sheet, a lesson fluently repeated, were +enough for the teacher, who belonged to "the Party" (just to collect his +wages on time and without trouble,) to declare in prophetic tones:</p> + +<p>"Go on working like that, señor de Brull. You are destined to great +things."</p> + +<p>At the <em>tertulias</em> his mother attended evenings in his company, it was +enough for him to recite a fable or get off some piece of learning +characteristic of a studious child eager to bring his school work into +the conversation, for the women to rush upon him and smother him with +kisses.</p> + +<p>"But how much that child knows!... How brilliant he is!"</p> + +<p>And some old woman would add, sententiously:</p> + +<p>"Bernarda, take good care of the child; don't let him use his brain so +much. It's bad for him. See how peaked he looks!..."</p> + +<p>He finished his preparatory education with the Dominicans, taking the +leading rôle in all the plays given in the tiny theatre of the friars, +and always with a place in the first line on prize days. The Party organ +dedicated an annual article to the scholastic prodigies of the "gifted +son of our distinguished chief don Ramón Brull, the country's hope, who +already merits title as the shining light of the future!"</p> + +<p>When Rafael, escorted by his mother and half a dozen women who had +witnessed the exercises, would come home, gleaming with medals and his +arms full of diplomas, he would stoop and kiss his father's hard, +bristly hand; and that claw would caress the boy's head and +absent-mindedly sink into the old man's vest pocket—for don Ramón +expected to pay for all welcome favors.</p> + +<p>"Very good," the hoarse voice would murmur. "That's the way I like to +see you do ...Here's a <em>duro</em>."</p> + +<p>And not till the following year would the boy again know what a caress +from his father meant. On certain occasions, playing in the <em>patio</em>, he +had surprised the austere old man gazing at him fixedly, as if trying to +foresee his future.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés took charge of settling Rafael in Valencia when he began his +university studies. The dream of old don Jaime, disillusioned in the +son, would be fulfilled in the third generation!</p> + +<p>"This one at least will be a lawyer!" said doña Bernarda, who in the old +days had imbibed don Jaime's eagerness for the university degree, which +to her seemed like a title of nobility for the family.</p> + +<p>And lest the corruption of the city should lead the son astray as it had +done Ramón in his student days, she would send don Andrés frequently to +the capital, and write letter after letter to her Valencian friends, +particularly to a canon of her intimate acquaintance, asking them not to +lose sight of the boy.</p> + +<p>But Rafael was good behavior itself; a model boy, a "serious" young man, +the good canon assured the mother. The distinctions and the prizes that +came to him in Alcira continued to pursue him in Valencia; and besides, +don Ramón and his wife learned from the papers of the triumphs achieved +by their son in the debating society, a nightly gathering of law +students in a university hall, where future Solons wrangled on such +themes as "Resolved: that the French Revolution was more of a good than +an evil," or "Resolved, that Socialism is superior to Christianity."</p> + +<p>Some terrible youths, who had to get home before ten o'clock to escape a +whipping, declared themselves rabid socialists and frightened the +beadles with curses on the institution of property—all rights reserved, +of course, to apply, as soon as they got out of college, for some +position under the government as registrar of deeds or secretary of +prefecture! But Rafael, ever sane and a congenital "moderate," was not +of those fire-brands; he sat on "the Right" of the august assembly of +Wranglers, maintaining a "sound" attitude on all questions, thinking +what he thought "with" Saint Thomas and "with" other orthodox sages whom +his clerical Mentor pointed out to him.</p> + +<p>These triumphs were announced by telegraph in the Party papers, which, +to garnish the chief's glory and avoid suspicion of "inspiration," +always began the article with: "According to a despatch printed in the +Metropolitan press ..."</p> + +<p>"What a boy!" the priests of Alcira would say to doña Bernarda. "What a +silver tongue! You'll see; he'll be a second Manterola!"</p> + +<p>And whenever Rafael came home for the holidays or on vacation, each time +taller than before, dressed like a fashion-plate and with mannerisms +that she took for the height of distinction, the saintly mother would +say to herself with the satisfaction of a woman who knows what it means +to be homely:</p> + +<p>"What a handsome chap he's getting to be. All the rich girls in town +will be after him. He'll have his pick of them."</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda felt proud of her Rafael, a tall youth, with delicate yet +powerful hands, large eyes, an aquiline nose, a curly beard and a +certain leisurely, undulating grace of movement that suggested one of +those young Arabs of the white cloak and elegant babooshes, who +constitute the native aristocracy of Spain's African colonies.</p> + +<p>Every time the student came home, his father gave him the same silent +caress. In course of time the <em>duro</em> had been replaced by a hundred +<em>peseta</em> note; but the rough claw that grazed his head was falling now +with an energy ever weaker and seemed to grow lighter with the years.</p> + +<p>Rafael, from long periods of absence, noted his father's condition +better than the rest. The old man was ill, very ill. As tall as ever, as +austere and imposing, and as little given to words. But he was growing +thinner. His fierce eyes were sinking deeper into their sockets. There +was little left to him now except his massive frame. His neck, once as +sturdy as a bull's, showed the tendons and the arteries under the loose, +wrinkled skin; and his mustache, once so arrogant, but now withering +with each successive day, drooped dispiritedly like the banner of a +defeated army wet with rain.</p> + +<p>The boy was surprised at the gestures and tears of anger with which his +mother welcomed expression of his fears.</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope he'll die as soon as possible ... Lot's of use he is to +us!... May the Lord be merciful and take him off right now."</p> + +<p>Rafael said nothing, not caring to pry into the conjugal drama that was +secretly and silently playing its last act before his eyes.</p> + +<p>Don Ramón, that somber libertine of insatiable appetites, prey to a +sinister, mysterious inebriation, was tossing in a last whirlwind of +tempestuous desire, as though the blaze of sunset had set fire to what +remained of his vitality.</p> + +<p>With a deliberate, determined lustfulness, he went scouring the +District like a wild satyr, and his brutish assaults, his terrorism and +abuse of authority, were reported back by scurrilous tongues to the +seignorial mansion, where his friend don Andrés was trying in vain to +pacify the wife.</p> + +<p>"That man!" doña Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going +to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?"</p> + +<p>His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional +respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at +night, when don Ramón, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable +demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a +disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to +sleep, doña Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded +across her bosom, and pray to herself:</p> + +<p>"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this +come to an end soon, oh Lord!"</p> + +<p>And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got +rapidly worse.</p> + +<p>"Take care of yourself, don Ramón," his curate friends would say to him. +They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're +getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!"</p> + +<p>The <em>cacique</em> would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know +that such exploits were possible for a man at his age.</p> + +<p>He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted +by don Andrés, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He +gave the boy his shotgun—a veritable jewel, the admiration of the +entire District—and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting +around just to see the realization of old Don Jaime's ambition, which he +himself had not been able to fulfill, he passed away.</p> + +<p>All the bells of the city tolled mournfully.</p> + +<p>The Party weekly came out with a black border a palm wide; and from all +over the District folks came in droves to see whether the powerful don +Ramón Brull, who had been able to rain upon the just and unjust alike on +this earth, could possibly have died the same as any other human being.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>III</h3> + + +<p>When doña Bernarda found herself alone, and absolute mistress of her +home, she could not conceal her satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Now they would see what a woman could do.</p> + +<p>She counted on the advice and experience of don Andrés, who was closer +than ever to her now; and on the prestige of Rafael, the young lawyer, +who bade fair to sustain the reputation of the Brulls.</p> + +<p>The power of the family continued unchanged. Don Andrés, who, at the +death of his master, had succeeded to the authority of a second father +in the Brull house, saw to the maintenance of relations with the +authorities at the provincial capital and with the still bigger fish in +Madrid. Petitions were heard in the <em>patio</em> the same as ever. Loyal +party adherents were received as cordially as before and the same favors +were done, nor was there any decline of influence in places that don +Andrés referred to as "the spheres of public administration."</p> + +<p>There came an election for Parliament, and as usual, doña Bernarda +secured the triumph of the individual whose nomination had been dictated +from Madrid. Don Ramón had left the party machine in perfect condition; +all it needed was enough "grease" to keep it running smoothly; and there +his widow was besides, ever alert at the slightest suggestion of a creak +in the gearing.</p> + +<p>At provincial headquarters they spoke of the District with the usual +confidence:</p> + +<p>"It's ours. Brull's son is as powerful as the old man himself."</p> + +<p>The truth was that Rafael took little interest in "the Party." He looked +upon it as one of the family properties, the title to which no one could +dispute. He confined his personal activities to obeying his mother. "Go +to Riola with don Andrés. Our friends there will be happy to see you." +And he would go on the trip, to suffer the torment of an interminable +rally, a <em>paella</em>, during which his fellow partisans would bore him with +their uncouth merriment and ill-mannered flattery. "You really ought to +give your horse a couple of days' rest. Instead of going out for a ride, +spend your afternoon at the Club! Our fellows are complaining they never +get a sight of you." Whereupon Rafael would give up his rides—his sole +pleasure practically—and plunge into a thick smoke-laden atmosphere of +noise and shouting, where he would have to answer questions of the most +illustrious members of the party. They would sit around, filling their +coffee-saucers with cigar-ash, disputing as to which was the better +orator, Castelar or Canovas, and, in case of a war between France and +Germany, which of the two would win—idle subjects that always provoked +disagreements and led to quarrels.</p> + +<p>The only time he entered into voluntary relations with "the Party" was +when he took his pen in hand and manufactured for the Brull weekly a +series of articles on "Law and Morality" and "Liberty and Faith,"—the +rehashings of a faithful, industrious plodder at school, prolix +commonplaces seasoned with what metaphysical terminology he remembered, +and which, from the very reason that nobody understood them, excited +the admiration of his fellow partisans. They would blink at the articles +and say to don Andrés:</p> + +<p>"What a pen, eh? Just let anyone dare to argue with him.... Deep, that +noodle, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>Nights, when his mother did not oblige him to visit the home of some +influential voter who must be kept content, he would spend reading, no +longer, however, as in Valencia, books lent him by the canon, but works +that he bought himself, following the recommendations of the press, and +that his mother respected with the veneration always inspired in her by +printed paper sewed and bound, an awe comparable only to the scorn she +felt for newspapers, dedicated, every one of them, as she averred, to +the purpose of insulting holy things and stirring up the brutal passions +of "the rabble."</p> + +<p>These years of random reading, unrestrained by the scruples and the +fears of a student, gradually and quietly shattered many of Rafael's +firm beliefs. They broke the mould in which the friends of his mother +had cast his mind and made him dream of a broader life than the one +known to those about him. French novels transported him to a Paris that +far outshone the Madrid he had known for a moment in his graduate days. +Love stories awoke in his youthful imagination an ardor for adventure +and involved passions in which there was something of the intense love +of indulgence that had been his father's besetting sin. He came to dwell +more and more in the fictitious world of his readings, where there were +elegant, perfumed, clever women, practicing a certain art in the +refinement of their vices.</p> + +<p>The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if +they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The +young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the +narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact +market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each +aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of +the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable +toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of +prejudice and tradition.</p> + +<p>For that reason he was deeply bored by his colorless, humdrum existence, +so far removed from that other purely imaginative life which rose from +the pages of his books and enveloped him with an exotic, exciting +perfume.</p> + +<p>Some day he would be free, and take flight on his own wings; and that +day of liberation would come when he got to be deputy. He waited for his +coming of age much as an heir-apparent waits for the moment of his +coronation.</p> + +<p>From early boyhood he had been taught to look forward to the great event +which would cut his life in two, opening out new pathways for a "forward +march" to fame and fortune.</p> + +<p>"When my little boy gets to be deputy," his mother would say in her rare +moments of affectionate expansiveness, "the girls will fight for him +because he is so handsome! And he'll marry a millionairess!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in long years of impatient anticipation, his life went on, +with no special circumstance to break its dull monotony—the life of an +aspirant certain of his lot, "killing time" till the call should come +to enter on his heritage. He was like those noble youngsters of bygone +centuries who, graced in their cradles by the rank of colonel from the +monarch, played around with hoop and top till they were old enough to +join their regiments. He had been born a deputy, and a deputy he was +sure to be: for the moment, he was waiting for his cue in the wings of +the theatre of life.</p> + +<p>His trip to Italy on a pilgrimage to see the Pope was the one event that +had disturbed the dreary course of his existence. But in that country of +marvels, with a pious canon for a guide, he visited churches rather than +museums. Of theatres he saw only two—larks permitted by his tutor, +whose austerity was somewhat mollified in those changing scenes. +Indifferently they passed the famous artistic works of the Italian +churches, but paused always to venerate some relic with miracles as +famous as absurd. Even so, Rafael managed to catch a confused and +passing glimpse of a world different from the one in which he was +predestined to pass his life. From a distance he sensed something of the +love of pleasure and romance he had drunk in like an intoxicating wine +from his reading. In Milan he admired a gilded, adventurous bohemia of +opera; in Rome, the splendor of a refined, artistic aristocracy in +perpetual rivalry with that of Paris and London; and in Florence, an +English nobility that had come in quest of sunlight and a chance to air +its straw hats, show off the fair hair of its ladies, and chatter its +own language in gardens where once upon a time the somber Dante dreamed +and Boccaccio told his merry tales to drive fear of plague away.</p> + +<p>That journey, of impressions as rapid and as fleeting as a reel of +moving-pictures, leaving in Rafael's mind a maze of names, buildings, +paintings and cities, served to give greater breadth to his thinking, as +well as added stimulus to his imagination. Wider still became the gulf +that separated him from the people and ideas he met in his common +everyday life. He felt a longing for the extraordinary, for the +original, for the adventuresomeness of artistic youth; and political +master of a county, heir of a feudal dominion virtually, he nevertheless +would read the name of any writer or painter whatsoever with the +superstitious respect of a rustic churl. "A wretched, ruined lot who +haven't even a bed to die on," his mother viewed such people; but Rafael +nourished a secret envy for all who lived in that ideal world, which he +was certain must be filled with pleasures and exciting things he had +scarcely dared to dream of. What would he not give to be a bohemian like +the personages he met in the books of Murger, member of a merry band of +"intellectuals," leading a life of joy and proud devotion to higher +things in a bourgeois age that knew only thirst for money and prejudice +of class! Talent for saying pretty things, for writing winged verses +that soared like larks to heaven! A garret underneath the roof, off +there in Paris, in the Latin Quarter! A Mimí poor but spiritual, who +would love him, and—between one kiss and another—be able to +discuss—not the price of oranges, like the girls who followed him with +tender eyes at home—but serious "elevated" things! In exchange for all +that he would gladly have given his future deputyship and all the +orchards he had inherited, which, though encumbered by mortgages not to +mention moral debts left by the rascality of his father and +grandfather—still would bring him a tidy annuity for realizing his +bohemian dreams.</p> + +<p>Such preoccupations made life as a party leader, tied down to the petty +interests of a constituency, quite unthinkable! At the risk of angering +his mother, he fled the Club, to court the solitude of the hills and +fields. There his imagination could range in greater freedom, peopling +the roads, the meadows, the orange groves with creatures of his fancy, +often conversing aloud with the heroines of some "grand passion," +carried on along the lines laid down by the latest novel he had read.</p> + +<p>One afternoon toward the close of summer Rafael climbed the little +mountain of San Salvador, which lies close to the city. From the +eminence he was fond of looking out over the vast domains of his family. +For all the inhabitants of that fertile plain were—as don Andrés said +whenever he wished to emphasize the party's greatness—like so many +cattle branded with the name of Brull.</p> + +<p>As he went up the winding, stony trail, Rafael thought of the mountains +of Assisi, which he had visited with his friend the canon, a great +admirer of the Saint of Umbria. It was a landscape that suggested +asceticism. Crags of bluish or reddish rock lined the roadway on either +side, with pines and cypresses rising from the hollows, and extending +black, winding, snaky roots out over the fallow soil. At intervals, +white shrines with tiny roofs harbored mosaics of glazed tiles depicting +the Stations on the <em>Via Dolorosa</em>. The pointed green caps of the +cypresses, as they waved, seemed bent on frightening away the white +butterflies that were fluttering about over the rosemary and the +nettles. The parasol-pines projected patches of shade across the burning +road, where the sun-baked earth crackled and crumbled to dead dust under +every footstep.</p> + +<p>Reaching the little square in front of the Hermitage, he rested from the +ascent, stretching out full length on the crescent of rubblework that +formed a bench near the sanctuary. There silence reigned, the silence of +high hill-tops. From below, the noises of the restless life and labor of +the plain came weakened, softened, by the wind, like the murmuring of +waves breaking on a distant shore. Among the prickly-pears that grew in +close thicket behind the bench, insects were buzzing about, shining in +the sun like buds of gold. Some hens, belonging to the Hermitage, were +pecking away in one corner of the square, clucking, and dusting their +feathers in the gravel.</p> + +<p>Rafael surrendered to the charm of the exquisite scene. With reason had +it been called "Paradise" by its ancient owners, Moors from the magic +gardens of Bagdad, accustomed to the splendors of <em>The Thousand and One +Nights</em>, but who went into ecstacies nevertheless on beholding for the +first time the wondrous <em>ribera</em> of Valencia!</p> + +<p>Throughout the great valley, orange groves, extending like shimmering +waves of velvet; hedges and enclosures of lighter green, cutting the +crimson earth into geometric figures; clumps of palms spurting like jets +of verdure upward toward the sky, and falling off again in languorous +swoons; villas blue and rose-colored, nestling in flowering gardens; +white farmhouses half concealed behind green swirls of forest; spindling +smokestacks of irrigation engines, with yellow sooty tops; Alcira, its +houses clustered on the island and overflowing to the opposite bank, all +of whitish, bony hue, pock-marked with tiny windows; beyond, Carcagente, +the rival city, girdled in its belt of leafy orchards; off toward the +sea, sharp, angular mountains, with outlines that from afar suggested +the fantastic castles imagined by Doré; and inland, the towns of the +upper <em>ribera</em> floating in an emerald lake of orchard, the distant +mountains taking on a violet hue from the setting sun that was creeping +like a bristly porcupine of gold into the hot vapors of the horizon.</p> + +<p>Behind the Hermitage all the lower <em>ribera</em> stretched, one expanse of +rice-fields drowned under an artificial flood; then, Sueca and Cullera, +their white houses perched on those fecund lagoons like towns in +landscapes of India; then, Albufera, with its lake, a sheet of silver +glistening in the sunlight; then, Valencia, like a cloud of smoke +drifting along the base of a mountain range of hazy blue; and, at last, +in the background, the halo, as it were, of this apotheosis of light and +color, the Mediterranean—the palpitant azure Gulf bounded by the cape +of San Antonio and the peaks of Sagunto and Almenara, that jutted up +against the sky-line like the black fins of giant whales.</p> + +<p>As Rafael looked down upon the towers of the crumbling convent of La +Murta, almost hidden in its pine-groves, he thought of all the tragedy +of the Reconquest; and almost mourned the fate of those farmer-warriors +whose white cloaks he could imagine as still floating among the groves +of those magic trees of Asia's paradise. It was the influence of the +Moor in his Spanish ancestry. Christian, clerical even, though he was, +he had inherited a melancholy, dreamy turn of mind from the very Arabs +who had created all that Eden.</p> + +<p>He pictured to himself the tiny kingdoms of those old <em>walis</em>; vassal +districts very like the one his family ruled. But instead of resting on +influence, bribery, intimidation, and the abuse of law, they lived by +the lances of horsemen as apt at tilling the soil as at capering in +tournaments with an elegance never equalled by any chevaliers of the +North. He could see the court of Valencia, with the romantic gardens of +Ruzafa, where poets sang mournful strophes over the wane of the +Valencian Moor, while beautiful maidens listened from behind the +blossoming rose-bushes. And then the catastrophe came. In a torrent of +steel, barbarians swept down from the arid hills of Aragon to appease +their hunger in the bounty of the plain—the <em>almogávares</em>—naked, wild, +bloodthirsty savages, who never washed. And as allies of this horde, +bankrupt Christian noblemen, their worn-out lands mortgaged to the +Israelite, but good cavalrymen, withal, armored, and with dragonwings on +their helmets; and among the Christians, adventurers of various tongues, +soldiers of fortune out for plunder and booty in the name of the Cross +—the "black sheep" of every Christian family. And they seized the great +garden of Valencia, installed themselves in the Moorish palaces, called +themselves counts and marquises, and with their swords held that +privileged country for the King of Aragon, while the conquered Saracens +continued to fertilize it with their toil.</p> + +<p>"Valencia, Valencia, Valencia! Thy walls are ruins, thy gardens +grave-yards, thy sons slaves unto the Christian ..." groaned the poet, +covering his eyes with his cloak. And Rafael could see, passing like +phantoms before his eyes, leaning forward on the necks of small, sleek, +sinewy horses, that seemed to fly over the ground, their legs +horizontal, their nostrils belching smoke, the Moors, the real people of +Valencia, conquered, degenerated by the very abundance of their soil, +abandoning their gardens before the onrush of brutal, primitive +invaders, speeding on their way toward the unending night of African +barbarism. At this eternal exile of the first Valencians who left to +oblivion and decay a civilization, the last vestiges of which today +survive in the universities of Fez, Rafael felt the sorrow he would have +experienced had it all been a disaster to his family or his party.</p> + +<p>While he was thinking of all these dead things, life in its feverish +agitation surrounded him. A cloud of sparrows was darting about the roof +of the Hermitage. On the mountain side a flock of dark-fleeced sheep was +grazing; and when any of them discovered a blade of grass among the +rocks, they would begin calling to one another with a melancholy +bleating.</p> + +<p>Rafael could hear the voices of some women who seemed to be climbing the +road, and from his reclining position he finally made out two parasols +that were gradually rising to view over the edge of his bench. One was +of flaming red silk, skilfully embroidered and suggesting the filigreed +dome of a mosque; the second, of flowered calico, was apparently keeping +at a respectful distance behind the first.</p> + +<p>Two women entered the little square, and as Rafael sat up and removed +his hat, the taller, who seemed to be the mistress, acknowledged his +courtesy with a slight bow, went on to the other end of the esplanade, +and stood, with her back turned toward him, looking at the view. The +other sat down some distance off, breathing laboriously from the +exertion of the climb.</p> + +<p>Who were those women?... Rafael knew the whole city, and had never seen +them.</p> + +<p>The one seated near him was doubtless the servant of the other—her maid +or her companion. She was dressed in black, simply but with a certain +charm, like the French soubrettes he had seen in illustrated novels. But +rustic origin and lack of cultivation were evident from the stains on +the backs of her unshapely hands; from her broad, flat, finger-nails; +and from her large ungainly feet, quite out of harmony with the pair of +stylish boots she was wearing—cast-off articles, doubtless, of the +lady. She was pretty, nevertheless, with a fresh exuberance of youth. +Her large, gray, credulous eyes were those of a stupid but playful lamb; +her hair, straight, and a very light blond, hung loosely here and there +over a freckled face, dark with sunburn. She handled her closed parasol +somewhat awkwardly and kept looking anxiously at the doubled gold chain +that drooped from her neck to her waist, as if to reassure herself that +a gift long-coveted had not been lost.</p> + +<p>Rafael's interest drifted to the lady. His eyes rested on the back of a +head of tightly-gathered golden hair, as luminous as a burnished helmet; +on a white neck, plump, rounded; on a pair of broad, lithe shoulders, +hidden under a blue silk blouse, the lines tapering rapidly, gracefully +toward the waist; on a gray skirt, finally, falling in harmonious folds +like the draping of a statue, and under the hem the solid heels of two +shoes of English style encasing feet that must have been as agile and as +strong as they were tiny.</p> + +<p>The lady called to her maid in a voice that was sonorous, vibrant, +velvety, though Rafael could catch only the accented syllables of her +words, that seemed to melt together in the melodious silence of the +mountain top. The young man was sure she had not spoken Spanish. A +foreigner, almost certainly!...</p> + +<p>She was expressing admiration and enthusiasm for the view, talking +rapidly, pointing out the principal towns that could be seen, calling +them by their names,—the only words that Rafael could make out clearly. +Who was this woman whom he had never seen, who spoke a foreign language +and yet knew the <em>ribera</em> well? Perhaps the wife of one of the French or +English orange-dealers established in the city! Meanwhile his eyes were +devouring that superb, that opulent, that elegant beauty which seemed to +be challenging him with its indifference to his presence.</p> + +<p>The keeper of the Hermitage issued cautiously from the house—a peasant +who made his living from visitors to the heights. Attracted by the +promising appearance of the strange lady, the hermit came forward to +greet her, offering to fetch water from the cistern, and to unveil the +image of the miraculous virgin, in her honor.</p> + +<p>The woman turned around to answer the man, and that gave Rafael an +opportunity to study her at his leisure. She was tall, ever so tall, as +tall as he perhaps. But the impression her height of stature made was +softened by a grace of figure that revealed strength allied to elegance. +A strong bust, sculpturesque, supporting a head that engaged the young +man's wrapt attention. A hot mist of emotion seemed to cloud his vision +as he looked into her large eyes, so green, so luminous! The golden hair +fell forward upon a forehead of pearly whiteness, veined at the temples +with delicate lines of blue. Viewed in profile her gracefully moulded +nose, quivering with vitality at the nostrils, filled out a beauty that +was distinctly modern, piquantly charming. In those lineaments, Rafael +thought he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen +her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated +weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the +cover of some match-box—a common medium of publicity for famous +European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful +face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long +absence.</p> + +<p>The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door +of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast +their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange +lady.</p> + +<p>"Enter, <em>siñorita</em>" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the +Virgin <em>del Lluch</em>, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here +alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the +real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous +because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's +the real one by the miracles she works."</p> + +<p>He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a +cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the +little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face.</p> + +<p>Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image. +The Virgin <em>del Lluch</em> was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been +compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to +discover—perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting, +war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her +to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca +came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a +liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even +wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep +what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just +like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the +original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the +Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her +miraculous voyage over the sea.</p> + +<p>The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all +ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her +credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from +the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling +at such a portentous miracle. Rafael had followed the party into the +shrine and taken a position near the fascinating stranger. She, however, +pretended not to see him.</p> + +<p>"That is only a legend," he ventured to remark, when the rustic had +finished his story. "You understand, of course, that nobody hereabouts +accepts such tales as true."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," the lady answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"Legend or no legend, don Rafael," the recluse grumbled, somewhat +peeved, "that's what my grandfather and all the folk of his day used to +say; and that's what people still believe. If the story has been handed +down so long, there must be something to it."</p> + +<p>The patch of sunlight that shone through the doorway upon the flagstones +was darkened by the shadow of a woman. It was a poorly clad orchard +worker, young, it seemed, but with a face pale, and as rough as wrinkled +paper, all the crevices and hollows of her cranium showing, her eyes +sunken and dull, her unkempt hair escaping from beneath her knotted +kerchief. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. She stood +with her legs wide apart, as if in an effort to keep her balance. She +seemed to feel intense pain whenever she stepped upon the ground. +Illness and poverty were written on every feature of her person.</p> + +<p>The recluse knew her well; and as the unfortunate creature, panting with +the effort of the climb, sank upon a little bench to rest her feet, he +told her story briefly to the visitors.</p> + +<p>She was ill, very, very ill. With no faith in doctors, who, according to +her, "treated her with nothing but words"; she believed that the Virgin +<em>del Lluch</em> would ultimately cure her. And, though at home she could +scarcely move from her chair and was always being scolded by her husband +for neglecting the housework, every week she would climb the steep +mountain-side, barefoot, her shoes in her hand.</p> + +<p>The hermit approached the sick woman, accepting a copper coin she +offered. A few couplets to the Virgin, as usual, he supposed!</p> + +<p>"Visanteta, a few <em>gochos</em>!" shouted the rustic, going to the door. And +his daughter came into the chapel—a dirty, dark-skinned creature with +African eyes, who might just have escaped from a gipsy band.</p> + +<p>She took a seat upon a bench, turning her back upon the Virgin with the +bored ill-humored expression of a person compelled to do a dull task day +after day; and in a hoarse, harsh, almost frantic voice, which echoed +deafeningly in that small enclosure, she began a drawling chant that +rehearsed the story of the statue and the portentous miracles it had +wrought.</p> + +<p>The sick woman, kneeling before the altar without releasing her hold +upon her shoes, the heels of her feet, which were bruised and bleeding +from the stones, showing from under her skirts, repeated a refrain at +the end of each stanza, imploring the protection of the Virgin. Her +voice had a weak and hollow sound, like the wail of a child. Her sunken +eyes, misty with tears, were fixed upon the Virgin with a dolorous +expression of supplication. Her words came more tremulous and more +distant at each couplet.</p> + +<p>The beautiful stranger was plainly affected at the pitiful sight. Her +maid had knelt and was following the sing-song rhythm of the chant, with +prayers in a language that Rafael recognized at last. It was Italian.</p> + +<p>"What a great thing faith is!" the lady murmured with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, <em>señora</em>; a beautiful thing!"</p> + +<p>Rafael tried to think of something "brilliant" on the grandeur of faith, +from Saint Thomas, or one of the other "sound" authors he had studied. +But he ransacked his memory in vain. Nothing! That charming woman had +filled his mind with thoughts far other than quotations from the +Fathers!</p> + +<p>The couplets to the Virgin came to an end. With the last stanza the wild +singer disappeared; and the sick woman, after several abortive efforts, +rose painfully to her feet. The recluse approached her with the +solicitude of a shopkeeper concerned for the quality of his wares. Were +things going any better? Were the visits to the Virgin doing good?... +The unfortunate woman did not dare to answer, for fear of offending the +miraculous Lady. She did not know!... Yes ... she really must be a +little better ... But that climb!... This offering had not had such good +results as the previous ones, she thought; but she had faith: the Virgin +would be good to her and cure her in the end. At the church door she +collapsed from pain. The recluse placed her on his chair and ran to the +cistern to get a glass of water. The Italian maid, her eyes bulging with +fright, leaned over the poor woman, petting her:</p> + +<p>"<em>Poverina! Poverina!... Coraggio</em>!" The invalid, rallying from her +swoon, opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at the stranger, not +understanding her words but guessing their kindly intention.</p> + +<p>The lady stepped out to the <em>plazoleta</em>, deeply moved, it seemed, by +what she had been witnessing. Rafael followed, with affected +absent-mindedness, somewhat ashamed of his insistence, yet at the same +time looking for an opportunity to renew their conversation.</p> + +<p>On finding herself once more in the presence of that wonderful panorama, +where the eye ran unobstructed to the very limit of the horizon, the +charming creature seemed to breathe more freely.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" she exclaimed, as if speaking to herself. "How sad and yet +how wonderful! This view is ever so beautiful. But that woman!... That +poor woman!"</p> + +<p>"She's been that way for years, to my personal knowledge," Rafael +remarked, pretending to have known the invalid for a long time, though +he had scarcely ever deigned to notice her before. "Our peasants are +queer people. They despise doctors, and refuse their help, preferring to +kill themselves with these barbarous prayers and devotions, which they +expect will do them good."</p> + +<p>"But they may be right, after all!" the lady replied. "Disease is often +incurable, and science can do for it about as much as faith—sometimes, +even less.... But here we are laughing and enjoying ourselves while +suffering passes us by, rubs elbows with us even, without our noticing!"...</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for reply. What sort of woman was this? What a way +she had of talking! Accustomed as he was to the commonplace chatter of +his mother's friends, and still under the influence of this meeting, +which had so deeply disturbed him, the poor boy imagined himself in the +presence of a sage in skirts—a philosopher under the disguise of +female beauty come from beyond the Pyrenees, from some gloomy German +alehouse perhaps, to upset his peace of mind.</p> + +<p>The stranger was silent for a time, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. +Then around her attractive sensuous lips, through which two rows of +shining, dazzling teeth were gleaming, the suggestion of a smile began +to play, a smile of joy at the landscape.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful this all is!" she exclaimed, without turning toward her +companion. "How I have longed to see it again!"</p> + +<p>At last the opportunity had come to ask the question he had been so +eager to put: and she herself had offered the opportunity!</p> + +<p>"Do you come from here?" he asked, in a tremulous voice, fearing lest +his inquisitiveness be scornfully repelled.</p> + +<p>"Yes," the lady replied, curtly.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's strange. I have never seen you...."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing strange about that. I arrived only yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Just as I said!... I know everyone in the city. My name is Rafael +Brull. I'm the son of don Ramón, who was mayor of Alcira many times."</p> + +<p>At last he had let it out! The poor fellow had been dying to reveal his +name, tell who he was, pronounce that magic word so influential in the +District, certain it would be the "Open Sesame" to that wonderful +stranger's grace! After that, perhaps, she would tell him who she was! +But the lady commented on his declaration with an "Ah!" of cold +indifference. She did not show that his name was even known to her, +though she did sweep him with a rapid, scrutinizing, half-mocking glance +that seemed to betray a hidden thought:</p> + +<p>"Not bad-looking, but what a dunce!"</p> + +<p>Rafael blushed, feeling he had made a false step in volunteering his +name with the pompousness he would have used toward some bumpkin of the +region.</p> + +<p>A painful silence followed. Rafael was anxious to get out of his plight. +That glacial indifference, that disdainful courtesy, which, without a +trace of rudeness, still kept him at a distance, hurt his vanity to the +quick. But since there was no stopping now, he ventured a second +question:</p> + +<p>"And are you thinking of remaining in Alcira very long?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael thought the ground was giving way beneath his feet. Another +glance from those green eyes! But, alas, this time it was cold and +menacing, a livid flash of lightning refracted from a mirror of ice.</p> + +<p>"I don't know ..." she answered, with a deliberateness intended to +accentuate unmistakable scorn. "I usually leave places the moment they +begin to bore me." And looking Rafael squarely in the face she added, +with freezing formality, after a pause:</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, sir."</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed. He saw her turn toward the doorway of the sanctuary +and call her maid. Every step of hers, every movement of her proud +figure, seemed to raise a barrier in front of him. He saw her bend +affectionately over the sick orchard-woman, open a little pink bag that +her maid handed her, and, rummaging about among some sparkling trinkets +and embroidered handkerchiefs, draw out a hand filled with shining +silver coins. She emptied the money into the apron of the astonished +peasant girl, gave something as well to the recluse, who was no less +astounded, and then, opening her red parasol, walked off, followed by +her maid.</p> + +<p>As she passed Rafael, she answered the doffing of his hat with a barely +perceptible inclination of her head; and, without looking at him, +started on her way down the stony mountain path.</p> + +<p>The young man stood gazing after her through the pines and the cypresses +as her proud athletic figure grew smaller in the distance.</p> + +<p>The perfume of her presence seemed to linger about him when she had +gone, obsessing him with the atmosphere of superiority and exotic +elegance that emanated from her whole being.</p> + +<p>Rafael noticed finally that the recluse was approaching, unable to +restrain a desire to communicate his admiration to someone.</p> + +<p>"What a woman!" the man cried, rolling his eyes to express his full +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>She had given him a <em>duro</em>, one of those white discs which, in that +atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the +poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron +blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! <em>Duros, pesetas</em>, +two-<em>pesetas</em>, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold +button, which must have come from her glove!</p> + +<p>Rafael shared in the general astonishment. But who the devil was that +woman?</p> + +<p>"How do I know!" the rustic answered. "But judging from the language of +the maid," he went on with great conviction: "I should say she was some +Frenchwoman ... some Frenchwoman ... with a pile of money!"</p> + +<p>Rafael turned once more in the direction of the two parasols that were +slowly winding down the slope. They were barely visible now. The larger +of the two, a mere speck of red, was already blending into the green of +the first orchards on the plain ... At last it had disappeared +completely.</p> + +<p>Left alone, Rafael burst into rage! The place where he had made such a +sorry exhibition of himself seemed odious to him now. He fumed with +vexation at the memory of that cold glance, which had checked any +advance toward familiarity, repelled him, crushed him! The thought of +his stupid questions filled him with hot shame.</p> + +<p>Without replying to the "good-evening" from the recluse and his family, +he started down the mountain, in hopes of meeting the woman again, +somewhere, some time, he knew not when nor how. The heir of don Ramón, +the hope of the District, strode furiously on, his arms aquiver with a +nervous tremor. And aggressively, menacingly, addressing his own ego as +though it were a henchman cringing terror-stricken in front of him, he +muttered:</p> + +<p>"You imbecile!... You lout!... You peasant! You provincial ass! You ... +rube!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>IV</h3> + + +<p>Doña Bernarda did not suspect the reason why her son rose on the +following morning pale, and with dark rings under his eyes, as if he had +spent a bad night. Nor could his political friends guess, that +afternoon, why in such fine weather, Rafael should come and shut himself +up in the stifling atmosphere of the Club.</p> + +<p>When he came in, a crowd of noisy henchmen gathered round him to discuss +all over again the great news that had been keeping "the Party" in +feverish excitement for a week past: the Cortes were to be dissolved! +The newspapers had been talking of nothing else. Within two or three +months, before the close of the year at the latest, there would be a new +election, and therewith, as all averred, a landslide for don Rafael +Brull. The intimate friend and lieutenant of the House of Brull was the +best informed. If the elections took place on the date indicated by the +newspapers, Rafael would still be five or six months short of his +twenty-fifth birth-day. But don Andrés had written to Madrid to consult +the Party leaders. The prime minister was agreeable—"there were +precedents!"—and even though Rafael should be a few weeks short of the +legal age, the seat would go to him just the same. They would send no +more "foundlings" from Madrid! Alcira would have no more "unknowns" +foisted upon her! And the whole Tribe of Brull dependents was preparing +for the contest with the enthusiasm of a prize-fighter sure of victory +beforehand.</p> + +<p>All this bustling expectation left Rafael cold. For years he had been +looking forward to that election time, when the chance would come for +his free life in Madrid. Now that it was at hand he was completely +indifferent to the whole matter, as if he were the last person in the +world concerned.</p> + +<p>He looked impatiently at the table where don Andrés, with three other +leading citizens, was having his daily hand at cards before coming to +sit down at Rafael's side. That was a canny habit of don Andrés. He +liked to be seen in his capacity of Regent, sheltering the heir-apparent +under the wing of his prestige and experienced wisdom.</p> + +<p>Well along in the afternoon, when the Club parlor was less crowded with +members, the atmosphere freer of smoke, and the ivory balls less noisy +on the green cloth, don Andrés considered his game at an end, and took a +chair in his disciple's circle, where as usual Rafael was sitting with +the most parasitic and adulatory of his partisans.</p> + +<p>The boy pretended to be listening to their conversation, but all the +while he was preparing mentally a question he had decided to put to don +Andrés the day before.</p> + +<p>At last he made up his mind.</p> + +<p>"You know everybody, don Andrés. Well, yesterday, up on San Salvador, I +met a fine-looking woman who seems to be a foreigner. She says she's +living here. Who is she?"</p> + +<p>The old man burst into a loud laugh, and pushed his chair back from the +table, so that his big paunch would have room to shake in.</p> + +<p>"So you've seen her, too!" he exclaimed between one guffaw and another. +"Well, sir, what a city this is! That woman got in the day before +yesterday, and everybody's seen her already. She's the talk of the town. +You were the only one who hadn't asked me about her so far. And now +you've bitten!... Ho! Ho! Ho! What a place this is!"</p> + +<p>When he had had his laugh out—Rafael, meanwhile, did not see the +joke—he continued in more measured style:</p> + +<p>"That 'foreign woman,' as you call her, boy, comes from Alcira. In fact, +she was born about two doors from you. Don't you know doña Pepa, 'the +doctor's woman,' they call her—a little lady who has an orchard close +by the river and lives in the Blue House, that's always under water when +the Júcar floods? She once owned the place you have just beyond where +you live, and she's the one who sold it to your father—the only +property don Ramón ever bought, so far as I know. Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>Rafael thought he did. As he went back in his memory, the picture of an +old wrinkled woman rose before his mind, a woman round-shouldered, bent +with age, but with a kindly face smiling with simple-mindedness and good +nature. He could see her now, with a rosary usually in her hand, a +camp-stool under her arm, and her <em>mantilla</em> drawn down over her face. +As she passed the Brull door on her way to church, she would greet his +mother; and doña Bernarda would remark in a patronizing way: "Doña Pepa +is a very fine woman; one of God's own souls.... The only decent person +in her family."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember; I remember doña Pepa," said Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Well, your 'foreigner,'" don Andrés continued, "is doña Pepa's niece, +daughter of her brother, the doctor. The girl has been all over the +world singing grand opera. You were probably too young to remember +Doctor Moreno, who was the scandal of the province in those days...."</p> + +<p>But Rafael certainly did remember Doctor Moreno! That name was one of +the freshest of his childhood recollections, the bugaboo of many nights +of terror and alarm, when he would hide his trembling head under the +clothes. If he cried about going to bed so early, his mother would say +to him in a mysterious voice:</p> + +<p>"If you don't keep quiet and go right to sleep I'll send for Doctor +Moreno!"</p> + +<p>A weird, a formidable personage, the Doctor! Rafael could see him as +clearly as if he were sitting there in front of him; with that huge, +black, curly beard; those large, burning eyes that always shone with an +inner fire; and that tall, angular figure that seemed taller than ever +as young Brull evoked it from the hazes of his early years. Perhaps the +Doctor had been a good fellow, who knows! At any rate Rafael thought so, +as his mind now reverted to that distant period of his life; but he +could still remember the fright he had felt as a child, when once in a +narrow street he met the terrible Doctor, who had looked at him through +those glowing pupils and caressed his cheeks gently and kindly with a +hand that seemed to the youngster as hot as a live coal! He had fled in +terror, as almost all good boys did when the Doctor petted them.</p> + +<p>What a horrible reputation Doctor Moreno had! The curates of the town +spoke of him in terms of hair-raising horror. An infidel! A man cut off +from Mother Church! Nobody knew for certain just what high authority had +excommunicated him, but he was, no doubt, outside the pale of decent, +Christian folks. Proof of that there was, a-plenty. His whole attic was +filled with mysterious books in foreign languages, all containing +horrible doctrines against God and the authority of His representatives +on earth. He defended a certain fellow by the name of Darwin, who +claimed than men were related to monkeys, a view that gave much +amusement to the indignant doña Bernarda, who repeated all the jokes on +the crazy notion her favorite preacher cracked of a Sunday in the +pulpit. And such a sorcerer! Hardly a disease could resist Doctor +Moreno. He worked wonders in the suburbs, among the lower scum; and +those laborers adored him with as much fear as affection. He succeeded +with people who had been given up by the older doctors, wiseacres in +long frocks and with gold-headed canes, who trusted more in God than in +science, as Rafael's mother would say in praise of them. That devil of a +physician used new and unheard-of treatments he learned from atheistic +reviews and suspicious books he imported from abroad. His competitors +grumbled also because the Doctor had a mania for treating poor folk +gratis, actually leaving money, sometimes, into the bargain; and he +often refused to attend wealthy people of "sound principles" who had +been obliged to get their confessor's permission before placing +themselves in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Rascal!... Heretic!... Lower scum!..." doña Bernarda would exclaim.</p> + +<p>But she said such things in a very low voice and with a certain fear, +for those days were bad ones for the House of Brull. Rafael remembered +how gloomy his father had been about that time, hardly even leaving the +<em>patio</em>. Had it not been for the respect his hairy claws and his +frowning eye-brows inspired, the rabble would have eaten him alive. +"Others" were in command, ... "others" ... everybody, in fact, except +the House of Brull.</p> + +<p>The monarchy had been treasonably overturned; the men of the Revolution +of September were legislating in Madrid. The petty tradesmen of the +city, ever rebellious against the tyranny of don Ramón, had taken guns +in their hands and formed a little militia, ready to send a fusilade +into the <em>cacique</em> who had formerly trodden them under foot. In the +streets people were singing the <em>Marseillaise</em>, waving tricolored +bunting, and hurrahing for the Republic. Candles were being burned +before pictures of Castelar. And meantime that fanatical Doctor, a +Republican, was preaching on the public squares, explaining the "rights +of man" at daytime meetings in the country and at night meetings in +town. Wild with enthusiasm he repeated, in different words, the orations +of the portentous Tribune who in those days was traveling from one end +of Spain to the other, administering to the people the sacrament of +democracy to the music of his eloquence, which raised all the grandeurs +of History from the tomb.</p> + +<p>Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her +angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting, +would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors +away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer. +"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked +her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country. +Those people demanded a Republic—they belonged, as she said, to the +"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning; +and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and +strangle the baby!</p> + +<p>"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen <em>cacique</em> would reply, +with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll +sing their <em>Marseillaise</em> for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why +shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are +coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs."</p> + +<p>In don Ramón's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may +have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been +schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the +hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother +him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's +friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly +of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so +many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for +himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it! +The end of the world was surely coming!</p> + +<p>But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid, +what would become of the poor people who depended on him for health and +protection? Besides, he liked a quiet, sedentary life, with his books +and his studies, where he could satisfy his desires without quarrels and +fighting. His deep convictions impelled him to mingle with the masses, +and speak in public places—where he proved to be a successful agitator, +but he refused to join party organizations; and after a lecture or an +oration, he would spend days and days with his books and magazines, +alone save for his sister—a docile, pious woman who worshipped him, +though she bewailed his irreligion—and for his little daughter, a +blonde girl whom Rafael could scarcely remember, because her father's +unpopularity with the "best people" kept the little child away from +"good society."</p> + +<p>The Doctor had one passion—music; and everybody admired his talent for +that art. What didn't the man know, anyhow? According to doña Bernarda +and her friends, that remarkable skill had been acquired through "evil +arts." It was another fruit of his impiety! But that did not prevent +crowds from thronging the streets at night, cautioning pedestrians to +walk more softly as they approached his house; nor from opening their +windows to hear better when that devil of a doctor would be playing his +violoncello. This he did when certain friends of his came up from +Valencia to spend a few days with him—a queer, long-haired crew that +talked a strange language and referred to a fellow called Beethoven +with as much respect as if he were San Bernardo himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes, don Andrés," said Rafael. "I remember Doctor Moreno very well." +And his ears seemed to tingle again with the diabolical melodies that +had floated in to the side of his little bed on terrible nights still +fresh in his memory.</p> + +<p>"Very well," continued the old man. "That lady is the Doctor's daughter. +What a man he was! How he made your father and me fume in the days of +'73! Now that all that is so far in the past, I'll say he was a fine +fellow. His brain had gone somewhat bad from reading too much, like don +Quixote; and he was crazy over music. Most charming manners he had, +however. He married a beautiful orchard-girl, who happened to be very +poor. He said the marriage was ... for the purpose of perpetuating the +species—those were his very words—of having strong, sound, healthy +children. For that he didn't need to bother about his wife's social +position. What he was looking for was health. So he picked out that +Teresa of his, as strong as an ox, and as fresh as an apple. But little +good it did the poor woman. She had one baby and died a few days +afterward, despite the science and the desperate efforts of her husband. +They had lived together less than a year."</p> + +<p>Rafael's companions were listening with as much attention as he; for +morbid curiosity is the characteristic of the people of small places, +where the keenest pleasure available is that of knowing the private +affairs of others intimately.</p> + +<p>"And now comes the good part," don Andrés continued. "The mad Doctor +had two saints: Castelar and Beethoven. The pictures of those fellows +were scattered in every room of the house, even in the attic. This +Beethoven (in case you don't know it), was an Italian or an Englishman, +I'm not sure which—one of those fellows who makes music up out of his +head for people to play in theatres or for lunatics like Moreno to amuse +themselves with. Well, when his daughter was born the Doctor wondered +what name to give her. As a tribute to Emilio Castelar, his idol, he +felt he ought to call her Emilia: but he liked the sound of Leonora +better (no, not Lenor, but Leonora!). According to what he told us, that +was the title of the only opera Beethoven ever wrote—an opera he could +read, for that matter, the way I read the paper. Anyhow, the foreigner +won out; and the Doctor packed the child off to church with his sister, +who took a few neighbors of the poorer sort along to see Leonora +baptized.</p> + +<p>"You can imagine what the priest said after he had looked in vain +through the catalogue of saints for that name. At the time I was +employed in the municipal offices, and I had to intervene. This was all +before the Revolution; Gonzalez Brabo was boss in those days—and good +old days they were! Let an enemy of law and order or sound religion just +raise his voice and he was off on his way to Fernando Pio in no time. +Well, what a racket the Doctor raised! He sat himself down in that +church—first time he'd ever been in the place—and insisted that his +daughter be labeled as he directed. Later he thought he would take her +home without any baptism at all, saying he had no use for the ceremony +anyhow, and that he put up with it only to please his sister. During +the argument, he called all the curates and acolytes assembled in the +sacristy there, a pack of 'brahmans.'"</p> + +<p>"He must have said Brahmins," interrupted Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's it: and Bonzes, too—just joking, of course—I remember +very well. But finally he compromised and let her be baptized with the +orthodox name of 'Leonor.' Not that he cared what they called her in the +church. As he went out he said to the priest: "She will be 'Leonora' for +reasons that please her father, and which you wouldn't understand even +if I were to explain them to you." What a hubbub followed! Don Ramón and +I had to interfere to calm the good curates; they were for sending him +up for sacrilege, insult to religion, what not! We had to go some to +quiet things down. In those days, boy, a matter of that sort was more +serious than killing a man."</p> + +<p>"Which name did she keep?" asked a friend of Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Leonora, as her father wished. That girl always took after the old man. +Just as queer as he was. The Doctor all over again! I haven't seen her +yet. They say she's a stunning beauty, like her mother, who was a +blonde, and the handsomest girl in all these parts. When the Doctor had +dressed his wife up like a lady, she wasn't much for manners, but she +certainly was something to look at...."</p> + +<p>"And what became of Moreno?" asked another. "Is it true, as they said +years ago, that he shot himself?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, some say one thing, some another. Perhaps it's all a lie. Who +knows! It all happened so far away.... After the Republic fell, it was +the turn of decent people again. Poor Moreno took it all harder than he +did the death of his Teresa, and kept himself locked up in his house day +in, day out. Your father was stronger than before and we ran things in a +way that was a sight for sore eyes! Don Antonio up in Madrid gave orders +to the Governors to give us a free hand in cleaning up everything that +was left of the Revolution. The people who before had been cheering for +the Doctor all the time, now kept away from him for fear we should catch +them. Some afternoons he would go for a walk in the suburbs, or a stroll +over to his sister's orchard, near the river—always with Leonora at his +side. She was now about eleven years old. All his affection was centered +on her. Poor Doctor! How things had changed from the days when his mobs +would meet the troops shot for shot in the streets of Alcira, shouting +<em>vivas</em> for the Federal Republic!... In his solitude and in all the +dejection coming from the defeat of his perverted ideas, he took more +than ever to music. He had but one joy left him. Leonora loved music as +much as he. She learned her lessons rapidly; and soon could accompany +her father's violoncello on the piano. They would spend the days playing +together, going through the whole pile of music sheets they kept stored +in the attic along with those accursed medical books. Besides, the +little girl showed she had a voice, and it seemed to grow fuller and +more beautiful every day. 'She will be a singer, a great singer,' her +father proclaimed enthusiastically. And when some tenant of his or one +of his dependents came into the house and could hardly believe his ears +at the sweetness of the little angel's voice, the Doctor would rub his +hands and gleefully exclaim: 'What do you think of the little lady, +eh?... Some day people in Alcira will be proud she was born here.'"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés paused to sift his recollections, and after a long silence +added:</p> + +<p>"The truth is, I can't tell you any more. At that time, we were in power +again, and I had very little to do with the Doctor. We gradually lost +sight of him, forgot him, practically. The music we heard when going by +the house was all there was to remind us of him. We learned one day, +through his sister, doña Pepa, that he had gone way off with the little +girl somewhere—what was that city you visited, Rafael?—Milan, yes, +Milan, that's it! I've been told that's the market for singers. He +wanted his Leonora to become a prima donna. He never came back, poor +fellow!... Things must have gone badly with them. Every year he would +write home to his sister to sell another piece of land. It is known that +over there they lived in real poverty. In a few years the little fortune +the Doctor got from his parents was gone. Poor doña Pepa, kind old soul, +even disposed of the house—which belonged half to the Doctor and half +to her—sent him every cent of the money, and moved to the orchard. Ever +since then she's been coming in to mass and to Forty Hours in all sorts +of weather. I could learn nothing for certain after that. People lie so, +you see. Some say poor Moreno shot himself because his daughter left him +when she got placed on the stage; others say that he died like a dog in +a poorhouse. The only sure thing is that he died and that his daughter +went on having a great time all over those countries over there. The +way she went it! They even say she had a king or two. As for money! Say, +boys, there are ways and ways of earning it, and ways and ways of +spending it! The fellow who knows all about that side of her is the +barber Cupido. He imagines he's an artist, because he plays the guitar; +and besides he has a Republican grouch, and was a great admirer of her +father's. He's the only one in town who followed all she was up to, in +the papers. They say she doesn't sing under her own name, but uses some +prettier sounding one—foreign, I believe. Cupido is a regular busybody +and you can get all the latest news in his barbershop. Only yesterday he +went to doña Pepa's farmhouse to greet the '<em>eminent artist</em>,' as he +calls her. There's no end to what he tells. Trunks in every corner, +enough to pack a house-full of things into, and silk dresses ... +shopfuls of them! Hats, I can't say how many; jewelry-boxes on every +table with diamonds that strike you blind. And she told Cupido to have +the station-agent get a move on and send what was still missing—the +heavier luggage—boxes and boxes that come from way off somewhere—the +other end of the world, and that cost a fortune just to ship.... There +you are!... And why not? The way she earned it!"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés winking maliciously and laughing like an old faun, gave a sly +nudge at Rafael, who was listening in deep abstraction to the story.</p> + +<p>"But is she going to live on here?" asked the young man. "Accustomed as +she is to flitting about the world, do you think she'll be able to stand +this place?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody can tell," don Andrés replied. "Not even Cupido can find that +out. She'll stay until she gets bored, he says. And to be in less danger +of that, she has brought her whole establishment along on her back, like +a snail."</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be bored soon enough," one of Rafael's friends observed. +"I suppose she thinks she's going to be admired and stared at as she was +abroad! Moreno's girl! Did you ever hear of such a family?... Daughter +of that <em>descamisado</em>, as my father calls him because he died without a +stitch on his back! And all people say of them! Last night her arrival +was the subject of conversation in every decent home in town, and there +wasn't a man who did not promise to fight shy of her. If she thinks +Alcira is anything like the places where they dance the razzle-dazzle +and there's no shame, she'll be sadly disappointed."</p> + +<p>Don Andrés laughed slyly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, boys! She'll be disappointed. There's a plenty of morality in this +town, and much wholesome fear of scandal. We're probably as bad as +people in other places, but we don't want anybody to find us out. I'm +afraid this Leonora is going to spend most of her time with her aunt—a +silly old thing, whatever her many virtues may be. They say she's +brought a French maid along.... But she's beginning to cry 'sour grapes' +already. Do you know what she said to Cupido yesterday? That she had +come here with the idea of living all by herself, just to get away from +people; and when the barber spoke to her of society in Alcira, she made +a wry face, as much as to say the place was filled with no-accounts. +That's what the women were talking most about last night. You can see +why! She has always been the favorite of so many big guns!"</p> + +<p>An idea seemed to flit across the wrinkled forehead of don Andrés, +tracing a wicked smile around his lips:</p> + +<p>"You know what I think, Rafael? You're young and you're handsome, and +you've been abroad. Why don't you make a try for her, if only to prick +the bubble of her conceit and show her there are people here, too. They +say she's mighty good-looking, and, what the deuce! It wouldn't be so +hard. When she finds out who you are!..."</p> + +<p>The old man said this with the idea of flattering Rafael, certain that +the prestige of his "prince" was such that no woman could resist him. +But Rafael had lived through the previous afternoon, and the words +seemed very bitter pills. Don Andrés at once grew serious, as if a +frightful vision had suddenly passed before his eyes; and he added in a +respectful tone:</p> + +<p>"But no: that was only a jest. Don't pay any attention to what I say. +Your mother would be terribly provoked."</p> + +<p>The thought of doña Bernarda, the personification of austere, +uncompromising virtue, chased the mirth from every face in the company.</p> + +<p>"The strange thing about all this," said Rafael, who was anxious to turn +the conversation in a different direction, "is that now everybody +remembers the Doctor's daughter. But years and years went by without her +name being mentioned, in my hearing at least."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man +answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your +day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always +been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as +Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we +got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers +and spread all over town, or something that that silly doña Pepa would +let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece +was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I +don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire, +so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to +Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here, +and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life, +digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take +my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself, +but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to +them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow +everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramón the greatest man the +District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..."</p> + +<p>And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael +had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few +hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood +years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in +their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other.</p> + +<p>This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city, +lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would +not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her.</p> + +<p>How get to know her better, then?... Rafael was tempted as he walked +aimlessly about the streets, to look up the barber Cupido in his shop +that very afternoon. That merry rogue was the only person in all Alcira +who entered her house. But Brull did not dare, for fear of gossip. His +dignity as a party leader forbade his entering that barbershop where the +walls were papered with copies of "Revolution" and where a picture of Pi +y Margall reigned in place of the King's. How could he justify his +presence in a place he had never visited before? How explain to Cupido +his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it +before sundown?</p> + +<p>Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the +barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch. Finally he +sauntered off toward the orchards, following the riverbank slowly along, +with his gaze fixed on that blue house, which had never before attracted +his attention, but which now seemed the most beautiful detail in that +ample paradise of orange-trees.</p> + +<p>Through the groves he could see the balcony of the house, and on it a +woman unfolding shining gowns of delicate colors. She was shaking the +prima donna's skirts to straighten out the wrinkles and the folds caused +by the packing in the trunks.</p> + +<p>It was the Italian maid—that Beppa of the reddish hair whom he had seen +the previous afternoon with her mistress.</p> + +<p>He thought the girl was looking at him, and that she even recognized +him through the foliage, despite the distance. He felt a sudden +timorousness, like a child caught redhanded doing something wrong. He +turned in his tracks and strode rapidly off toward the city.</p> + +<p>But later, he felt quite comforted. Merely to have approached the Blue +House seemed like progress toward acquaintance with the beautiful +Leonora.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>All work had stopped on the rich lands of the <em>ribera</em>.</p> + +<p>The first winter rains were falling over the entire District. Day after +day the gray sky, heavy with clouds, seemed to reach down and touch the +very tops of the trees. The reddish soil of the fields grew dark under +the continuous downpour; the roads, winding deep between the mudwalls +and the fences of the orchards, were changed to rushing streams. The +weeping orange-trees seemed to shrink and cringe under the deluge, as if +in aggrieved protest at the sudden anger of that kindly, friendly land +of sunshine.</p> + +<p>The Júcar was rising. The waters, turned to so much liquid clay, lashed +red and slimy against the buttresses of the bridges. People living along +the banks followed the swelling of the river with anxious eyes, studying +the markers placed along the shores to note how the water was coming up.</p> + +<p><em>"Munta?"</em> ... asked the people from the interior, in their quaint +dialect.</p> + +<p><em>"Munta!"</em> answered the river dwellers.</p> + +<p>And the water was indeed slowly rising, already threatening the city +that had so audaciously taken root in the very middle of its bed.</p> + +<p>But despite the danger, the townspeople seemed to be feeling nothing +more than uneasy curiosity. No one thought of moving across the bridges +to take refuge on the high land. Nonsense! The Júcar was always +flooding. You had to expect something of the sort every once in a while. +Thank heaven there was something to break the monotony of life in that +sleepy town! Why complain at a week's vacation? It was hard to disturb +the placid complacency of those descendants of the Moors. Floods had +been coming since the days of their fathers, their grandfathers and +their great-grandfathers, and never had the town been carried off. A few +houses at the worst. Why suppose the catastrophe would be due now?... +The Júcar was a sort of husband to Alcira. As happens in any decent +family, there would be a quarrel now and then—a thrashing followed by +kisses and reconciliation. Just imagine—living seven or eight centuries +together! Besides,—and this the lesser people thought—there was Father +San Bernardo, as powerful as God Himself in all that concerned Alcira. +He was able, single-handed, to tame the writhing monster that wound its +coiling way underneath the bridges.</p> + +<p>It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to +be having a holiday. The young ones, sent home from school because of +the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the +water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close +to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the +ever-broadening torrent to reach them.</p> + +<p>Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts +were belching streams as thick as a man's arm, loungers in the cafés +would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing +at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make +their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their +opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous +inspection.</p> + +<p>The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically +"Southern" argument and prophecy. Friendships were being made and +broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the +past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more +important than the one five years before.</p> + +<p>Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, +roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the +low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the +shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges +and the mudwalls.</p> + +<p>The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the +mountains of Cuenca. If much water came down from there, the flood would +become serious. And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters +carefully. If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the +upper provinces.</p> + +<p>The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days. The night of the second day +closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness. +On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless +flashes of flame—candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen +on guard along the banks.</p> + +<p>In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the +houses. Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the +men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about +in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or +tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the +water.</p> + +<p>All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the +darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully +displayed during the daytime. Now fear of the supernatural came over +them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher +Power to avert the danger. Perhaps this freshet was the final one! +Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall +of the city!... Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their +wretched lanes converted into deep canals.</p> + +<p>"<em>El pare San Bernat!... Que traguen al pare San Bernat</em>! Father Saint +Bernard!... Let them fetch father Saint Bernard!"</p> + +<p>The men looked at each other uneasily. Nobody could handle a matter like +this so well as the glorious patron. It was now high time to have +recourse to him, as had so often been done before, and get him to +perform his miracle.</p> + +<p>They ought to go to the City Council, and compel the big guns there, in +spite of their scepticism, to bring the saint out for the consolation of +the poor.</p> + +<p>In an hour a veritable army was formed. Mobs issued from the dark lanes, +paddling in the water like frogs, and raising their war-cry: "<em>San +Bernat! San Bernat</em>!"; the men, with their sleeves and trousers rolled +up, or even entirely naked save for the sash that is never removed from +the skin of a Valencian peasant; the women, with their skirts raised +over their heads for protection, sinking their tanned, skinny, +over-worked legs into the slime, and all drenched from head to foot, the +wet clothes sticking to their bodies; and at the head, a number of +strong young men with four-wicked tapers lighted, sputtering and +crackling in the rain and casting a weird flickering radiance back over +the clamoring multitude.</p> + +<p>"<em>San Bernat! San Bernat!... Viva el pare San Bernat!</em> Father Saint +Bernard, <em>viva</em>!"</p> + +<p>Under the drizzle pouring from the sky and the streams tumbling from the +eavespouts, the mob rushed along through the streets in a wild riot. +Doors and windows flew open, and new voices were added to the delirious +uproar, while at every crossing recruits would come to swell the +on-rushing avalanche headed for the <em>Ayuntamiento</em>. Muskets, ancient +blunderbusses, and horse-pistols as big as guns, could be seen in the +menacing throng, as though those wild forms were to compel the granting +of a petition that might be denied, or to slay the river, perhaps.</p> + +<p>The <em>alcalde</em>, with all the members of the council, was waiting at the +door of the City Hall. They had come running to the place, marshalling +the <em>alguacils</em> and the patrols, to face and quell the mutiny.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" the Mayor asked the crowd.</p> + +<p>What did they want! They wanted the one remedy, the one salvation, for +the city: they wanted to take the omnipotent saint to the bank of the +river that he might awe it with his presence, just as their ancestors +had been doing for centuries and centuries, and thanks to which the city +was still standing!</p> + +<p>Some of the city people, whom the peasants regarded as atheists, began +to smile at the strange request. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time +getting all the valuables out of the houses on the bank? A tempest of +protests followed this proposal. "Out with the saint! Out with <em>San +Bernat!</em> We want the miracle! The miracle!" Those simple people were +thinking of the wonders they had learned in their childhood at their +mothers' knees; times in former centuries, when it had been enough for +San Bernardo to appear on a river road, to start the flood down again, +draining off from the orchard lands as water leaks from a broken +pitcher.</p> + +<p>The <em>alcalde</em>, a liegeman of the Brull dynasty, was in a quandary. He +was afraid of that ugly mob and was anxious to yield, as usual; but it +would be a serious breach of etiquette not to consult "the chief." +Fortunately, just as the huge, dark mass of human beings was beginning +to surge in indignation at his silence, and hisses and shouts of anger +were being raised, Rafael appeared.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda had sent him out at the first sign of uneasiness in the +populace. It was in circumstances such as these that her husband used to +shine, taking the helm in every crisis, giving orders and settling +questions, though to no avail at all. But when the river returned to its +normal level, and danger was past, the peasant would remember don +Ramón's "sacrifices" and call him the father of the poor. If the +miraculous saint must come out, let Rafael be the one to produce him! +The elections were at hand. The flood could not have come in better +time. There must be no false steps, no frightening opportunity away. +Something rather must be done to get people to talking about him as they +used to talk about his father on similar occasions.</p> + +<p>So Rafael, after having the purpose of this demonstration explained to +him by the most ardent of the leaders, gave a magnificent gesture of +consent:</p> + +<p>"Granted; have <em>San Bernat</em> brought out!"</p> + +<p>With a thunder of applause and <em>vivas</em> for young Brull, the black +avalanche headed rumbling for the church.</p> + +<p>They must now persuade the curate to take the saint out, and that good +priest—a fat, kindly, but rather shrewd fellow—always objected to what +he called a bit of old-fashioned mummery. The truth was he looked +forward with little pleasure to a tramp out in the rain at the head of a +procession, trying to keep dry under an umbrella, with his <em>soutane</em> +rolled up to his knees, and his shoes coming off at every step in the +mire. Besides, some day, in the very face of San Bernardo, the river +might carry half the city off, and then what a fix, what a fix, religion +would be in, all on account of those disturbers of the peace!</p> + +<p>Rafael and his henchmen of the <em>Ayuntamiento</em> tried their hardest to +convince the curate; but his only reply was to ask whether water was +coming down from Cuenca.</p> + +<p>"I believe it is," said the <em>alcalde</em>. "You can see that makes the +danger worse. It's more than ever necessary to bring out the saint."</p> + +<p>"Well, if there's water coming down from Cuenca," the priest answered, +"we'd better let it come, and San Bernardo also had better keep +indoors, at home. Matters concerning saints must be treated with great +discretion, take my word for that.... And, if you don't agree with me, +just remember that freshet when the river got above the bridges. We +brought the saint out, and the river almost carried him off downstream."</p> + +<p>The crowd, growing restless at the delay, began to shout against the +priest. The good sense of that canny churchman was powerless in the face +of superstitions instilled by centuries of fanaticism.</p> + +<p>"Since you will it so, so let it be," he said gravely. "Let the Saint +come forth, and may the Lord have mercy on us!"</p> + +<p>A frenzied acclamation burst from the crowd, which now filled the whole +square in front of the church. The rain continued falling, and above the +serried ranks of heads covered with skirts, cloaks, and an occasional +umbrella, the flames of the tapers flickered, staining the wet faces +red.</p> + +<p>The people smiled happily in all their discomfort from the downpour. +Confident of success, they were foretasting gleefully the terror of the +stream at sight of the blessed image entering its waters. What could not +San Bernardo do? His marvelous history, a blend of Moorish and Christian +romance, flamed in all those credulous imaginations. He was a saint +native to that region—the second son of the Moorish king of Carlet. +Through his talent, courtesy and beauty he won such success at court in +Valencia, that he rose to the post of prime minister.</p> + +<p>Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of +Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete, +to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of +the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting +mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to +the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by +the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of +Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of +Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen +monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two +sisters—beautiful Mooresses they were—and they took the names of +Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go +with their brother on his tour of preachment.</p> + +<p>But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born—the arrogant +Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor—succeeded to the rulership of the +tiny state—a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended +in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the +roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called +a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He +came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of +his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he +crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred +preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here +was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering +mendicant even—a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his +votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted +<em>vivas</em> to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had +been of the pagan king of Valencia.</p> + +<p>The procession was rapidly organized. Along the narrow lanes of the +island where the rain coursed in streams, people kept coming in droves. +They were barefoot for the most part, but some were sinking shoes +indifferently into the water. Most of them had tapers or shotguns. The +women did their best to shelter little ones under the skirts they had +gathered about their heads. The musicians, all barefoot, were in regular +uniform—gold braided jackets and plumed hats—looking for all the world +like Malay chiefs who beautify their nakedness with castoff coats and +three-cornered hats the missionaries give them.</p> + +<p>In front of the church the lights of the tapers blended into one great +flare. Through the wide doorway the candles on the altars gleamed like a +distant constellation.</p> + +<p>The whole neighborhood, almost, had assembled in the square, despite the +increasing rain. Many had come to scoff. What a farce it all would be! +They did well, however, to wait two days! The rain was almost over. It +would probably stop by the time they got the Saint out!</p> + +<p>In double file of tapers the procession began to move between two lines +of tightly jammed spectators.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat!</em> Hurrah for father San Bernardo!" a +multitude of hoarse voices cried.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol les chermanetes</em>! Hurrah for his sisters!" others added, to +correct the lack of gallantry displayed by the most enthusiastic of the +idolators in putting ladies last.</p> + +<p>For the sisters, the holy martyrs, Gracia and Maria, also figured in +the procession. San Bernardo never went anywhere alone. As even children +in baby-school knew, not a power on earth, not all the men and horses in +the orchards put together, could lift the saint from his altar unless +his sisters went first. That was one of his miracles long accredited by +tradition. He had very little confidence in women—less pious +commentators said—and not willing to trust his sisters out of sight, he +insisted that they precede him whenever he left his pedestal.</p> + +<p>The holy sisters appeared in the church doorway, swaying on their +litters above the heads of the worshippers.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol les chermanetes!</em>"</p> + +<p>And the poor <em>chermanetes</em>, dripping from every fold of their vestments, +came out into that dark, tempestuous, rain-soaked atmosphere that was +rent by sheaves of crude light from the tapers.</p> + +<p>The musicians tuned their instruments, ready to break into the Royal +March! In the brilliantly lighted doorway something shining could be +seen laboriously advancing, swaying this way and that, as if the waves +of an angry sea were rocking it.</p> + +<p>The crowd again began to cheer, and the music sounded.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat!</em>"</p> + +<p>But the music and the acclamations were drowned by a deafening crash, as +if the island had suddenly burst into a thousand pieces, dragging the +city to the depths of the Abyss. The square was shooting a fusillade of +lightning flashes, a veritable cannonade. Those ancient arms, +blunderbusses, muzzle-loaders, pistols, crammed full of powder, could +roar like artillery. All the guns in the neighborhood were saluting the +appearance of the Saint. And the crowd, drunk with the smell of powder, +began to shout and gesticulate in the presence of that bronze image, +whose round, kindly face—that of a healthy well-fed friar—seemed to +quiver with life in the light of the torches.</p> + +<p>Eight strong men, almost naked, came forward staggering under the weight +of the metal saint. The crowd surged against them, threatening to upset +the statue. But two bare-breasted strong-armed boys, devotees of the +patron, were marching on either side, and they fought the multitude +back.</p> + +<p>The women, shoved hither and thither and almost suffocated in the jam, +burst into tears as their gaze fell upon the miraculous image.</p> + +<p>"<em>Ay</em>, father San Bernardo! Father San Bernardo! Save us! Save us!"</p> + +<p>Others dragged children out from the folds of their skirts, and held +them out above their heads toward the powerful guards.</p> + +<p>"Lift him up! Let him kiss the Saint!"</p> + +<p>And those muscular peasants would pick the children up like dolls, now +by an arm, now by a leg, now by the nape of the neck, raise them to a +level with the saint, that they might kiss the bronze face, and then +toss them back into the arms of their mothers, working like automatons, +dropping one child to seize another, with the regularity of machines in +action. Many times the impact was too rough; the noses of the children +would flatten against the folds of the metallic garb; but the fervor of +the crowd seemed to infect the little ones. They were the future adorers +of the Moorish monk. Rubbing their bruises with their soft little hands +they would swallow their tears and return to their snug places in their +mothers' skirts.</p> + +<p>Behind the glorious saint marched Rafael and the gentlemen of the +<em>Ayuntamiento</em> with long wax tapers; and after them the curate, +grumbling as he heard the first dashes of rain beat on the large red +silk umbrella which the sacristan held over him, and felt the impact of +the crowd of orchard-folk, that was mixed at random with the musicians. +The latter, paying more attention to where they stepped than to their +instruments, played a rather discordant march. Guns, meanwhile, +continued to blaze away. The wild cheering for San Bernardo and his +sisters went on; and, framed in a red nimbus of torch-light, greeted at +every street-corner by a new fusillade, the image sailed along over that +sea of heads, pelted by the rain, which, in the light of the candles, +looked like a maze of transparent crystal threads. Around the saint the +arms of the athletes kept ever moving, lifting children up to bump their +drooling noses on the bronze of father San Bernardo. Balconies and +windows along the way were filled with women, their heads protected by +their skirts.</p> + +<p>Sighs, wails, exclamations of entreaty welcomed the passing saint in a +chorus of despair and hope.</p> + +<p>"Save us, father San Bernardo!... Save us!..."</p> + +<p>The procession reached the river, crossing and recrossing the bridges +that led to the suburbs. The flickering torches were mirrored in the +dark edges of the stream, which was growing momentarily more terrifying +and clamorous. The water had not yet reached the railing, as at other +times. Miracle! San Bernardo was at work already!</p> + +<p>Then the procession marched to points where the river had flooded the +lanes near the bank, and turned them to virtual ponds. The more +fanatical of the devotees, lifting their tapers above their heads, went +out fearlessly neck high into the water: for surely the Saint must not +go in alone.</p> + +<p>One old man, shaking with malaria, caught in the rice-fields, and hardly +able to hold the taper in his trembling hands, hesitated at the brink of +the stream.</p> + +<p>"Go on in, <em>agüelo</em>!" the women encouraged affectionately. "Father San +Bernardo will cure you. Don't lose such a chance!"</p> + +<p>When the saint was out performing miracles, he might remember the old +man, too. So <em>agüelo</em>—"grandaddy"—shivering in his drenched clothes +and his teeth chattering, walked resolutely in.</p> + +<p>The statue was making its way very slowly along the inundated streets, +for the feet of the bearers sank deep into the water under their load; +and they could advance at all only with the aid of the faithful, who +gathered about the litter on all sides to help. A writhing mass of bare, +sinewy arms rose from the water like tentacles of a human octopus to +carry the Saint along.</p> + +<p>Just behind the image came the curate and the political dignitaries, +riding astride the shoulders of some enthusiasts who, for the greater +pomp of the ceremony, were willing to serve as mounts, though the tapers +of their riders kept getting into their faces.</p> + +<p>The curate began to feel the cold water creeping up his back, and +ordered the Saint inshore again. In fact San Bernardo was already at +the end of the lane, and actually in the river itself. His guards of +honor were having a time of it to keep their feet in the face of the +current, but they were still willing to go on, believing that the +farther the statue went into the stream, the sooner the waters would go +down. At last, however, the most foolhardy withdrew. The Saint came +back. Though the procession at once went on to the next road and to the +next, repeating the same performance.</p> + +<p>And suddenly it stopped raining.</p> + +<p>A wild cheer, a shout of joy and triumph, shook the multitude.</p> + +<p>"<em>Vitol el pare San Bernat</em>!..." Now would the people of the neighboring +towns dare dispute his immense power?... There was the proof! Two days +of incessant downpour, and then, the moment the Saint showed his face +out of doors—fair weather! Excuse me!</p> + +<p>In fervent thanksgiving weeping women rushed upon the saint and began to +kiss whatever part of the image was within reach—the handles of the +litter, the decorations of the pedestal, the bronze body itself. The +tottering structure of wood and metal began to stagger and reel like a +frail bark tossing over a sea of shrieking heads and extended arms that +trembled with exaltation.</p> + +<p>The procession marched on for more than an hour still along the river. +Then the priest, who was dripping wet and had exhausted more than a +dozen "horses" under him, forbade it to continue. Leave it to those +peasants, and the nonsense would go on till dawn! So the curate observed +that the Saint had already done what was required of him. Now it was +time to go home!</p> + +<p>Rafael handed his taper to one of his henchmen and stopped on the bridge +with a number of experienced observers, who were lamenting the damage +done by the flood. At every moment, no one could say just how, alarming +reports of the destruction wrought by the river were coming in. Now a +mill had been isolated by the waters, and the people there had taken +refuge on the roof, firing their shotguns as signals of distress. Many +orchards had been completely submerged. The few boats available in the +city were doing the best they could in the work of rescue. The valley +had become one vast lake. Rowboats caught in the shifting currents were +in danger of smashing against hidden obstructions; and it was +practically impossible to push a punt upstream with oars.</p> + +<p>Yet the people spoke with relative calmness. They were accustomed to +this almost annual visitation, and accepted it resignedly as an +inevitable evil. Besides, they referred hopefully to telegrams received +by the <em>alcalde</em>. By dawn help would be coming in. The governor in +Valencia was sending a detachment of marines, and the lagoon would be +filled with navy boats. Everything would be all right in a few hours. +But if the water got much higher meanwhile ...!</p> + +<p>They consulted stakes and other water marks along the river, and violent +disputes arose. Rafael, for his part, could see the flood was still +rising, though but slowly.</p> + +<p>The peasants refused to believe it. How could the river rise after +Father San Bernardo had gone into it? No, sir! it was <em>not</em> rising. That +was all a lie intended to discredit the patron. And a sturdy youth with +flashing eyes threatened to disembowel with one stroke of his +knife—like that!--a certain scoffer who maintained that the river would +go on rising if only for the pleasure of refuting that charlatan of a +friar.</p> + +<p>Rafael approached the brawlers, and by the dim lantern light recognized +Cupido—the barber—a sarcastic fellow, with curly side-whiskers and an +aquiline nose, who took great pleasure in poking fun at the barbarous, +unshakable faith of the illiterate peasants.</p> + +<p>Brull knew the barber very well. The man was one of his childhood +favorites. Fear of his mother was the only thing that had kept him from +frequenting Cupido's shop—the rendezvous of the city's gayest set, a +hotbed of gossip and practical jokes, a school of guitar playing and +love songs that kept the whole neighborhood astir. Besides, Cupido was +the freak of the city, the sharp-tongued but irresponsible practical +joker, who was forgiven everything in advance, and could enjoy his +idiosyncrasies and speak his mind about people without starting a riot +against him. He was, for instance, the one person in Alcira who scoffed +at the tyranny of the Brulls without thereby losing entrance to the +Party Club, where the young men admired his wit and his eccentric way of +dressing.</p> + +<p>Rafael was still fond of Cupido, though not very intimate with him. In +all the sedate, conservative world around him, the barber seemed the +only person really worth while talking with. Cupido was almost an +artist. In winter he would go to Valencia to hear the operas praised by +the newspapers, and in one corner of his shop he had heaps of novels and +illustrated magazines, much mildewed and softened by the damp, and their +leaves worn through from continual thumbing by customers.</p> + +<p>He had very little to do with Rafael, guessing that the youth's mother +would not regard such a friendship with any too much favor; but he +displayed a certain liking for the boy; and addressed him familiarly, +having known him as a child. Of Rafael he said everywhere:</p> + +<p>"He's the best one in the family; the only Brull with more brains than +crookedness."</p> + +<p>Nothing too small for Cupido to notice ever happened in Alcira. Every +weakness, every foible of the city's celebrities was made public by him +in his barbershop, to the delight of the Opposition, whose members +gathered there to read their party organ. The gentlemen of the +<em>Ayuntamiento</em> feared the barber more than any ten newspapers combined, +and whenever some famous Conservative minister referred in parliament to +a "revolutionary hydra" or a "hotbed of anarchy," they pictured to +themselves a barbershop like that of Cupido, but much larger perhaps, +scattering a poisonous atmosphere of cruel gibe and perverse effrontery +all through the nation.</p> + +<p>The barber was inevitably on hand where anything was going on. It might +be at the very end of the suburbs, or away out in the country. In a few +moments Cupido would put in an appearance to learn all about it, give +advice to those who might need it, arbitrate between disputants and +afterward tell the whole story with a thousand embellishments.</p> + +<p>He had plenty of time on his hands for leading such a life. Two young +fellows, as crazy as their employer, tended shop. Cupido paid them with +music-lessons and meals—better or worse these latter, according to the +day's receipts, which were divided fraternally among the three. And if +the "boss" sometimes astonished the city by going out for a walk in +midwinter in a suit of white duck, they, not to be outdone, would shave +off their hair and eyebrows and show heads as smooth as billiard-balls +behind the shop windows, to the great commotion of the city, which would +flock <em>en masse</em> to see "Cupido's Chinamen."</p> + +<p>A flood was always a great day for the barber. He closed shop and +planted himself out on a bridge, oblivious to wind and rain, haranguing +the crowds of spectators, terrifying the stupid with his exaggerations +and inventions, and announcing hair-raising news which he asserted he +had just received from the Governor by telegraph, and according to +which, in two hours, there would not be a cellar-hole left of the place. +Even the miracle-working San Bernardo would be washed into the sea!</p> + +<p>When Rafael found him upon the bridge that night, after the procession, +Cupido was on the point of coming to blows with several rustics, who had +grown indignant at his heresies.</p> + +<p>Stepping aside from the crowd, the two began a conversation about the +dangers of the flood. Cupido, as usual, was well-informed. He had been +told a poor old man had been cut off in an orchard and drowned. That was +probably not the only accident that had taken place. Horses and pigs in +large numbers had drifted past under the bridge, early in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>The barber talked earnestly and with some sadness, it seemed. Rafael +listened in silence, scanning his face anxiously, as if looking for a +chance to speak of something which he dared not broach.</p> + +<p>"And how about the Blue House," he ventured finally, "that farm of doña +Pepa's where you go sometimes? Will anything be wrong down there?"</p> + +<p>"It's a good solid place," the barber replied, "and this isn't the first +flood it's been through.... But it's right on the river, and by this +time the garden must be a lake; the water will surely be up to the +second story. I'll bet doña Pepa's poor niece is scared out of her wits... +Just imagine—coming from so far away and from such pretty places, +and running into a mess like this ..."</p> + +<p>Rafael seemed to meditate for a moment. Then as if an idea that had been +dancing about in his head all day had just occurred to him, he said:</p> + +<p>"Suppose we take a run down there!... What do you say, Cupido?"</p> + +<p>"Down there!... And how'll we get there?"</p> + +<p>But the proposal, from its very rashness, was bound to appeal to a man +like the barber, who at length began to laugh, as if the adventure were +a highly amusing one.</p> + +<p>"You're right! We could get through! It will look funny, all right! Us +two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a +celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home +and fetch my guitar along ..."</p> + +<p>"What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our +job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we +don't."</p> + +<p>The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes +on Rafael.</p> + +<p>"I see! So you're interested in the illustrious <em>artiste</em>, too ... You +rascal! You're smitten on her reputation for good looks ... But no ... I +remember ... you've seen her; she told me so herself."</p> + +<p>"She!... She spoke to you about me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing important! She told me she saw you one afternoon up at the +Hermitage."</p> + +<p>Cupido kept the rest to himself. He did not say that Leonora, on +mentioning Rafael's name, had added that he looked like an "idiot."</p> + +<p>Rafael's heart leaped with joy! She had talked of him! She had not +forgotten that meeting which had left such a painful memory in him!... +What was he doing, then, standing like a fool there on that bridge, when +down at the Blue House they might be needing a man's help?</p> + +<p>"Listen, Cupido; I have my boat right handy here; you know, the boat +father had made to order in Valencia as a present for me. Steel frame; +hard wood; safe as a warship. You know the river ... I've seen you +handle an oar more than once; and I've got a pair of arms myself ... +What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say, let's go," the barber answered resolutely.</p> + +<p>They asked for a torch, and with the help of several men dragged +Rafael's boat toward a stairway on the riverbank.</p> + +<p>Above, through the crowds on the bridge, the news of the expedition +flashed, but exaggerated and much idealized by the curious. The men were +going to save a poor family that had taken refuge on the roof of a +house—poor devils in danger of being swept off at any moment. Rafael +had learned of their plight, and he was starting to save them at the +risk of his own skin. And a wealthy, powerful man like him, with so much +to live for! Damn it, those Brulls were all men, anyhow!... And yet see +how people talked against them! What a heart! And the peasants followed +the blood-red glow of the torch in the boat as it mirrored across the +waters, gazing adoringly at Rafael, who was sitting in the stern. Out of +the dark entreating voices called. Many loyal followers of the Brulls +were eager to go with the chief—drown with him, if need be.</p> + +<p>Cupido protested. No; for a job like that, the fewer the better; the +boat had to be light; he would do for the oars and Rafael could steer.</p> + +<p>"Let her go! Let her go!" called Rafael.</p> + +<p>And the boat, after hesitating a second, shot off on the current.</p> + +<p>In the narrow gorge between the Old City and the New, the swollen +torrent swept them along like lightning. The barber used his oars just +to keep the boat away from the shore. Submerged rocks sent great +whirlpools to the surface and pulled the boat this way and that. The +light of the torch cast a dull reddish glow out over the muddy eddies. +Tree trunks, refuse, dead animals, went floating by, shapeless masses +with only a few dark points visible above the surface, as though some +dead man covered with mud were swimming under water. Out on that +swirling current, with the slimy vapors of the river rising to his +nostrils and the eddies sucking and boiling all around, Rafael thought +himself the victim of a weird nightmare and began even to repent of his +rashness. Cries kept coming from houses close to the river; windows were +suddenly lighted up; and from them great shadowy arms like the wings of +a windmill waved in greeting to that red flame which people saw gliding +past along the river, bringing the outlines of the boat and the two men +into distinct view. The news of their expedition had spread throughout +the city and people were on the watch for them as they sped by: "<em>Viva</em> +don Rafael! <em>Viva</em> Brull!"</p> + +<p>But the hero who was risking his life to save a family of poor folks out +there in the darkness of that sticky, murky, sepulchral night, had in +mind only one thing—a blue house, into which he was to penetrate at +last, in so strange and romantic a fashion.</p> + +<p>From time to time a scraping sound or a jolt of the boat would bring him +back to reality.</p> + +<p>"Your tiller there!" Cupido would shout, without, however, taking his +eyes from the water ahead. "Look out, Rafaelito, or we'll get smashed!"</p> + +<p>The boat was indeed a good one, for any other, would long before have +come to grief in those rapids jammed with rocks and debris.</p> + +<p>They were around the city in no time. Few lighted windows were now to be +seen. High, steep banks of slippery mud—quite unscalable—crested with +walls, were slipping past on either hand, with an occasional palisade, +the piles just emerging from the water. Somewhat ahead, the open river, +where the two arms that girt the Old City reunited in what was now a +vast lake!</p> + +<p>The two men went on blindly. All normal landmarks were gone. The banks +had disappeared, and in the blackness, beyond the red circle of torch +light, they could make out only water and then more water—an immense +incessantly rolling sheet that was taking them they knew not where. From +time to time a black spot would show above the muddy surface; the crest +of some submerged canebrake; the top of a tree; a strange, fantastic +vegetation that seemed to be writhing in the gloom. The river, free now +from the gorges and shallows around the city, had ceased its roaring. It +seethed and swirled along in absolute silence, effacing all trace of the +land. The two men felt like a couple of shipwrecked sailors adrift on a +shoreless, sunless ocean, alone save for the reddish flame flickering at +the prow, and the submerged treetops that appeared and vanished rapidly.</p> + +<p>"Better begin to row, Cupido," said Rafael. "The current is very strong. +We must be still in the river. Let's turn to the right and see if we can +get into the orchards."</p> + +<p>The barber bent to the oars, and the boat, slowly, on account of the +current, came around and headed for a line of tree-tops that peered +above the surface of the flood like seaweed floating on the ocean. +Shortly the bottom began to scrape on invisible obstacles. Entanglements +below were clutching at the keel, and it took some effort occasionally +to get free. The lake was still dark and apparently shoreless, but the +current was not so strong and the surface had stopped rolling. The two +men knew they had reached dead water. What looked like dark, gigantic +mushrooms, huge umbrellas, or lustrous domes, caught the reflection of +the torch, at times. Those were orange-trees. The rescuers were in the +orchards. But in which? How find the way in the darkness? Here and there +the branches were too thick to break through and the boat would tip as +if it were going over. They would back water, make a detour, or try +another route.</p> + +<p>They were going very slowly for fear of striking something, zig-zagging +meanwhile to avoid snags. As a result they lost direction altogether, +and could no longer say which way the river lay. Darkness and water +everywhere! The submerged orange-trees, all alike, formed complicated +lanes over the inundation, a labyrinth in which they grew momentarily +more confused. They were now rowing about quite aimlessly.</p> + +<p>Cupido was perspiring freely, under the hard work. The boat was moving +slower and slower because of the branches catching at the keel.</p> + +<p>"This is worse than the river," he murmured. "Rafael, you're facing +forward. Can't you make out any light ahead?"</p> + +<p>"Not a one!"</p> + +<p>The torch would throw some huge clump of leaves into relief for a +moment. When that was gone, the light would be swallowed up into damp, +thick, empty space.</p> + +<p>Thus they wandered about and about the flooded countryside. The barber's +strength had given out and he passed the oars over to Rafael, who was +also nearly exhausted.</p> + +<p>How long had they been gone? Were they to stay there forever? And their +minds dulled by fatigue and the sense of being lost, they imagined the +night would never end—that the torch would go out and leave the boat a +black coffin, for their corpses to float in eternally.</p> + +<p>Rafael, who was now facing astern suddenly noticed a light on his left. +They were going away from it; perhaps that was the house they had been +so painfully searching for.</p> + +<p>"It may be," Cupido agreed. "Perhaps we went by without seeing it, and +now we're downstream, toward the sea.... But even if it is not the Blue +House, what of it? The main thing is to find someone there. That's far +better than wandering around here in the dark. Give me the oars, again +Rafael. If that isn't doña Pepita's place, at least we'll find out where +we are."</p> + +<p>He pulled the boat around, and gradually they made their way through the +treetops toward the light. They struck several snags, orchard fences, +perhaps, or submerged walls—but the light kept growing brighter. +Finally it had become a large red square across which dark forms were +moving. Over the waters a golden, shimmering wake of light was +streaming.</p> + +<p>The torch from the boat brought out the lines of a broad house with a +low roof that seemed to be floating on the water. It was the upper story +of a building that had been swamped by the inundation. The lower story +was under water. The flood, indeed, was getting closer to the upper +rooms. The balconies and windows looked like landings of a pier in an +immense lake.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me as if we'd struck the place," the barber said.</p> + +<p>A warm, resonant voice, that of a woman, vibrant, but with a deep, +melodious softness, broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"Hey, you in the boat there!... Here, here!"</p> + +<p>The voice betrayed no fear. It showed not a trace of emotion.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you so I ..." the barber exclaimed. "The very place we +were looking for. Doña Leonora!... It's I! It's I!"</p> + +<p>A rippling laugh came out into gloom.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Cupido! It's Cupido!... I can tell him by his voice. Auntie, +auntie! Don't cry any more. Don't be afraid; and stop your praying, +please! Here comes the God of Love in a pearl shallop to rescue us!"</p> + +<p>Rafael shrank at the sound of that somewhat mocking voice, which seemed +to people the darkness with brilliantly colored butterflies.</p> + +<p>Now in the luminous square of a window he could make out the haughty +profile of a woman among other black forms that were going to and fro +past the light inside, in agreeable surprise at the unexpected visit.</p> + +<p>The craft drew up to the balcony. The men rose to their feet and were +able to reach an iron railing. The barber, from the prow, was looking +for something strong where he could make the boat fast.</p> + +<p>Leonora was leaning over the balustrade while the light from the torch +lit up the golden helmet of her thick, luxuriant hair. She was trying to +identify that other man down there who had bashfully sat down again in +the stern.</p> + +<p>"You're a real friend, Cupido!... Thank you, thank you, ever and ever +so much. This is one of the favors we never forget.... But who has come +along with you?..."</p> + +<p>The barber was already fastening the boat to the iron railing.</p> + +<p>"It's don Rafael Brull," he answered slowly. "A gentleman you have met +already, I believe. You must thank him for this visit. The boat is his, +and it was he who got me out on this adventure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Señor Brull," said Leonora, greeting the man with the +wave of a hand that flashed blue and red from the rings on its fingers. +"I must repeat what I said to our friend Cupido. Come right in, and I +hope you'll excuse my introducing you through a second-story window."</p> + +<p>Rafael had jumped to his feet and was answering her greeting with an +awkward bow, clasping the iron railing in order not to fall. Cupido +jumped into the house and was followed by the young man, who took pains +to make the climb gracefully and sprightly.</p> + +<p>He was not sure how well he succeeded. That had been too much excitement +for a single night: first the wild trip through the gorges near the +city; then those hours of desperate aimless rowing over the winding +lanes of the flooded countryside; and now, all at once, a solid floor +under his feet, a roof over his head, warmth, and the society of that +madly beautiful woman, who seemed to intoxicate him with her perfume, +and whose eyes he did not dare meet with his own for fear of fainting +from embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Come right in, <em>caballero</em>," she said to him. "You surely need +something after this escapade of yours. You are sopping wet, both of +you.... Poor boys! Just look at them!... Beppa!... Auntie! But do come +in, sir!"</p> + +<p>And she fairly pushed Rafael forward with a sort of maternal +authoritativeness, much as a kindly woman might take her child in hand +after he has done some naughty prank of which she is secretly proud.</p> + +<p>The rooms were in disorder. Clothes everywhere and heaps of rustic +furniture that contrasted with the other pieces arranged along the +walls! The household belongings of the gardener had been brought +upstairs as soon as the flood started. An old farmer, his wife—who was +beside herself with fear—and several children, who were slinking in the +corners, had taken refuge in the upper story with the ladies, as soon as +the water began seeping into their humble home.</p> + +<p>Rafael entered the dining-room, and there sat doña Pepita, poor old +woman, heaped in an armchair, the wrinkles of her features moistened +with tears and her two hands clutching a rosary. Cupido was trying +vainly to cheer her with jokes about the inundation.</p> + +<p>"Look, auntie! This gentleman is the son of your friend, doña Bernarda. +He came over here in a boat to help us out. It was very nice of him, +wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The old woman seemed quite to have lost her mind from terror. She looked +vacantly at the new arrivals, as if they had been there all their lives. +At last she seemed to realize what they were saying.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's Rafael!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Rafaelito.... And you +came to see us in such weather! Suppose you get drowned? What will your +mother say?... Lord, how crazy of you! Lord!"</p> + +<p>But it was not madness, and even if it were, it was very sweet of him! +That, at least, was what Rafael seemed to read in those clear, luminous +eyes of the golden sparkles that caressed him with their velvety touch +every time he dared to look at them. Leonora was staring at him: +studying him in the lamplight, as if trying to understand the difference +between the man in front of her and the boy she had met on her walk to +the Hermitage.</p> + +<p>Doña Pepa's spirits rallied now that men were in the house; and with a +supreme effort of will, the old lady decided to leave her armchair for a +look at the flood, which had stopped rising, if, indeed, it were not +actually receding.</p> + +<p>"How much water, oh Lord our God!... How many terrible things we'll +learn of tomorrow! This must be a punishment from Heaven ... a warning +to us to think of our many sins."</p> + +<p>Leonora meanwhile was bustling busily about, hurrying the refreshments. +Those gentlemen couldn't be left like that—she kept cautioning to her +maid and the peasant woman. Just imagine, with their clothes wet +through! How tired they must be after that all night struggle! Poor +fellows! It was enough just to look at them! And she set biscuits on the +table, cakes, a bottle of rum—everything, including a box of Russian +cigarettes with gilded tips—to the shocked surprise of the gardener's +wife.</p> + +<p>"Let them come here, auntie," she said to the old lady. "Don't make them +talk any more now.... They need to eat and drink a little, and get +warm.... I'm sorry I have so little to offer you. What in the world can +I get for them? Let's see! Let's see!"</p> + +<p>And while the two men were being forced, by that somewhat despotic +attentiveness, to take seats at the table, Leonora and her maid went +into the adjoining room, where keys began to rattle and tops of chests +to rise and fall.</p> + +<p>Rafael, in his deep emotion, could scarcely manage a few drops of rum; +but the barber chewed away for all he was worth, downing glass after +glass of liquor, and talking on and on through a mouth crammed with food +while his face grew redder and redder.</p> + +<p>When Leonora reappeared, her maid was following her with a great bundle +of clothes in her arms.</p> + +<p>"You understand, of course, we haven't a stitch of men's clothes in the +house. But in war-time we get along as best we can, eh? We're in what +you might call a state of siege here."</p> + +<p>Rafael noted the dimples that a charming smile traced in those wonderful +cheeks! And what perfect teeth—jewels in a casket of red velvet!</p> + +<p>"Now, Cupido; off with those wet things of yours; you're not going to +catch pneumonia on my account, and thus deprive the city of its one +bright spot. Here's something to put on while we are drying your +clothes."</p> + +<p>And she offered the barber a magnificent gown of blue velvet, with +veritable cascades of lace at the breast and on the sleeves.</p> + +<p>Cupido nearly fell off his chair.... Was he going to dress in top style +for once in his life? And with those side-whiskers?... How the people in +Alcira would howl if they could only see him now! And entering at once +into the fun of the situation, he hastened into the next room to don his +gown.</p> + +<p>"For you," Leonora said to Rafael with a motherly smile, "I could find +only this fur cloak. Come, now, take off that jacket of yours; it's +dripping wet."</p> + +<p>With a blush, the young man refused. No, he was all right! Nothing would +happen to him! He had been wetter than that many times.</p> + +<p>Leonora without losing her smile, seemed to grow impatient. No one in +that house ever talked back to her.</p> + +<p>"Come, Rafael, don't be so silly. We'll have to treat you like a child."</p> + +<p>And taking him by a sleeve, as if he were a refractory baby, she began +to pull at his jacket.</p> + +<p>The young man, in his confusion, was hardly aware of what was taking +place. He seemed to be traveling along on an endless horizon, at greater +speed than he had been swept down the river just before. She had called +him by his first name; he was a pampered guest in a house he had for +months been trying in vain to enter, and she, Leonora, was calling him +"child" and treating him like a child, as if they had been friends all +their lives. What sort of woman was this? Was he not lost in some +strange world? The women of the city—the girls he met at the parties at +his home, seemed to be creatures of another race, living far, ever so +far, away, at the other end of the earth, cut off from him forever by +that immense sheet of water.</p> + +<p>"Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we'll have to undress you like a doll."</p> + +<p>She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and +the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious +intoxication swept over him.</p> + +<p>The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders. It was a rare +garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the +plumes of some fantastic bird. Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its +edges touched the floor. The young man realized that thousands of francs +had suddenly be«n thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the +bottom up, lest he should step upon it.</p> + +<p>Leonora laughed at his embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it. One would think you +were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat. It isn't +worth much. I use it only to travel in. A grandduke gave it to me in +Saint Petersburg."</p> + +<p>And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she +wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it +more tightly to him.</p> + +<p>Slowly they walked back into the front room. Meanwhile, the appearance +of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of +laughter in the dining-room. Cupido was taking full advantage of the +occasion. The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the +other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and +singing in a falsetto soprano voice. The peasant family laughed like +mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened +her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace +with which he pronounced the Italian verses. Even poor doña Pepa hitched +around in her armchair and applauded. The barber, according to her, was +the most charming devil in the world.</p> + +<p>Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora's side, his gaze lost in +the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his +body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have +retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders. With +marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate +trip down the river.</p> + +<p>Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath.</p> + +<p>"What you have done," the prima donna was saying, "deserves my deep, +deep gratitude! It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times. +Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa! Only the swan is +lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan...."</p> + +<p>"And suppose you had been carried off—drowned!..." the youth exclaimed +in justification of his rashness.</p> + +<p>"Drowned!...I must confess that at first I was somewhat afraid. Not so +much of dying, for I'm somewhat tired of life—as you will realize after +you've known me a little longer. But a death like that, suffocated in +that mud, that filthy, dirty water that smells so bad, doesn't at all +appeal to me. If it were some green, transparent Swiss lake!... I want +beauty even in death; I'm concerned with the 'final posture,' like the +Romans, and I was afraid of perishing here like a rat in a sewer.... And +nevertheless, I couldn't help laughing at my aunt and our poor servants +to see the fright they were in!... Now the water is no longer rising, +and the house is strong. Our only trouble is that we're cut off, and +I'm waiting for daylight to come so that we can see where we are. The +sight of all this country changed into a lake must be very beautiful, +isn't it, Rafael?"</p> + +<p>"You've probably seen far more interesting things," the young man +replied.</p> + +<p>"I don't deny that; but I'm always most impressed by the sensation of +the moment."</p> + +<p>And she fell silent, showing by her sudden seriousness the vexation that +his distant allusion to her past had caused.</p> + +<p>For some moments neither of them spoke; and it was Leonora who finally +broke the silence.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, if the water had gone on rising, we would have owed our +lives to you.... Let's see, now, frankly: why did you come? What kind +inspiration made you think of me. You hardly know me!"</p> + +<p>Rafael blushed with embarrassment, and trembled from head to foot, as if +she had asked him for a mortal confession. He was on the point of +uttering the great truth, baring in one great explosion all his thoughts +and dreams and dreads of past days. But he restrained himself and +grasped wildly for an answer.</p> + +<p>"My enthusiasm for the artist," he replied timidly. "I admire your +talent very much."</p> + +<p>Leonora burst into a noisy laugh.</p> + +<p>"But you don't know me! You've never heard me sing!... What do you know +about my "talent," as they call it? If it weren't for that chatterbox of +a Cupido, Alcira would never dream that I am a singer and that I'm +somewhat well-known—except in my own country."</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed by the reply; he did not dare protest.</p> + +<p>"Come, Rafael," the woman continued affectionately, "don't be a child +and try to pass off the fibs boys use to deceive mama with. I know why +you came here. Do you imagine you haven't been seen from this very +balcony hovering about here every afternoon, lurking in the road like a +spy? You are discovered, sir."</p> + +<p>The shy Rafael thought the balcony was collapsing underneath his feet. +He shivered in abject terror, drew the fur cloak tighter around him, +without knowing what he was about, and shook his head in energetic +denial.</p> + +<p>"So it's not true, you fraud?" she said, with comic indignation. "You +deny that since we met up at the Hermitage you have been taking all your +walks in this neighborhood? <em>Dios mío</em>! What a monster of falsehood have +we here? And how brazenly he lies."</p> + +<p>And Rafael, vanquished by her frank merriment, had finally to smile, +confessing his crime with a loud laugh.</p> + +<p>"You're probably surprised at what I do and say," continued Leonora +drawing closer to him, leaning a shoulder against his with unaffected +carelessness, as if she were with a girl friend. "I'm not like most +women. A fine thing it would be for me, with the life I lead, to play +the hypocrite!... My poor aunt thinks I'm crazy because I say just what +I feel; in my time I've been much liked and much disliked on account of +the mania I have for not concealing anything.... Do you want me to tell +you the real truth?... Very well; you've come here because you love me, +or, at least, because you think you love me: a failing all boys of your +age have, as soon as they find a woman different from the others they +know."</p> + +<p>Rafael bowed his head and said nothing; he did not dare look up. He felt +the gaze of those green eyes upon the back of his head and they seemed +to reach right into his soul.</p> + +<p>"Let's see your face. Raise that head of yours a little. Why don't you +say it isn't so, as you did before? Am I right or not?"</p> + +<p>"And supposing you were right?..." Rafael ventured to murmur, finding +himself thus suddenly discovered.</p> + +<p>"Since I know I am, I thought it best to provoke this explanation, so as +to avoid any misunderstandings. After what has happened to-night, I want +to have you for a friend; friend you understand, and nothing more; a +comradeship based on gratitude. We ought to know in advance exactly +where we stand. We'll be friends, won't we?... You must feel quite at +home here; and I'm sure I shall find you a very agreeable chum. What +you've done to-night has given you a greater hold on my affection than +you could ever have gained in any ordinary social way; but you're going +to promise me that you won't drift into any of that silly love-making +that has always been the bane of my existence."</p> + +<p>"And if I can't help myself?" murmured Rafael.</p> + +<p>"'And if I can't help myself'," said Leonora, laughing and mimicking +the voice of the young man and the expression on his face. "'And if I +can't help myself'! That's what they all say! And why can't you help +yourself? How can one take seriously a love for a woman you are now +seeing for the second time? These sudden passions are all inventions of +you men. They're not genuine. You get them out of the novels you read, +or out of the operas we sing. Nonsense that poets write and callow boys +swallow like so many boobies and try to transplant into real life! The +trouble is we singers are in the secret, and laugh at such bosh. Well, +now you know—good friends, and the soft pedal on sentiment and drama, +eh? In that way we'll get along very well and the house will be yours."</p> + +<p>Leonora paused and, threatening him playfully with her forefinger, +added:</p> + +<p>"Otherwise, you may consider me just as ungrateful and cruel as you +please, but your gallant conduct of to-night won't count. You'll not be +permitted to enter this place again. I want no adorers; I have come here +looking for rest, friendship, peace ... Love! A beautiful, cruel +hoax!..."</p> + +<p>She was speaking very earnestly, without moving, her gaze lost on that +immense sheet of water.</p> + +<p>Rafael dared to look at her squarely now. He had raised his head and was +studying her as she stood there thinking. Her beautiful face was tinted +with a bluish light, that seemed to surround her with a halo of romance. +Morning was coming on, and the leaden curtains of the sky were rent in +the direction of the sea, allowing a livid light to filter through.</p> + +<p>Leonora shivered as if from cold, and snuggled instinctively against +Rafael. With a shake of her head she seemed to rout a troop of painful +thoughts, and stretching out a hand to him she said:</p> + +<p>"Which shall it be? Friends, or distant acquaintances? Do you promise to +be good, be a real comrade?"</p> + +<p>Rafael eagerly clasped that soft, muscular hand, and felt her rings cut +deliciously into his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Very well—friends then!... I'll resign myself, since there's no help +for it."</p> + +<p>"In that case you will find what you now believe a sacrifice something +quite tolerable and quite consoling; you don't know me, but I know +myself. Believe me, even should I come to love you—as I never +shall—you would be the loser by it. I am worth much more as a friend +than as a lover. And more than one man in the world has found that out."</p> + +<p>"I will be a friend, ready to do much more for you than I've done +to-night. I hope you will come to know me too."</p> + +<p>"No promises now! What more can you do for me? The river doesn't flood +every day. You can't expect to be a hero every other moment. No, I'm +satisfied with to-night's exploit. You can't imagine how grateful I am. +It has made a very deep impression on my—friendly—heart.... May I be +quite frank? Well, when I met you there at the Hermitage, I took you for +one of these local <em>señoritos</em> who have such an easy time of it in town, +and so, look upon every woman they meet as their property for the +asking. Afterwards, when I saw you lurking about the house, my scorn +increased. 'Who does that little dandy think he is?' I said to myself. +And how Beppa and I laughed over it! I hadn't even noticed your face +and your figure: I hadn't realized how handsome you were...."</p> + +<p>Leonora laughed at the thought of how angry she had been, and Rafael, +overwhelmed by such candor, likewise smiled to conceal his +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"But after what happened to-night I am fond of you ... as people are +fond of friends. I am alone here: the friendship of a good and noble boy +like yourself, capable of sacrifice for a woman whom he hardly knows, is +a very comforting thing to have. Besides, that much doesn't compromise +me. I am a bird of passage, you see; I have alighted here because I'm +tired, ill—I don't just know what's the matter, but deeply broken in +spirit anyhow. I need rest, just plain existence—a plunge into sweet +nothingness, where I can forget everything; and I gratefully accept your +friendship. Later on, when you least expect it, probably, I'll fly away. +The very first morning when I wake up, feel quite myself again—and hear +inside my head the song of the mischievous bird that has advised me to +do so many foolish things in my life—I'll pack up my trunk and take +flight! I'll drop you a line of course; I'll send you newspaper +clippings that speak of me, and you'll see you have a friend who does +not forget you and who sends you greetings from London, Saint +Petersburg, or New York—any one of the corners of this world which many +believe so large yet where I am unable to stir without encountering +things that bore me."</p> + +<p>"May that moment be long delayed!" said Rafael. "May it never come!"</p> + +<p>"Rash boy!" Leonora exclaimed. "You don't know me. If I were to stay +here very long, we'd finish by quarreling and coming to blows. At bottom +I hate men: I have always been their most terrible enemy."</p> + +<p>Behind their backs they heard the rustle of the gown that Cupido was +dragging along behind him with absurd antics. He was coming to the +balcony with doña Pepita to see the sunrise.</p> + +<p>Through its dense clouds the sky was beginning to shed a gray, wan +light, under which the vast, watery plain took on the whitish color of +absinthe. Down the stream the debris of the inundation was floating, +sweepings of wretched poverty, uprooted trees, clumps of reeds, thatched +roofs from huts, all dirty, slimy, nauseating. Bits of flotsam and +jetsam became entangled between the orange-trees and formed dams that +little by little grew with the new spoils brought along by the current.</p> + +<p>In the distance at the very end of the lake, a number of black points +could be seen in regular rhythmic motion, stirring their legs like +aquatic flies around some roofs barely protruding above the immense +field of water. The rescuers had arrived from Valencia—with whale-boats +of the Fleet, brought overland by rail to the scene of the flood.</p> + +<p>The provincial authorities would soon be arriving in Alcira; and the +presence of Rafael was indispensable. Cupido himself, with sudden +gravity, advised him to go and meet those boats.</p> + +<p>While the barber was putting on his own clothes, Rafael, with intense +regret, removed his fur cloak. It seemed that in taking it off he was +losing the warmth of that night of sweet intimacy, the contact of that +soft shoulder that had for hours long been leaning against him.</p> + +<p>Leonora meanwhile looked at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>"We understand each other, don't we?" she asked, slowly. "Friends, with +no hope of anything more than that. If you break the pact, you'll not +enter this place again, not even by the second-story window, as you did +last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, friends and nothing more," Rafael murmured with a tone of sincere +sadness, that seemed to move Leonora.</p> + +<p>Her green eyes lighted up: her pupils seemed to glitter with spangles of +gold. She stepped nearer and held out her hand.</p> + +<p>"You're a good boy; that's the way I like you: resignation and +obedience. For this time, and in reward for your good sense, we'll make +just one exception. Let's not part thus coldly.... So,—you may kiss +me,—as they do it on the stage—here!"</p> + +<p>And she raised her hand up toward his lips. Rafael seized it hungrily +and kissed it over and over again, until Leonora, tearing it away with a +violence that showed extraordinary strength, reprimanded him sharply.</p> + +<p>"You rogue!... Up to mischief so soon! What an abuse of confidence? +Good-bye! Cupido is calling you.... Good-bye."</p> + +<p>And she pushed him toward the balcony, where the barber was already +holding the boat against the railing.</p> + +<p>"Hop in, Rafael," said Cupido. "Better lean on me; the water's going +down and the boat's very low," Rafael jumped into his white craft, +which was now dirty and stained from the red water. The barber took the +oars. They began to move away.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye! Good-bye! Many thanks!" cried doña Pepa. The maid and the +whole family of the gardener had come out on the balcony.</p> + +<p>Rafael let go the tiller, and turned toward the house. He could see +nothing, however, but that proud beauty, who was waving her handkerchief +to them. He watched her for a long time, and when the crests of the +submerged trees hid the balcony from view, he bowed his head, giving +himself up entirely to the silent pleasure of tasting the sweetness that +he could still feel upon his burning lips.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>The elections set the whole District agog. The crucial moment for the +House of Brull had come, and all its loyal henchmen, as though still +uncertain of the Party's omnipotence, and fearing the sudden appearance +of hidden enemies, were running this way and that about the city and the +outlying towns, shouting Rafael's name as a clarion call to victory.</p> + +<p>The inundation was something of the forgotten past. The beneficent sun +had dried the fields. The orchards fertilized by the silt of the recent +flood looked more beautiful than ever. A magnificent harvest was +forecasted, and, as sole reminders of the catastrophe, there remained +only a shattered enclosure here, a fallen fence there, or some sunken +road with the banks washed away. Most of the damage had been repaired in +a few days, and people were quite content, referring to the past danger +jokingly. Until next time!</p> + +<p>Besides, plenty of relief money had been given out. Help had come from +Valencia, from Madrid, from every corner of Spain, thanks to the +whimpering publicity given the inundation in the local press; and since +the pious believer must attribute all his boons to the protection of +some patron saint, the peasants thanked Rafael and his mother for this +alms, resolving to be more faithful than ever to the powerful family. +So—long live the Father of the Poor!</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda's ambitious dreams were on the point of realization, and +she could not give herself a moment's rest. Her son's cool indifference +was something she could not understand for the life of her! The District +was his all right, but was that a reason for falling asleep on the job? +Who could tell what the "enemies of law and order"—there was more than +one of them in the city—might spring at the very last moment? No, he +must wake up—go and make a speech—now at this town, now at that—and +say a few words of encouragement to the people of property, especially. +And why not visit the <em>alcalde</em>, down in X---, just to show that poor +devil he was being taken seriously. Rafael must show himself in public, +keep everybody talking about him and thinking about him!</p> + +<p>And Rafael obeyed, but taking good care to avoid the company of don +Andrés on such trips, in order to spend a few hours at the Blue House on +the way out or back, or else, to cut his engagement altogether and pass +the day with Leonora, trembling to return home lest his mother should +have learned what he had been up to.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda, in fact, had not been slow in detecting her son's new +friendship. To begin with, her one concern in life was Rafael's health +and conduct. And in that gossipy inquisitive country-town, her son could +do virtually nothing which she did not know all about in the course of a +few hours. An indiscreet remark of Cupido had even brought her to the +bottom of that mysterious and perilous night trip down the flooded +river—not to rescue a "poor family," but to call on that +<em>comica</em>—that "chorus girl"—as doña Bernarda called Leonora in a +furious burst of scorn. Stormy scenes occurred that were to leave a +strong undercurrent of bitterness and fear in Rafael's character. Doña +Bernarda's harshness of disposition broke the young man's spirit, making +him realize with what good reason he had always feared his mother. That +uncompromising pietist, with her armorplate of impeccable virtue and +"sound principles" about her, crushed him flat with her very first +words. What in the world was he thinking of? Was he bound to dishonor +the name of Brull? Now after so many, many years of family sacrifice, +was he going to make a fool of himself, and give his enemies a hold on +him, just because of the first ballet-skirt that came along? And in her +rage she did not hesitate to rend the veil of reticence behind which her +conjugal fury and her conjugal unhappiness had run their parallel +courses.</p> + +<p>"The same as your father!" doña Bernarda exclaimed. "There's no escaping +blood: a woman-chaser, a friend of low-lives, ready to drive me out of +house and home for the sake of any one of them ... and I, big fool that +I am, work for men like that! Forgetting the salvation of my soul in the +next world to see you get farther along in this than your father did!... +And how do you repay me? Just as he did; with one disappointment, one +irritation, after another!"</p> + +<p>Then softening somewhat and feeling the need of imparting her great +plans for the future, she would pass from anger to friendly confidence, +and give Rafael insight into the condition of the family. He was so busy +with Party affairs, and thumbing his big books upstairs, that he did +not know how things were going at home. And he didn't need to know for +that matter: she was there to take care of that. But Rafael must realize +the gaps that had been opened in their fortune by his father's wild +conduct just before he died. She was performing miracles of economy. +Thanks to her efficient administration of affairs, and to the loyal aid +of don Andrés, many debts had already been paid off, and she had +redeemed several mortgages. But the burden was a heavy one and it would +still be many years before she could call herself quite free of it.</p> + +<p>Besides—and as doña Bernarda came to this part of her talk she grew +tenderer and more insinuating still—he was now the leading man of the +District and so he must be the wealthiest. Now that wouldn't be a +difficult thing to manage. All he had to do was, be a good son, and +follow the advice of his mama, who loved him more than anything else in +the world... A deputy now, and later on, when he came back from Madrid, +marry! There were plenty of good girls around—well brought up, educated +in the fear of the Lord—and millionairesses besides—who would be more +than glad to be his wife.</p> + +<p>Rafael smiled faintly at this harangue. He knew whom his mother had in +mind—Remedios, the daughter of the richest man in town—a rustic, the +latter, with more luck than brains, who flooded the English markets with +oranges and made enormous profits, circumventing by instinctive +shrewdness all the commercial combinations made against him.</p> + +<p>That was why Rafael's mother was always insistently urging her son to +visit the house of Remedios, inventing all sorts of pretexts to get him +there. Besides, doña Bernarda invited Remedios to the Brull place +frequently, and rarely indeed did Rafael come home of an afternoon +without finding that timid maiden there—a dull, handsomish sort of +girl, dressed up in clothes that did cruel injustice to a peasant beauty +rapidly transformed, by her father's good luck, into a young "society" +girl.</p> + +<p>"But, mama," said Rafael, smiling. "I'm not thinking of marriage!... And +when I do, I'll have to consider my own feelings."</p> + +<p>After that interview a moral gulf had opened between mother and son. As +a child, Rafael had known his mother to frown and sulk after some +mischievous prank of his. But now, her aggressive, menacing, +uncommunicative glumness was prolonged for days and days.</p> + +<p>On returning home at night he would find himself subjected to a +searching cross-examination that would last all during supper. Don +Andrés would usually be present, though he did not dare raise his head +when that masterful woman spoke. Where had he been? Whom had he seen?... +Rafael felt himself surrounded by a system of espionage that followed +him wherever he went in the city or in the country.</p> + +<p>"No sir, today you were at the chorus-girl's house again!... Take care, +Rafael! Mark my word! You're killing me, you're killing me ...!"</p> + +<p>And then those absurd clandestine trips to the Blue House began, the +leading man of the district, the advocate of Alcira's fortunes, creeping +on his stomach, skulking from bush to bush, in order not to be seen by +telltale observers!</p> + +<p>Don Andrés did his best to console the irate woman. It was just a +passing whim of Rafael's! Boys will be boys! You've got to let them have +a good time now and then! What do you expect with a handsome fellow like +that and from the best family in the region! And the cynical old man, +accustomed to easy conquests in the suburbs, blinked maliciously, taking +it for granted that Rafael had won a complete triumph down at the Blue +House. How else explain the youth's assiduity in his visits there, and +his timid though tenacious rebelliousness against his mother's +authority?</p> + +<p>"Such affairs, oh you enjoy them—what's the use! But in the end they +weary a fellow, doña Bernarda," the old man said sententiously. "She'll +be clearing out some fine day. Besides, just let Rafael go to Madrid as +deputy, and see the society there! When he comes back he'll have +forgotten this woman ever existed!"</p> + +<p>The faithful lieutenant of the Brulls would have been astonished to know +how little Rafael was progressing with his suit.</p> + +<p>Leonora was not the woman that she had shown herself on the night of the +flood. With the fascination of danger gone, the novelty of the +adventure, and the extraordinary circumstances of their second +interview, she treated Rafael with a kindly indifference like any other +of the adorers who had flocked about her in her day. She had come to +look upon him as a new piece of furniture that she found in place in +front of her every afternoon; an automaton, who appeared as regularly as +a clock strikes, to spend hours and hours staring at her, pale, +shrinking with an absurd consciousness of inferiority, and often +answering her questions with stupid phrases that made her laugh.</p> + +<p>Her irony and deliberate frankness wounded Rafael cruelly. "Hello, +Rafaelito," she would say sometimes as he came in. "You here again? +Better look out! People will be talking about us before long. Then what +will mama say to you?" And Rafael would be stung to the quick. What a +disgrace, to be tied to a mother's apron-strings, and have to stoop to +all those subterfuges to visit this place without raising a rumpus at +home!</p> + +<p>But try as he would, meanwhile, he could not shake off the spell that +Leonora was exercising over him.</p> + +<p>Besides, what wonderful afternoons when she deigned to be good! +Sometimes, wearied with walks about the open country, and bored, as +might have been expected of a frivolous, fickle character like hers, +with the monotony of the landscape of orange-trees and palms, she would +take refuge in her parlor, and sit down at the piano! With the hushed +awe of a pious worshipper, Rafael would take a chair in a corner, and +gluing his eyes upon those two majestic shoulders over which curly +tresses fell like golden plumes, he would listen to her rich, sweet, +mellow voice as it blended with the languishing chords of the piano; +while through the open windows the breath of the murmurous orchard made +its way drenched in the golden light of autumn, saturated with the +seasoned perfume of the ripe oranges that peered with faces of fire +through the festoons of leaves.</p> + +<p>Shubert, with his moody romances, was her favorite composer. The +melancholy of that sad music had a peculiar fascination for her in her +solitude. Her passionate, tumultuous soul seemed to fall into a +languorous enervation under the fragrance of the orange blossoms. At +times, she would be assailed by sudden recollections of triumphs on the +stage, and on such occasions, setting the piano ringing with the sublime +fury of the Valkyries' Ride, she would begin to shout Brunhilde's +"Hojotojo," the impetuous, savage war-cry of Wotan's daughter—a +melodious scream with which she had brought many an audience to its +feet, and which, in that deserted paradise, made Rafael shudder and +admire, as if the singer were some strange divinity—a blond goddess +with green eyes, wont to charge across the ice-fields through whirlwinds +of driving snow, but who, there, in a land of sunshine, had deigned to +become a simple, an entrancing woman!</p> + +<p>And then again, throwing her beautiful body back in her chair, as if in +her mind's eye she could see some old palatial hall festooned with +roses, and in it a maze of hoop skirts, powdered wigs, and red heels, +whirling in the dance, she would brush the keys with a minuet by Mozart, +as subtly fragrant as priceless perfume, as seductive as the smile of a +painted princess with beauty-patches and false dimples!</p> + +<p>Rafael had not forgotten the first night of their friendship, nor the +fingers that had been offered to his lips in that selfsame parlor. Once +he was moved to repeat the scene, and bending low over the keys, had +tried to kiss Leonora's hand.</p> + +<p>The actress started, as if awakening from a dream. Her eyes flashed +angrily, though her lips did not lose their smile; and she raised her +hand threateningly, with all its fantastic glitter of jewelry, and +pretended to strike at him:</p> + +<p>"Take care, Rafael; you're a child and I'll treat you as such. You +already know that I don't like to be annoyed. I won't send you away this +time, but if you do it again, you'll get a good cuffing. Don't forget +that when I want my hand kissed I begin by giving it voluntarily. What a +nuisance! Such a thing happens only once in a life-time.... But, I +understand: no more music for today; it's all over! I'll have to +entertain the little boy so's he won't fuss."</p> + +<p>And she began to tell him stories of her professional career, which +Rafael at once appraised as new progress toward intimacy with the divine +beauty.</p> + +<p>He looked over her pictures for the various operas in which she had +sung; a rich collection of beautiful photographs, with studio signatures +in almost every European tongue, some of them in strange alphabets that +Rafael could not identify. That pale, mystic Elizabeth of <em>Tannhäuser</em> +had been taken in Milan; that ideal, romantic Elsa of <em>Lohengrin</em>, in +Munich; here was a wide-eyed, bourgeois Eva from <em>die Meistersinger</em>, +photographed in Vienna; there a proud arrogant Brunhilde, with hostile, +flashing eyes, that bore the imprint of St. Petersburg. And there were +other souvenirs of seasons at Covent Garden, at the San Carlos of +Lisbon, the Scala of Milan, and opera houses of New York and Rio de +Janeiro.</p> + +<p>As Rafael handled the large pasteboard mountings, he felt much like a +boy watching strange steamers entering a harbor and scattering the +perfumes of distant, mysterious lands all around. Each picture seemed +to wrap him in the atmosphere of its country, and from that peaceful +salon, murmuring with the breathing of the silent orchard, he seemed to +be traveling all over the earth.</p> + +<p>The photographs were all of the same characters—heroines of Wagner. +Leonora, a fanatic worshipper of the German genius, was ever speaking of +him in terms of intimate familiarity, as if she had known him +personally, and wished to sing no operas but his. And in her eager +desire to compass all the Master's work, she did not hesitate to +compromise her reputation for power and vigor by attempting roles of +lighter or tenderer vein.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed at the portraits one by one; here she seemed emaciated, +wan, as if she had just recovered from an illness; there, she was strong +and proud, as if challenging the world with her beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rafael!" she murmured pensively. "Life isn't all gaiety. I have had +my stormy times like everybody else. I have lived centuries, it seems, +and these strips of cardboard are chapters of my life-story."</p> + +<p>And while she surrendered to a dreamy re-living of the past, Rafael +would go into ecstasies over a picture of Brunhilde, a beautiful +photograph which he had more than once thought of stealing.</p> + +<p>That Brunhilde was Leonora herself; the arrogant Valkyrie, the strong, +the valiant Amazon, capable of trying to beat him for the slightest +unwarranted liberty he took—and of doing it besides. Beneath the helmet +of polished steel, with its two wings of white plumes, her blond locks +fell, while a savage flash glittered in her green eyes, and her +nostrils seemed to palpitate with indomitable fierceness. A cloak fell +from her shoulders that were round, muscular, powerful. A steel coat of +mail curved outward around her magnificent bust, and her bare arms, one +holding the lance, and the other resting on a burnished shield, as +shining and luminous as a sheet of crystal, showed vigor and strength +under feminine grace of line. There she was in all her goddess-like +majesty—the Pallas of a mythology of the North, as beautiful as +heroism, as terrible as war. Rafael could understand the mad enthusiasm, +the electrified commotion of her audiences as they saw her stepping out +among the rocks of painted canvas, setting the boards a-tremble with her +lithe footsteps, rudely raising her lance and shield above the white +wings of her helmet and shouting the cry of the Valkyries—"<em>Hojotoho!</em>" +which, repeated in the green tranquility of that Valencian orchard, +seemed to make the lanes of foliage quiver with a tremor of admiring +ecstasy.</p> + +<p>Across the whole world, and everywhere in triumph, that whimsical, +adventuresome, madcap woman, of whose life as an actress so many stories +were told, had carried the arrogance of the virgin warrior-maid +conceived by the master Wagner. In a bulky book, of uneven irregular +pages, where the singer with the minute conscientiousness of a child, +had preserved everything the newspapers of the globe had written about +her, Rafael found echos of her stormy ovations. Many of the printed +clippings were yellow with age, but they could still evoke before his +dazzled eyes, visions of theaters packed with elegant, sensuous women, +as beautiful as Wotan's daughter in the coat-of-mail; atmospheres hot +with light and enthusiasm, a-glitter with sparkling jewels and +sparkling eyes; and in the background, with her helmet and her lance, +the dominating Valkyrie herself greeted with frantic applause and +limitless admiration.</p> + +<p>In the collection were newspaper reproductions of the singer's +photographs, biographical notices, critical articles relating to the +triumphs of the celebrated <em>diva</em> Leonora Brunna—for such was the stage +name adopted by Doctor Moreno's daughter—clipping after clipping +printed in Castilian or South American Spanish; columns of the clear, +close print of English papers; paragraphs on the coarse, thin paper of +the French and Italian press; compact masses of Gothic characters, which +troubled Rafael's eyes, and unintelligible Russian letters, that, to +him, looked like whimsical scrawls of a childish hand. And all in praise +of Leonora, one universal tribute to the talent of that woman, who was +looked upon so scornfully by the citified peasants of the boy's native +town. A divinity, indeed! And Rafael felt a growing hatred and contempt +for the gross, uncouth virtue of those who had left her in a social +vacuum. Why had she come to Alcira, anyway? What could possibly have led +her to abandon a world of triumphs, where she was admired by everyone, +for the life, virtually, of a barnyard?</p> + +<p>Later she showed him some of her more personal mementoes; jewels of rare +beauty, expensive baubles, "testimonials," reminiscent of "evenings of +honor," when admirers had surprised her in the green room while outside +the audience was applauding wildly, and she, lowering her lance, and +surrounded by ushers with huge bouquets, would step forward to the +footlights and make her bow of acknowledgment, under a deluge of tinsel +and flowers. One medallion bore the portrait of the venerable don Pedro +of Brazil, the artist-emperor, who paid tribute to the singer in a +greeting written in diamonds. Gem-incrusted frames of gold spoke of +enthusiasts who perhaps had begun by desiring the woman to resign +themselves in the end to admiration for the artist. Here was a +collection of illuminated diplomas from charitable societies thanking +her for assistance at benefits. Queen Victoria of England had given her +a fan with an autograph dated from a concert at Windsor Castle. From +Isabel II came a royal bracelet, as a souvenir of various evenings at +the Castilla Palace in Paris. Millionaires, princes, grand-dukes, +presidents of Spanish-American republics, had left a whole museum of +costly trinkets at her feet. Characteristic of adorers from the United +States, where people always temper enthusiasm with usefulness, were a +number of portfolios, their bindings much worn by time, containing +railroad shares, land titles, stocks in enterprises of varying +stability, suggesting the rambles of the American promotor from the +prairies of Canada to the pampas of the Argentine.</p> + +<p>In the presence of all the trophies that the arrogant Valkyrie had +gathered in on her triumphal passage through the world, Rafael felt +pride, first of all, at being friends with such a woman; but at the same +time a sense of his own insignificance, exaggerating, if anything, the +difference that separated them. How in the world had he ever dared make +love to a person like Leonora Brunna?</p> + +<p>Finally came the most interesting, the most intimate of all her +treasures—an album which she allowed him hurriedly to glimpse through, +forbidding him, however, even to look at certain of the pages. It was a +volume modestly bound in dark leather with silver clasps; but Rafael +gazed upon it as on a wonderful fetish, and with all the awe-struck +adoration inspired by great names. Kings and emperors were the least +among the celebrities who had knelt in homage before the goddess. The +overshadowing geniuses of art were there, dedicating a word of +affection, a line of verse, a bar of music, to the beautiful songstress. +Rafael stared in open-mouthed wonderment at the signatures of the old +Verdi and of Boito. Then came the younger masters, of the new Italian +school, noisy and triumphant with the clamor of art brought within range +of the mob. In gallant phrases the Frenchmen, Massenet and Saint-Saens, +paid their respects to the greatest interpreter of the greatest of +composers; Rafael could decipher what was in Italian, scenting the sweet +perfume of Latin adulation despite the fact that he scarcely knew the +language. A sonnet by Illica moved him actually to tears. Other +inscriptions were meaningless to him—the lines from Hans Keller, +especially, the great orchestral conductor, disciple and confidant of +Wagner, the artistic executor, charged with watching over the master's +glory—that Hans Keller of whom Leonora was speaking all the time with +the fondness of a woman and the admiration of an artist—all of which +did not prevent her from adding that he was "a barbarian." Stanzas in +German, in Russian and in English, which, as the singer re-read them +brought a contented smile to her features, Rafael, to his great +despair, could not induce her to translate.</p> + +<p>"Those are matters you wouldn't understand. Go on to the next page. I +mustn't make you blush."</p> + +<p>And that was the only explanation she would give—as though he were a +child.</p> + +<p>Some Italian verses, written in a tremulous hand and in crooked lines, +attracted Rafael's attention. He could half make their meaning out, but +Leonora would never let him finish reading them. It was an amorous, +desperate lament; a cry of racking passion condemned to disappointment, +writhing in isolation like a wild beast in its cage: Luigi Macchia.</p> + +<p>"And who is Luigi Macchia?" asked Rafael. "Why such despair?"</p> + +<p>"He was a young fellow from Naples," Leonora answered, at last, one +afternoon, in a sad voice, and turning her head, as if to conceal the +tears that had come to her eyes. "One day they found him under the pine +trees of Posilipo, with a bullet through his head. He wanted to die, you +see, and he killed himself.... But put all this aside and let's go down +to the garden. I need a breath of air."</p> + +<p>They sauntered along the avenue that was bordered with rose-bushes, and +several minutes went by before either of them spoke. Leonora seemed +quite absorbed in her thoughts. Her brows were knitted and her lips +pressed tightly together, as if she were suffering the sting of painful +recollections.</p> + +<p>"Suicide!" she said at last. "Doesn't that seem a silly thing to do, +Rafael? Kill yourself for a woman? Just as if we women were obliged to +love every man who thinks he's in love with us!... How stupid men are! +We have to be their servants, love them willy-nilly. And if we don't, +they kill themselves just to spite us."</p> + +<p>And she was silent for a time.</p> + +<p>"Poor Macchia! He was a good boy, and deserved to be happy. But if I +were to surrender to every desperate protestation made to me!... +However, he went and did just what he said he would do.... How crazy +they get! And the worst of it is, I have found others like him in my +travels."</p> + +<p>She explained no farther. Rafael gazed at her, but respected her +silence, trying in vain to guess the thoughts that were stirring behind +her shining eyes, as green and golden as the sea under a noonday sun. +What a wealth of romance must be hidden in that woman's past! What +tragedies must have been woven into the checkered fabric of her +wonderful career!...</p> + +<p>So the days went by, and election time came around. Rafael, in passive +rebellion against his mother, who rarely spoke a word to him now, had +completely neglected the campaign. But on the decisive Sunday he +triumphed completely, and Rafael Brull, Deputy from Alcira, spent the +night shaking hands, receiving congratulations, listening to serenades, +waiting for morning to come that he might run to the Blue House and +receive Leonora's ironic good wishes.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to hear it," the actress said. "Now you'll be leaving +very soon and I'll lose sight of you. It was high time really! You know, +my dear child, you were beginning to get tiresome with your assiduous +worship, that mute, persistent, tenacious adoration of yours. But up in +Madrid you'll get over it all. Tut, tut, now ... don't say you won't. No +need to perjure yourself. I guess I know what young men are like! And +you're a young man. The next time we meet, you'll have other things in +your head. I'll be a friend, just a friend; and that's what—and all—I +want to be."</p> + +<p>"But will I find you here when I come back?" Rafael asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"You want to know more things than anybody I ever knew! How can I say +whether I'll be here or not? Nobody in the world was ever sure of +holding me. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow myself.... But, no," she +continued, gravely, "if you come back by next spring, you'll find me +here. I'm thinking of staying surely until then. I want to see the +orange-trees in bloom, go back to my early childhood—the only memories +of my past that have followed me everywhere. Many a time I have gone to +Nice, spending a fortune and crossing half the world to get there—and +just to see a handful of puny orange-trees in bloom; now I want to take +one great, deep, plunge into the deluge of orange blossoms that +inundates these fields every year. It's the one thing that keeps me in +Alcira.... I'm sure. So if you come back about that season, you will +find me; and we will meet for one last time; for that will be the limit +of my endurance. I shall simply have to fly away, however hard poor +auntie takes it.... For the present, however, I am quite comfortable. +You see I was so tired! I find this solitude a welcome refuge after a +stormy voyage. Only something very important indeed could persuade me to +leave it at once."</p> + +<p>But they saw each other on many another afternoon in the garden, there. +It was saturated now with the fragrance of ripe oranges. The vast valley +lay blue beneath the winter sun. Oranges, oranges, everywhere, reaching +out, it seemed, through the foliage, to the industrious hands that were +plucking them from the branches. Carts were creaking all along the +roads, trundling heaps of golden fruit over the ruts. The large shipping +houses rang again with the voices of girls singing at their work as they +selected and wrapped the oranges in paper. Hammers were pounding at the +wooden crates, and off toward France and England in great golden waves +those daughters of the South rolled—capsules of golden skin, filled +with sweet juice—the quintessence of Spanish sunshine.</p> + +<p>Leonora, standing on tiptoe under an old tree, with her back toward +Rafael, was looking for a particularly choice orange among the dense +branches. As she swayed this way and that, the proud, graceful curves of +her vigorous slenderness became more beautiful than ever.</p> + +<p>"I'm leaving tomorrow," the young man said, dispiritedly.</p> + +<p>Leonora turned around. She had found her orange and was peeling it with +her long pink nails.</p> + +<p>"Tomorrow?" she said, smiling. "Everything comes if you wait long +enough!... The best of success to you, señor deputy."</p> + +<p>And bringing the fragrant fruit to her lips, she sank her white, +glistening teeth into the golden pulp, closing her eyes rapturously, to +sense the full warm sweetness of the juice.</p> + +<p>Rafael stood there pale and trembling, as if something desperate were +in his mind.</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!... Surely you are not going to send me away like +this?"</p> + +<p>And then suddenly, carried away by a passion so long restrained, so long +crushed under timidity and fear, he ran up to her, seized her hands and +hungrily sought her lips.</p> + +<p>"Oh! What in the world are you up to, Rafael?... How dare you!" she +cried. And with one thrust of her powerful arms she threw him back, +staggering, against the orange-tree. The young man stood there with +lowered head, humiliation and shame written on every line of his face.</p> + +<p>"You see, I'm a strong woman," said Leonora, in a voice quivering with +anger. "None of your foolish tricks, or you'll be sorry!"</p> + +<p>She glared at him for a long time; but then gradually recovered her +equanimity, and began to laugh at the pitiable spectacle before her.</p> + +<p>"But what a child you are, Rafael!... Is that what you call a friendly +good-bye?... How little you know me, silly! You force matters, you do, I +see. Well just understand, I'm impregnable, unless I choose to be +otherwise. Why, men have died without being able to kiss so much as the +tip of my fingers. It's time you were going, Rafael. We'll still be +friends, of course.... But in case we are to see each other again, don't +forget what I tell you. We are through with such nonsense once and for +all. Don't waste your time. I cannot be yours. I'm tired of men; perhaps +I hate them. I have known the handsomest, the most elegant, the most +famous of them all. I have been almost a queen; queen 'on the left hand +side,' as the French say, but so much mistress of the situation that, +had I cared to get mixed up in such vulgarity, I could have changed +ministries and overturned thrones. Men renowned in Europe for their +elegance—and their follies—have grovelled at my feet, and I have +treated them worse than I have treated you. The most celebrated women +have envied me and hated me—copying my dresses and my poses. And when, +tired of all that brilliancy and noise, I said 'Good-bye' and came to +this retreat, do you think it was to give myself to a village +<em>señorito</em>, though a few hundred country bumpkins think he is a +wonder?... Oh, say, Rafael, really...."</p> + +<p>And she laughed a cruel, mocking laugh—that cut Rafael to the quick. +The young man bowed his head and his chest heaved painfully, as if the +tears that could not find issue through his eyes were stifling, choking +him. He seemed on the point of utter collapse.</p> + +<p>Leonora repented of her cruelty.</p> + +<p>She stepped up to the boy until she was almost touching him. Then taking +his chin in her two hands, she made him raise his head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have hurt you, haven't I! What mean things I said to the poor +child! Let me see now. Lift that head up! Look me straight in the eye! +Say that you forgive me.... That cursed habit I have of never holding my +tongue! I have offended you; but please, don't pay any attention to +that! I was joking! What a fine way of repaying you for what you did +that night!... No; Rafael, you are a very handsome chap indeed ... and +very distinguished ... and you will make a great name for yourself, up +in Madrid!... You'll be what they call a 'personage,' and you'll +marry—oh my—a very stylish, elegant, society girl! I can see all +that.... But, meanwhile, my dear boy, don't depend on me. We are going +to be friends, and nothing more than friends, ever! Why, there are tears +in your eyes! Well, here. Come ... kiss my hand, I will let you ... as +you did that night—there, like that! I could be yours only if I loved +you; but alas! I shall never fall in love with the dashing Rafaelito! +I'm an old woman, already, and I've been so lavish with my heart, spent +it so freely, I'm afraid I have none left.... Poor, poor little Rafael! +I'm so sorry ... but, you see, you came so late ... so late ...!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART TWO</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Hidden in the tall, thick rose-bushes that bounded the <em>plazoleta</em> in +front of the Blue House, and under four old dead palms that drooped +their branches dry and melancholy under the vigorous tufts of younger +trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests +of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques +and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Saracen rule—sturdy, but +comfortable seats, with the graceful lines of the sofas of the +Eighteenth Century; and in them Leonora liked to spend her time in late +afternoons especially, when the palm trees covered the little square +with a cool, delightful shade.</p> + +<p>On that warm March day, doña Pepa was sitting in one of them, her +silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, reading the "Life" of the day's +saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the <em>campagna</em> of +Rome, Beppa had been trained to piety from her earliest years; and she +was listening attentively so as not to miss a word.</p> + +<p>On the other bench were Leonora and Rafael. The actress, with lowered +head, was following the movements of her hands, busily engaged on some +embroidery.</p> + +<p>Rafael found Leonora much changed after his months of absence.</p> + +<p>She was dressed simply, like any young lady of the city; her face and +hands, so white and marble-like before, had taken on the golden +transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the +Valencian sun. Her slender fingers were bare of all rings, and her pink +ears were not, as formerly, a-gleam with thick clusters of diamonds.</p> + +<p>"I've become a regular peasant, haven't I?" she said, as if she could +read in Rafael's eyes his astonishment at the transformation she had +undergone. "It's life in the open that works such miracles: today one +frill, tomorrow another, and a woman eventually gets rid of everything +that was once a part of her body almost. I feel better this way.... +Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the +perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of +fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who +had to paint herself every night like a clown before she could appear +before an audience. Take a good look at me! Well ... what do you think? +You might mistake me for one of your vassals almost, eh? I'll bet that +if I had gone out this morning to join your demonstration at the station +you wouldn't have recognized me in the crowd."</p> + +<p>Rafael was going to say—and quite seriously, too—that he thought her +more beautiful than ever. Leonora seemed to have descended from her +height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed what was coming, and to +forestall any compliments, hastened to resume control of the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Now don't say you like me better this way. What nonsense! Remember, you +come from Madrid, from real elegance, a world you did not know +before!... But, to tell the truth, I like this simplicity; and the +important thing in life is to please yourself, isn't it? It was a slow +transformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually +filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland +delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human +animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up +again. Why, Rafaelito! If nothing extraordinary happens and the devil +doesn't give an unexpected tug at my sleeve, I can conceive of staying +on here forever. I think of the outer world as a sailor must of the sea, +when he finds himself all cosy at home after a voyage of continuous +tempest."</p> + +<p>"That's right, do stay," said Rafael. "You can't imagine how I worried +up in Madrid wondering whether or not I'd find you here on my return."</p> + +<p>"Don't go telling any fibs," said Leonora, gently, smiling with just a +suggestion of gratification. "Do you think we haven't been following +your doings in Madrid? Though you never were a friend, exactly, of good +old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently—and all sorts of +nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing—the +postscript, with your regards to the 'illustrious artist,' sure to +provoke the consoling reply that the 'illustrious artist' was still +here. How those letters made me laugh!"</p> + +<p>"Anyway, that will prove I wasn't lying that day when I assured you I +would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I didn't! The separation has +made me worse, much worse, in fact."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rafael," Leonora answered, quite seriously, as if she had lost +mastery over the irony of former days. "I know you're telling the +truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You understand, +of course, that I can't love you.... So—if you don't mind—let's talk +of something else."</p> + +<p>And hastily, to shift the conversation from such dangerous ground, she +began to chat about her rustic pleasures.</p> + +<p>"I have a hen-coop that's too charming for anything. If you could only +see me mornings, in a circle of cackling feathers, throwing fusillades +of corn about to keep the roosters away. You see they get under my +skirts and peck at my feet. It's hard to realize I can be the same woman +who, just a few months ago, was brandishing a stage lance and +interpreting Wagner's dreams, no less, as finely as you please! You'll +soon see <em>my</em> vassals. I have the most astonishing layers you ever saw; +and every morning I rummage around in the straw like a thief to get the +eggs, and when I find them, they are still warm.... I've forgotten the +piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon—I +don't know why—I just felt like spending a little while in the society +of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of +the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the +thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby +in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my +dear deputy, that everything here is mere play—just chickens and the +simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I +have done big things to the house. You would never guess! A bathroom, if +you please! And it just scandalizes poor auntie; while Beppa says it's +a sin to give so much thought to matters of the body. I could give up +many of my old habits, but not my bath; it's the one luxury I have kept, +and I sent to Valencia for the plumbers, the marble, and the wood and... +well ... it's a gem. I'll show it to you, by and by. If some fine +day I should suddenly take it into my head to fly away, that bath will +remain here, for my poor aunt to preach about and show how her madcap +niece squandered a mint of money on sinful folly, as she calls it."</p> + +<p>And she laughed, with a glance at the innocent doña Pepa, who, there on +the other bench, was for the hundredth time explaining to the Italian +maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying +to persuade the "foreigner" to transfer her faith to that saint, and +waste no more time on the second or third raters of Italy.</p> + +<p>"Don't imagine," the actress continued, "that I forgot you during all +this time. I am a real friend, you see, and take an interest! I learned +through Cupido, who ferrets out everything, just what you were doing in +Madrid. I, too, figured among your admirers. That proves what friendship +can do! ... I don't know why, but when señor Brull is concerned, I +swallow the biggest whoppers, though I know they're lies. When you made +your speech in the Chambers on that matter of flood protection, I sent +to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many +times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met +Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have +known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer +eloquence—not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of +them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my +dressing-room—once I had sung at the 'Real.' Well, despite all that, I +took the exaggerations your party friends printed about you quite +seriously for some days, putting you on a level with all the solemn +top-notchers I have known. And why, do you suppose? Perhaps from my +isolation and tranquillity here, which do make you lose perspective; or +perhaps it was the influence of environment! It is impossible to live in +this region without being a subject of the Brulls!... Can I be falling +in love with you unawares?"</p> + +<p>And once more she laughed the gleeful, candid, mocking laugh of other +days. At first she had received him seriously, simply, under the +influence still of solitude, country life and the longing for rest and +quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of +that lovesick expression in eyes which now, however, showed a trace of +self-possession, the old teaser had reappeared in her; and her irony cut +into the youth's flesh like a steel blade.</p> + +<p>"Stranger things than that have happened," Rafael snapped boldly, and +imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you +should wind up by falling in love with even me—out of pity, of course!"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Leonora bluntly. "It's not even humanly conceivable. I'll +never fall in love with you ... And even if I should," she continued in +a gentle, almost mothering tone, "you would never know about it. I +should keep it jolly well to myself—so as to prevent your going crazy +on finding your affections returned. All afternoon I have been trying +to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have +inquired about your life in Madrid—even going into details that haven't +the slightest interest for me—all to keep the talk off love. But with +you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. +Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you—I must not love you. If +I had made your acquaintance somewhere else, but under the same romantic +circumstances, I don't say it mightn't have happened. But here!... My +scruples may make you laugh, but I feel as though I'd be committing a +crime to love you. It would be like entering a home and repaying the +hospitality by purloining the silverware."</p> + +<p>"That's a new kind of nonsense you are talking," Rafael exclaimed. "Just +what do you mean? I don't think I understand, exactly."</p> + +<p>"Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it's all +like. Love for love's sake alone! That may happen in the world where I +come from. There folks aren't scandalized at things. Virtue is +broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have +their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too +harshly. But here!... Here love is the straight and narrow path that +leads to marriage. Now let's see how good a liar you are! Would you be +capable of saying that you would marry me?..."</p> + +<p>She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking +eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as +he started to speak.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," she went on. "You wouldn't, and you are right. For that +would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity. I'm not one of the +women who are made for such things. Many men have proposed marriage to +me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once +they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their +marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me +back when I got bored and tried to fly away. But imagine me married! +Could anything be more absurd?"</p> + +<p>She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael +deeply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which +reminded the young man of Mephisto's mirth during his infernal serenade +to Marguerite.</p> + +<p>"Moreover," continued Leonora, recovering her composure, "you don't seem +to realize just how I stand in this community. Don't imagine what's said +about me in town escapes me ... I just have to notice the way the women +look at me the few times I go in there. And I know also what happened to +you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. +The gossip of these people carries—it reaches even this solitary spot. +I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even heard +about the squabbles you've had at home over coming here. Well, we must +put a stop to all that! I am going to ask you not to visit me any more. +I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will +be to the advantage of us both."</p> + +<p>That was a painful thrust for Rafael. So she knew! But to escape from +what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of +independence.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe such bosh! It's just election gossip spread by my +enemies. I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without +asking mamma."</p> + +<p>"Very well; keep on coming, if you really want to; but all the same, it +shows how people feel toward me—a declaration of war, virtually. And if +I should ever fall in love with you ... heavens! What would they say +then? They'd be sure I had come here for the sole purpose of capturing +their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It +would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they +talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a lamb, imagine how their +tongues would wag then!... No, I'm not looking for excitement! Let them +snap at me as much as they please; but I mustn't be to blame. It must be +out of pure envy on their part. I wouldn't stoop to provoking them!"</p> + +<p>And with a turn of her head in the direction of the city that was hidden +from view behind the rows of orange-trees, she laughed disdainfully.</p> + +<p>Then her gleeful frankness returned once more—a candor of which she was +always ready to make herself the first victim—and in a low, +confidential, affectionate tone she continued:</p> + +<p>"Besides, Rafaelito, you haven't had a good look at me. Why, I'm almost +an old woman!... Oh, I know it, I know it. You don't have to tell me. +You and I are of the same age; but you are a man; and I'm a woman. And +the way I've lived has added considerably to my years. You are still on +the very threshold of life. I've been knocking about the world since I +was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, +my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me +worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just +gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't +advance a step on the stage without rousing the jealousy of someone; and +that kind of jealousy is the most bloodthirsty of human passions. Can +you imagine what my kind colleagues say about me? That I've gotten along +as a woman of the <em>demimonde</em> rather than as an artist—that I'm a +<em>cocotte</em>, using my voice and the stage for soliciting, as it were."</p> + +<p>"Damn the liars!" cried Rafael hotly. "I'd like to have someone say that +in my hearing."</p> + +<p>"Bah! Don't be a child. Liars, yes, but what they say has a grain of +truth in it. I have been something of the sort, really; though the blame +had not been wholly mine ... I've done crazy foolish things—giving a +loose rein to my whims, for the fun of the thing. Sometimes it would be +wealth, magnificence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, +ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the +novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at +finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of +mine—it has taken in a good part of Europe—I have come to one +conclusion: either that what the poets call love is a lie, a pleasant +lie, if you wish; or else that I was not born to love, that I am immune; +for as I go back over my exciting and variegated past, I have to +recognize that in my life love has not amounted to this!"</p> + +<p>And she gave a sharp snap with her pink fingers.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you everything, you see," she continued. "During your long +absence I thought of you often. Somehow I want you to know me +thoroughly, once and for all. In that way perhaps we can get along +together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will +walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a +priest listen to her confession. I am in that mood this afternoon. I +feel as though I must tell everything. Even if I tried not to, I should +not succeed. There's a little demon inside me here urging me, compelling +me, to unveil all my past."</p> + +<p>"Please feel quite free to do so. To be a confessor even, to deserve +your confidence, is some progress for me, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"Progress? But why should you care to progress ... into my heart! My +heart is only an empty shell! Do you think you'd be getting much if you +got me? I'm absolutely, absolutely worthless! Don't laugh, please! I +mean it! Absolutely worthless. Here in this solitude I have been able to +study myself at leisure, see myself as I really am. I recognize it plain +as day: I am nothing, nothing. Good looking?... Well, yes; I confess I +am not what you'd call ugly. Even if, with a ridiculous false modesty, I +were to say I was, there's my past history to prove that plenty of men +have found me beautiful. But, alas, Rafaelito! That's only the outside, +my facade, so to speak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and +show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a +ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned +my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into +the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old +hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have +all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see +that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on +the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, +come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that will go to the bottom as +soon as it strikes deep water, and carry you down with it!... Rafael, my +dear boy, don't be foolish. I am all right to have as a friend; but it's +too late for me to be anything more ... even if I were to love you. We +are of a different breed. I have been studying you, and I see that you +are a sensible, honest, plodding sort of fellow. Whereas I—I belong to +the butterflies, to the opposite of all you are. I am a conscript under +the banner of Bohemia, and I cannot desert the colors. Each of us on his +own road then. You'll easily find a woman to make you happy.... The +sillier she is, the better.... You were born to be a family man."</p> + +<p>It occurred to Rafael that she might be poking fun at him, as she so +often did. But no; there was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The +forced smile had vanished from her face. She was speaking tenderly, +affectionately, as if in motherly counsel to a son in danger of going +wrong.</p> + +<p>"And don't make yourself over, Rafael. If the world were made up of +people like me, life would be impossible. I too have moments when I +should like to become a different person entirely—a fowl, a cow, or +something, like the folks around me, thinking of money all the time, and +of what I'll eat tomorrow; buying land, haggling with farmers on the +market, studying fertilizers, having children who'd keep me busy with +their colds and the shoes they'd tear, my widest vision limited to +getting a good price for the fall crop. There are times when I envy a +hen. How good it must be, to be a hen! A fence around me to mark the +boundaries of my world, my meals for the trouble of pecking at them, my +life-work to sit hour after hour in the sun, balanced on a roost.... You +laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and +the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a +pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of +it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant +women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a +whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to +Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They +can hardly believe their eyes when they see the <em>siñorita</em> isn't half so +black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw +up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and +I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me.... Now all that is +agreeable, isn't it? Peace; the affection of the humble; an innocent old +woman, my poor aunt, who seems to have grown younger since I came here! +Nevertheless, some fine day, this shell, this rustic bark that has +formed around me in the sun and the air of the orchards, will burst, and +the woman of old—the Valkyrie—will step out of it again. And then, to +horse, to horse! Off on another gallop around the world, in a tempest of +pleasure, acclaimed by a chorus of brutal libertines!... I am sure that +is bound to happen. I swore to remain here until Spring. Well, Spring is +almost here! Look at those rose-bushes! Look at those orange-trees! +Bursting with life! Oh, Rafael, I'm afraid of Springtime. Spring has +always been a season of disaster for me."</p> + +<p>And she was lost in thought for a moment. Doña Pepa and the Italian maid +had gone into the house. The good old woman could never keep away from +the kitchen long.</p> + +<p>Leonora had dropped her embroidery upon the bench and was looking +upward, her head thrown back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and +drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as if visions of the past were +filing by in front of her. Suddenly she shuddered and sat up.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I'm ill, Rafael. I don't know what's the matter with me +today. Perhaps it's the surprise of seeing you; this talk of ours that +has called me back to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... +Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, +though you don't know it, of making me talk, of reminding me of things I +was determined to forget.... Come, give me your arm; let's walk out +through the garden; it will do me good."</p> + +<p>They arose, and began to saunter along over the broad avenue that led +from the gate to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost +in the thick crests of the orange-trees. Leonora smiled mischievously +and lifted a forefinger in warning.</p> + +<p>"I took it for granted you had returned from your trip a more serious, +a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Besides, +you know already that I'm strong, and can fight—if I have to."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Rafael spent a sleepless night tossing about in his bed.</p> + +<p>Party admirers had honored him with a serenade that had lasted beyond +midnight. The "prominents" among them had shown some pique at having +cooled their heels all afternoon at the Club waiting for the deputy in +vain. He put in an appearance well on towards evening, and after shaking +hands once more all around and responding to speeches of congratulation, +as he had done that morning, he went straight home.</p> + +<p>He had not dared raise his head in Doña Bernarda's presence. He was +afraid of those glowering eyes, where he could read, unmistakably, the +detailed story of everything he had done that afternoon. At the same +time he was nursing a resolve to disobey his mother, meet her +domineering, over-bearing aggressiveness with glacial disregard.</p> + +<p>The serenade over, he had hurried to his room, to avoid any chance of an +accounting.</p> + +<p>Snug in his bed, with the light out, he gave way to an intense, a +rapturous recollection of all that had taken place that afternoon. For +all the fatigue of the journey and the bad night spent in a +sleeping-car, he lay there with his eyes open in the dark, going over +and over again in his feverish mind all that Leonora told him during +that final hour of their walk through the garden. Her whole, her real +life's story it had been, recorded in a disordered, a disconnected +way—as if she must unburden herself of the whole thing all at +once—with gaps and leaps that Rafael now filled in from his own lurid +imagination.</p> + +<p>Italy, the Italy of his trip abroad, came back to him now, vivid, +palpitant, vitalized, glorified by Leonora's revelations.</p> + +<p>The shadowy majestic Gallery of Victor Emmanuel at Milan! The immense +triumphal arch, a gigantic mouth protended to swallow up the Cathedral! +The double arcade, cross-shaped, its walls covered with columns, set +with a double row of windows under a vast crystal roof. Hardly a trace +of masonry on the lower stories; nothing but plate glass—the windows of +book-shops, music shops, cafés, restaurants, jewelry stores, +haberdasheries, expensive tailoring establishments.</p> + +<p>At one end, the Duomo, bristling with a forest of statues and perforated +spires; at the other, the monument to Leonardo da Vinci, and the famous +<em>Teatro de la Scala</em>! Within the four arms of the Gallery, a continuous +bustle of people, an incessant going and coming of merging, dissolving +crowds: a quadruple avalanche flowing toward the grand square at the +center of the cross, where the Café Biffi, known to actors and singers +the world over, spreads its rows of marble tables! A hubbub of cries, +greetings, conversations, footsteps, echoing in the galleries as in an +immense cloister, the lofty skylight quivering with the hum of busy +human ants, forever, day and night, crawling, darting this way and that, +underneath it!</p> + +<p>Such is the world's market of song-birds; the world's Rialto of Music; +the world's recruiting office for its army of voices. From that center, +march forth to glory or to the poorhouse, all those who one fine day +have touched their throats and believed they have some talent for +singing. In Milan, from every corner of the earth, all the unhappy +aspirants of art, casting aside their needles, their tools or their +pens, foregather to eat the macaroni of the <em>trattoria</em>, trusting that +the world will some day do them justice by strewing their paths with +millions. Beginners, in the first place, who, to make their start, will +accept contracts in any obscure municipal theatre of the Milan district, +in hopes of a paragraph in a musical weekly to send to the folks at home +as evidence of promise and success; and with them, overwhelming them +with the importance of their past, the veterans of art—the celebrities +of a vanished generation: tenors with gray hair and false teeth; strong, +proud, old men who cough and clear their throats to show they still +preserve their sonorous baritone; retired singers who, with incredible +niggardliness, lend their savings at usury or turn shopkeepers after +dragging silks and velvets over world famous "boards."</p> + +<p>Whenever the two dozen "stars," the stars of first magnitude that shine +in the leading operas of the globe, pass through the Gallery, they +attract as much admiring attention as monarchs appearing before their +subjects. The <em>pariahs</em>, still waiting for a contract, bow their heads +in veneration; and tell, in bated breath, of the castle on Lake Como +that the great tenor has bought, of the dazzling jewels owned by the +eminent soprano, of the graceful tilt at which the applauded baritone +wears his hat; and in their voices there is a tingle of jealousy, of +bitterness against destiny—the feeling that they are just as worthy of +such splendor—the protest against "bad luck," to which they attribute +failure. Hope forever flutters before these unfortunates, blinding them +with the flash of its golden mail, keeping them in a wretched despondent +inactivity. They wait and they trust, without any clear idea of how they +are to attain glory and wealth, wasting their lives in impotence, to die +ultimately "with their boots on," on some bench of the Gallery.</p> + +<p>Then, there is another flock, a flock of girls, victims of the Chimera, +walking with a nimble, a prancing step, with music scores under their +arms, on the way to the <em>maestro's</em>; slender, light-haired English +<em>misses</em>, who want to become prima donnas of comic opera; fair-skinned, +buxom Russian <em>parishnas</em> who greet their acquaintances with the +sweeping bow of a dramatic soprano; Spanish <em>señoritas</em> of bold faces +and free manners, preparing for stage careers as Bizet's +cigarette-girl—frivolous, sonorous song-birds nesting hundreds of +leagues away, and who have flown hither dazzled by the tinsel of glory.</p> + +<p>At the close of the Carnival season, singers who have been abroad for +the winter season appear in the Gallery. They come from London, St. +Petersburg, New York, Melbourne, Buenos Aires, looking for new +contracts. They have trotted about the globe as though the whole world +were home to them. They have spent a week in a train or a month on a +steamer, to get back to their corner in the Gallery. Nothing has +changed, for all of their distant rambles. They take their usual table. +They renew their old intrigues, their old gossip, their old jealousies, +as if they had been gone a day. They stand around in front of the +show-windows with an air of proud disdain, like princes traveling +incognito, but unable quite to conceal their exalted station. They tell +about the ovations accorded them by foreign audiences. They exhibit the +diamonds on their fingers and in their neckties. They hint at affairs +with great ladies who offered to leave home and husband to follow them +to Milan. They exaggerate the salaries they received on their trip, and +frown haughtily when some unfortunate "colleague" solicits a drink at +the nearby Biffi. And when the new contracts come in, the mercenary +nightingales again take wing, indifferently, they care not whither. Once +more, trains and steamers distribute them, with their conceits and their +petulances, all over the globe, to gather them in again some months +later and bring them back to the Gallery, their real home—the spot to +which they are really tied, and on which they are fated to drag out +their old age.</p> + +<p>Meantime, the <em>pariahs</em>, those who never arrive, the "bohemians" of +Milan—when they are left alone console themselves with tales of famous +comrades, of contracts they themselves refused to accept, pretending +uncompromising hauteur toward impresarios and composers to justify their +idleness; and wrapped in fur coats that almost sweep the ground, with +their "garibaldis" on the backs of their heads, they hover around +Biffi's, defying the cold draughts that blow at the crossing of the +Gallery, talking and talking away to quiet the hunger that is gnawing at +their stomachs; despising the humble toil of those who make their living +by their hands, continuing undaunted in their poverty, content with +their genius as artists, facing misfortune with a candor and an +endurance as heroic as it is pathetic, their dark lives illumined by +Hope, who keeps them company till she closes their eyes.</p> + +<p>Of that strange world, Rafael had caught a glimpse, barely, during the +few days he had spent in Milan. His companion, the canon, had run across +a former chorister from the cathedral of Valencia, who could find +nothing to do but loiter night and day about the Gallery. Through him +Brull had learned of the life led by these journeymen of art, always on +hand in the "marketplace", waiting for the employer who never comes.</p> + +<p>He tried to picture the early days of Leonora in that great city, as one +of the girls who trot gracefully over the sidewalks with music sheets +under their arms, or enliven the narrow side streets with all those +trills and cadences that come streaming out through the windows.</p> + +<p>He could see her walking through the Gallery at Doctor Moreno's side: a +blonde beauty, svelte, somewhat thin, over-grown, taller than her years, +gazing with astonishment through those large green eyes of hers at the +cold, bustling city, so different from the warm orchards of her +childhood home; the father, bearded, wrinkled, nervous, still irritated +at the ruin of his Republican hopes; a veritable ogre to strangers who +did not know his lamb-like gentleness. Like exiles who had found a +refuge in art, they two went their way through that life of emptiness, +of void, a world of greedy teachers anxious to prolong the period of +study, and of singers incapable of speaking kindly even of themselves.</p> + +<p>They lived on a fourth floor on the <em>Via Passarella</em>—a narrow, gloomy +thoroughfare with high houses, like the streets of old Alcira, preempted +by music publishers, theatrical agencies and retired artists. Their +janitor was a former chorus leader; the main floor was rented by an +agency exclusively engaged from sun to sun in testing voices. The others +were occupied by singers who began their vocal exercises the moment they +got out of bed, setting the house ringing like a huge music-box from +roof to cellar. The Doctor and his daughter had two rooms in the house +of <em>Signora Isabella</em>, a former ballet-dancer who had achieved notorious +"triumphs" in the principal courts of Europe, but was now a skeleton +wrapped in wrinkled skin, groping her way through the corridors, +quarreling over money in foul-mouthed language with the servants, and +with no other vestiges of her past than the gowns of rustling silk, and +the diamonds, emeralds and pearls that took their turns in her stiff, +shrivelled ears. This harpy had loved Leonora with the fondness of the +veteran for the new recruit.</p> + +<p>Every day Doctor Moreno went to a café of the Gallery, where he would +meet a group of old musicians who had fought under Garibaldi, and young +men who wrote <em>libretti</em> for the stage, and articles for Republican and +Socialist newspapers. That was his world: the only thing that helped him +endure his stay in Milan. After a lonely life back there in his native +land, this corner of the smoke-filled café seemed like Paradise to him. +There, in a labored Italian, sprinkled with Spanish interjections, he +could talk of Beethoven and of the hero of Marsala; and for hour after +hour he would sit wrapt in ecstasy, gazing, through the dense +atmosphere, at the red shirt and the blond, grayish locks of the great +Giuseppe, while his comrades told stories of this, the most romantic, of +adventurers.</p> + +<p>During such absences of her father, Leonora would remain in charge of +<em>Signora Isabella</em>; and bashful, shrinking, half bewildered, would spend +the day in the salon of the former ballet-dancer, with its coterie of +the latter's friends, also ruins surviving from the past, burned-out +"flames" of great personages long since dead. And these witches, smoking +their cigarettes, and looking their jewels over every other moment to be +sure they had not been stolen, would size up "the little girl," as they +called her, to conclude that she would "go very far" if she learned how +to "play the game."</p> + +<p>"I had excellent teachers," said Leonora, in speaking of that period of +her youth. "They were good souls at bottom, but they had very little +still to learn about life. I don't remember just when I began to see +through them. I don't believe I was ever what they call an 'innocent' +child."</p> + +<p>Some evenings the Doctor would take her to his group in the café, or to +some second balcony seat under the roof of <em>La Scala</em>, if a couple of +complimentary tickets happened to come his way. Thus she was introduced +to her father's friends, bohemians with whom music went hand in hand +with the ideas and the ideals of revolution, curious mixtures of artist +and conspirator; aged, bald-headed, near-sighted "professors," their +backs bent by a lifetime spent leaning over music stands; and swarthy +youths with fiery eyes, stiff, long hair and red neckties, always +talking about overthrowing the social order because their operas had +not been accepted at <em>La Scala</em> or because no <em>maestro</em> could be found +to take their musical dramas seriously. One of them attracted Leonora. +Leaning back on a side-seat in the cafe, she would sit and watch him for +hours and hours. He was a fair-haired, extremely delicate boy. His +tapering goatee and his fine, silky hair, covered by a sweeping, soft +felt hat, made her think of Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I of England +that she had seen in print somewhere. They called him "the poet" at the +café, and gossip had it that an old woman, a retired "star," was paying +for his keep—and his amusements—until his verses should bring him +fame. "Well," said Leonora, simply, with a smile, "he was my first +love—a calf-and-puppy love, a schoolgirl's infatuation which nobody +ever knew about"; for though the Doctor's daughter spent hours with her +green golden eyes fixed upon the poet, the latter never suspected his +good fortune; doubtless because the beauty of his patroness, the +superannuated <em>diva</em>, had so obsessed him that the attractions of other +women left him quite unmoved. How vividly Leonora remembered those days +of poverty and dreams!... Little by little the modest capital the Doctor +owned in Alcira vanished, what with living expenses and music lessons. +Doña Pepa, at her brother's instance, sold one piece of land after +another; but even such remittances were often long delayed; and then, +instead of eating in the <em>trattoria</em>, near <em>la Scala</em>, with dancing +students and the more successful of the young singers, they would stay +at home; and Leonora would lay aside her scores and take a turn at +cooking, learning mysterious recipes from the old <em>danseuse</em>. For weeks +at a time they would live on nothing but macaroni and rice served <em>al +burro</em>, a diet that her father abhorred, the Doctor, meanwhile, +pretending illness to justify his absence from the café. But these +periods of want and poverty were endured by father and daughter in +silence. Before their friends, they still maintained the pose of +well-to-do people with plenty of income from property in Spain.</p> + +<p>Leonora underwent a rapid transformation. She had already passed her +period of growth—that preadolescent "awkward age" when the features are +in constant change before settling down to their definitive forms and +the limbs seem to grow longer and longer and thinner and thinner. The +long-legged spindling "flapper," who was never quite sure where to stow +her legs, became the reserved, well-proportioned girl with the +mysterious gleam of puberty in her eyes. Her clothes seemed, naturally, +willingly, to curve to her fuller, rounding outlines. Her skirts went +down to her feet and covered the skinny, colt-like appendages that had +formerly made the denizens of the Gallery repress a smile.</p> + +<p>Her singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor, +Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the +<em>Statuto</em>, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the +Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had +come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning +his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students +whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white +goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he +would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said, +were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the +ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor +Moreno.</p> + +<p>"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his +own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the <em>maestro</em> praised the +beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for +her.</p> + +<p>And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful, +the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the +midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the <em>maestro</em>, despite +her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right—the first fruits of +her initiation into theatrical life.</p> + +<p>Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on +finding his blind confidence in the <em>maestro</em> so betrayed? She sank into +resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house +daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional +course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice.</p> + +<p>Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning, +at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled +<em>maestro</em> during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her +a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to +make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor +doña Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her +own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send +him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant +directors and impresarios <em>à l'aventure</em>, "launched" his daughter +finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan +district—two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such +companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very day of the +performance sometimes,—troupes like the strolling players of old, +leaving at a venture in a third-class compartment on the train with the +prospect of returning on foot if the impresario made off with the money.</p> + +<p>Leonora began to know what applause was, what it meant to give <em>encore</em> +after <em>encore</em> before crowds of rustic landowners, dressed in their +Sunday clothes, and ladies with false rings and plated chains; and she +had her first thrills of feminine vanity on receiving bouquets and +sonnets from subalterns and cadets in small garrison towns. Boldini +followed her everywhere, neglecting his lessons, in pursuit of this, his +last depraved infatuation. "All for art, art for all!" He must enjoy the +fruits of his creation, be present at the triumphs of his star pupil! So +he said to Doctor Moreno; and that unsuspecting gentleman, thankful for +this added courtesy of the master, would leave her more and more to the +old satyr's care.</p> + +<p>The escape from that life came when she secured a contract for a whole +winter in Padua. There she met the tenor Salvatti, a high and mighty +<em>divo</em>, who looked down upon all his associates, though tolerated +himself, by the public, only out of consideration for his past.</p> + +<p>For years now he had been holding his own on the opera stage, less for +his voice than for his dashing appearance, slightly repaired with pencil +and rouge, and the legend of romantic love affairs that floated like a +rainbow around his name—noble dames fighting a clandestine warfare for +him; queens scandalizing their subjects by blind passions he inspired; +eminent divas selling their diamonds for the money to hold him faithful +by lavish gifts. The jealousy of Salvatti's comrades tended to +perpetuate and exaggerate this legend; and the tenor, worn out, poor, +and a wreck virtually for all of his pose of grandeur, was able to make +a living still from provincial publics, who charitably applauded him +with the self-conceit of climbers pampering a dethroned prince.</p> + +<p>Leonora, playing opposite that famous man, "starring," singing duets +with him, clasping hands that had been kissed by the queens of art, was +deeply stirred. This, at last, was the world she had dreamed of in her +dingy garret in Milan. Salvatti's presence gave her just the illusion of +aristocratic grandeur she had longed for. Nor was he slow in perceiving +the impression he had made upon that promising young woman. With a cold +calculating selfishness, he determined to profit by her naïve +admiration. Was it love that thrust her toward him? As, so long +afterwards, she analyzed her passion to Rafael, she was vehemently +certain it had not been love: Salvatti could never have inspired a +genuine feeling in anyone. His egotism, his moral corruptness, were too +close to the surface. No, he was a philanderer simply, an exploiter of +women. But for her it had been a blinding hallucination nevertheless, +fraught, during the first days, at least, with the delicious +exhiliration, the voluptuous abandonment of true love. She became the +slave of the decrepit tenor, voluntarily, just as she had become her +<em>maestro's</em> slave through fear. And so complete had her infatuation +been, so overpowering its intoxication, that, in obedience to Salvatti, +she fled with him at the end of the season, and deserted her father, who +had objected to the intimacy.</p> + +<p>Then came the black page in her life, that filled her eyes with +anguished tears as she went on with her story. What folks said about her +father's end was not true. Poor Doctor Moreno had not committed suicide. +He was altogether too proud to confess in that way the deep grief that +her ingratitude had caused him.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me about that woman," he would say fiercely to his +landlady at Milan whenever the old <em>danseuse</em> would mention Leonora. "I +have no daughter: it was all a mistake."</p> + +<p>Unbeknown to Salvatti, who became terribly grasping as he saw his power +waning, Leonora would send her father a few hundred francs from London, +from Naples, from Paris. The Doctor, though in direst poverty, would at +once return the checks "to the sender" and, without writing a word; +where-upon Leonora paid an allowance every month to the housekeeper, +begging her not to abandon the old man.</p> + +<p>The unhappy Doctor needed, indeed, all the care the landlady and her old +friends could give him. The <em>povero signor spagnuolo</em>—the poor Spanish +gentleman—spent his days locked up in his room, his violoncello between +his knees, reading Beethoven, the only one "in his family"—as he +said—"who had never played him false." When old Isabella, tired of his +music, would literally put him out of the house to get a breath of air, +he would wander like a phantom through the Gallery, distantly greeted +by former friends, who avoided closer contact with that black +despondency and feared the explosions of rage with which he received +news of his daughter's rising fame.</p> + +<p>A rapid rise she was making in very truth! The worldly old women who +foregathered in the ballet-dancer's little parlor, could not contain +their admiration for their "little girl's" success; and even grew +indignant at the father for not accepting things "as things had to be." +Salvatti? Just the support she needed! An expert pilot, who knew the +chart of the opera world, who would steer her straight and keep her off +the rocks.</p> + +<p>The tenor had skilfully organized a world wide publicity for his young +singer. Leonora's beauty and her artistic verve conquered every public. +She had contracts with the leading theatres of Europe, and though +critics found defects in her singing, her beauty helped them to forget +these, and one and all they contributed loyally to the deification of +the young goddess. Salvatti, sheltering his old age under this prestige +which he so religiously fostered, was keeping in harness to the very +end, and taking leave of life under the protecting shadow of that woman, +the last to believe in him and tolerate his exploitation.</p> + +<p>Applauded by select publics, courted in her dressing-room by celebrated +men and women, Leonora began to find Salvatti's tyranny unbearable. She +now saw him as he really was: miserly, petulant, spoiled by praise. +Every bit of her money that came into his hands disappeared, she knew +not where. Eager for revenge, though really answering the lure of the +elegant world she glimpsed in the distance but was not yet a part of, +she began to deceive Salvatti in passing adventures, taking a diabolical +pleasure in the deceit. But no; as she looked back on that part of her +life with the sober eye of experience, she understood that she had +really been the one deceived. Salvatti, she remembered, would always +retire at the opportune moment, facilitating her infidelities. She +understood now that the man had carefully prepared such adventures for +her with influential men whom he himself introduced to make certain +profits out of the meeting—profits that he never declared.</p> + +<p>After three years of this sort of life, when Leonora had reached the +full splendor of her beauty, she chanced to become the favorite of +fashion for one whole summer at Nice. Parisian newspapers, in their +"society columns" referred, in veiled language, to the passion of an +aged king, a democratic monarch, who had left his throne, much as a +manufacturer of London or a stockbroker of Paris would leave his office, +for a vacation on the Blue Coast. This tall, robust gentleman with a +patriarchal beard—the very type of the good king in fairy tales—had +not hesitated to be seen in public with a beautiful <em>artiste</em>.</p> + +<p>That conquest, fleeting though it had been, put the finishing touch on +Leonora's eminence! "Ah! La Brunna!" people would declare +enthusiastically. "The favorite of king Ernesto.... Our greatest +artist." And troops of adorers began to besiege her under the keen, +mercenary eyes of the tenor Salvatti.</p> + +<p>About this time her father died in a hospital at Milan—a very sad end, +as Signora Isabella, the former ballet-dancer, explained in her letters. +Of what had he died?... The old lady could not say, as the physicians +had differed; but her own view of the matter was that the <em>povero signor +spagnuolo</em> had simply grown tired of living—a general collapse of that +wonderful constitution, so strong, so powerful, in a way, yet strangely +susceptible to moral and emotional influences. He was almost blind when +admitted to the hospital. He seemed quite to have lost his mind—sunk in +an unbreakable silence. Isabella had not dared to keep him in her house +after he had fallen into that coma. But the strange thing was, that as +death drew near, his memory of the past suddenly cleared, and the nurses +would hear him groan for nights at a time, murmuring in Spanish with +tenacious persistency:</p> + +<p>"Leonora! My darling! Where are you?... Little girl, where are you?"</p> + +<p>Leonora wept and wept, and did not leave her hotel for more than a week, +to the great disgust of Salvatti, who observed, in addition, that tears +were not good for her complexion.</p> + +<p>Alone in the world!... Her own wrong-doing had killed her poor father! +No one was left now except her good old aunt, who was "existing" far +away in Spain, like a vegetable in a garden, her stupid mind entirely on +her prayer-book. Leonora vented her anguish in a burst of hatred for +Salvatti. He was responsible for her abandonment of her father! She +deserted him, taking up with a certain count Selivestroff, a handsome +and wealthy Russian, captain in the Imperial Guard.</p> + +<p>So she had found her destiny! Her life would always be like that! She +would pass from stage to stage, from song to song, belonging to +everybody—and to nobody!</p> + +<p>That fair Russian, so strong, so manly, so thoroughly a gentleman, had +loved her truly, with a passionate humble adoration.</p> + +<p>He would kneel submissively at her feet, like Hercules in the presence +of Adriadne, resting his chin on her knees, looking up into her face +with his gray, kindly, caressing eyes. Timidly, doubtfully, he would +approach her every day as if he were meeting her for the first time and +feared a repulse. He would kiss her softly, delicately, with hushed +reserve, as if she were a fragile jewel that might break beneath his +tenderest caress. Poor Selivestroff! Leonora had wept at the thought of +him. In Russia and with princely Russian sumptuousness, they had lived +for a year in his castle, in the country, among a population of sodden +<em>moujiks</em> who worshipped that beautiful woman in the white and blue furs +as devotedly as if she had been a Virgin stepping forth from the gilded +background of an ikon.</p> + +<p>But Leonora could not live away from stageland: the ladies of the rural +aristocracy avoided her, and she needed applause and admiration. She +induced Selivestroff to move to St. Petersburg, and for a whole winter +she sang at the Opera there, like a grand dame turned opera singer out +of love for the work.</p> + +<p>Once more she became the reigning <em>belle</em>. All the young Russian +aristocrats who held commissions in the Imperial Guard, or high posts in +the Government, spoke enthusiastically of the great Spanish beauty; and +they envied Selivestroff. The count yearned moodily for the solitude of +his castle, which held so many loving memories for him. In the bustling, +competitive life of the capital, he grew jealous, sad, melancholy, +irritable at the necessity of defending his love. He could sense the +underground warfare that was being waged against him by Leonora's +countless admirers.</p> + +<p>One morning she was rudely awakened and leapt out of bed to find the +count stretched out on a divan, pale, his shirt stained with blood. A +number of gentlemen dressed in black were standing around him. They had +just brought him in from a carriage. He had been wounded in the chest. +The evening before, on leaving the theatre, the count had gone up for a +moment to his Club. He had caught an allusion to Leonora and himself in +some words of a friend. There had been blows—then hasty arrangements +for a duel, which had been fought at sunrise, with pistols. Selivestroff +died in the arms of his mistress, smiling, seeking those delicate, +powerful, pearly hands for one last time with his bleeding lips. Leonora +mourned him deeply, truly. The land where she had been so happy with the +first man she had really loved became intolerable to her, and abandoning +most of the riches that the count had given her, she went forth into the +world again, storming the great theatres in a new fever of travel and +adventure.</p> + +<p>She was then just twenty-three, but already felt herself an old woman. +How she had changed!... More affairs? As she went over that period of +her life in her talk with Rafael, Leonora closed her eyes with a shudder +of modesty and remorse. Drunk with fame and power she had rushed about +the world lavishing her beauty on anyone who interested her for the +moment. The property of everybody and of nobody! She could not remember +the names, even, of all the men who had loved her during that era of +madness, so many had been caught in the wake of her stormy flight across +the world! She had returned to Russia once, and been expelled by the +Czar for compromising the prestige of the Imperial Family, through an +affair with a grand duke who had wanted to marry her. In Rome she had +posed in the nude for a young and unknown sculptor out of pure +compassion for his silent admiration; and she herself made his "Venus" +public, hoping that the world-wide scandal would bring fame to the work +and to its author. In Genoa she found Salvatti again, now "retired," and +living on usury from his savings. She received him with an amiable +smile, lunched with him, treated him as an old comrade; and at dessert, +when he had become hopelessly drunk, she seized a whip and avenged the +blows she had received in her time of slavery to him, beating him with a +ferocity that stained the apartment with gore and brought the police to +the hotel. Another scandal! And this time her name bandied about in a +criminal court! But she, a fugitive from justice, and proud of her +exploit, sang in the United States, wildly acclaimed by the American +public, which admired the combative Amazon even more than the artist.</p> + +<p>There she made the acquaintance of Hans Keller, the famous orchestra +conductor, and a pupil and friend of Wagner. The German <em>maestro</em> became +her second love. With stiff, reddish hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, an +enormous mustache that drooped over either side of his mouth and framed +his chin, he was certainly not so handsome as Selivestroff. But he had +one irresistible charm, the charm of Art. With the tragic Russian in her +mind and on her conscience, she felt the need of burning herself in the +immortal flame of the ideal; and she adored the famous musician for the +artistic associations that hovered about him. For the first time, the +much-courted Leonora descended from her lofty heights to seek a man's +attention and came with her amorous advances to disturb the placid calm +of that artist so wholly engrossed in the cult of the sublime Master.</p> + +<p>Hans Keller noticed the smile that fell like a sunbeam upon his music +scrolls. He closed them and let himself be drawn off on the by-paths of +love. Leonora's life with the <em>maestro</em> was an absolute rupture with all +her past. Her one wish was to love and be loved—to throw a cloak of +mystery over her real self, ashamed as she now was of her previous wild +career. Her passion enthralled the musician and she in turn felt at once +stirred and transfigured by the atmosphere of artistic fervor that +haloed the illustrious pupil of Wagner.</p> + +<p>The spirit of Him, the Master, as Hans Keller called Wagner with pious +adoration, flashed before the singer's eyes like the revealing glory +that converted Paul on the road to Damascus. Music, as she now saw +clearly for the first time, was not a means of pleasing crowds, +displaying physical beauty, and attracting men. It was a religion—the +mysterious power that brings the infinite within us into contact with +the infinite that surrounds us. She became the sinner awakening to +repentance, and yearning for the atoning peace of the cloister, a +Magdalen of Art, touched on the high road of worldliness and frivolity +by the mystic sublimity of the Beautiful; and she cast herself at the +feet of Him, the supreme Master, as the most victorious of men, lord of +the mystery that moves all souls.</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about Him," Leonora would say. "How much I would give to +have known him as you did!... I did see him once in Venice: during his +last days ...he was already dying."</p> + +<p>And that meeting was, indeed, one of her most vivid and lasting +memories. The declining afternoon enlivening the dark waters of the +Grand Canal with its opalescent spangles; a gondola passing hers in the +opposite direction; and inside, a pair of blue, imperious eyes, shining, +under thick eyebrows, with the cold glint of steel—eyes that could +never be mistaken for common eyes, for the divine fire of the Elect, of +the demi-God, was bright within them! And they seemed to envelop her in +a flash of cerulean light. It was He—ill, and about to die. His heart +was wounded, bleeding, pierced, perhaps, by the shafts of mysterious +melody, as hearts of the Virgin sometimes bleed on altars bristling with +swords.</p> + +<p>Leonora could still see him as if he were there in front of her. He +looked smaller than he really was, dwarfed, apparently, by illness, and +by the wrack of pain. His huge head, the head of a genius, was bent low +over the bosom of his wife Cosima. He had removed the black felt hat so +as to catch the afternoon breeze full upon his loose gray locks. His +broad, high curved forehead, seemed to weigh down upon his body like an +ivory chest laden full of unseen jewels. His arrogant nose, as strong as +the beak of a bird of prey, seemed to be reaching across the sunken +mouth toward the sensuous, powerful jaw. A gray beard ran down along the +neck, that was wrinkled, wasted with age. A hasty vision it had been, to +be sure; but she had seen him; and his venerable figure remained in her +memory like a landscape glimpsed at the flare of a lightning-flash. She +had witnessed his arrival in Venice to die in the peace of those canals, +in that silence which is broken only by the stroke of the oar—where +many years before he had thought himself dying as he wrote his +<em>Tristan</em>—that hymn to the Death that is pure, to the Death that +liberates! She saw him stretched out in the dark boat; and the splash of +the water against the marble of the palaces echoed in her imagination +like the wailing, thrilling trumpets at the burial of Siegfried—the +hero of Poetry marching to the Valhalla of immortality and glory upon a +shield of ebony—motionless, inert as the young hero of the Germanic +legend—and followed by the lamentations of that poor prisoner of life, +Humanity, that ever eagerly seeks a crack, a chink, in the wall about +it, through which the inspiriting, comforting ray of beauty may +penetrate.</p> + +<p>And the singer gazed with tearful eyes at the broad <em>boina</em> of black +velvet, the lock of gray hair, two broken, rusty steel pens—souvenirs +of the Master, that Hans Keller had piously preserved in a glass case.</p> + +<p>"You knew him—tell me how he lived. Tell me everything: talk to me +about the Poet ... the Hero."</p> + +<p>And the musician, no less moved, described the Master as he had seen him +in the best of health; a small man, tightly wrapped in an +overcoat—with a powerful, heavy frame, however, despite his slight +stature—as restless as a nervous woman, as vibrant as a steel spring, +with a smile that lightly touched with bitterness his thin, colorless +lips. Then came his "genialities," as people said, the caprices of his +genius, that figure so largely in the Wagner legend: his smoker, a +jacket of gold satin with pearl flowers for buttons; the precious cloths +that rolled about like waves of light in his study, velvets and silks, +of flaming reds and greens and blues, thrown across the furniture and +the tables haphazard, with no reference to usefulness—for their sheer +beauty only—to stimulate the eye with the goad of color, satisfy the +Master's passion for brightness; and perfumes, as well, with which his +garments—always of oriental splendor—were literally saturated; phials +of rose emptied at random, filling the neighborhood with the fragrance +of a fabulous garden, strong enough to overcome the hardiest uninitiate, +but strangely exciting to that Prodigy in his struggle with the Unknown.</p> + +<p>And then Hans Keller described the man himself, never relaxed, always +quivering with mysterious thrills, incapable of sitting still, except at +the piano, or at table for his meals; receiving visitors standing, +pacing back and forth in his salon, his hands twitching in nervous +uncertainty; changing the position of the armchairs, rearranging the +furniture, suddenly stopping to hunt about his person for a snuff-box or +a pair of glasses that he never found; turning his pockets inside out, +pulling his velvet house-cap now down over one eye, now back over the +crown of his head, or again, throwing it into the air with a shout of +joy or crumpling it in his hand, as he became excited in the course of a +discussion!</p> + +<p>And Keller would close his eyes, imagining that he could still hear in +the silence, the faint but commanding voice of the Master. Oh, where was +he now? On some star, doubtless, eagerly following the infinite song of +the spheres, a divine music that only his ears had been attuned to hear! +And to choke his emotion, the musician would sit down at the piano, +while Leonora, responsive to his mood, would approach him, and standing +as rigid as a statue, with her hands lost in the musician's head of +rough tangled hair, sing a fragment from the immortal <em>Tetralogy</em>.</p> + +<p>Worship of Wagner transformed the butterfly into a new woman. Leonora +adored Keller as a ray of light gone astray from the glowing star now +extinguished forever; she felt the joy of humbleness, the sweetness of +sacrifice, seeing in him not the man, but the chosen representative of +the Divinity. Leonora could have grovelled at Keller's feet, let him +trample on her—make a carpet of her beauty. She willed to become a +slave to that lover who was the repository of the Master's thoughts; and +who seemed to be magnified to gigantic proportions by the custody of +such a treasure.</p> + +<p>She tended him with the exquisite watchfulness of an enamored servant, +following him, on his trips in the summer, the season of the great +concerts, to Leipzig, Geneva, Paris; and she, the most famous living +prima donna, would stay behind the scenes, with no jealousy for the +applause she heard, waiting for Hans, perspiring and tired, to drop the +baton amid the acclamations of the audience and come back-stage to have +her dry his forehead with an almost filial caress.</p> + +<p>And thus they traveled about Europe, spreading the light of the Master; +Leonora, voluntarily in the background, like a patrician of old, dressed +as a slave and following the Apostle in the name of the New Word.</p> + +<p>The German musician let himself be adored, receiving all her caresses of +enthusiasm and love with the absent-mindedness of an artist so +preoccupied with sounds that at last he comes to hate words. He taught +his language to Leonora that she might some day realize a dream of hers +and sing in Bayreuth; and he grounded her in the principles that had +guided the Master in the creation of his great characters. And so, when +Leonora made her appearance on the stage one winter with the winged +helmet and the lance of the Valkyrie, she attained an eminence in +Wagnerian interpretation that was to follow her for the remainder of her +career. Hans himself was carried away by her power, and could never +recover from his astonishment at Leonora's complete assimilation of the +spirit of the Master.</p> + +<p>"If only He could hear you!" he would say with conviction. "I am sure He +would be content."</p> + +<p>And the pair traveled about the world together. Every springtime she, as +spectator, would watch him directing Wagnerian choruses in the "Mystic +Abyss" at Bayreuth. Winters it was he who went into ecstasies under her +tremendous "<em>Hojotoho</em>!"—the fierce cry of a Valkyrie afraid of the +austere father Wotan; or at sight of her awakening among the flames for +the spirited Siegfried, the hero who feared nothing in the world, but +trembled at the first glance of love!</p> + +<p>But artists' passions are like flowers, fragrant, but quickly +languishing. The rough German musician was a simple person, unstable, +fickle, ready to be amused at any new plaything. Leonora admitted to +Rafael that she could have lived to old age submissively at Keller's +side, pampering his whims and selfish caprices. But one day Keller +deserted her, as she had deserted others, to take up with a sickly, +languid contralto, whose best charms could have been hardly comparable +to the morbid delicacy of a hot-house flower. Leonora, mad with love and +jealousy, pursued him, knocking at his door like a servant. For the +first time she felt the voluptuous bitterness of being scorned, +discarded, until reaction from despair brought her back to her former +pride and self-control!</p> + +<p>Love was over. She had had enough of artists; though an interesting sort +of folk they were in their way. Far preferable were the ordinary, normal +men she had known before Keller's time! The foolisher—the more +commonplace—the better! She would never fall in love again!</p> + +<p>Wearied, broken in spirit, disillusioned, she went back into her old +world. But now the legend of her past beset her. Again men came, +passionately besieging her, offering her wealth in return for a little +love. They talked of killing themselves if she resisted, as if it were +her duty to surrender, as if refusal on her part were treachery. The +gloomy Macchia committed suicide in Naples. Why? Because she did not +capitulate to his melancholy sonnets! In Vienna there had been a duel, +in which one of her admirers was slain. An eccentric Englishman followed +her about, looming in her pathway everywhere like the shadow of a fatal +Destiny, vowing to kill anybody she should prefer to him.... She had had +enough at last! She was wearied of such a life, disgusted at the male +voracity that dogged her every step. She longed to fall out of sight, +disappear, find rest and quiet in a complete surrender to some boundless +dream. And the thought—a comforting, soothing thought, it had been—of +the distant land of her childhood came back to her, the thought of her +simple, pious aunt, the sole survivor of her family, who wrote to her +twice every year, urging her to reconcile her soul with God—to which +end the good old Doña Pepa was herself aiding with prayer!</p> + +<p>She felt, too, somehow, without knowing just why, that a visit to her +native soil would soften the painful memory of the ingratitude that had +cost her father's life. She would care for the poor old woman! Her +presence would bring a note of cheer into that gray, monotonous +existence that had gone on without the slightest change, ever. And +suddenly, one night, after an "Isolde" in Florence, she ordered Beppa, +the loyal and silent companion of her wandering life, to pack her +things!</p> + +<p>Home! Home! Off for her native land! And might she find there something +to keep her ever from returning to the troubled stirring world she was +leaving!</p> + +<p>She was the princess of the fairy tales longing to become a shepherdess. +There she meant to stay, in the shade of her orange-trees, now and then +fondling a memory of her old life, perhaps, but wishing eternally to +enjoy that tranquillity, fiercely repelling Rafael, therefore, because +he had tried to awaken her, as Siegfried rouses Brunhilde, braving the +flames to reach her side.</p> + +<p>No; friends, friends, nothing else! She wanted no more of love. She +already knew what that was. Besides, he had come too late....</p> + +<p>And Rafael tossed sleeplessly in his bed, rehearsing in the darkness the +story he had been told. He felt dwarfed, annihilated, by the grandeur of +the men who had preceded him in their adoration of that woman. A king, +great artists, handsome and aristocratic paladins, Russian counts, +potentates with vast wealth at their command! And he, a humble country +boy, an obscure junior deputy, as submissive as a child to his mother's +despotic ways, forced to beg for the money for his personal expenses +even—he was trying to succeed them!</p> + +<p>He laughed with bitter irony at his own presumptuousness. Now he +understood Leonora's mocking tone, and the violence she had used in +repulsing all boorish liberties he had tried to take. But despite the +contempt he began to feel for himself, he lacked the strength to +withdraw now. He had been caught up in the wake of seduction, the +maelstrom of love that followed the actress everywhere, enslaving men, +casting them, broken in spirit and in will, to earth, like so many +slaves of Beauty.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>III</h3> + + +<p>"Good morning, Rafaelito ... we are seeing each other betimes today.... +I am up so early not to miss the marketing. I remember that Wednesday +was always a great event in my life, as a child. What a crowd!..."</p> + +<p>And Leonora, with the great swarming cities far from her mind, was +really impressed at the numbers of bustling people crowding the little +square, called <em>del Prado</em>, where every Wednesday the "grand market" of +the Alcira region was held.</p> + +<p>Their sashes bulging with money bags, peasants were coming into town to +buy supplies for the whole week out in the orange country. Orchard women +were going from one stall to the next, as slender of body and as neatly +dressed as the peasant girls of an opera ballet, their hair in +<em>señorita</em> style, their skirts of bright batiste gathered up to hold +their purchases and showing fine stockings and tight-fitting shoes +underneath. Tanned faces and rough hands were the only signs to betray +the rustic origin of the girls; because those were prosperous days for +the orange growers of the District.</p> + +<p>Along the walls hens were clucking, ranged in piles and tied together by +the feet. Here and there were pyramids of eggs, vegetables, fruit. In +"shops" that were set up in the morning and taken down at night, +drygoods dealers were selling colored sashes, strips of cotton cloth and +calico, and black woolsey, the eternal garb of every native of the +Júcar valley. Beyond the Prado, in <em>El Alborchí</em>, was the hog market; +and then came the <em>Hostal Gran</em> where horses were tried out. On +Wednesdays all the business of the neighborhood was transacted—money +borrowed or paid back, poultry stocks replenished, hogs bought to fatten +on the farms, whole families anxiously following their progress; and new +cart-horses, especially, the matter of greatest concern to the farmers, +secured on mortgage, usually, or with cash saved up by desperate +hoarding.</p> + +<p>Though the sun had barely risen, the crowd, smelling of sweat and soil, +already filled the market place with busy going and coming. The +orchard-women embraced as they met, and with their heavy baskets propped +on their hips, went into the chocolate shops to celebrate the encounter. +The men gathered in groups; and from time to time, to "buck up" a +little, would go off in parties to swallow a glass of sweet brandy. In +and out among the rustics walked the city people: "petty bourgeois" of +set manners, with old capes, and huge hempen baskets, where they would +place the provisions they had bought after tenacious hagglings; +<em>señoritas</em>, who found in these Wednesday markets a welcome relief from +the monotony of their secluded life at home; idlers who spent hour after +hour at the stall of some vendor friend, prying into what each marketer +carried in his basket, grumbling at the stinginess of some and praising +the generosity of others.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed at his friend in sheer astonishment. What a beauty she was! +Who could ever have taken her, in that costume, for a world-famous prima +donna!</p> + +<p>Leonora looked the living picture of an orchard girl: a plain cotton +dress, in anticipation of spring; a red kerchief around her neck; her +blond hair uncovered, combed back with artful carelessness and hastily +knotted low on the back of her head. Not a jewel, not a flower! Only her +height and her striking comeliness marked her off from the other girls. +Under the curious, devouring glances of the whole market throng, Rafael +smilingly greeted her, feasting his eyes on her fresh, pink skin, still +radiant from the morning bath, inhaling the subtle, indefinable +fragrance that hovered about that strong, healthy, youthful person.</p> + +<p>She was constantly smiling, as if bent on dazzling the bumpkins, who +were gaping at her from a distance, with the pearly flash of her teeth. +The market-place began to buzz with admiring curiosity, or the thrill of +scandal. There, face to face, in view of the whole city, the deputy and +the opera singer were talking and laughing together like the best of +friends!</p> + +<p>Rafael's supporters—the chief officials in the city government—who +were loitering about the square, could not conceal their satisfaction. +Even the humblest of the constables felt a certain pride. That beautiful +fairy was talking with "the Chief," smiling at him, even. What an honor +for "the Party!" But after all, why not? Everything considered, don +Rafael Brull deserved all that, and more! And those men, who were very +careful to keep silent when their wives spoke indignantly of the +"stranger," admired her with the instinctive fervor that beauty +inspires, and envied the deputy his good fortune. The old orchard-women +wrapped the couple in caressing glances of approval. There was a +handsome pair! What a fine match!</p> + +<p>The town ladies in passing by would draw up full height and pretend not +to see them. On meeting acquaintances they would make wry faces and say +ironically: "Did you see?... here she is, in full sight of everybody, +casting her fly for doña Bernarda's son!" What a disgrace! It was +getting so a decent woman hardly dared go out of doors!</p> + +<p>Leonora, quite unconscious of the interest she was arousing, chattered +on about her shopping. Beppa, you see, had decided to stay at home with +her aunt that morning; so she had come with her gardener's wife and +another woman—there they were over there with the large baskets. She +had no end of things to get—and she laughed as she read off the list. A +regular housewife she had become, yes, sir! She knew the price of +everything and could tell down to a <em>centime</em> just what it was costing +her to live. It was like those hard times back in Milan, when she had +gone with her music roll under her arm to get macaroni, butter or coffee +at the grocer's. And what fun it all was!... However, Leonora observed +that, without a doubt, her audience was interpreting her cordial offhand +way with Rafael in the worst light possible. She gave him her hand and +took leave. It was growing late! If she stood there much longer the best +of the market would be carried off by others—if she found anything at +all left! "Down to business, then! Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>And the young man saw her make her way, followed by the two country +women, through the crowds, pausing at the booths, welcomed by the +vendors with their best smiles, as a customer who never haggled; +interrupting her purchases to fondle the filthy, whining children the +poor women were carrying in their arms, and taking the best fruits out +of her basket to give to the little ones.</p> + +<p>And everywhere general admiration! "<em>Así, siñorita</em>!--Here, my dear +young lady!" "<em>Vinga, doña Leonor</em>!--This way, doña Leonora!" the +huckstresses cried, calling her by name to show greater intimacy. And +she would smile, with a familiar intimate word for everybody, her hand +frequently visiting the purse of Russian leather that hung from her +wrist. Cripples, blind beggars, men with missing arms or legs, all had +learned of the generosity of that woman who scattered small change by +the fistful.</p> + +<p>Rafael gazed after her, smiling indifferently in acknowledgment of the +congratulations the town notables were heaping on him. The +<em>alcalde</em>—the most hen-pecked husband in Alcira, according to his +enemies—affirmed with sparkling eyes that for a woman like that he was +capable of doing almost any crazy thing. And they all joined in a chorus +of invidious praise, taking it for granted that Rafael was the +<em>artiste's</em> accepted lover; though the youth himself smiled bitterly at +the thought of his real status with that wonderful woman.</p> + +<p>And she vanished, finally, into the sea of heads at the other end of the +market-place; though Rafael, from time to time, thought he could still +make out a mass of golden hair rising above the <em>chevelures</em> of the +other girls. Willingly he would have followed; but Don Matias was at his +side—don Matias, the wealthy orange exporter, father of the wistful +Remedios who was spending her days obediently at doña Bernarda's side.</p> + +<p>That gentleman, heavy of speech and heavier still of thought, was +pestering Rafael with a lot of nonsense about the orange business, +giving the young man advice on a new bill he had drawn up and wanted to +have introduced in Congress—a protectionist measure for Spanish +oranges. "Why, it will be the making of the city, boy! Every mother's +son of us swimming in money!" as he guaranteed with his hand upon his +heart.</p> + +<p>But Rafael's gaze was lost in the distant reaches of the Prado, to catch +one more fleeting glimpse of a golden head of hair—proof of Leonora's +presence still! He found it hard to be courteous, even, to this man who, +according to authentic rumor, was destined to be his father-in-law. Of +all the drawling trickling words only a few reached his ears, beating on +his brain like monotonous hammer blows. "Glasgow ... Liverpool ... new +markets ... lower railroad rates ... The English agents are a set of +thieves ..."</p> + +<p>"Very well, let them go hang," Rafael answered mentally. And giving a +mechanical "yes, yes!" to propositions he was not even hearing, he gazed +away more intently than ever, fearing lest Leonora should already have +gone. He felt relieved, however, when a gap opened in the crowd and he +could see the actress seated in a chair that had been offered her by a +huckstress. She was holding a child upon her knees, and talking with a +tiny, wretched, sickly creature who looked to Rafael like the +orchard-woman they had met at the hermitage.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you think of my plan?" don Matias asked.</p> + +<p>"Excellent, magnificent, and well worthy of a man like you, who knows +the question from top to bottom. We'll discuss the matter thoroughly +when I return to the Cortes."</p> + +<p>And to avoid a second exposition, he patted the wealthy boor on the +back, and wondered why in the world Fortune should have picked such a +disgusting man to smile on.</p> + +<p>The whole city had known don Matias when he went around in peasant's +clogs and worked a tiny orchard he had secured on lease. His son, a +virtual half-wit, who took advantage of every opportunity to rifle the +old man's pockets and spend the money in Valencia with bull-fighters, +gamblers and horse-dealers, went barefoot in those days, scampering +about the roads with the children of the gipsies encamped in <em>El +Alborchi</em>. His daughter—the now well-behaved, the now modest, Remedios, +who was passing day after day at complicated needlework under the +tutelage of doña Bernarda—had grown up like a wild rabbit of the +fields, repeating with shocking fidelity all the oaths and vile language +she heard from the carters her father drank with.</p> + +<p>"But you have to be an ox to get rich these days!" the barber Cupido +would say when don Matias came up for discussion.</p> + +<p>Little by little the man had worked his way into the orange export +business—to England especially. His first stock he bought on credit; +and at once Fortune began to blow upon him with bloated cheeks, and she +was still puffing and puffing! His wealth had been accumulated in a few +years. In crises where the most powerful vessels foundered, that rude +and heavy bark, sailing on without chart or compass, suffered not the +slightest harm. His shipments always arrived at the psychological +moment. The fancy, carefully-selected oranges of other merchants would +land at Liverpool or London when the markets were glutted and prices +were falling scandalously. The lucky dolt would send anything at all +along, whatever was available, cheap; and circumstances always seemed to +favor him with an empty market and prices sky-high regardless of +quality. He realized fabulous profits. He had nothing but scorn for all +the wiseacres who subscribed to the English papers, received daily +bulletins and compared market quotations from year to year, getting, for +all their pains, results that made them tear their hair. He was an +ignoramus and he was proud of it! He trusted to his lucky star. Whenever +he thought it best, he would ship his produce off from the port of +Valencia, and—there you are!--it would always turn out that his oranges +found no competition on arrival and brought the highest prices. More +than once it had happened that rough weather held his vessel up. +Well—the market would sell out, and his shipment would have a clear +field just the same!</p> + +<p>Within two years he had a place in town and had become a "personage." He +would smilingly declare that he wouldn't "go to the wall for under +eighty thousand <em>duros</em>." Later, ever on the wing, his fortune reached +dizzy heights. Folks whispered in superstitious awe the figures he made +in net profits at the end of every sailing. He owned warehouses as +large as churches in the vicinity of Alcira, employing armies of girls +to wrap the oranges and regiments of carpenters to make the crates. He +would buy the crop of an entire orchard at a single glance and never be +more than a few pounds off. As for the pay he gave, the city was proud +of its millionaire. Not even the Bank of Spain enjoyed the respect and +confidence his firm had won. No clerks and cashiers! No mahogany +furniture! Everything above board! Ask for a hundred thousand; and if +don Matías said "yes," he just went in to his bedroom and, God knows +from where, he would draw out a roll of bank-notes the size of your +body!</p> + +<p>And this lucky rustic, this upstart lout, rich without deserving it for +any competence he had, was giving himself the airs of an intelligent +dealer, presuming to approach Rafael, "his deputy," with a proposal for +a freight-rate bill to promote the shipping of oranges into the interior +of Spain! As if a little thing like a bill in Congress would make any +difference to his way of getting money!</p> + +<p>Of his wretched past don Matías preserved but a single trait: his +respect for the house of Brull. The rest of the city he treated with a +certain uppishness; but he could not conceal the awe which doña Bernarda +inspired in him—a feeling that was strengthened by gratitude for her +kindness in singling him out (after he had become rich), and for the +interest she showed in his "little girl." He cherished a vivid memory of +Rafael's father, the "greatest man" he had known in all his life. It +seemed as though he could still see don Ramón stopping on his big horse +in front of his humble farmhouse and, with the air of a grand lord, +leaving orders for what don Matías was to do in the coming elections. +He knew the bad state in which the great man had left his affairs upon +his death; and more than once he had given money to doña Bernarda +outright, proud that she should do him the honor of appealing to him in +her straits. But in his eyes, the House of Brull, poor or rich, was +always the House of Brull, the cradle of a dynasty whose authority +no power could shake. He had money. But those <em>others</em>, the +Brulls—ah!--they had, up there in Madrid, friends, influence! If they +wanted to they could get the ear of the Throne itself. They were people +with a "pull," and if anyone suggested in his presence that Rafael's +mother was thinking of Remedios as a daughter-in-law, don Matías would +redden with satisfaction and modestly reply:</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I imagine it's all talk. My Remedios is only a town girl, +you see. The señor deputy is probably thinking of someone from the +'upper crust' in Madrid."</p> + +<p>Rafael had for some time been aware of his mother's plans. But he had no +use for "that crowd." The old man, despite his boresome habit of +suggesting "new bills," he could stand on account of his touching +loyalty to the Brull family. But the girl was an utterly insignificant +creature, pretty, to be sure, but only as any ordinary young girl is +pretty. And underneath that servile gentleness of hers lay an +intelligence even more obtuse than her father's, a mind filled with +nothing but piety and the religious phrases in which she had been +educated.</p> + +<p>That morning, followed by an aged servant, and with all the gravity of +an orphan who must busy herself with the affairs of her household and +act as head of the home, Remedios had walked by Rafael twice. She +scarcely looked at him. The submissive smile of the future slave with +which she usually greeted him had disappeared. She was quite pale, and +her colorless lips were pressed tight together. Without a doubt in the +world she had seen him, from a distance, talking and laughing with "the +chorus girl." His mother would know all about it within an hour! Really, +that young female seemed to think he was her private property! And the +angry expression on her face was that of a jealous wife taking notes for +a curtain-lecture!</p> + +<p>Scenting a danger Rafael took hasty leave of don Matias and his other +friends, and left the market place to avoid another meeting with +Remedios. Leonora was still there. He would wait for her on the road to +the orchard. He must take advantage of the early hour!</p> + +<p>The orange country seemed to be quivering under the first kisses of +spring. The lithe poplars bordering the road were covered with tender +leaves. In the orchards the buds on the orange-trees, filling with the +new sap, were ready to burst, as in one grand explosion of perfume, into +white fragrant bloom. In the matted herbage on the river-banks the first +flowers were growing. Rafael felt the cool caress of the sod as he sat +down on the edge of the road. How sweet everything smelled! What a +beautiful day it was!</p> + +<p>The timorous, odorous violet must be sprouting on the damp ground yonder +under the alders! And he went looking along the stream for those little +purple flowers that bring dreams of love with their fragrance! He would +make a bouquet to offer Leonora as she came by.</p> + +<p>He felt thrilled with a boldness he had never known before. His hands +burned feverishly. Perhaps it was the emotion from his own sense of +daring. He had resolved to settle things that very morning. The fatuity +of the man who feels himself ridiculous and is determined to raise +himself in the eyes of his admirers, excited him, filling him with a +cynical rashness.</p> + +<p>What would his friends, who envied him as Leonora's lover, say if they +knew she was treating him as an insignificant friend, a good little boy +who helped her while away the hours in the solitude of her voluntary +exile?</p> + +<p>A few kisses—on her hand; a few kind words; many many cruel jests, such +as come from a chum conscious of superiority ... that was all he had won +after months and months and months of assiduous courtship, months of +disobedience to his mother, in whose house he had been living like a +stranger, without affection, at daggers' points; months of exposure to +the criticism of his enemies, who suspected him of a liaison with the +"chorus girl" and were raising their brows, horror-stricken, in the name +of morality. How they would scoff, if they knew the truth! Those +addlepates down at the Club were always boasting of their amorous +adventures, which began inevitably with the sudden physical attack and +ended in easy triumph.</p> + +<p>With the Spaniard's mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to +assure himself that those brutes were right—that such was the road to +a woman's heart. He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at +Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at +an ikon. Bosh! Wasn't he a man, and isn't the man the stronger? Some +show of a male authority, that was what she needed! He liked her! Well, +that was the end of it! His she must be! Besides, since she treated him +so kindly, she surely loved him! A few scruples perhaps! But that would +be nothing, before a show of real manhood!</p> + +<p>Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its +dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, +Rafael heard voices down the road. He jumped to his feet. Leonora was +approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under +their heavily laden baskets.</p> + +<p>"Here, too!" the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly +under the white skin of her throat. "You are getting to be my shadow. In +the market place, on the road, everywhere! I find you every time I look +around!"</p> + +<p>She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man's hand, inhaling +their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season. My +beautiful, faithful old friend! Springtime! You have brought her to me +this year, though I felt her coming days before! I am so happy—can't +you see? I feel as though I'd been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a +cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings! And I'm going to fly out +over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes! Don't +you feel as I do, Rafael?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael, gravely, said he did. He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the +nip of life in every one of his pores! And his eyes ran over the bare +neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white +beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that +strong, robust bosom. The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a +meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their +mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their +presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces.</p> + +<p>"Yes, go right on," she said. "We'll take our time, but we'll be there +soon!"</p> + +<p>And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women +with her closed parasol:</p> + +<p>"Did you see that? Didn't you notice their smiles and the winks they +exchanged when they saw you on the road?... Oh, Rafael! You are blind as +a bat! And no good is going to come of it! If I had any reputation to +lose, I'd be mighty careful with a friend like you! What do you suppose +they are thinking?"</p> + +<p>And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, +she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with +Rafael.</p> + +<p>"On the market-place all the huckstresses talk to me about you, with the +idea of flattering me. They assure me we'd make a wonderful couple. My +kitchen woman seizes every opportunity to tell me how handsome you are. +You ought to thank her.... Even my aunt, my poor aunt, with one leg in +the grave, drew it out the other day to say to me: 'Do you notice that +Rafael visits us quite frequently? Do you think he wants to marry you?' +Marry, you see! Ha, ha, ha! Marry! That's all poor auntie can see in the +world for a woman!"</p> + +<p>And she went on gaily chattering like a wild bird escaped from a cage +and happy at its liberty, though her frank, mocking laughter was in +strange contrast with the expression of sinister determination on +Rafael's face.</p> + +<p>"But how glum and queer you look today! Are you ill?... What's the +matter?"</p> + +<p>Rafael took advantage of this opening. Ill, yes! Sick with love! He knew +the whole place was gossiping about them. But it wasn't his fault. He +simply couldn't hide his feelings. If she only realized what that mute +adoration was costing him! He had tried to root the thought of her out +of his mind, but that had been impossible. He must see her, hear her! He +lived for her alone. Study? Impossible! Play, with his friends? They had +all become obnoxious to him! His house was a cave, a cellar, a place to +eat in and sleep in. He left it the moment he got out of bed, and kept +away from the city, too, which seemed stuffy, oppressive, like a jail to +him. Off to the fields; to the orchards, to the Blue House where she +lived! He would wait and wait for afternoon to come—the time when, by a +tacit arrangement neither of them had proposed, he might enter her +orchard and find her on the bench under the four dead palms!... Well, he +could not go on living that way. Poor folks envied him his power, +because he was a deputy, at twenty-five! And yet his one purpose in life +was to be ... well, she could guess what ... that garden bench, for +instance, gently, deliciously burdened with her weight for whole +afternoons; or that needlework which played about in her soft fingers; +or one of her servants, Beppa, perhaps, who could waken her in the +morning, bend low over her sleeping head, and smooth the loose tresses +spread like rivulets of gold over the white pillow. A slave, an animal, +a thing even, provided it should be in continuous contact with her +person—that was what he longed to be; not to find himself obliged, at +nightfall, to leave her after a parting absurdly prolonged by childish +pretexts, and return to his irritating, common, vulgar life at home, to +the solitude of his room, where he imagined he could see a pair of green +eyes staring at him from every dark corner, tempting him.</p> + +<p>Leonora was not laughing. Her gold-spotted eyes had opened wide; her +nostrils were quivering with emotion. She seemed deeply moved by the +young man's eloquent sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael! My poor dear boy!... And what are we going to do?"</p> + +<p>Down at the Blue House, Rafael had never dared speak so openly. The +presence of Leonora's servants; the nonchalant, mocking air with which +she welcomed him at the door; the irony with which she met his every +hint at a declaration had always crushed, humiliated him. But there, on +the open highway, it was different somehow. He felt free. He would empty +his whole heart out.</p> + +<p>What anguish! Every day he went to the Blue House trembling with hope, +enthralled in his dream of love! "Perhaps it will be today," he would +say to himself each time. And his legs would give way at the knees, and +he would choke as he swallowed! Then, hours later, at nightfall, he +would slink home, downcast, dispirited, desperate, staggering along the +road under the star-light as if he were drunk, repressing the tears +burning in his eyes, longing for the peace of death, like a weary +explorer who must go on and on breaking his way over one ice-field after +another. She must have noticed, surely! She must have seen the untiring +efforts he made to please her!... Ignorant, humble, recognizing the vast +gulf that separated them because of the different lives they had led, +how he had worked to raise himself to a level with the men who had loved +and won her! If she spoke of the Russian count—a model of stylish +elegance—the next day, to the great astonishment of his mother, Rafael +would take out his best clothes and, all sweating in the hot sun and +nearly strangled by a high collar, he would set out along that same +road—his Road to Calvary—walking on his toes like a boarding-school +girl in order not to get his shoes dirty. If Hans Keller had come to +Leonora's mind, he would run through his histories of music, and +dressing up like some artist he had read about in novels, would come to +her house fully intending to deliver an oration on the immortal Master, +Wagner, whom he knew nothing at all about, but whom he adored as a +member of his family.... Good God! All that was ridiculous, he knew very +well; it would have been far better to present himself just as he was, +undisguised, in all his littleness. He knew that this pretending to +equality with the thousand or more figures flitting in Leonora's memory, +was grotesque. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing he would not do +to stir her heart a little, be loved for a day, a minute, a second—and +then die!...</p> + +<p>There was a note of such real feeling in the youth's confession that +Leonora, more and more deeply moved, unconsciously drew closer to him, +almost grazing him as they walked along; and she smiled slightly, as she +repeated her previous phrase—a blend of motherly affection and +compassion:</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael!... My poor dear boy!"</p> + +<p>They had reached the gate to the orchard. The walk inside was deserted. +In the little square some hens were scratching about.</p> + +<p>Overwhelmed by the strain of that confession, in which he had vented the +anguish and dreams of many months, Rafael leaned against the trunk of an +old orange-tree. Leonora stood in front of him, listening to his words, +with head lowered, making marks on the ground with the tip of her red +parasol.</p> + +<p>Die, yes; he had often read in novels about people dying for love. And +he had always laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. But he +understood now. Many a night, tossing in his delirium, he had thought of +ending his misery in some tragic manner. The violent, domineering blood +of his father seethed in his veins. Once firmly convinced she could +never be his, he would kill her, to keep her from belonging to anybody... +and then stab himself! They would fall together to the blood-soaked +ground, and lie there as on a bed of red damask, and he would kiss her +cold lips, without fear of being disturbed; kiss her and kiss her, till +the last breath of his life exhaled upon her livid mouth.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be saying all that with deadly earnestness. The muscles of +his strong face quivered, and his eyes—Moorish eyes—glowed like live +coals. Leonora was looking at him passionately now, as if a man were in +front of her. She shuddered with a strange fascination as she pictured +his barbarous dreams, fraught with blood and death. This was something +new! This boy, when he saw that his love was vain, would not gloomily +and prosaically slay himself as Macchia, the Italian poet, had done. He +would die, but asserting himself, killing the woman, destroying his idol +when it would not harken to his entreaties!</p> + +<p>And, pleasantly excited by Rafael's tragic demeanor, she gave way to the +thrill of it, letting herself be carried along by his anguished rapture. +He had taken her arm and was drawing her off the path, out among the +low-hanging branches of the orange-trees.</p> + +<p>For some time they were both silent. Leonora seemed to be drinking in +the virile perfume of that savage passionate adoration.</p> + +<p>Rafael thought he had offended her, and was sorry for his violent words.</p> + +<p>She must pardon him; he was beside himself, exasperated beyond bounds at +her strange resistance. Leonora! Leonora! Why persist in spoiling a +perfectly beautiful thing? He was not wholly a matter of indifference in +her eyes. She did not dislike him. Otherwise she would not have let him +be a friend and have permitted his frequent visits. Love?... Of course +she did not love him—poor unhappy wretch that he was, incapable of +inspiring passion in a woman like her. But let her just accept him. He +would teach her to love him in time, win her by the sheer beauty of his +own tenderness and worship. His love alone, alas, was great enough for +both of them and for all the famous lovers in history put together! He +would be her slave; a carpet for her to tread underfoot; a dog, always +at her feet, his eyes burning with the fire of eternal fidelity! She +would finally learn to be fond of him, if not out of passion, at least +out of gratitude and pity!</p> + +<p>And as he spoke, he brought his face close to Leonora's, looking for his +own image in the depths of her green eyes; and he pressed her arm in a +fever of passion.</p> + +<p>"Careful, Rafael.... That hurts! Let go, of me."</p> + +<p>And as if suddenly sensing a danger in the full of a sweet dream, she +shuddered and pulled herself free with a nervous violence.</p> + +<p>Then, quite recovered from the intoxication into which she had been led +by Rafael's passionate appeal, she began to speak calmly, composedly.</p> + +<p>No; what he asked was impossible. Her fate was ordained; she did not +want love any more.... Friendship had carried them a bit astray. It was +her fault, but she would find a way to remedy that. If she had known him +years before—perhaps! She might have learned to love him. He was more +worthy of being loved than many of the men she had accepted. But he had +come too late. Now she was content with just living. Besides, what a +horror! Imagine a "grand passion" in a petty environment such as they +were in, a tiny world of gossip-mongers and evil tongues! Imagine having +to hide like a criminal to express a noble emotion! No, when she loved, +she loved in the open, with the sublime immodesty of the masterpiece +that scandalizes bumpkins with its naked beauty! How impossible it would +be, finding herself nibbled at constantly by gossiping fools, quite +beneath her contempt. She would feel the scorn and the indignation of a +whole town about her. They would accuse her of leading an innocent boy +astray, alienating him from his own mother. "No, Rafael; a thousand +times no; I have a little conscience left! I'm not the irresponsible +siren I used to be."</p> + +<p>"But what about me?" cried the youth, seizing her arm again with a +boyish petulance. "You think of yourself and of other people, but never +of me. What am I going to do all along with my suffering?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you? Why ... you will forget," said Leonora gravely. "I have just +realized this very moment that it is impossible for me to stay here any +longer. We two must separate. I will leave before Spring is over; I'll +go ... I don't know where, back to the world at any rate, take up my +singing again, where I'll not find men of just your kind. Time, and my +absence, will attend to the curing of you."</p> + +<p>Leonora winced before the flash of savage desire that gleamed in +Rafael's eyes. On her face she felt the ardent breath of lips that were +seeking her own, and she heard him murmur with a stifled roar of +passion:</p> + +<p>"No. You shall not go; I refuse to let you go!"</p> + +<p>And she felt his strong arms close about her, swaying her from head to +foot, in a clasp to which madness added strength. Her feet left the +ground, and a brutal thrust threw her to her side at the foot of an +orange-tree.</p> + +<p>But, in a flash, the Valkyrie reappeared in Leonora. With a supreme +effort, she struggled free from the encircling vise, sat up, threw +Rafael violently to his back, got to her feet, and stamped a foot +brutally and mercilessly down upon the young man's chest, using her +whole weight as though bent on crushing the very framework of his body.</p> + +<p>Her face was an inspiring thing to look upon. She seemed to have gone +mad! Her blond hair had fallen awry and was flecked with leaves and +grass and bark. Her green eyes flashed with metallic glints, like +daggers. Her lips were pale from emotion. And in that wild posture, +whether through force of habit, or the suggestiveness of the effort she +had made, she raised her warcry—a piercing, savage "<em>Hojotoho!</em>" that +rent the calm of the orchard, frightening the hens and sending them +scampering off over the paths. Her parasol she brandished as if it were +the lance of Wotan's daughter, and several times she aimed it at +Rafael's eyes, as if she intended to spear him blind.</p> + +<p>The youth seemed to have collapsed less from the violence of the +struggle than from an overpowering sense of shame. He lay motionless on +the ground, without protesting, and as if not caring ever to rise +again—longing to die under the pressure of that foot which was so +heavily weighing down upon him, taking away his breath.</p> + +<p>Leonora regained her composure, and slowly stepped back. Rafael sat up, +and reached for his hat.</p> + +<p>It was a painful moment. They stood there cold, as if the sun had gone +out and a glacial wind were blowing through the orchard.</p> + +<p>Rafael kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look up and meet her gaze, +ashamed at the thought of his disordered clothes, which were soiled with +dirt; humiliated at having been beaten and pummeled like a robber caught +by a victim he had expected to find powerless.</p> + +<p>He heard Leonora's voice addressing him with the scornful "<em>tu</em>" a lady +might use toward her lowest inferiors.</p> + +<p>"Go!"</p> + +<p>He raised his head and found Leonora looking at him, her eyes ablaze +with anger and offended dignity.</p> + +<p>"I'm never taken by force," she said coldly. "I give myself ... if I +feel like it."</p> + +<p>And in the gesture of scorn and rage with which she dismissed him, +Rafael thought he caught a trace of loathing at some memory of +Boldini—that repugnant lecher, who had been the only person in the +world to win her by violence.</p> + +<p>Rafael tried to stammer an excuse, but that hateful association of the +brutal scene rendered her implacable.</p> + +<p>"Go! Go, or I'll beat you again!... And never come back!"</p> + +<p>And to emphasize the words, as Rafael, humiliated and covered with dirt, +was leaving the garden, she shut the gate behind him with such a violent +slam that the bars almost went flying.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Doña Bernarda was much pleased with Rafael. The angry glances, the +gestures of impatience, the wordless arguments between mother and son, +which the household had formerly witnessed in such terror, had come to +an end.</p> + +<p>The boy had not been visiting the Blue House for some time. She knew +that with absolute certainty, thanks to the gratuitous espionage +conducted for her by persons attached to the Brull family. He scarcely +ever left the house; a few moments at the Club after lunch; and the rest +of the day in the dining-room, with her and family friends; or else, +shut up in his room, with his books, probably, which the austere señora +revered with the superstitious awe of ignorance.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés, her advisor, commented upon the change with a gloating "I +told you so." What had he always said, when doña Bernarda, in the +confiding intimacies of that friendship which amounted almost to a +senile, a tranquil, a distantly respectful passion, would complain of +Rafael's contrariness? That it would all pass; that it was a young man's +whim; that youth must have its fling! What was the use? Rafael hadn't +studied to be a monk! Many boys his age, and even older ones, were far +worse!... And the old gentleman smiled, for he was thinking of his own +easy conquests with the wretched flock of dirty, unkempt peasant girls +who wrapped the oranges in the shipping houses of Alcira. "You see, doña +Bernarda, you suffered too much with don Ramón. You are a bit too +exacting with Rafael. Let him have a good time! Let him enjoy himself! +He'll get tired of that chorus girl soon enough, pretty as she is. Then +you can take hold and start him right!"</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda once again had reason to appreciate the talent of her +counsellor. His predictions, made with a cynicism that always caused the +pious lady to blush, had been fulfilled to the letter!</p> + +<p>She, too, was sure it was all over. Her son was not so blind as his +father had been. He had soon wearied of a "lost woman" like Leonora; he +had decided it was not worth while to quarrel with his mamma over so +trifling a matter, and have his enemies discredit him on that account. +He was returning to the path of duty; and to express her unbounded joy, +the good woman could not pamper him enough.</p> + +<p>"And how about ... that?" her friends would ask her, mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," she would answer, with a proud smile. "Three weeks have gone +by and he hasn't shown the slightest inclination to go back. No, Rafael +is a good boy. All that was just a young one's notion. If you could only +see him keeping me company in the parlor every afternoon! An angel! Good +as pie! He spends hour after hour chatting with me and Matías's +daughter."</p> + +<p>And then, broadening her smile and winking cunningly, she would add:</p> + +<p>"I think there's something doing in that direction."</p> + +<p>And indeed something was "doing"; at least, to judge by appearances. +Bored with wandering from room to room through the house, sick of his +books, with which he would spend hours and hours turning pages without +really seeing a word that was printed on them, Rafael had taken refuge +in the sitting-room where his mother did her sewing, supervising a +complicated piece of embroidery that Remedios was making.</p> + +<p>The girl's submissive simplicity appealed to Rafael. Her ingenuousness +gave him a sense of freshness and repose. She was a cosy secluded refuge +where he might sleep after a tempest. His mother's satisfied smile was +there to encourage him in this feeling. Never had he seen her so kind +and so communicative. The pleasure of having him once more safe and +obedient in her hands had mollified that disposition so stern by nature +as to verge on rudeness.</p> + +<p>Remedios, with her head bowed low over her embroidery, would blush deep +red whenever Rafael praised her work or told her she was the prettiest +girl in all Alcira. He would help her thread her needles, and hold his +hands out to make a winding frame for the skeins; and more than once, +with the familiarity of an old playmate, he would pinch her +mischievously through the embroidery hoop. And she would never miss the +chance to scream scandal.</p> + +<p>"Rafael, don't be crazy," his mother would say, threatening him +indulgently with her withered forefinger. "Let Remedios work; if you +carry on so I won't let you come into the parlor."</p> + +<p>And at night, alone in the dining-room with don Andrés, when the hour +of confidences came, doña Bernarda would forget the affairs of "the +House" and of "the Party," to say with satisfaction:</p> + +<p>"It's going better."</p> + +<p>"Is Rafael taking to her?"</p> + +<p>"More and more every day. We're getting there, we're getting there! That +boy is the living image of his father when it comes to matters like +this. Believe me, you can't let one of that tribe out of your sight a +minute. If I didn't keep my eye peeled, that young devil would be doing +something that would discredit the House forever."</p> + +<p>And the good woman was sure that Doctor Moreno's daughter—that +abominable creature whose good looks had been her nightmare for some +months past—no longer existed for Rafael.</p> + +<p>She knew, from her spies, that on one market morning the two had met on +the street in town. Rafael had looked the other way, as if trying to +avoid her; the "<em>comica</em>" had turned pale and walked straight ahead +pretending not to see him. What did that mean?... A break for good of +course! The impudent hussy was livid with rage, you see, perhaps because +she could not trap her Rafael again; for he, weary of such +uncleanliness, had abandoned her forever. Ah, the lost soul, the +indecent gad-about! Excuse me! Was a woman to educate a son in the +soundest and most virtuous principles, make a somebody of him, and then +have an adventuress come along, a thousand times worse than a common +street-woman, and carry him off, as nice as you please, in her filthy +hands? What had the daughter of that scamp of a doctor thought?... Let +her fume! "You're sore just because you see he's dumped you for good!"</p> + +<p>In the joy of her triumph doña Bernarda was thinking anxiously of her +son's marriage to Remedios, and, coming down one peg on the ladder of +her dignity toward don Matias, she began to treat the exporter as a +member of the family, commenting contentedly upon the growing affection +that united their two children.</p> + +<p>"Well, if they're fond of each other," said the rustic magnate, "the +wedding can take place tomorrow so far as I'm concerned. Remedios means +a good deal to me; hard to find a girl like her for running a house; but +that needn't interfere with the marriage. I'm mighty well satisfied, +doña Bernarda, that we should be related through our children. I'm only +sorry that don Ramon isn't here to see it all."</p> + +<p>And that was true. The one thing lacking to the millionaire's perfect +joy was that he would never have the chance to treat the tall, imposing +Don Ramon on equal terms for once,—the crowning triumph of a self-made +man.</p> + +<p>Doña Bernarda, too, saw in this union the realization of her fondest +dreams: money joined to power; the millions of a business, whose +marvelous successes seemed like deliberate tricks of Chance, coming to +revivify with their sap of gold the Brull family tree, which was showing +the signs of age and long years of struggle!</p> + +<p>Spring had come on apace. Some afternoons doña Bernarda would take "the +children" to her own orchards or to the wealthy holdings of don Matías. +It was a sight worth seeing—the kindly shrewdness with which she +chaperoned the young couple, shouting with shocked alarm if they +disappeared behind the orange-trees for a moment or two in their +frolics.</p> + +<p>"That Rafael of ours," she would say to don Andrés, mimicking the long +face he used to put on when bringing up her troubles with her husband, +"what a rascal he is! I'll bet he's got both arms around her by this +time!"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em alone, let 'em alone, doña Bernarda! The deeper in he gets with +this one, the less likely he'll be to go back to the other."</p> + +<p>Back to her?... There was no fear of that. It was enough to watch Rafael +picking flowers and weaving them into the girl's hair while she +pretended to fight him off, blushing like a rose, and quite moved at +such homage.</p> + +<p>"Now be good, Rafaelito," Remedios would murmur in a sort of entreating +bleat, "don't touch me; don't be so bold."</p> + +<p>But her emotion would so betray her that you could see the thing she +most wanted in the world was for Rafael to place upon her body once +again those hands that made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the +roots of her hair. She resisted only because such was the duty of a +well-educated Christian girl. Like a young she-goat she would dash off +with graceful, tripping bounds between the rows of orange-trees, and <em>su +señoria</em>, the member from Alcira, would give chase with all his might, +his nostrils quivering and his eyes ablaze.</p> + +<p>"Let's see if he can catch you!" the mother would call, with a laugh. +"Run and let him try to catch you!"</p> + +<p>Don Andrés would roll up his wrinkled face into the smile of an old +faun. Such play made him feel young again.</p> + +<p>"Huh, <em>señora</em>! I believe you. This is getting on—on, and then some. +I'd say, marry them off pretty quick; for, if you don't, mark my word, +there'll soon be something for Alcira to laugh about."</p> + +<p>And they were both mistaken. Neither the mother nor don Andrés was +present to note the expression of dejection and despair on Rafael's face +when he was alone, shut up in his room, where, in the dark corners, he +could still see a pair of green, mysterious eyes gleaming at him and +tempting him.</p> + +<p>Go back to her? Never! He still felt the shame, the humiliation of that +morning. He could see himself in all his tragic ridiculousness, in a heap +on the ground, trampled under foot by that Amazon, covered with dirt, as +humble and abashed as a criminal caught redhanded and with no excuse. +And then that word, that had cut like the lash of a whip: "Go!" As if he +were a lackey who had dared approach a Duchess! And then that gate +slamming behind him, falling like a slab over a tomb, setting up an +eternal barrier between him and the love of his life!</p> + +<p>No, he would never go back! He was not brave enough to face her again. +That morning when he had met her by chance near the market-place, he +thought he would die of shame; his legs sagged under him, and the street +turned black as if night had suddenly fallen. She had disappeared; but +there was a ringing in his ears; and he had had to take hold of +something, as if the earth were swaying under his feet, and he would +fall.</p> + +<p>He needed to forget that unutterable disgrace—a recollection as +tenacious as remorse itself. That was why he had plunged into the +affair with his mother's protegée—as a sort of anaesthetic. She was a +woman! And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that +painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his +vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now +expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive +features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where +the other woman was, offended and in hiding.</p> + +<p>With Remedios he would feel some sign of life, only to relapse into +torpid gloom the moment he was left alone. It was a foamy, frothy +intoxication he felt when with the girl, an effervescence that all +evaporated in solitude. He thought of Remedios as a piece of green +fruit—sound, free of cut or stain, and with all the color of maturity, +but lacking the taste that satisfies and the perfume that enthralls.</p> + +<p>In his strange situation, spending days in childish games with a young +girl who aroused in him nothing more than the bland sense of fraternal +comradeship, and nights in sad and sleepless recollection, the one thing +that pleased him was intimacy with his mother. Peace had been restored +to the home. He could come and go without being conscious of a pair of +eyes glaring upon him and without hearing words of indignation stifled +between grating teeth.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés and his friends at the Club kept asking him when the wedding +would take place. In presence of "the children" doña Bernarda would +speak of alterations that would have to be made in the house. She and +the servants would occupy the ground floor. The whole first story would +be for the couple, with new rooms that would be the talk of the +city—they would get the best decorators in Valencia! Don Matias treated +him familiarly, just as he had in the old days when he came to the +<em>patio</em> to get his orders from don Ramón and found Rafael, as a child, +playing at his father's feet.</p> + +<p>"Everything I have will be for you two. Remedios is an angel, and the +day I die, she will get more than my rascal of a son. All I ask of you +is not to take her off to Madrid. Since she is leaving my roof, at least +let me be able to see her every day."</p> + +<p>And Rafael would listen to all these things as in a dream. In reality he +had not expressed the slightest desire to marry; but there was his +mother, taking everything for granted, arranging everything, imposing +her will, accelerating his sluggish affection, literally forcing +Remedios into his arms! His wedding was a foregone conclusion, the topic +of conversation for the entire city.</p> + +<p>Sunk in this sadness, in the clutch of the tranquillity which now +surrounded him and which he was afraid to break; weak, as a matter of +character, and without will power, he sought consolation in the +reflection that the solution his mother was preparing was perhaps for +the best.</p> + +<p>His friendship with Leonora had been broken forever. Any day she might +take flight! She had said so very often. She would be going very +soon—when the blossoms were off the orange-trees! What would be left +for him then ... except to obey his mother? He would marry, and perhaps +that would serve as a distraction. Little by little his affection for +Remedios might grow. Perhaps in time he would even come to love her.</p> + +<p>Such meditations brought him a little calm, lulling him into an +attitude of agreeable irresponsibility. He would turn child again, as he +once had been, have his mother take charge of everything; let himself be +drawn along, passive, unresisting, by the current of destiny.</p> + +<p>But at times this resignation boiled up into hot, seething ebullitions +of angry protest, of raging passion. At night Rafael could not sleep. +The orange-trees were beginning to bloom. The blossoms, like an odorous +snow, covered the orchards and shed their perfume as far even as the +city streets. The air was heavy with fragrance. To breathe was to scent +a nosegay. Through the window-gratings under the doors, through the +walls, the virginal perfume of the vast orchards filtered—an +intoxicating breath, that Rafael, in his impassioned restlessness, +imagined as wafted from the Blue House, caressing Leonora's lovely +figure, and catching something of the divine fragrance of her redolent +beauty. And he would roll furiously between the sheets, biting the +pillow and moaning.</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!"</p> + +<p>One night, toward the end of April, Rafael drew back in front of the +door to his room, with the tremor he would have felt on the threshold of +a place of horror. He could not endure the thought of the night that +awaited him. The whole city seemed to have sunk into languor, in that +atmosphere so heavily charged with perfume. The lash of spring was +stirring all the impulses of life with its exciting caress, and goading +every feeling to new intensity. Not the slightest breeze was blowing. +The orchards saturated the calm atmosphere with their odorous +respiration. The lungs expanded as if there were no air, and all space +were being inhaled in each single breath. A voluptuous shudder was +stirring the countryside as it lay dozing under the light of the moon.</p> + +<p>Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rafael went down into the street. +Soon he found himself upon the bridge, where a few strollers, hat in +hand, were breathing the night air eagerly, looking at the clusters of +broken light that the moon was scattering over the river like fragments +of a mirror.</p> + +<p>He went on through the silent, deserted streets of the suburbs, his +footsteps echoing from the sidewalks. One row of houses lay white and +gleaming under the moon. The other was plunged in shadow. He was drawn +on and on into the mysterious silence of the fields.</p> + +<p>His mother was asleep, he suddenly reflected. She would know nothing. He +would be free till dawn. He yielded further to the attraction of the +roads that wound in and out through the orchards, where so many times he +had dreamed and hoped.</p> + +<p>The spectacle was not new to Rafael. Every year he had watched that +fertile plain come to life at the touch of Springtime, cover itself with +flowers, fill the air with perfumes; and yet, that night, as he beheld +the vast mantle of orange-blossoms that had settled over the fields, and +was gleaming in the moonlight like a fall of snow, he felt himself +completely in control of an infinitely sweet emotion.</p> + +<p>The orange-trees, covered from trunk to crown with white, ivory-smooth +flowerets, seemed like webs of spun glass, the vegetation of one of +those fantastic snow-mantled landscapes that quiver sometimes in the +glass spheres of paper-weights. The perfume came in continuous, +successive waves, rolling out upon the infinite with a mysterious +palpitation, transfiguring the country, imparting to it a feeling of +supernaturalness—the vision of a better world, of a distant planet +where men feed on perfume and live in eternal poetry. Everything was +changed in this spacious love-nest softly lighted by a great lantern of +mother-of-pearl. The sharp crackling of the branches sounded in the deep +silence like so many kisses; the murmur of the river became the distant +echo of passionate love-making, hushed voices whispering close to the +loved one's ears words tremulous with adoration. From the canebrake a +nightingale was singing softly, as if the beauty of the night had +subdued its plaintive song.</p> + +<p>How good it was to be alive! The blood tingled more rapidly, more hotly, +through the body! Every sense seemed sharper, more acute; though that +landscape imposed silence with its pale wan beauty, just as certain +emotions of intense joy are tasted with a sense of mystic shrinking!</p> + +<p>Rafael followed the usual path. He had turned instinctively toward the +Blue House.</p> + +<p>The shame of his disgrace still smarted raw within him. Had he met +Leonora now in the middle of the road he would have recoiled in childish +terror; but he would not meet her at such an hour. That reflection gave +him strength to walk on. Behind him, over the roofs of the city, the +tolling of a clock rolled. Midnight! He would go as far as the wall of +her orchard, enter if that were possible, stand there a few moments in +silent humility before the house, looking up adoringly at the windows +behind which Leonora lay sleeping.</p> + +<p>It would be his farewell! The whim had occurred to him as he left the +city and saw the first orange-trees laden with the blossoms whose +perfume had for many months been holding the songstress there in patient +expectation. Leonora would never know he had been near her in the silent +orchard bathed in moonlight, taking leave of her with the unspoken +anguish of an eternal farewell, as to a dream vanishing on the horizon +of life!</p> + +<p>The gate with the green wooden bars came into view among the trees—the +gate that had been slammed behind him in insulting dismissal. Among the +thorns of the hedge he looked for an opening he had discovered in the +days when he used to hover about the house. He went through, and his +feet sank into the fine, sandy soil of the orange-groves. Above the tops +of the trees, the house itself could be seen, white in the moonlight. +The rain-troughs of the roof and the balustrades of the balconies shone +like silver. The windows were all closed. Everything was asleep.</p> + +<p>He was about to step forward, when a dark form shot out from between two +orange-trees and stopped near him with a muffled growl. It was the house +dog, an ugly, ill-tempered animal trained to bite before it barked.</p> + +<p>Rafael recoiled instinctively from the warm breath of that panting, +furious muzzle which was reaching for his leg; but the dog, after a +second's hesitation, began to wag its tail with pleasure; and was +content merely to sniff at the boy's trousers so as to make absolutely +sure of an old friend's identity. Rafael patted him on the head, as he +had done so many times, distractedly, in conversations with Leonora on +the bench in the <em>plazoleta</em>. A good omen this encounter seemed! And he +walked on, while the dog resumed his watch in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Timidly he made his way forward in the shelter of a large patch of +shadow cast by the orange-trees, dragging himself along, almost, like a +thief afraid of an ambuscade.</p> + +<p>He reached the walk leading to the <em>plazoleta</em> and was surprised to find +the gate half open. Suddenly he heard a suppressed cry near by.</p> + +<p>He turned around, and there on the tile bench, wrapped in the shadow of +the palm-trees and the rose-bushes, he saw a white form—a woman. As she +rose from her seat the moonlight fell squarely on her features.</p> + +<p>"Leonora!"</p> + +<p>The youth would have gladly sunk into the earth. "Rafael! You here?..."</p> + +<p>And the two stood there in silence, face to face. He kept his eyes fixed +on the ground, ashamed. She looked at him with a certain indecision.</p> + +<p>"You've given me a scare that I'll never forgive you for," she said at +last. "What are you doing here?..."</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for a reply. He stammered with an embarrassment +that quite impressed Leonora; but despite his agitation, he noticed a +strange glitter in the girl's eyes, and a mysterious veiling of her +voice that seemed to transfigure her.</p> + +<p>"Come, now," said Leonora gently, "don't hunt up any far-fetched +excuses.... You were coming to bid me good-bye—and without trying to +see me! What a lot of nonsense! Why don't you say right out that you +are a victim of this dangerous night—as I am, too?"</p> + +<p>And her eyes, glittering with a tearful gleam, swept the <em>plazoleta</em>, +which lay white in the moonlight; and the snowy orange-blossoms, the +rose-bushes, the palm-trees, that stood out black against the blue sky +where the stars were twinkling like grains of luminous sand. Her voice +trembled with a soft huskiness, as caressing as velvet.</p> + +<p>Rafael, quite encouraged by this unexpected reception, tried to beg +forgiveness for the madness that had caused his expulsion from the +place; but the actress cut him short.</p> + +<p>"Let's not discuss that unpleasant thing! It hurts me just to think of +it. You're forgiven; and since you've fallen on this spot as though +heaven had dropped you here, you may stay a moment. But ... no +liberties. You know me now."</p> + +<p>And straightening up to her full height as an Amazon sure of herself, +she turned to the bench, motioning to Rafael to take a seat at the other +end.</p> + +<p>"What a night!... I feel a strange intoxication without wine! The +orange-trees seem to inebriate me with their very breath. An hour ago my +room was whirling round and round, as though I were going to faint. My +bed was like a frail bark tossing in a tempest. So I came down as I +often do; and here you can have me until sleep proves more powerful than +the beauty of this beautiful night."</p> + +<p>She spoke with a languid abandonment; her voice quivering, and tremors +rippling across her shoulders, as if all the perfume were hurting her, +oppressing her powerful vitality. Rafael sat looking at her over the +length of the bench—a white, sepulchral figure, wrapped in the hooded +cape of a dressing-gown—the first thing she had laid hands upon when +she had thought of going out into the garden.</p> + +<p>"I was frightened when I saw you," she continued, in a slow, faint +voice. "A little fright, nothing more! A natural surprise, I suppose; +and yet, I was thinking of you that very moment. I confess it. I was +saying to myself: 'What can that crazy boy be doing, at this hour, I +wonder?' And suddenly you appeared, like a ghost. You couldn't sleep; +you were excited by all this fragrance; and you have come to try your +luck anew, with the hope that brought you here at other times."</p> + +<p>She spoke without her usual irony, softly, simply, as if she were +talking to herself. Her body was thrown limply back against the bench, +one arm resting behind her head.</p> + +<p>Rafael started to speak once more of his repentance, of his desire to +kneel in front of the house there in mute entreaty for pardon, while she +would be sleeping in the room above. But Leonora interrupted him again.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Your voice is very loud. They might hear you. My aunt's room is +in the other wing of the house, but she's not a heavy sleeper.... +Besides, I don't care to listen to talk about remorse, pardon, and such +things. It makes me think of that morning. The mere fact that I am +letting you stay here ought to be enough, oughtn't it? I want to forget +all that.... Hush, Rafael! Silence makes the beauty of the night more +wonderful. The fields seem to be talking with the moon, and these waves +of perfume that are sweeping over us are echoes of their passionate +words."</p> + +<p>And she fell silent, keeping absolutely still, her eyes turned upward, +catching the moonbeams in their tear-like moisture. From time to time +Rafael saw her quiver with a mysterious tremor; then extend her arms and +cross them behind her head of golden hair, in a voluptuous stretch that +made her white robe rustle, while her limbs grew taut in a delicious +tension. She seemed upset, ill almost; at times her panting breath was +like a sob. Her head drooped over a shoulder and her breast heaved with +countless sighs.</p> + +<p>The youth was obediently silent, fearing lest the remembrance of his +base audacity should again come up in the conversation; and not +venturing to reduce the distance that separated them on the bench. She +seemed to divine what he was thinking and began to speak, slowly, of the +abnormal state of mind in which she found herself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me tonight. I feel like crying, +without knowing why. I am filled with a strange inexplicable happiness, +and yet I could just weep and weep. Oh, I know—it's the Springtime; all +this fragrance that whips my nerves like a lash. I really believe I'm +crazy.... Springtime! My best friend—though she has done me only wrong! +If ever I have been guilty of any foolish thing in my life, Spring was +at the bottom of it.... It's youth reborn in us—madness paying us its +annual visit.... And I—ever faithful to her, adoring her; waiting in +this out-of-the-way spot almost a year for her to come, to see her once +more in her best clothes, crowned with orange-blossoms like a virgin—a +wicked virgin who pays me back for my devotion with betrayal!... Just +see what I've come to! I am ill—I don't know why—with excess of life, +perhaps. She drives me on I don't know where, but certainly where I +ought not to go.... If it weren't for sheer will-power on my part, I'd +collapse in a heap on this bench here. I'm just like a drunken man +bending every effort to keep his feet and walk straight."</p> + +<p>It was true; she was really ill. Her eyes grew more and more tearful; +her body was quivering, shrinking, collapsing, as if life were +overflowing within her and escaping through all her pores.</p> + +<p>Again she was silent, for a long time, her eyes gazing vacantly into +space; then, she murmured, as if in answer to a thought of her own.</p> + +<p>"No one ever understood as well as He. He knew everything, felt as +nobody ever felt the mysterious hidden workings of Nature; and He sang +of Springtime as a god would sing. Hans used to remark that many a time; +and it's so."</p> + +<p>Without turning her head she added, in a dreamy musing voice.</p> + +<p>"Rafael, you don't know <em>Die Walküre</em>, do you? You've never heard the +Spring Song?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. And Leonora, with her eyes still gazing moonward, her +head resting back against her arms, which escaped in all their round, +pearly strength from her drooping sleeves, spoke slowly, collecting her +memories, recreating in her mind's eye that Wagnerian scene of such +intense poetry—the glorification and the triumph of Nature and Love.</p> + +<p>Hunding's hut, a barbaric dwelling, hung with savage trophies of the +chase, suggesting the brutish existence of man scarcely yet possessed of +the world, in perpetual strife with the elements and with wild animals. +The eternal fugitive, forgotten of his father,—Sigmund by name, though +he calls himself "Despair," wandering years and years through the +forests, harrassed by beasts of prey who take him for one of themselves +in his covering of skins, rests at last at the foot of the giant oak +that sustains the hut; and as he drinks the hidromel in the horn offered +to him by the sweet Siglinda, he gazes into her pure eyes and for the +first time becomes aware that Love exists.</p> + +<p>The husband, Hunding, the wild huntsman, takes leave of him at the end +of the rustic supper: "Your father was the Wolf, and I am of the race of +Hunters. Until the break of day, my house protects you; you are my +guest; but as soon as the sun rises in the heavens you become my enemy, +and we will fight.... Woman, prepare the night's drink; and let us be +off to bed."</p> + +<p>And the exile sits alone beside the fireplace, thinking of his immense +loneliness. No home, no family, not even the magic sword promised him by +his father the Wolf. And at daybreak, out of the hut that shelters him +the enemy will come to slay him. The thought of the woman who allayed +his thirst, the sparkle of those pure eyes wrapping him in a gaze of +pity and love, is the one thing that sustains him.... She comes to him +when her wild consort has fallen asleep. She shows him the hilt of the +sword plunged into the oak by the god Wotan; nobody can pull it out: it +will obey only the hand of him to whom it has been destined by the god.</p> + +<p>As she speaks the wandering savage gazes at her in ecstasy, as if she +were a white vision revealing to him the existence of something more +than might and struggle in the world. It is the voice of Love. Slowly he +draws near; embraces her; clasps her to his heart, while the door is +pushed open by the breeze and the green forest appears, odorous in the +moonlight—nocturnal Springtime, radiant and glorious, wrapped in a +mantle of music and perfume.</p> + +<p>Siglinda shudders. "Who has come in?" No one—and yet, a Stranger has +entered the hovel, opening the door with an invisible hand. And Sigmund, +at the inspiration of Love, divines the identity of the visitant. "It is +Springtime laughing in the air about your tresses. The storms are gone; +gone is the dark solitude. The radiant month of May, a young warrior in +an armor of flowers, has come to give chase to bleak Winter, and in all +this festival of rejoicing Nature, seeks his sweetheart: Youth. This +night, which has brought you to me, is the unending night of Spring and +Youth."</p> + +<p>And, Leonora was thrilled as she heard in her memory the murmur of the +orchestra accompanying the song of tenderness inspired by Spring; the +rustle of the forest branches benumbed by the winter, now swaying with +the new sap that had flowed into them like a torrent of vitality; and +out on the brightly lighted <em>plazoleta</em> she could almost see Sigmund and +Siglinda clasping in an eternal unseverable embrace, as she had seen +them from the wings of the opera, where she would be waiting as a +Valkyrie to step out and set an audience wild with her mighty +"<em>Hojotoho!"</em></p> + +<p>She was feeling the same loneliness and yearning that Sigmund felt in +Hunding's hovel. Without a family, without a home, wandering over the +world, she longed for someone to lean on, someone to clasp tenderly to +her heart! And it was she who unconsciously, instinctively, had drawn +closer to Rafael, and placed her hand in his.</p> + +<p>She was ill. She sighed softly with the appealing entreaty of a child, +as if the intense poetry of that memory of music had shattered the frail +remnant of will that had kept her mistress of herself.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night. I feel as though I +were dying.... But such a sweet death! So sweet!... What madness, +Rafael! How rash it was of us to have seen each other on such a +night!..."</p> + +<p>And with supplicating eyes, as if entreating forgiveness, she gazed out +into the majestic moonlight, where the silence seemed to be stirring +with the palpitation of a new life. She could divine that something was +dying within her, that her will lay prostrate on the ground, without +strength to defend itself.</p> + +<p>Rafael, too, was overwhelmed. He held her clasped against his breast, +one of her hands in his. She was weak, languid, will-less, incapable of +resistance; yet he did not feel the brutal passion of the previous +meeting; he did not dare to move. A sense of infinite tenderness came +over him. All he yearned for was to sit there hour after hour in contact +with that beautiful form, clasping her tightly to him, making her one +with him, as a jewel-case might guard a jewel.</p> + +<p>He whispered mysteriously into her ear, hardly knowing what he was +saying; tender words that seemed to be coming from someone within him, +thrilling him with a tingling, suffocating passion as they left his +lips.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was true; that night was the night dreamed of by the immortal +Poet; the wedding night of smiling Youth and of martial May in his armor +of flowers. The fields were quivering voluptuously under the rays of the +moon; and they, two young hearts, feeling the flutter of Love's wings +about their hair, why should they sit unresponsive there, blind to the +beauty of the night, deaf to the infinite caress that was echoing from +all around?</p> + +<p>"Leonora! Leonora!" moaned Rafael.</p> + +<p>He had slipped down from the bench. Before he was aware of it, he found +himself kneeling at her feet, clutching her hands, and thrusting his +face upward without daring to reach her lips.</p> + +<p>She drew weakly back, protesting feebly, with a girlish plaint:</p> + +<p>"No, no; it would hurt me.... I feel that I'm dying."</p> + +<p>"You belong to me," the youth continued with an exaltation +ill-suppressed. "You belong to me forever; to gaze into your dear eyes, +and to murmur in your ear, your sweet, beautiful, name, and die, if need +be, here. What do we care for the world and its opinions?"</p> + +<p>And Leonora with weakening resistance, continued to refuse:</p> + +<p>"No, no.... I must not. It's a feeling I can't explain."</p> + +<p>And that was so. The gentle quiver of Nature under the kiss of +Springtime, the intense perfume of the flower that is the emblem of +virginity, had transfigured that madcap singer, that adventuress of a +career so checkered, who had been violently thrust into her first +experience of passion, and now for the first time felt the blush of +modesty in the arms of a man. Nature, intoxicating her, shattering her +will, seemed to have created a strange virginity in that body so +familiar with the call of passion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rafael, what is happening to me?... What's happening to me? It must +be love; a new love that I did not think I should ever know.... Rafael ... +Rafael, my own boy!"</p> + +<p>And weeping softly, she took his head in her hands, pressed her lips to +his, and then fell back in her seat with eyes distended, maddened with +the joy of that kiss.</p> + +<p>"I belong to you, Rafael! Yours ... but forever. I have always loved you +from the first, but now ... I adore you.... For the first time in my +life I say that with all my soul."</p> + +<p>Hardly able to realize his good fortune, Rafael was thrilled by a deeply +generous sentiment. There was nothing he would not give to that +woman....</p> + +<p>"Yes; you belong to me forever.... I will marry you."</p> + +<p>But in his dreamy, wild intoxication he saw the artiste's eyes open wide +in surprise, as a sad smile flitted across her lips.</p> + +<p>"Marry me And why?... That's well enough for other women; but me you +must love, my darling child, ever so much, as much as you can.... Just +love me!... I believe only in Love!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>V</h3> + + +<p>"But my dear child, when are we getting to this island of yours?... It +bores me to be here sitting on this seat, so far away from my little +boy, watching his arms get tired from all that rowing. I must kiss him.. +even if he says no! It will rest him, I am sure."</p> + +<p>And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white +boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times. +He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself.</p> + +<p>"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we +make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island."</p> + +<p>Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the +moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal +pleasure in the romantic escapade.</p> + +<p>It had been one of her caprices—a desire repeated during his visits to +the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of doña Pepa and the +maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge +where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness.</p> + +<p>For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had +he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious +abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved +about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were +invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking +the trouble to look up.</p> + +<p>He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come—that the +family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence +he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and +everybody was asleep.</p> + +<p>Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the +effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his +door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a +sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill, +and of getting the same reply:</p> + +<p>"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing."</p> + +<p>It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself +from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find +the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would +lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she +would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs, +perhaps in his stocking-feet.</p> + +<p>The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in +silence, complaining only to don Andrés of the recrudescence of a +madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen +the counselor kept watch upon the young man. His spies followed Rafael +cautiously through the night, up to the gate of the Blue House.</p> + +<p>"What a scandal!" exclaimed doña Bernarda. "At night, too! He'll wind +up by bringing her into this house! Can it be that that simpleton of a +doña Pepita is blind to all this?"</p> + +<p>And there was Rafael, unaware of the storm that was gathering about his +head, no longer deigning even to speak to Remedios, or look at her, as +with her head bowed like a sulky goat, she went around stifling her +tears at the memory of those happy strolls in the orchard under doña +Bernarda's surveillance.</p> + +<p>The deputy had eyes for nothing outside of the Blue House; his happiness +had blinded him. The one thing that annoyed him was the necessity of +hiding his joy—his inability to make his good fortune public, so that +all his admirers might learn of it.</p> + +<p>He would willingly have gone back to the days of the Roman decadence, +when the love affairs of the powerful became matters of national +adoration.</p> + +<p>"What do I care for their gossip" he once said to Leonora. "I love you +so much that I'd like to see the whole city worship you in public. I'd +like to snatch you up in my arms, and appear upon the bridge at high +noon, before a concourse stupefied by your beauty: 'Am I or am I not +your "<em>quefe</em>"?' I'd ask. 'Well, if I am, adore this woman, who is my +very soul and without whom I could not live. The affection which you +have for me you must have also for her.' And I'd do just as I say if it +were possible."</p> + +<p>"Silly boy ... adorable child," she had replied, showering him with +kisses, brushing his dark beard with her soft, quivering lips.</p> + +<p>And it was during one of their meetings—when their words were broken +by sudden impulses of affection, and their lips were tightly pressed +together—that Leonora had expressed her capricious desire.</p> + +<p>"I'm stifling in this house. I hate to caress you inside four walls, as +if you were only a passing whim. This is unworthy of you. You are Love, +who came to seek me out on the most beautiful of nights. I like you +better in the open air. You look more handsome to me then, and I feel +younger."</p> + +<p>And recalling those trips down the river about which Rafael had told her +so many times when they were only friends—that islet with its curtains +of reeds, the willows bending over the water and the nightingale singing +from its hiding-place—she had asked him, eagerly:</p> + +<p>"What night are you going to take me there? It's a whim of mine, a wild +idea; but, what does love exist for, if not to make people do the +foolish things that sweeten life?... Carry me off in your boat! The bark +that bore you there will transport the two of us to your enchanted +island; we will spend the whole night in the open air."</p> + +<p>And Rafael, who was flattered by the idea of taking his love publicly +down the river, through the slumbering countryside, unfastened his boat +at midnight under the bridge and rowed it to a canebrake near Leonora's +orchard.</p> + +<p>An hour later they emerged through the opening in the hedge, arm in arm, +laughing at the mischievous escapade, disturbing the majestic silence of +the landscape with noisy, insolent kisses.</p> + +<p>They got into the boat, and with a favoring current, began to descend +the Júcar, lulled by the murmur of the river as it glided between the +high mudbanks covered with reeds that bent low over the water and +formed mysterious hiding places.</p> + +<p>Leonora clapped her hands with delight. She threw over her neck the silk +shawl with which she had covered her head. She unbuttoned her light +traveling coat, and inhaled with deep enjoyment the moist, somewhat +muggy breeze that was curling along the surface of the river. Her hand +trembled as it dipped into the water from time to time.</p> + +<p>How beautiful it was! All by themselves, and wandering about, as if the +world did not exist; as if all Nature belonged to them, to them alone! +Here they were, slipping past clusters of slumbering houses, leaving the +city far behind. And nobody had suspected that passion, which in its +enthusiasm had broken its chains and left its mysterious lair to have +the heavens and the fields for sympathetic witnesses. Leonora would have +wished that the night should never end; that the waning moon, which +seemed to have been slashed by a sword, should stop eternally in the sky +to wrap them forever in its feeble, dying light; that the river should +be endless, and the boat float on and on until, overwhelmed by so much +love, they should breathe the last gasp of life away in a kiss as +tenuous as a sigh.</p> + +<p>"If you could only know how grateful I am to you for this excursion, +Rafael!... I'm happy, so happy. Never have I had such a night as this. +But where is the island? Have we gone astray, as you did the night of +the flood?"</p> + +<p>No! At last they reached the place. There Rafael had spent many an +afternoon hidden in the bushes, cut off by the encircling waters, +dreaming that he was an adventurer on the virgin prairies or the vast +rivers of America, performing exploits he had read about in the novels +of Fenimore Cooper and Mayne Reid.</p> + +<p>A tributary joined the Júcar at this point, emptying gently into the +main stream from under a thicket of reeds and trees that formed a +triumphal arch of foliage. At the confluence rose the island—a tiny +piece of land almost level with the water, but as fresh as green and +fragrant as an aquatic bouquet. The banks were lined with dense clumps +of cane, and a few willows that bent their hairy foliage low over the +water, forming dark vaults through which the boat could make its way.</p> + +<p>The two lovers entered the shade. The curtain of branches concealed them +from the river; a bare tear of moonlight managed to filter through the +mane of willows.</p> + +<p>Leonora felt a first sense of uneasiness in this dark, damp, cave-like +haunt. Invisible animals took to the water with dull splashes as they +heard the boat's bow touch the mud of the bank. The actress clutched her +lover's arm with nervous pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Here we are," murmured Rafael. "Hold on to something and get out. +Careful, careful! Don't you want to hear the nightingale? Here we have +him. Listen."</p> + +<p>It was true. In one of the willows, at the other side of the island, the +mysterious bird was trilling from his hiding place, a dizzying shower of +notes, which broke at the crescendo of the musical whirl-pool into a +plaint as soft and long-sustained as a golden thread stretched in the +silence of the night across the river, that seemed to be applauding +with its hushed murmur. To get nearer, the lovers went up through the +rushes, stopping, bending over at each step, to keep the branches from +crackling underneath their feet.</p> + +<p>Favoring moisture had covered the islet with an exuberant undergrowth. +Leonora repressed exclamations of glee as she found her feet caught in +meshes of reeds or received the rude caresses of the branches that +snapped back, as Rafael went ahead, and brushed against her face. She +called for help in a muffled voice; and Rafael, laughing also, would +hold out his hand to her, taking her finally to the very foot of the +tree where the nightingale was singing.</p> + +<p>The bird, divining the presence of intruders, ceased his song. Doubtless +he had heard the rustle of their clothing as they sat down at the foot +of the tree, or the tender words they were murmuring into each other's +ear.</p> + +<p>Over all, the silence of slumbering Nature reigned—that silence made up +of a thousand sounds, harmonizing and blending in one majestic calm; the +murmur of the water, the stirring of the foliage, the mysterious +movements of unseen creatures crawling along under the leaves or +patiently boring their winding galleries in the creaking trunks.</p> + +<p>The nightingale began again to sing, timidly, like an artist afraid of +an impending interruption. He uttered a few disconnected notes with +anxious rests between them—love sighs they seemed, broken by sobs of +passion. Then gradually he took courage, regained self-confidence, and +entered on his full song, just as a soft breeze rose, swept over the +island, and set all the trees and reeds rustling in mysterious +accompaniment.</p> + +<p>The bird gradually grew intoxicated with the sound of his own trilling, +cadenced, voice; one could almost see him up there in the thick +darkness, panting, ardent, in the spasm of his musical inspiration, +utterly engrossed in his own beautiful little world of song, overwhelmed +by the charm of his own artistry.</p> + +<p>But the bird had ceased his music when the two lovers awoke in a tight +embrace, still in ecstasy from the song of love to which they had fallen +asleep. Leonora was resting a dishevelled head on Rafael's shoulder, +caressing his neck with an eager, wearied breathing, whispering in his +ear, random, incoherent words that still were vibrant with emotion.</p> + +<p>How happy she was there! Everything comes for true love! Many a time, +during the days of her unkindness to him, she had looked out from her +balcony upon the river winding down through the slumbering countryside; +and she had thought with rapture of a stroll some day through that +immense garden on Rafael's arm—of gliding, gliding down the Júcar, to +that very island.</p> + +<p>"My love is an ancient thing," she murmured. "Do you suppose, I have +been loving you only since the other night? No, I have loved you for a +long, long time.... But don't you go and get conceited on that account, +<em>su señoria</em>! I don't know how it began: It must have been when you were +away in Madrid. When I saw you again I knew that I was lost. If I still +resisted, it was because I was a wise woman; because I saw things +clearly. Now I'm mad and I've thrown my better judgment to the winds. +God knows what will become of us.... But come what may, love me, Rafael, +love me. Swear that you'll love me always. It would be cruel to desert +me after awakening a passion like this."</p> + +<p>And, in an impulse of dread, she nestled closer against his breast, sank +her hands into his hair, lifted her head back to kiss him avidly on the +face, the forehead, the eyes, the lips, nibbling playfully, tenderly at +his nose and chin, yet with an affectionate vehemence that drew cries of +mock protest from Rafael.</p> + +<p>"Madcap!" he muttered, smiling. "You're hurting me."</p> + +<p>Leonora looked steadily at him out of her two great eyes that were +a-gleam with love.</p> + +<p>"I could eat you up," she murmured. "I feel like devouring you, my +heaven, my king, my god.... What have you given me, tell me, little boy? +How have you been able to fascinate me, make me feel a passion that I +never, never felt before?"</p> + +<p>And again they fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Rafael stirred in his lover's arms, and suddenly sat up.</p> + +<p>"It must be late. How many hours have we been here, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Many, many hours," Leonora answered sadly. "Hours of happiness always +go so fast."</p> + +<p>It was still dark. The moon had set. They arose and, hand in hand, +groping their way along, they reached the boat. The splash of the oars +began again to sound along the dark stream.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the nightingale again piped gloomily in the willow wood, as if +in farewell to a departing dream.</p> + +<p>"Listen, my darling," said Leonora. "The poor little fellow is bidding +us good-bye. Just hear how plaintively he says farewell."</p> + +<p>And in the strange exhiliration that comes from fatigue, Leonora felt +the flames of art flaring up within her, seething through her organism +from head to foot.</p> + +<p>A melody from <em>Die Meistersinger</em> came to her mind, the hymn that the +good people of Nuremberg sing when Hans Sachs, their favorite singer, as +bounteous and gentle as the Eternal Father, steps out on the platform +for the contest in poetry. It was the song that the poet-minstrel, the +friend of Albrecht Dürer, wrote in honor of Luther when the great +Reformation broke; and the prima donna, rising to her feet in the stern, +and returning the greeting of the nightingale began:</p> + +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<em>Sorgiam, che spunta il dolce albor,</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>cantar ascolto in mezzo ai fior</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>voluttuoso un usignol</em></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>spiegando a noi l'amante vol</em>!..."</span><br /> + +<p>Her ardent, powerful voice seemed to make the dark surface of the river +tremble; it rolled in harmonious waves across the fields, and died away +in the foliage of the distant island, whence the nightingale trilled an +answer that was like a fainting sigh. Leonora tried to reproduce with +her lips the majestic sonorousness of the Wagnerian chorus, mimicking +the rumbling accompaniment of the orchestra, while Rafael beat the +water with his oars in time with the pious, exalted melody with which +the great Master had turned to popular poetry adequately to greet the +outbreak of Reform.</p> + +<p>They went on and on up the river against the current, Leonora singing, +Rafael bending over the oars, moving his sinewy arms like steel springs. +He kept the boat inshore, where the current was not so strong. At times +low branches brushed the heads of the lovers, and drops of dew fell on +their faces. Many a time the boat glided through one of the verdant +archways of foliage, making its way slowly through the lily-pads; and +the green overhead would tremble with the harmonious violence of that +wonderful voice, as vibrant and as resonant as a great silver bell.</p> + +<p>Day had not yet dawned—the <em>dolce albor</em> of Hans Sachs' song—but at +any moment the rosy rim of sunrise would begin to climb the sky.</p> + +<p>Rafael was hurrying to get back as soon as possible. Her sonorous voice +of such tremendous range seemed to be awakening the whole countryside. +In one cottage a window lighted up. Several times along the river-bank, +as they rowed past the reeds, Rafael thought he heard the noise of +snapping branches, the cautious footsteps of spies who were following +them.</p> + +<p>"Hush, my darling. You had better stop singing; they'll recognize you. +They'll guess who you are."</p> + +<p>They reached the bank where they had embarked. Leonora leaped ashore. +They must separate there; for she insisted on going home alone. And +their parting was sweet, slow, endless.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my love; one kiss. Until tomorrow ... no, later—today."</p> + +<p>She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to +snuggle again in her lover's arms.</p> + +<p>"Another, my prince ... the last."</p> + +<p>Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the +garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, +creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy +melody of an orchard boy.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Rafael.... Now I must really go. They'll discover us."</p> + +<p>Wrapping her coat about her she hurried away, waving a final farewell to +him with her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>Rafael rowed upstream toward the city. That part of the trip—he +reflected—alone, tired, and struggling against the current, was the one +bad part of the wonderful night. When he moored his boat near the bridge +it was already broad day. The windows of the river houses were opening. +Over the bridge carts laden with produce for the market were rumbling, +and orchard women were going by with huge baskets on their heads. All +these people looked down with interest on their deputy. He must have +spent the night fishing. And this news passed from one to the other, +though not a trace of fishing tackle was visible in the boat. How they +envied rich folks, who could sleep all day and spend their time just as +they pleased!</p> + +<p>Rafael jumped ashore. All that curiosity he was attracting annoyed him. +His mother would know everything by the time he got home!</p> + +<p>As he climbed slowly and wearily, his arms numb from rowing, to the +bridge, he heard his name called.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés was standing there, gazing at him out of those yellow eyes of +his, scowling through his wrinkles with an expression of stern +authority.</p> + +<p>"You've given me a fine night, Rafael. I know where you've been. I saw +you row off last night with that woman; and plenty of my friends were on +hand to follow you and find out just where you went. You've been on the +island all night; that woman was singing away like a lunatic.... God of +Gods, boy! Aren't there any houses in the world? Do you have to play the +band when you're having an affair, so that everybody in the Kingdom can +come and look?"</p> + +<p>The old man was truly riled; all the more because he was himself the +secretive, the dexterous, libertine, adopting every precaution not to be +discovered in his "weaknesses." Was it anger or envy that he felt on +seeing a couple enough in love with each other to be fearless of gossip +and indifferent to danger, to throw prudence to the winds, and flaunt +their passion before the world with the reckless insolence of happiness?</p> + +<p>"Besides, your mother knows everything. She's discovered what you've +been up to, these nights past. She knows you haven't been in your room. +You're going to break that woman's heart!"</p> + +<p>And with paternal severity he went on to speak of doña Bernarda's +despair, of the danger to the future of the House, of the obligations +they were under to don Matías, of the solemn promise given, of that poor +girl waiting to be married!</p> + +<p>Rafael walked along in silence and like an automaton. That old man's +chatter brought down around his head, like a swarm of pestering +mosquitoes, all the provoking, irritating obligations of his life. He +felt like a man rudely awakened by a tactless servant in the middle of a +sweet dream. His lips were still tingling with Leonora's kisses! His +whole body was aglow with her gentle warmth! And here was this old +curmudgeon coming along with a sermon on "duty," "family," "what they +would say"—as if love amounted to nothing in this life! It was a plot +against his happiness, and he felt stirred to the depths with a sense of +outrage and revolt.</p> + +<p>They had reached the entrance to the Brull mansion. Rafael was fumbling +about for the key-hole with his key.</p> + +<p>"Well," growled the old man. "What have you got to say to all this? What +do you propose to do? Answer me! Haven't you got a tongue in your head?"</p> + +<p>"I," replied the young man energetically—"will do as I please."</p> + +<p>Don Andrés jumped as though he had been stung. My, how this Rafael had +changed!... Never before had he seen that gleam of aggressiveness, +arrogance, belligerency in the eye of the boy!</p> + +<p>"Rafael, is that the way you answer me,—a man who has known you since +you were born? Is that the tone of voice you use toward one who loves +you as your own father loved you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm of age, if you don't mind my saying so!" Rafael replied. "I'm not +going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the +street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to +yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!"</p> + +<p>As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the +semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that +entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning, +tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice.</p> + +<p>But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless +and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for +some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VI</h3> + + +<p>"You're right, don Andrés. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That +wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse, +than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I +should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to +you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The +other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he +treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he +pleases, or—what amounts to the same thing—he'll keep up his affair +with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand +debauch, like his father.... My God! And that's what I've suffered for +all these years. That's what I get for sacrificing myself, day in day +out, trying to make somebody out of him!"</p> + +<p>The austere doña Bernarda, dethroned by her son's resolute +rebelliousness, wept as she said this. In her tears of a mother's grief +there was something also of the chagrin of the authoritarian on finding +in her own home a will rebellious to hers and stronger than hers.</p> + +<p>Between sobs she told don Andrés how her son had been carrying on since +his declaration of independence. He was no longer cautious about +spending the night away from home. He was coming in now in broad +daylight; and, afternoons, with his meals "still in his mouth" as she +said, he would take the road to the Blue House, on the run almost, as if +he could not get to perdition soon enough. The dead hand of his father +was upon him!</p> + +<p>All you had to do was look at him. His face discolored, yellow, pale; +his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones; and—the only sign of +life—the fire that gleamed in his eyes like a spark of wild joy! Oh, a +curse was on the family! They were all alike ...!</p> + +<p>The mother did her best to conceal the truth from Remedios. Poor girl! +She was going about crestfallen and in deep dejection, unable to explain +Rafael's sudden withdrawal.</p> + +<p>The matter had to be kept secret; and that was what held doña Bernarda's +rage within bounds during her rapid, heated exchanges with her son.</p> + +<p>Perhaps everything would come out all right in the end—something +unforeseen would turn up to undo the evil spell that had been cast over +Rafael. And in this hope she used every effort to keep Remedios and her +father from learning what had happened. She feigned contentment in their +presence, and invented a thousand pretexts—studies, work, even +illness—to justify her son's neglect of his "fiancee." At the same +time, the disconsolate mother feared the people around her—the gossip +of a small town, bored with itself, ever on the alert, hunting for +something interesting to talk about and get scandalized about.</p> + +<p>The news of Rafael's affair spread like wildfire meanwhile, considerably +magnified as it passed from mouth to mouth. People told hair-raising +tales of that expedition down the river, of walks through the orange +groves, of nights spent at doña Pepa's house, Rafael entering in the +dark, in his stocking feet, like a thief; of silhouettes of the lovers +outlined in suggestive poses against the bedroom curtain; of their +appearing in windows their arms about each other's waists, looking at +the stars—everything sworn to by voluntary spies, who could say "I saw +it with my own eyes"—persons who had spent whole nights, on the +river-bank, behind some fence, in some clump of bushes, to surprise the +deputy on his way to or from his assignations.</p> + +<p>In the cafés or at the Casino, the men openly envied Rafael, commenting +with eyes a-glitter on his good fortune. That fellow had been born under +a lucky star! But later at home they would add their stern voices to the +chorus of indignant women. What a scandal! A deputy, a public man, a +"personage" who ought to set an example for others! That was a disgrace +to the constituency! And when the murmur of general protest reached the +ears of doña Bernarda, she lifted her hands to heaven in despair. Where +would it all end! Where would it all end! That son of hers was bent on +ruining himself!</p> + +<p>Don Matías, the rustic millionaire, said nothing; and, in the presence +of doña Bernarda, at least, pretended to know nothing. His interest in a +marriage connection with the Brull family counselled prudence. He, too, +hoped that it would all blow over, prove to be the blind infatuation of +a young man. Feeling himself a father, more or less, to the boy, he +thought of giving Rafael just a bit of advice when he came upon him in +the street one day. But he desisted after a word or two. A proud glance +of the youth completely floored him, making him feel like the poor +orange-grower of former days, who had cringed before the majestic, +grandiose don Ramón!</p> + +<p>Rafael was intrenched in haughty silence. He needed no advice. But alas! +When at night he reached his beloved's house—it seemed to be redolent +with the very perfume of her, as if the furniture, the curtains, the +very walls about her had absorbed the essence of her spirit—he felt the +strain of that insistent gossip, of the persecution of an entire city +that had fixed its eyes upon his love.</p> + +<p>Two against a multitude! With the serene immodesty of the ancient +idylls, they had abandoned themselves to passion in a stupid, narrow +environment, where sprightly gossip was the most appreciated of the +moral talents!</p> + +<p>Leonora grew sad. She smiled as usual; she flattered him with the same +worship, as if he were an idol; she was playful and gay; but in moments +of distraction, when she did not notice that he was watching, Rafael +would surprise a cast of bitterness about her lips—and a sinister light +in her eyes, the reflection of painful thoughts.</p> + +<p>She referred with acrid mirth one night to what people were saying about +them. Everything was found out sooner or later in that city! The gossip +had gotten even to the Blue House! Her kitchen woman had hinted that she +had better not walk so much along the river front—she might catch +malaria. On the market place the sole topic of conversation was that +night trip down the Júcar ... the deputy, sweating his life out over +the oars, and she waking half the country up with her strange songs!... +And she laughed, but with a hard, harsh laugh of affected gaiety that +showed the nervousness underneath, though without a word of complaint.</p> + +<p>Rafael remorsefully reflected that she had foreseen all that in first +repelling his advances. He admired her resignation. She would have been +justified in rebuking him for the harm he had done her. As it was, she +was not even telling him all she knew! Ah, the wretches! To harass an +innocent woman so! She had loved him, given herself to him, bestowed on +him the royal gift of her person. And the deputy began to hate his city, +for repaying in insult and scandal the wondrous happiness she had +conferred on its "chief"!</p> + +<p>On another night Leonora received him with a smile that frightened him. +She was affecting a mood of hectic cheerfulness, trying to drown her +worries by sheer force, overwhelming her lover with a flood of light, +frivolous chatter; but suddenly, at the limit of her endurance, she gave +way, and in the middle of a caress, burst into tears and sank to a +divan, sobbing as if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>"Why what's the matter? What has happened ...?"</p> + +<p>For a time she could not answer, her voice was too choked with weeping. +At last, however, between sobs, burying her tear-stained face on +Rafael's shoulder, she began to speak, completely crushed, fainting from +virtual prostration.</p> + +<p>She could stand it no longer! The torture was becoming unbearable. It +was useless for her to pretend. She knew as well as he what people were +saying in the city. They were spied upon continuously. On the roads, in +the orchard, along the river, there were people constantly on the watch +for something new to report. That passion of hers, so sweet, so +youthful, so sincere, was a butt of public laughter, a theme for idle +tongues, who flayed her as if she were a common street-woman, because +she had been good to him, because she had not been cruel enough to watch +a young man writhe in the torment of passion, indifferently.... But +though this persecution from a scandalized public was bad enough, she +did not mind it. Why should she care what those stupid people said? But, +alas, there were others—the people around Rafael, his friends, his +family, ... his mother!</p> + +<p>Leonora sat silent for a moment, as if waiting to see the effect of that +last word; unless, indeed, she were hesitating, out of delicacy, to +include her lover's family in her complaint. The young man shrank with a +terrible presentiment. Doña Bernarda was not the woman to stand by idle +and resigned in the face of opposition, even from him!</p> + +<p>"I see ... mother!" he said in a stifled voice. "She has been up to +something. Tell me what it is. Don't be afraid. To me you are dearer +than anything else in the world."</p> + +<p>"Well ... there is auntie ..." Leonora resumed; and Rafael remembered +that doña Pepa, remarking his assiduous visits to the Blue House, had +thought her niece might be contemplating marriage. In the afternoon, +Leonora explained, she had had a <em>scene</em> with her aunt. Doña Pepa had +gone into town to confession, and on coming out of church had met doña +Bernarda. Poor old woman! Her abject terror on returning home betrayed +the intense emotion Rafael's mother had succeeded in wakening in her. +Leonora, her niece, her idol, lay in the dust, stripped of that blind, +enthusiastic, affectionate trust her aunt had always had for her. All +the gossip, all the echoes of Leonora's adventurous life, that +had—heretofore but feebly—come to her ears, the old lady had never +believed, regarding them as the work of envy. But now they had been +repeated to her by doña Bernarda, by a lady "in good standing," a good +Christian, a person incapable of falsehood. And then after rehearsing +that scandalous biography, Rafael's mother had come to the shocking +effrontery with which her niece and Rafael were rousing the whole city; +flaunting their wrong-doing in the face of the public; and turning her +home, the respectable, irreproachable home of doña Pepa, into a den of +vice, a brothel!</p> + +<p>And the poor woman had wept like a child in her niece's presence, +adjuring her to "abandon the wicked path of transgression," shuddering +with horror at the great responsibility she, doña Pepa, had unwittingly +assumed before God. All her life she had labored and prayed and fasted +to keep her soul clean. She had thought herself almost in a state of +grace, only to awaken suddenly and find herself in the very midst of sin +through no fault of her own—all on account of her niece, who had +converted her holy, her pure, her pious home into an ante-chamber of +hell! And it was the poor woman's superstitious terror, the conviction +of damnation that had seized on doña Pepa's simple soul, that wounded +Leonora most deeply.</p> + +<p>"They've robbed me of all I had in the world," she murmured desperately, +"of the affection of the only dear one left after my father died. I am +not the child of former days to auntie; that is apparent from the way +she looks at me, the way she shuns me, avoiding all contact with me.... +And just because of you, because I love you, because I was not cruel to +you! Oh, that night! How I shall suffer for it!... How clearly I foresaw +how it would all end!"</p> + +<p>Rafael was humiliated, crushed, filled with shame and remorse at the +suffering that had fallen upon this woman, because she had given herself +to him. What was he to do? The time had come to prove himself the +strong, the resourceful man, able to protect the beloved woman in her +moment of danger. But where should he strike first to defend her?...</p> + +<p>Leonora lifted her head from her lover's shoulder, and withdrew from his +embrace. She wiped away her tears and rose to her feet with the +determination of irrevocable resolution.</p> + +<p>"I have made up my mind. It hurts me very much to say what I am going to +say; but I can't help it. It will do you no good to say 'no'—I cannot +stay under this roof another day. Everything is over between my aunt and +me. Poor old woman! The dream I cherished was to care for her lovingly, +tenderly till she died in my arms, be to her what I failed to be to +father.... But they have opened her eyes. To her I am nothing but a +sinner now and my presence upsets everything for her.... I must go away. +I've already told Beppa to pack my things.... Rafael, my love, this is +our last night together.... To-morrow ... and you will never see me +again."</p> + +<p>The youth recoiled as if someone had struck him in the breast.</p> + +<p>"Going? Going ...? And you can say that coolly, simply, just like that? +You are leaving me ... this way ... just when we are happiest ...?"</p> + +<p>But soon he had himself in hand again. This surely could be nothing more +than a passing impulse, a notion arrived at in a flash of anger. Of +course she did not really mean to go! She must think things over, see +things clearly. That was a crazy idea! Desert her Rafaelito? Absurd! +Impossible!</p> + +<p>Leonora smiled sadly. She had expected him to talk that way. She, too, +had suffered much, ever so much, before deciding to do it! It made her +shudder to think that within two days she would be off again, alone, +wandering through Europe, caught up again in that wild, tumultuous life +of art and love, after tasting the full sweetness of the most powerful +passion she had ever known—of what she believed was her "first love." +It was like putting to sea in a tempest with destination unknown. She +loved him, adored him, worshipped him, more than ever now that she was +about to lose him.</p> + +<p>"Well, why are you going?" the young man asked. "If you love me, why are +you forsaking me?"</p> + +<p>"Just because I love you, Rafael.... Because I want you to be happy."</p> + +<p>For her to remain would mean ruin for him: a long battle with his +mother, who was an implacable, a merciless foe. Doña Bernarda might be +killed, but never conquered! Oh, no! How horrible! Leonora knew what +filial cruelty was! How had she treated her father? She must not now +come between a son and a mother! Was she, perhaps, a creature accursed, +born forever to corrupt with her very name the sacredest, purest +relations on earth?</p> + +<p>"No, you must be good, my heart. I must go away. We can't go on loving +each other here. I'll write to you, I'll let you know all I'm doing.... +You'll hear from me every day, if I have to write from the North Pole! +But you must stay! Don't drive your mother to despair! Shut your eyes to +the poor woman's injustice! For after all, she is doing it all out of +her immense love for you.... Do you imagine I am glad to be leaving +you—the greatest happiness I have ever known?"</p> + +<p>And she threw her arms about Rafael, kissing him over and over again, +caressing his bowed, pensive head, within which a tempest of conflicting +ideas and resolutions was boiling.</p> + +<p>So those bonds which he had come to believe eternal were to be broken? +So he was to lose so easily that beauty which the world had admired, the +possession of which had made him feel himself the first among men? She +talked of a love from a distance, of a love persisting through years of +separation, travel, all the hazards of a wandering life; she promised to +write to him every day!... Write to him ... from the arms of another +man, perhaps! No! He would never give up such a treasure; never!</p> + +<p>"You shall not go," he answered at last decisively. "A love like ours is +not ended so easily. Your flight would be a disgrace to me—it would +look as if I had affronted you in some way, as if you were tired of me."</p> + +<p>Deep in his soul he felt eager to make some chivalrous gesture. She was +going away because she had loved him! He should stay behind, sad and +resigned like a maid abandoned by a lover, and with the sense of having +harmed her on his conscience! <em>Ira de diós</em>! He, as a man, could not +stand by with folded arms accepting the abnegation of a woman, to stick +tied to his mother's apron-strings in boobified contentment. Even girls +ran away from home and parents sometimes, in the grip of a powerful +love; and he, a man, a man "in the public eye" also—was he to let a +beautiful girl like Leonora go away sorrowful and in tears, so that he +could keep the respect of a city that bored him and the affection of a +mother who had never really loved him? Besides, what sort of a love was +it that stepped aside in a cowardly, listless way like that, when a +woman was at stake, a woman for whom far richer, far more powerful men +than he, men bound to life by attractions that he had never dreamed of +in his countrified existence, had died or gone to ruin?...</p> + +<p>"You shall not go," he repeated, with sullen obstinacy. "I won't give up +my happiness so easily. And if you insist on going, we will go +together."</p> + +<p>Leonora rose to her feet all quivering. She had been expecting that; her +heart had told her it was coming. Flee together! Have her appear like an +adventuress, drawing Rafael on, tearing him from his mother's arms after +crazing him with love? Oh, no! Thanks! She had a conscience! She did +not care to burden it with the execration of a whole city. Rafael must +consider the matter calmly, face the situation bravely. She must go away +alone. Afterwards, later on, she would see. They might chance to meet +again; perhaps in Madrid, when the Cortes reassembled! He would be +there, and alone; she could find a place at the <em>Real</em>, singing for +nothing if that should prove necessary.</p> + +<p>But Rafael writhed angrily at her resistance. He could not live without +her! A single night without seeing her would mean despair. He would end +as Macchia ended! He would shoot himself!</p> + +<p>And he seemed to mean it. His eyes were fixed on the floor as if he were +staring at his own corpse, lying there on the pavement, motionless, +covered with blood, a revolver in its stiffened hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! How horrible! Rafael, my Rafael!" Leonora groaned, clasping him +around the neck, hanging upon him in terror.</p> + +<p>Her lover continued to protest. He was free. Had he been a married man; +if, in his flight, he were leaving a wife behind to cry betrayal, or +children calling for his help in vain, it would all be a different +matter. She could properly feel the repugnance of a kind heart unwilling +that love should mean a shattered home! But whom was he abandoning? A +mother, who, in a short time, would find consolation in the thought that +he was well and happy, a mother jealous of any rivalry in her son's +affection, and to that jealousy willing to sacrifice his very happiness! +Any harm an elopement would bring would by no means be irreparable. No, +they must go away together, parade their love through the whole world!</p> + +<p>But Leonora, lowering her head again, repeated feebly:</p> + +<p>"No, my mind is made up. I must go alone. I haven't the strength to face +a mother's hatred."</p> + +<p>Rafael flushed indignantly:</p> + +<p>"Why not say outright that you don't love me. You're tired of me, and of +this environment. The hankering for your old life has come over you +again; your old world is calling!"</p> + +<p>The actress fixed her great, luminous, tear-stained eyes upon him. And +they were filled with tenderness and pity.</p> + +<p>"Tired of you!... When I have never felt such desperation as tonight! +You say I want my old life back. You don't realize that to leave here +seems like entering a den of torture.... Oh, dear heart, you'll never +know how much I love you."</p> + +<p>"Well, then ...?"</p> + +<p>And to tell everything, to spare no detail of the danger he would face +after separation, Rafael spoke of the life he would lead alone with his +mother in that dull, unspeakable city. Leonora was assuming that +affection played some part in his mother's indignant opposition. Well, +doña Bernarda did love him—agreed: he was her only son; but ambition +was the decisive thing in her schemes, her passion for the +aggrandizement of the House—the controlling motive of her whole life. +She was openly, frankly, using him as security in an alliance she was +planning with a great fortune. She wanted to marry him to money: and if +Leonora were to go, if he were left alone, forsaken, then despair—and +time, which can do all things—would break his will; and eventually he +would succumb, like a victim at the altar, who, in his terror and +abasement, does not sense the real significance of the sacrifice forced +upon him.</p> + +<p>The words reached a jealous spot in Leonora's heart. All the scattered +rumors that had come to her ears in former days now echoed in her +memory. She knew that Rafael was telling the truth. The man she loved, +given away by his mother—to another woman!... Lost forever if she lost +him now!... And her eyes opened wide with horror and revulsion.</p> + +<p>"And I refuse, Leonora, do you understand? I refuse!" continued her +lover with unaffected resolution. "I belong to you, you are the only +woman I love. I shall follow you all over the world, even against your +wishes, to be your servant, see you, speak to you, and there are not +millions enough in the world to stop me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling! My darling! You love me, you love me—as I love you!"</p> + +<p>And in a frenzy of passion she fell impetuously, madly upon him, +clutching him in her arms like a fury. In her caresses Rafael felt an +intensity that almost frightened him. The room seemed to be whirling +about him. Trembling, limp and weak, he sank to the divan, overwhelmed, +pounded to pieces, it seemed, by that vehement adoration, that caught +him up and carried him away like a tumultuous avalanche. His senses left +him in that trembling confusion, and he closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>When he opened them, the room was dark. Around his neck he could feel a +gentle arm that was tenderly sustaining him, and Leonora was whispering +in his ear.</p> + +<p>Agreed! They would go together: to continue their love duct in some +charming place, where nobody knew them, where envy and vulgarity would +not disturb. Leonora knew every nook in the world. She would have none +of Nice and the other cities of the Blue Coast, pretty places, +coquettish, bepowdered and rouged like women fresh from their dressing +tables! Besides there would be too many people there. Venice was better. +They would thread the narrow, solitary silent canals there, stretched +out in a gondola, kissing each other between smiles, pitying the poor +unfortunate mortals crossing the bridges over them, unaware of how great +a love was gliding beneath their feet!</p> + +<p>But no, Venice is a sad place after all: when it rains, it rains and +rains! Naples rather; Naples! <em>Viva Napoli</em>! And Leonora clapped her +hands in glee! Live in perpetual sunshine, freedom, freedom, freedom to +love openly, as nakedly as the <em>lazzaroni</em> walk about the streets! She +owned a house in Naples,—at Posilipo, that is—a <em>villino</em>, in pink +stucco, a dainty little place with fig trees, nopals and parasol pines, +that ran in a grove down a steep promontory to the sea I They would fish +in the bay there—it was as smooth and blue as a looking-glass! And +afternoons he would row her out to sea, and she would sing, looking at +the waters ablaze with the sunset, at the plume of smoke curling up from +Vesuvius, at the immense white city with its endless rows of windows +flaming like plaques of gold in the afterglow. Like gipsies they would +wander through the countless towns dotting the shores of the miraculous +Bay; kissing on the open sea among the fisherboats, to the accompaniment +of passionate Neapolitan boat-songs; spending whole nights in the open +air, lying in each other's arms on the sands, hearing the pearly +laughter of mandolins in the distance, just as that night on the island, +they had heard the nightingale! "Oh, Rafael, my god, my king! How +wonderful!"</p> + +<p>When day dawned, they were still sitting there weaving fanciful plans +for the future, arranging all the details of their elopement. She would +leave Alcira as soon as possible. He would join her two days later, when +all suspicion had been quieted, when everybody would imagine she was +far, far away. Where would they meet? At first they thought of +Marseilles, but that was a long way off! Then they thought of Barcelona. +But that, too, meant hours of travel, when hours, minutes, counted for +so much. It seemed utterly incredible that they could live two days +without each other! No, the sooner they met again the better! And, +bargaining with time like peasants in a market, at last they chose the +nearest city possible, Valencia.</p> + +<p>For love—true love—is fond of brazenness!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>VII</h3> + + +<p>They had just finished lunch among the trunks and boxes that occupied a +great part of Leonora's room in the <em>Hôtel de Roma</em> in Valencia.</p> + +<p>For the first time they were at a table in familiar intimacy, with no +other witness than Beppa, who was quite accustomed to every sort of +surprise in her mistress's adventurous career. The faithful maid was +examining Rafael with a respectful kindliness, as if he were a new idol +that must share the unswerving devotion she showed for Leonora.</p> + +<p>This was the first moment of tranquillity and happiness the young man +had tasted for some days. The old hotel, with its spacious rooms, its +high ceilings, its darkened corridors, its monastic silence, seemed to +him a veritable abode of delight, a grateful place of refuge where for +once he would be free of the gossip and the strife that had been +oppressing him like a belt of steel. Besides, he could already feel the +exotic charm that lingers around harbors and great railroad terminals. +Everything about the place, from the macaroni of the lunch, and the +Chianti in its straw-covered, heavy-paunched bottle, to the musical, +incorrect Spanish of the hotel-proprietors—fleshy, massive men with +huge mustaches in Victor Emmanuel style—spoke of flight, of delightful +seclusion in that land so glowingly described by Leonora.</p> + +<p>She had made an appointment with him in that hotel, a favorite haunt of +artists. Somewhat off the main thoroughfares, the "Roma" occupies one +whole side of a sleepy, peaceful, aristocratic square with no noise save +the shouting of cab-drivers and the beating of horses' hoofs.</p> + +<p>Rafael had arrived on the first morning train—and with no baggage; like +a schoolboy playing truant, running off with just the clothes he had on +his back. The two days since Leonora left Alcira had been days of +torture to him. The singer's flight was the talk of the town. People +were scandalized at the amount of luggage she had. Counted over in the +imagination of that imaginative city, it eventually came to fill all the +carts in the province.</p> + +<p>The man who knew the business to the bottom was Cupido, the barber, who +had dispatched the trunks and cases for her. He knew where the dangerous +woman was bound, and he kept it so secret that everybody found it out +before the train started. She was going back to Italy! He himself had +checked and labelled the baggage to the Customs' House at the +frontier—cases as big as a house, man! Trunks he could have lain down +comfortable in, with his two "Chinamen" to boot! And the women, as they +listened to his tale, applauded the departure with undissimulated +pleasure. They had been liberated from a great danger. Joy go with her!</p> + +<p>Rafael kept quite to himself. He was vexed at the curiosity of people, +at the scoffing sympathy of his friends who condoled with him that his +happiness was ending. For two days he remained indoors, followed by his +mother's inquiring glances. Doña Bernarda felt more at ease now that the +evil influence of the "chorus girl" promised to be over; but none the +less she did not lose her frown. With a woman's instinct, she still +scented the presence of danger.</p> + +<p>The young man could hardly wait for the time to come. It seemed +unbearable for him to be there at home while "she" was away off +somewhere, alone, shut up in a hotel, waiting just as impatiently as he +was for the moment of reunion.</p> + +<p>What a sunrise it had been that day when he set out! Rafael burned with +shame as he crept like a burglar in his stockings and on tip-toe, +through the room where his mother received the orchard-folk and adjusted +all accounts pertaining to the tilling of the land. He groped his way +along guided by the light that came in through the chinks in the closed +windows. His mother was sleeping in a room close by; he could hear her +breathe—the labored respiration of a deep sleep that spelled recovery +from the insomnia of the days of his love trysts. He could still feel +the criminal shudder that rippled through him at a slight rattle of the +keys, which had been left with the confidence of unlimited authority in +the lock of an old chest where doña Bernarda kept her savings. With +tremulous hands he had collected all the money she had put away in the +small boxes there. A thief, a thief! But, after all, he was taking only +what belonged to him. He had never asked for his share of his father's +estate. Leonora was rich. With admirable delicacy she had refused to +talk of money during their preparations for the journey; but he would +refuse to live on her! He did not care to be like Salvatti, who had +exploited the singer in her youth! That thought it had been which gave +him strength to take the money finally and steal out of the house. But +even on the train he felt uneasy; and <em>su señoria</em>, the deputy, shivered +with an instinctive thrill of fear, every time a tricorne of the Civil +Guard appeared at a railroad station. What would his mother say when she +got up and found the money gone?</p> + +<p>As he entered the hotel his self-confidence returned and his spirits +revived. He felt as if he were entering port after a storm. He found +Leonora in bed, her hair spread over the pillow in waves of gold, her +eyes closed, and a smile on her lips, as if he had surprised her in the +middle of a dream, where she had been tasting her memories of love. They +ordered lunch in the room early, intending to set out on their journey +at once. Circumspection, prudence, until they should be once beyond the +Spanish border! They would leave that evening on the Barcelona mail for +the frontier. And calmly, tranquilly, like a married couple discussing +details of house-keeping in the calm of a quiet home, they ran over the +list of things they would need on the train.</p> + +<p>Rafael had nothing. He had fled like a fugitive from a fire, with the +first clothes he laid hands on as he bounded out of bed. He needed many +indispensable articles, and he thought of going out to buy them—a +matter of a moment.</p> + +<p>"But are you really going out?" asked Leonora with a certain anguish, as +if her feminine instinct sensed a danger. "Are you going to leave me +alone?..."</p> + +<p>"Only a moment. I won't keep you waiting long."</p> + +<p>They took leave of each other in the corridor with the noisy, +nonchalant joy of passion, indifferent to the chamber-maids who were +walking to and fro at the other end of the passageway.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Rafael.... Another hug; just one more."</p> + +<p>And as, with the taste of the last kiss still fresh on his lips, he +reached the square, he saw a bejewelled hand still waving to him from a +balcony.</p> + +<p>Anxious to get back as soon as possible, the young man walked hurriedly +along, elbowing his way among the cab-drivers swarming in front of the +great <em>Palacio de Dos Aguas</em>, closed, silent, slumbering, like the two +giants that guarded its portals, displaying in the golden downpour of +sunlight the overdecorated yet graceful sumptuousness of its roccocò +facade.</p> + +<p>"Rafael! Rafael!..."</p> + +<p>The deputy turned around at the sound of his name, and blanched as if he +had seen a ghost. It was don Andrés, calling to him.</p> + +<p>"Rafael! Rafael!"</p> + +<p>"You?... Here?"</p> + +<p>"I came by the Madrid express. For two hours I've been hunting for you +in all the hotels of Valencia. I knew you were here.... But come, we +have a great deal to talk over. This is not just the place to do it."</p> + +<p>And the old Mentor glowered hatefully at the <em>Hôtel de Roma</em>, as if he +wanted to annihilate the huge edifice with everybody in it.</p> + +<p>They walked off, slowly, without knowing just where they were going, +turning corners, passing several times through the same streets, their +nerves tense and quivering, ready to shout at the top of their lungs, +yet using every effort to speak softly, so as not to attract attention +from the passers-by who were rubbing against them on the narrow +side-walks.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés, naturally, was the first to speak:</p> + +<p>"You approve of what you've done?"</p> + +<p>And seeing that Rafael, like a coward, was trying to pretend innocent +astonishment, asking "what" he had done, observing that he had come to +Valencia on a matter of business, the old man broke into a rage.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, don't you go lying to me: either we're men or we're not +men. If you think you've acted properly, you ought to stand up for it +and say so. Don't imagine you're going to pull the wool over my eyes and +then run off with that woman to God knows where. I've found you and I'm +not going to let you go. I want you to know the truth. Your mother is +sick abed; she tipped me off and I caught the first train to get here. +The whole house is upside down! At first it was thought a robbery had +been committed. By this time the whole city must be agog about you. Come +now!... What do you say to that? Do you want to kill your mother? Well, +you're going about it right! Good God! And this is what they call a 'boy +of talent,' a 'young man of promise'! How much better it would have been +if you were a dunce like me or your father—but a dunce at least who +knows how to get a woman if he has to, without making a public ass of +himself!"</p> + +<p>Then he went into detail. Rafael's mother had gone to the old chest to +get some money for one of her laborers. Her cry of horror and alarm had +thrown the whole house into an uproar. Don Andrés had been hastily +summoned. Suspicions against the servants, a "third degree" for the +whole lot, all of them protesting and weeping, in outrage! Until finally +doña Bernarda sank to a chair in a swoon, whispering into her adviser's +ear:</p> + +<p>"Rafael is not in the house. He has gone ... perhaps never to return. I +am sure of it—he took the money!"</p> + +<p>While the others were getting the sobbing mother to bed, and sending for +the doctor, don Andrés had made for the station to catch the express. He +could tell from the way people looked at him that everybody knew what +had been going on. Gossip had already connected the excitement in the +Brull mansion with Rafael's taking the early train! He had been seen by +several persons, in spite of his precautions.</p> + +<p>"Well, is the Hon. don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, satisfied with +his morning's work? Don't you think the laugh your enemies have raised +deserves an <em>encore</em>!"</p> + +<p>For all his bitter sarcasm the old man spoke in a faltering voice, and +seemed on the verge of tears. The labor of his entire life, the great +victories won with don Ramón, that political power which had been so +carefully built up and sustained over decades, was about to crumble to +ruins; all because of a light-headed, erratic boy who had handed to the +first skirt who came along everything that belonged to him and +everything that belonged to his friends as well.</p> + +<p>Rafael had gone into the interview in an aggressive mood, ready to +answer with plain talk if that sodden idiot should go too far in his +recriminations. But the sincere grief of the old man touched him deeply. +Don Andrés, who resembled Rafael's father as the cat resembles the +tiger, could think of nothing but Brull politics; and he was almost +sobbing as he saw the danger which the prestige of the Brull House was +running.</p> + +<p>With bowed head, crushed by the realization of the scene that had +followed his flight, Rafael did not notice where they were going. But +soon he became conscious of the perfume of flowers. They were crossing a +garden; and as he looked up he saw the figure of Valencia's conqueror on +his sinewy charger glistening in the sun.</p> + +<p>They walked on. The old man began in wailing accents to describe the +situation which the Brull House was facing. That money, which perhaps +Rafael still had in his pocket—more than thirty thousand +<em>pesetas</em>—represented the final desperate efforts of his mother to +rescue the family fortune, which had been endangered by don Ramón's +prodigal habits. The money was his, and don Andrés had nothing to say in +that regard. Rafael was at liberty to squander it, scatter it to the +four winds of heaven; but don Andrés wasn't talking to a child, he was +talking to a man with a heart: so he begged him, as his childhood +preceptor, as his oldest friend, to consider the sacrifices his mother +had been making—the privations she had imposed upon herself, going +without new clothes, quarreling with her help over a <em>céntimo</em>, despite +all her airs as a grand lady, depriving herself of all the dainties and +comforts that are so pleasant to old age—all that her son, her <em>señor +hijo</em>, might waste it in gay living on a woman! Thirty thousand! And +don Andrés mentioned the sum with bated breath! It had taken so much +trouble to hoard it! Come, man! The sight of such things was enough to +make a fellow cry like a baby!...</p> + +<p>And suppose his father, don Ramón, were to rise from the grave? Suppose +he could see how his Rafael were destroying at a single stroke what it +had cost him so many years to build up, just because of a woman!...</p> + +<p>They were now crossing a bridge. Below, against the background of white +gravel in the river-bed the red and blue uniforms of a group of soldiers +could be seen; and the drums were beating, sounding in the distance like +the humming of a huge bee-hive—worthy accompaniment, Rafael reflected, +to the old man's evocation of the youth's father. Rafael thought he +could almost see in front of him the massive body, the flourishing +mustache, the proud, arrogant brow of don Ramón, a born fighter, an +adventurer destined from the cradle to lead men and impose his will upon +inferiors.</p> + +<p>What would that heroic master of men have said of this? Don Ramón would +give a lot of money to a woman—granted—but he wouldn't have swapped +all the beauties on earth put together for a single vote!</p> + +<p>But his son, the boy on whom he had grounded his fondest hopes—the +redeemer destined to raise the House of Brull to its loftiest glory—the +future "personage" in Madrid, the fondled heir-apparent, who had found +his pathway already cleared for him at birth—was throwing all his +father's labors through the window, the way you toss overboard +something it has cost you nothing to earn! It was easy to see that +Rafael had never known what hard times were—those days of the +Revolution, when the Brulls were out of power and held their own just +because don Ramón was a bad man with a gun—desperate election +campaigns, when you marched to victory over somebody's dead body, bold +cross-country rides on election night, never knowing when you would meet +the <em>roder</em> in ambush—the outlaw sharpshooter who had vowed to kill don +Ramón; then endless prosecutions for intimidation and violence, which +had given doña Bernarda and her husband months and months of anxiety, +lest a catastrophe from one moment to the next bring prison and +forfeiture of all their property! All that his father had gone through, +for his boy's sake; to carve out a pedestal for Rafael, pass on to him a +District that would be his own, blazing a path over which he might go to +no visible limit of glory! And he was just throwing it all away, +relinquishing forever a position that had been built up at the cost of +years and years of labor and peril! That is what he would be doing, +unless that very night he returned home, refuting by his presence there +the rumors his scandalized adherents were circulating.</p> + +<p>Rafael shook his head. The mention of his father had touched him, and he +was convinced by the old man's arguments; but none the less he was +determined to resist. No, and again no; his die was cast: he would +continue on his way.</p> + +<p>They were now under the trees of the Alameda. The carriages were rolling +by, forming an immense wheel in the center of the avenue. The harnesses +of the horses and the lamps of the drivers' boxes gleamed in the +sunlight. Women's hats and the white lace shawls of children could be +seen through the coach windows as they passed.</p> + +<p>Don Andrés became impatient with the youth's stubbornness. He pointed to +all those happy, peaceful-looking families out for their afternoon +drive—wealth, comfort, public esteem, abundance, freedom from struggle +and toil! <em>Cristo</em>, boy! Was that so bad, after all? Well, that was just +the life he could have if he would be good and not turn his back on his +plain duty—rich, influential, respected, growing old with a circle of +nice children about him. What more could a decent person ask for in this +world?</p> + +<p>All that bohemian nonsense about pure love, love free from law and +restraint, love that scoffs at society and its customs, sufficient unto +itself and despising public opinion, that was just bosh, the humbug of +poets, musicians and dancers—a set of outcasts like that woman who was +taking him away, cutting him off forever from all the ties that bound +him to family and country!</p> + +<p>The old man seemed to take courage from Rafael's silence. He judged the +moment opportune for launching the final attack upon the boy's +infatuation.</p> + +<p>"And then, what a woman! I have been young, like you, Rafael. It's true +I didn't know a stylish woman like this one, but, bah! they're all +alike. I have had my weaknesses; but I tell you I wouldn't have lifted a +finger for this actress of yours! Any one of the girls we have down home +is worth two of her. Clothes, yes, talk, yes, powder and rouge inches +deep!... I'm not saying she's bad to look at—not that; what I say is... +well, it doesn't take much to turn your head—you're satisfied with +the leavings of half the men in Europe...."</p> + +<p>And he came to Leonora's past, the lurid, much exaggerated legend of her +journey through life—lovers by the dozens; statues and paintings of her +in the nude; the eyes of all Europe centered on her beauty; the public +property of a continent! "That was virtue to go crazy about, come now! +Quite worth leaving house and home for, no doubt of that!"</p> + +<p>The old man winced under the flash of anger that blazed in Rafael's +eyes. They had just crossed another bridge, and were entering the city +again. Don Andrés, wretched coward that he was, sidled away to be within +reach of the customs' office if the fist he could already see cleaving +the air should come his way.</p> + +<p>Rafael, in fact, stopped in his tracks, glaring. But in a second or two +he went on his way again, dejected, with bowed head, ignoring the +presence of the old man. Don Andrés resumed his place at the boy's side.</p> + +<p>The cursed old fox! He had stuck the knife in the right place! Leonora's +past! Her favors distributed with mad lavishness over the four corners +of the globe! An army of men of every nation owning her for a moment +with the appeal of luxury or the enchantment of art! A palace today and +a hotel tomorrow! Her lips repeating in all the languages of Babel the +very words of love that had fired him as if he had been the first to +hear them! He was going to lose everything for that—that refuse, as don +Andrés said—a public scandal, a ruined reputation; and a murdered +mother perhaps,—for that! Oh, that devil of a don Andrés! How cunningly +he had slashed him, and then plunged his fingers into the bleeding gash +to make the wound deeper! The old man's plain common-sense had shattered +his dream. That man had been the rustic, cunning Sancho at the side of +the quixotic don Ramón; and he was playing the same role with Rafael!</p> + +<p>Leonora's story came back to the boy in one flash—the frank confession +she had made during the days of their mere friendship, when she had told +him everything to prevent his continuing to desire her. However much she +might adore him, he would be nothing after all but a successor to a +Russian count, and a German musician; the latest, simply among those +countless ephemeral lovers, whom she had barely mentioned but who must +none the less have left some trace in her memory. The last item in a +long inventory! The most recent arrival, coming several years late, and +content to nibble at the soggy over-ripe fruit which they had known when +it was fresh and firm. Her kisses that so deeply disturbed him! What +were they but the intoxicating, unhealthful perfume of a whole career of +corruptness and licentiousness, the concentrated essence of a world +madly dashing at her seductive beauty, as a bird of night breaks its +head against the globe of a lighthouse? Give up everything for that! The +two of them traveling about the world, free, and proud of their +passion!... And out in that world he would encounter many of his +predecessors; and they would look at him with curious, ironic eyes, +knowing of her all that he would know, able to repeat all the panting +phrases she would speak to him in the exaggerations of her insatiable +passion! The strange thing about it was that all this had not occurred +to him sooner. Blind with happiness, he had never thought an instant of +his real place in that woman's life!</p> + +<p>How long had they been walking through the streets of Valencia?... His +legs were sagging under him! He was faint with weariness. He could +hardly see. The gables of the houses were still tipped with sunlight, +yet he seemed to be groping about in a deep night.</p> + +<p>"I'm thirsty, don Andrés. Let's go in somewhere."</p> + +<p>The old man headed him toward the Café de España, his favorite resort. +He selected the table in the center of the big square salon under the +four clocks supported by the angel of Fame. The walls were covered with +great mirrors that opened up fantastic perspectives in the dingy room +where the gilded ornaments were blackened by the smoke and a crepuscular +light filtered in through the lofty skylight as into a sombre crypt.</p> + +<p>Rafael drank, without realizing just what his glass contained—a poison, +it felt like, that froze his heart. Don Andrés sat looking at the +writing articles on the marble table: a letter-case of wrinkled +oil-cloth, and a grimy ink-well. He began to rap upon them with the +holder of the public pen—rusty and with the points bent—an instrument +of torture well fitted for a hand committed to despair!</p> + +<p>"We have just an hour to catch our train! Come, Rafael, be a man! +There's still time! Come, let's get out of this mess we're in!"</p> + +<p>And he held out the pen, though he had not said a word about writing to +anybody.</p> + +<p>"I can't, don Andrés. I'm a gentleman. I've given my word; and I will +not go back upon it, come what may!"</p> + +<p>The old man smiled ironically.</p> + +<p>"Very well, be as much of a gentleman as you please. She deserves it! +But when you break with her, when she leaves you, or you leave her, +don't come back to Alcira. Your mother won't be there to welcome you! I +shall be—I don't know where; and those who made you deputy will look +upon you as a thief who robbed and killed his mother.... Oh, get mad if +you want to—beat me up even; people at the other tables are already +looking at us.... Why not top the whole business off with a saloon +brawl? But just the same, everything I've been saying to you is gospel +truth!..."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the meantime Leonora was growing impatient in her hotel room. Three +hours had gone by. To relieve her nervousness she sat down behind the +green curtain at the window watching pedestrians crossing the square.</p> + +<p>How like a small piazza of old Florence this place was, with its stately +aristocratic residences, shrouded in imposing gloom; it's grass-grown, +cobblestone pavements hot from the sun; its sleepy solitude: an +occasional woman, or a priest, or a tourist,—and you could hear their +footsteps even when they were far away! Here was a curious corner of the +<em>Palacio de Dos Agnas</em>—panels of jasper stucco with a leaf design on +the mouldings! That talking came from the drivers gathered in the hotel +door—the innkeeper and the servants were setting the chairs out on the +sidewalk as if they were back at home—in a small Italian town! Behind +the roof opposite, the sunlight was gradually fading, growing paler and +softer every moment.</p> + +<p>She looked at her watch. Six o'clock! Where on earth could that Rafael +have gone? They were going to lose the train. In order to waste no time, +she ordered Beppa to have everything in readiness for departure. She +packed her toilet articles; then closed her trunks, casting an inquiring +glance over the room with the uneasiness of a hasty leave-taking. On an +armchair near the window she laid her traveling coat, then her hand-bag, +and her hat and veil. They would have to run the moment Rafael came in. +He would probably be very tired and nervous from returning so late.</p> + +<p>But Rafael did not come!... She felt an impulse to go out and look for +him; but where? She had not been in Valencia since she was a child. She +had forgotten the streets. Then she might actually pass Rafael on the +way without knowing it, and wander aimlessly about while he would be +waiting for her at the hotel. No. It would be better to stay there!</p> + +<p>It was now dusk and the hotel-room was virtually dark. She went to the +window again, trembling with impatience, filled with all the gloom of +the violet light that was falling from the sky with a few red streaks +from the sunset. They would surely lose the train now! They would have +to wait until the next day. That was a disappointment! They might have +trouble in getting away!</p> + +<p>She whirled nervously about as she heard someone calling from the +corridor.</p> + +<p>"Madame, madame, a letter for you!"</p> + +<p>A letter for her!... She snatched it feverishly from the bell-boy's +hand, while Beppa, seated on a trunk, looked on vacantly, without +expression.</p> + +<p>She began to tremble violently. The thought of Hans Keller, the +ungrateful artist, suddenly rose in her memory. She looked for a candle +on the chiffonier. There was none. Finally she went to the balcony and +tried to read the letter in the little light there was.</p> + +<p>It was his handwriting on the envelope—but tortuous, labored, as if it +were the product of a painful effort. She felt all her blood rush back +upon her heart. Madly she tore the letter open, and read with the haste +of a person anxious to drain the cup of bitterness at a single draught, +skipping a line here and a line there, taking in only the significant +words.</p> + +<p>"My mother very ill.... I must go home for a day or two ... my duty as a +son ... we'll soon meet again." And then all the cowardly, conventional +excuses that chivalry has created to soften the harshness of +desertion—the promise to join her again as soon as possible; passionate +protestations that she was the only woman in the world he loved.</p> + +<p>Her first thought was to go back to Alcira at once, walk there if +necessary, find the scamp somewhere, throw the letter into his face, +beat him, claw him to pieces!</p> + +<p>"Ah, the wretch! The infamous, cowardly, unspeakable wretch!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Beppa had found a candle. She lighted it. And there her mistress +was—staggering, deathly pale, her eyes wide open, her lips white with +anguish! Leonora began to walk up and down the apartment, taut and +strained, as if her feet were not moving at all, as if she were being +thrust about by an invisible hand.</p> + +<p>"Beppa," she groaned finally, "he has gone. He is deserting me."</p> + +<p>The maid did not care about the desertion particularly. She had been +through that before. She was thinking about Leonora, waiting for the +impending crisis, studying the anguished countenance of her mistress +with her own placid, bovine eyes.</p> + +<p>"The wretch!" Leonora hissed, pacing back and forth in the chamber. +"What a fool, what a complete, unconscionable fool I have been! Giving +myself to that man, believing in that man, trusting that man, giving up +my peace of mind, the last relative I had in the world for that man!... +And why would he not let me go off alone? He made me dream of an eternal +springtime of love, and now he deserts me.... He has tricked me ... he +is laughing at me ... and I can not hate him. Why did he insist on +rousing me when I was there alone, quite peaceful, forgetting +everything, sunk in a placid indulgent calm!... The cool fraud that he +was!... But what do I care, after all?... It's all over. Come Beppa, +cheer up! Hah-hah! Come, Beppa! We're off! We're off! We're going to +sing again! Off over the whole globe. Good-bye to this rat-hole forever! +I'm through educating children! Now for life again! And we'll drain them +dry, the brutes! Kick them about like the selfish donkeys they are! +Well, well! I can't believe I've been taken in this way! Isn't it a +joke? The best joke you ever heard! Ha, ha, ha! And I thought I knew the +world ...! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!..."</p> + +<p>And her laugh was audible distinctly down in the square. It was a wild, +shrill, metallic laughter, that seemed to be rending her flesh! The +whole hotel was in commotion, while the actress, with foaming lips, fell +to the floor and began to writhe in fury, overturning the furniture and +bruising her body on the iron trimmings of her trunks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>PART THREE</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"Don Rafael, the gentlemen of the Committee on the Budget are waiting +for you in the second section."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there directly."</p> + +<p>And the deputy bent low over his desk in the writing-room of the +Congress, went on with his last letter, adding one more envelope to the +heap of correspondence piled up at the end of the table, near his cane +and his silk hat.</p> + +<p>This was his daily grind, the boresome drudgery of every afternoon; and +around him, with similar expressions of disgust on their faces, a large +number of the country's representatives were busy at the same task. +Rafael was answering petitions and queries, stifling the complaints and +acknowledging the wild suggestions that came in from the District—the +endless clamor of the voters at home, who never met the slightest +annoyance in their various paths of life without at once running to +their deputy, the way a pious worshipper appeals to the miracle-working +saint.</p> + +<p>He gathered up his letters, gave them to an usher to mail, and +sauntering off with a counterfeit sprightliness that was more +counterfeit as he grew fatter and fatter with the years, walked through +to the central corridor, a prolongation of the lobby in front of the +<em>Salón de Conferencias</em>.</p> + +<p>The Honorable señor don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, felt as much +at ease as if he were in his own house when he entered that corridor,—a +dark hole, thick with tobacco smoke, and peopled with black suits +standing around in groups or laboriously elbowing their way through the +crowds.</p> + +<p>He had been there eight years; though he had almost lost count of the +times he had been "duly elected" in the capricious ups and downs of +Spanish politics, which give to Parliaments only a fleeting existence. +The ushers, the personnel of the Secretariat, the guards and janitors, +treated him with deferential intimacy, as a comrade on a somewhat higher +level, but as much of a fixture as they were to the Spanish Congress. He +was not one of those men who are miraculously washed into office on the +crest of a reform wave, but never succeed in repeating the trick, and +spend the rest of their lives idling on the sofas of the Conference +Chamber, with wistful memories of lost greatness, waiting to enter +Congress afternoons, to preserve their standing as ex-deputies, and +forever hoping that their party will some day return to power, so that +once again they may sit on the red benches. No, don Rafael Brull was a +gentleman with a District all his own: he came with a clean, undisputed +and indisputable certificate of election, whether his own party or the +Opposition were in the saddle. For lack of other discoverable merit in +him, his fellow-partisans would say: "Brull is one of the few who come +here on honest returns." His name did not figure brilliantly in the +Congressional record, but there was not an employee, not a journalist, +not a member of the "ex-honorables" who, on noticing the word "Brull" on +all the committees, did not at once exclaim: "Ah, yes! Brull ... of +Alcira."</p> + +<p>Eight years of "service to the country." Eight years of lodging-house +life, while yonder lay a sumptuous home adorned with a luxuriousness +that had cost his mother and his father-in-law half a fortune! Long +seasons of separation from his wife and his children—and without +amusements, to avoid spending money lest the folks at home suspect him +of dereliction in public—and private—duty! What a dog's life his eight +years as deputy had been! Indigestion from the countless gallons of +sugared water drunk at the Congressional bar; callouses on his feet from +endless promenades along the central corridor, absentmindedly knocking +the varnish off the tiles of the wainscoating with the tip of his cane; +an incalculable quantity of <em>pesetas</em> spent on carriages, through fault +of his supporters, who sent him trotting every morning from one Ministry +to the next, asking for the earth, and getting a grain of sand!</p> + +<p>He had not as yet gotten anywhere in particular; but according to +Chamber gossip he was a "serious" well-balanced young man, of few words, +but good ones, and sure some day to be rewarded with a Portfolio. +Content with the rôle of safety and sanity that had been assigned to +him, he laughed very seldom, and dressed soberly, with not a dissonant +color to brighten his black attire. He would listen patiently to things +that did not concern him in the least, rather than venture a personal +opinion with the chance of going wrong—satisfied with premature +wrinkles, premature corpulency, and premature baldness, since nothing +could be more respectable than a thoughtful face, a conspicuous paunch, +and a pate that could shine with venerable brilliancy under the lamps of +the Chamber. At thirty-four, he looked more like forty-five. When he +spoke he would remove his spectacles with a gesture he had carefully +imitated from the deceased leader of "the Party." He would never take +the floor without prefacing his remarks with: "My understanding is ...," +or "I have my own humble opinion on this matter...." And this was what +don Rafael Brull had learned in eight years of parliamentary assiduity!</p> + +<p>The new Conservative leader, seeing that he could always depend on +Brull's vote and that Alcira elections cost "the Party" nothing, had a +certain consideration for Rafael. He was a soldier always on hand for +roll-call, whenever a new Parliament was formed. He would present +himself with his certificate of election, whether his party, with all +the insolence of victory, occupied the benches on the Right, or hungry +and defiant, and reduced in numbers, was huddled on the Left, determined +to find fault with everything the reigning Ministry did. Two sessions as +part of the minority had won him a certain intimacy with the leader in +that frank comradeship that Oppositions always have, since, from leader +down to the most silent member, all the deputies "out of power" are on a +level. Besides, in those two seasons of misfortune, to aid in the +destructive tactics of his faction, he put little interpellations to the +government, at the openings of the sessions when the crowds were small; +and more than once he heard from the pale smiling lips of the chief: +"Very good, Brull; that was to the point." And such congratulations +were duly echoed in his home city, where rustic imagination did the +rest.</p> + +<p>In addition, a few parliamentary honors had come his way; the "Grand +Cross" had been given him, as it is given to most deputies of a certain +length of service—from membership, eventually, on committees charged +with representing the legislative branch of the government at formal +public functions. If an "Answer to the Message" was to be taken "to the +Palace," he was one of those chosen for the purpose; and he trembled +with emotion to think of what his mother, his wife, all the people down +yonder at home would say if they could see him riding there in the +sumptuous carriage of state, preceded by bright-liveried horsemen and +saluted by trumpets blaring the royal march! He was also usually among +the delegates who came out on the staircase of the Congress to welcome +Their Majesties on the opening of a parliament. Finally, for one +session, he was on "the Committee for the Interior," an appointment that +raised his prestige a thousand percent among the ushers.</p> + +<p>"That fellow Brull," they would say in the Chamber, "will be somebody +the day his party returns to power."</p> + +<p>Well, now "the Party" was in power again. During one of those ordered, +calculated "changes of direction" to which Spain lives subject, because +of its parliamentary system of party weights and party balances, the +Conservatives captured the premiership; and Rafael went on the budget +committee. There he would do something more than make interpellations +when he opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had to win his spurs, +justify his filling one of those posts which, according to report, his +chief was holding for him.</p> + +<p>The green deputies, the younger set constituting the new majority, elect +and triumphant through grace of the Ministry of the Interior, respected +him and deferred to what he said, much as students listen to a tutor who +they know receives his orders from the master directly—the +subordination of freshmen, as it were, to the sophomore who knows the +rules.</p> + +<p>Whenever a vote was being taken and the Opposition was excited over the +chance of putting the government in the minority, the Premier would look +about anxiously over the hall for Brull.</p> + +<p>"See here, Brull, better bring your people in; we're going to have a +close call."</p> + +<p>And Brull, proud at being noticed thus, would dash out like a streak of +lightning while the bells were ringing and the ushers were running about +summoning the deputies to vote. He would make the rounds of the desks in +the writing rooms, elbow his way into groups in the corridors; and +filling with self-importance because of the authority conferred upon +him, he would rudely shoo the ministerial flock off toward the Chamber, +grumbling fogeywise and assuring them that "in his time," when he was +serving his first term, there was "far better discipline." When the vote +was all in and the victory won, he would sigh with satisfaction. He had +saved the government! And perhaps the nation!</p> + +<p>At times a residue of the sincerity and frankness of his character as a +boy would rise to the surface in him. Then cruel doubts would assail his +faith in himself. Weren't they all playing a stupid comedy there +without the slightest wit or sense in it? Really was what they said and +did there of the slightest importance to the country—to anybody?</p> + +<p>Standing in the corridor, he would feel the nervous flutter of the +journalists about him—those poor, intelligent, attractive, young +fellows, who found it so hard to make a living. From the press-gallery +they would sit and look down on the legislators the way birds in the +treetops must look down on the wretchedness of the streets below, +laughing at the nonsense those solemn baldpates were talking! Could a +farce on the stage be more amusing?</p> + +<p>To Rafael those "intellectuals" seemed to bring a breeze from out of +doors into the close, sordid, vitiated air of the Chamber. They stood +for the thought of the world outside—the idea fatherless, unsponsored, +the aspiration of the great masses—a breath of fresh air in the +sick-room of a chronic invalid forever dying, forever unburiable.</p> + +<p>Their judgment always differed from that of the country's +representatives. His Excellency señor don What's-his-Name was in their +eyes, a mud-eel, and in their lingo a <em>congrio</em>; the illustrious orator +What-do-you-call-him, who took up a sixteen-page sheet in the +Congressional Record every time he spoke, was a <em>percebe</em>, a "barnacle +on the keel of Progress"; every act of parliament struck them as a bit +of balderdash, though, to hold their jobs, they praised it to the skies +in their articles. And why was it that the country, in some mysterious +way, would always think eventually what those boys thought, so long, and +only so long, as they remained boys? Would they have to come down from +their scats in the press-gallery to the red benches on the floor before +the real will of the country would make itself felt?</p> + +<p>Rafael Brull finally realized that national opinion was present on the +floor, among his fellow members, also, but like a mummy in a +sarcophagus: bound hand and foot in rhetoric and conventional utterance, +spiced, embalmed with proprieties that made any outburst of sincerity, +any explosion of real feeling, evidence of "bad taste!"</p> + +<p>In reality everything was going well with the Ship of State. The nation +had passed from action to talk, and from talk to passivity, and from +passivity to resignation. The era of revolutions was gone forever. The +infallible system of government had proved to be this mechanism of +pre-arranged "crises" and amicable exchanges of patronage between +Liberals and Conservatives, each member of the party in power and each +member of the party out of power knowing just what he was to say and +just what he was to get.</p> + +<p>So, in that palace of over-ornate architecture, as pretentious and as +showy as the mansion of a millionaire <em>parvenu</em>, Rafael was condemned to +spend his lifetime, foregoing the blue sky and the flowering fields and +orchards of Alcira that a family ambition might be realized.</p> + +<p>Nothing noteworthy had occurred during those eight years. His life had +been a muddy, monotonous stream, with neither brilliancy nor beauty in +its waters, lazily meandering along, like the Júcar in winter. As he +looked back over his career as a "personage," he could have summed it up +in three words: he had married.</p> + +<p>Remedios was his wife. Don Matias was his father-in-law. He was +wealthy. He had control over a vast fortune, for he exercised despotic +rule over his wife's peasant father, the most fervent of his admirers. +His mother seemed to have put the last of her strength into the +arrangement of that "marriage of convenience." She had fallen into a +senile decrepitude that bordered on dotage. Her sole evidence of being +alive was her habit of staying in church until the doors were closed and +she could stay no longer. At home she did nothing but recite the rosary, +mumbling away in some corner of the house, and taking no part in the +noisy play of her grandchildren. Don Andrés had died, leaving Rafael +sole "boss" of "the Party." He had had three children. They had had +their teeth, their measles, their whooping-cough. These episodes, with a +few escapades of that brother of Remedios, who feared Rafael's paunch +and bald head more than the wrath of don Matias, were the only +distractions in a thoroughly dull existence.</p> + +<p>Every year he bought a new piece of land. He felt a thrill of pride when +from the top of San Salvador—that Hermitage, alas, of such desperate +and unfading memory!--he looked down upon the vast patches of land with +orange-trees in straight rows and fenced in by green walls, that all, +all, belonged to him. The joy of ownership, the intoxication of property +had gone to his head.</p> + +<p>As he entered the old mansion, entirely made over now, he felt the same +sense of well-being and power. The old chest in which his mother used to +keep her money stood where it had always stood; but it was no longer +devoted to savings hoarded slowly at the cost of untold sacrifice and +privation to raise mortgages and temporize with creditors. Never again +had he tip-toed up in the dark to rifle it. Now it was his own. And at +harvest time it became literally crammed with the huge rolls of +banknotes his father-in-law paid over in exchange for the oranges of the +Brull orchards. And Rafael had a covetous eye on what don Matías had in +the banks; for all that, too, would come to him when the old man died. +Acquisitiveness—money and land—had become his one, his ruling passion. +Monotony, meanwhile, had turned him into an accurate, methodical, +meticulous machine; so that every night he would make out a schedule, +hour for hour, of all that he would do on the following day. At the +bottom of this passion for riches conjugal contagion probably lay. Eight +years of unbroken familiarity had finally inoculated him with most of +the obsessions and most of the predilections of his wife.</p> + +<p>The shrinking, timorous little she-goat that used to gambol about with +him in pursuit, the poor child who had been so wistful and downcast +during the days of his wantonness, had now become a woman with all the +imperious obstinacy, all the domineering superiority of the female of +the species as it has evolved in the countries of the South. Cleanliness +and frugality in Remedios took the form of unendurable tyranny. She +scolded her husband if he brought the slightest speck of dust into the +house on his shoes. She would turn the place upside down, flay all the +servants alive, if ever a few drops of oil were spilled from a jar, or a +crumb of bread were wasted on the table.</p> + +<p>"A jewel for the home! And didn't I tell you so?" her father would +whisper, satisfied with his daughter's obtrusive qualities.</p> + +<p>Rafael, for his part, found them intolerable. He had tried to love his +bride in the early months of their marriage. He made an honest effort to +forget, and recall the playful, passionate impulses he had felt on those +days when he had chased her around the orchards. But after a first fever +of passion had passed, she had proved to be a cold, calculating +child-bearer, hostile to expansiveness of love out of religious +scruples, viewing it her duty to bring new offsprings into the world to +perpetuate the House of Brull and to fill "grandaddy" don Matías with +pride at sight of a nursery full of future "personages" destined to the +heights of political greatness in the District and in the nation.</p> + +<p>Rafael had one of those gentle, temperate, honest, households that, on +the afternoon of their walk through Valencia, don Andrés had pointed out +to him as a radiant hope, if only he would turn his back on his mad +adventure. He had a wife; and he had children; and he was rich. His +father-in-law ordered shotguns for him from his correspondents in +England. Every year a new horse was added to the stable, and don Matias +would see to purchasing the best that could be found in the fairs of +Andalusia. He hunted, took long horseback rides over the roads of the +district, dispensed justice in the <em>patio</em> of the house, just as his +father don Ramón had done. His three little ones, finding him somewhat +strange after his long absences in Madrid and more at home with their +grand-parents than with him, would group themselves with bowed, bashful +heads around his knees, silently waiting for his paternal kiss. +Everything attainable around him was within his reach for the asking; +and yet—he was not happy.</p> + +<p>From time to time the adventure of his youth would come back to his +mind. The eight years that had passed seemed to have put a century +between him and those ancient days. Leonora's face had slowly, slowly, +faded in his memory, till all he could remember were her two green eyes, +and her blond hair that crowned her with a crown of gold. Her aunt, the +devout, ingenuous doña Pepa, had died some time since—leaving her +property for the salvation of her soul. The orchard and the Blue House +belonged now to Rafael's father-in-law, who had transferred to his own +home the best of its equipment—all the furniture and decorations that +Leonora had bought during her period of exile, while Rafael had been in +Madrid and she had thought of living the rest of her life in Alcira.</p> + +<p>Rafael carefully avoided revisiting the Blue House, out of regard for +his wife's possible susceptibilities. As it was, the woman's silence +sometimes weighed heavily upon him, a strange circumspection, which +never permitted the slightest allusion to the past. In the coldness and +the uncompromising scorn with which she abominated any poetic madness in +love, an important part was doubtless played by the suppressed memory of +her husband's adventure with the actress, which everybody had tried to +conceal from her and which had deeply disturbed the preparations for her +wedding.</p> + +<p>When the deputy was alone in Madrid, as much at liberty as before his +marriage, he could think of Leonora freely, without those restraints +which seemed to disturb him back at home in the bosom of his family. +What could have become of her? To what limits of mad frolic had she gone +after that parting which even after years had passed, still brought a +blush of shame to Rafael's cheeks? The Spanish papers paid very little +attention to matters of foreign art. Only twice in their columns did he +discover Leonora's stage name with an account of her new triumphs. She +had sung in Paris in French, with as much success as a native <em>artiste</em>. +The purity of her accent had surprised everyone. In Rome she had played +the "lead" in an opera by a young Italian composer, and her coming had +been announced by press agents as a great event. The opera had failed to +please; not so the singer. Her audience had been moved to tears by her +execution of a scene in the last act, where she wept for a lost love.</p> + +<p>After that—silence, no news whatever! She had disappeared. A new love +affair, Rafael supposed, a new outburst of that vehement passion which +made her follow her chosen man like a slave. And Rafael felt a flash of +jealousy at the thought, as if he had rights over the woman still, as if +he had forgotten the cruelty with which he had bidden her farewell.</p> + +<p>That, fundamentally, had been the cause of all the bitterness and +remorse in his life. He understood now that Leonora had been his one +genuine passion: the love that comes to people once in a lifetime. It +had been within reach of his hand, and he had failed to grasp it, had +frightened it away forever with a cowardly act of villany, a cruel +farewell, the shame of which would go to the grave with him. Garlanded +in the orange-blossoms of the orchard, Love had passed before him, +singing the Hymn of wild Youth that knows neither scruples nor ambition. +Love, true love had invited him to follow—and he had answered with a +stab—in the back! That love would never return, as he well knew. That +mysterious being with its smiles and with its frolics, goes forever when +once it goes. It knows no bartering with destiny. It demands blind +obedience and bids the lover take the woman who offers her hand, +orchard-maid or prima donna as she may be. The man who hesitates is +lost.</p> + +<p>And Rafael felt that an endless night had closed around him! He found +all his efforts to escape from his dullness and depression vain. He +could not shake off the senility that was creeping over his spirit. +Sadly he bowed to the conviction that another love like the first was +impossible.</p> + +<p>For two months he had been the lover of Cora, a popular girl of the +private rooms of the Fornos, a tall, thin, strong Galician beauty—as +strong, alas, as the other. Cora had spent a few months in Paris, and +had returned thence with her hair bleached and a distinctly French +manner of lifting her skirt as if she were strolling along the +<em>trottoir</em> of the <em>boulevards</em>. She had a sweet way of mixing French +words in her conversation, calling everybody <em>mon cher</em> and pretending +expertness in the organization of a supper. At all events she shone like +a great <em>cocotte</em> among her competitors, though her real asset was a +line of <em>risqué</em> stories, and a certain gift for low songs.</p> + +<p>Rafael soon wearied of this affair. He did not like her manufactured +beauty, nor her tiresome chatter that always turned on fashions. She was +always wanting money for herself and for her friends. Rafael, as a +wealthy miser, grew alarmed. Remorsefully he thought of his children's +future, as if he were ruining them; and of what his economical Remedios +would say of his considerably augmented expenditures. Well he knew that +Remedios haggled for everything down to the last <em>céntimo</em>, and that her +one extravagance was an occasional new shawl for the local Virgin, and +an annual <em>fiesta</em> for the Saint with a large orchestra and hundreds of +candles! He broke off relations with the Galician <em>boulevardière</em>, and +found the rupture a sweet relief. It seemed to remove a sully from the +memory of his youthful passion. Moreover, his Party had just returned to +power and it was important to have no blemish on his standing as a +"serious" person! He resumed his seat on the Right, and near the Blue +Bench this time, as one of the senior deputies. The moment for work had +come! Now, it was time to see whether he could not make a position for +himself with one good boost!</p> + +<p>They named him to the Committee on the Budget, and he took it upon +himself to refute certain strictures presented by the Opposition to the +Government program on Pardon and Justice. One friend he could count on +was the minister: a respectable, solemn marquis who had once been an +Absolutist, and who, wearied of platonisms, as he put it, had finally +"recognized" the liberal regime, without amending his former ideas, +however.</p> + +<p>Rafael was as nervous as a schoolboy on the eve of his first +examinations. At the library he studied everything that had been said on +the subject by countless deputies in a century of Parliamentary +government. His friends in the Conference Chamber—the legislative +bohemia of "ex-honorables" and unsuccessful aspirants, who were loyal to +him in gratitude for passes to the floor—were encouraging him and +prophesying victory. They no longer approached him to begin: "When I was +auditor ..." to indulge in a veritable intoxication on the fumes of +their past glory; no longer did they ask him what don Francisco thought +of this, that, or the other thing, to draw their own wild inferences +from his replies and start rumors going based on "inside information." +Now, quite frankly, they "advised" him, giving him hints in accordance +with what they had said or meant to say during that discussion of the +budget back in González Brabo's time, to end by murmuring, with a smile +that gave him the shudders: "Well, anyhow, we'll see! Good luck to you!"</p> + +<p>And that flock of disgruntled spirits who sat around waiting for an +election that would never come and ran like old war-horses at the scent +of gun-powder to group themselves, as soon as a row started and the bell +began to ring for order, in two factions on either side of the +president's chair, could never have imagined that the young deputy, on +many a night, broke off his study with a temptation to throw the thick +tomes of records against the wall, yielding finally, with thrills of +intense voluptuousness, to the thought of what might have become of him +had he gone out into life on his own in the trail of a pair of green +eyes whose golden lights he thought he could still see glittering in +front of him between the lines of clumsy parliamentary prose, tempting +him as they had tempted him of yore!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h3>II</h3> + + +<p>"Order of the day. Resumption of debate on ecclesiastical +appropriations!"</p> + +<p>The Chamber suddenly came to life with a wild movement of dispersion, +something comparable to the stampede of a herd or the panic of an army. +The deputies of quickest motory reactions were on their feet in an +instant, followed by dozens and dozens of others, all making for the +doors. Whole blocks of seats were emptied.</p> + +<p>The Chamber had been packed from the opening of the Session. It was a +day of intense excitement: a debate between the leader of the Right and +a former comrade who was now in the Opposition. The jealousy between the +two old cronies was resulting in a small-sized scandal. Mutual secrets +of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light—many of +the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the +premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to +enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either +hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two +hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And +the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm. +Run—do not walk—to the nearest exit!</p> + +<p>However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor +served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped +by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their +benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where, +a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a +gently ironical smile, was coming into view.</p> + +<p>The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person, +that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies +had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink +at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale +countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age. +To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with +which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty.</p> + +<p>The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the +Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared +through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the +press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for +silence in order not to lose a word.</p> + +<p>This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the +Revolution"—not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but +the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all +present systems of government and society. His theories irritated +everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering +ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired +by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious +feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the +silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the +vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the +revelation of a perfect society of the future, where there would be no +oppression and no misery, the dream he had so often dreamed in the +solitude of his study.</p> + +<p>Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart +from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters +do their <em>matador</em>. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at +his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to +the venerable orator.</p> + +<p>He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence. What a strong, +sturdy spirit, as hard and cold and clear as ice! That veteran had +doubtless had his passions like other men. At moments, through his calm +impassive exterior, a romantic vehemence would seem to burn, a poetic +ardor, that politics had smothered, but which smouldered on as volcanic +fires lie dormant rumbling from time to time under the mantle of snow on +a mountain peak. But he had known how to adjust his life to duty; and +without belief in God, with the support of philosophy only, his virtue +had been strong enough to disarm his most violent enemies.</p> + +<p>And a weakling, a dawdler like himself, must reply to a hero like +that!... Rafael began to be afraid; and to recover his spirits he swept +the hall with his eyes. What the regular hangers-on of the sessions +would have called a medium-sized house! A few deputies scattered about +the benches! But the public galleries were filled with spectators, +workingmen mostly, absolutely quiet, and all ears, as if they were +drinking in every word of the old republican! In the reserved seats, +just previously packed with curiosity-seekers interested in the set-to +scheduled for the opening of the session, only a few foreign tourists +were left. They were taking in everything—even the fantastic uniforms +of the mace-bearers; and they were determined not to leave until they +were put out. A few women of the so-called "parliament set," who came +every afternoon when there was a squabble on the program, were munching +caramels and staring in wonderment at the old man. There he was, the +arch enemy of law and order! The man whose name it was bad form to +mention at their afternoon teas! Who would have supposed he had such a +kindly, harmless face? How easily, with what naturalness and grace, he +wore his frock coat! Incredible!... In the diplomatic gallery a solitary +lady! She was extravagantly attired in a huge picture hat with black +plumes. Almost hidden behind her was a fair haired youth, his hair +parted in the middle, his dress the height of correctness and foppery. +Some rich tourist-woman probably! She was directly opposite Rafael's +bench. He could see that her gloved hand rested on the railing, as she +moved her fan to and fro with an almost discourteous noise. The rest of +her body was lost in the darkness of the gallery. She bent back from +time to time to whisper and laugh with her escort.</p> + +<p>Somewhat reassured by the empty appearance of the house, Rafael scarcely +paid any further attention to the orator. He had guessed all that the +man would say, and he was satisfied. The outline of the long answer he +had prepared would not in the least be affected.</p> + +<p>The old man was inflexible and unchangeable. For thirty years he had +been saying the same thing over and over again. Rafael had read that +speech any number of times. The man had made a close study of national +evils and abuses, and had formulated a complete and pitiless criticism +of them in which the absurdities stood out by force of contrast. With +the conviction that truth is forever the same and that there is nothing +ever so novel as the truth, he had kept repeating his criticism year +after year in a pure, concise, sonorous style that seemed to scatter the +ripe perfume of the classics about the muggy Chamber.</p> + +<p>He spoke in the name of the future Spain, of a Spain that would have no +kings, because it would be governed by itself; that would pay no +priests, because, respecting freedom of conscience, it would recognize +all cults and give privileges to none. And with a simple, unaffected +urbanity, as if he were constructing rhyming verses, he would pair +statistics off, underscoring the absurd manner in which the nation was +taking leave of a century of revolution during which all peoples had +done things while Spain was lying stagnant.</p> + +<p>More money, he pointed out, was spent on the maintenance of the Royal +House than upon public education. Conclusion: the support of a single +family in idleness was worth more than the awakening of an entire people +to modern life! In Madrid, in the very capital, within sight of every +one of his hearers, the schools remained in filthy hovels, while +churches and convents rose overnight on the principal streets like +magic palaces. During twenty-odd years of Restoration, more than fifty +completely new, religious edifices, girding the capital with a belt of +glittering structures, had been built. On the other hand, only a single +modern school, at all comparable to the ordinary public schools of any +town in England or Switzerland! The young men of the nation were feeble, +unenthusiastic, selfish and—pious—in contrast with fathers, who had +adored the generous ideals of liberty and democracy and had stood for +action, revolt! The son was an old man at majority, his breast laden +with medals, with no other intellectual stimulus than the debates of his +religious fraternity, trusting his future and his thinking to the Jesuit +introduced into the family by the mother, while the father smiled +bitterly, realizing that he was a back-number, belonging to a different +world, to a dying generation—though to a generation which had +galvanized the nation for a moment with the spirit of revolutionary +protest!</p> + +<p>Here was the Church collecting pay for its services from the faithful, +and then over again from the State! Here was the Ministry of the +Interior appealing for a reduction in taxes—a program of strict +economy—while new bishoprics were being created and ecclesiastical +appropriations swelled for the benefit of the upper clergy; and with no +advantage at all, meanwhile, to the proletariat of the soutane, to the +poor curates who, to make a bare living, had to practice the most +impious worldliness and unscrupulously exploit the house of God! And +while this was going on public works could wait, towns could go without +roads, Districts without railroads, though the wildest savages of Asia +and Africa had both! Fields could continue to perish of drought while +nearby rivers continued to pour their unutilized waters into the sea!</p> + +<p>A thrill of conviction rippled through the Chamber. The silence was +absolute. Everybody was holding his breath so as not to lose a syllable +from that faint voice, which sounded like a cry from a distant tomb. It +was as though Truth in person were passing through those murky +precincts; and when the orator ended with an invocation to the future, +in which social absurdities and injustice should no longer exist, the +silence became deeper still, as if a glacial blast of death were blowing +upon those brains that had thought themselves deliberating in the best +of all possible worlds.</p> + +<p>It was now time for the reply. Rafael arose, pale, pulling at his cuffs, +waiting a few minutes for the excitement in the Chamber to subside. The +audience had relaxed and was whispering and stirring about, after the +sustained attention compelled by the concise style and the barely +audible voice of the old man.</p> + +<p>If Rafael was depending on the sympathy of an audience to encourage him, +things looked promising indeed! The hall began to empty. Why not? Who is +interested in a committee's reply to the Opposition? Besides, Brull had +a bundle of documents on hand. A long-winded affair! Let's escape! +Deputies filed by in line across the semi-circle in front of him; while +above, in the galleries, the desertion was general. The caramel-chewers, +noting that the display of celebrities was over for the day, rose from +their places. Their coaches were ready outside for a ride through the +Castellana. That strange woman in the diplomatic gallery had also risen +to go. But no: she was giving her hand to her companion, bidding him +good-bye. Now she had resumed her seat, continuing the busy movement of +her fan that annoyed Rafael so. Thanks for the compliment, my fair one I +Though as far as he was concerned, the whole audience might have gone, +leaving only the president and the mace-bearers. Then he could speak +without any fear at all! The public galleries, especially, unnerved him. +Nobody had moved there. Those workingmen were without doubt waiting for +the rebuttal of his answer from their venerable spokesman. Rafael felt +that the swarthy heads above all those dirty blouses and shirt-fronts +without collars or neckties were eyeing him with stony coldness. "Now +we'll see what this ninny has got to say!"</p> + +<p>Rafael began with a eulogy on the immaculate character, the political +importance and the profound learning of that venerable septuagenarian +who still had strength to battle consistently and nobly for the lost +cause of his youth. An exordium of this nature was the regular +procedure. That was how "the Chief" did things. And as he spoke, +Rafael's eyes turned anxiously upon the clock. He wanted to be long, +very long. If he did not talk for an hour and a half or two hours he +would feel disgraced. Two hours was the least to be expected from a man +of his promise. He had seen party chiefs and faction leaders go it for a +whole afternoon, from four to eight, hoarse and puffing, sweating like +diggers in a sewer, with their collars wilted to rags, watching the +great hall-clock with the intentness of a man waiting to be hanged. +"Still an hour left before closing time!" a speaker's friends would say. +And the great orator, like a wearied horse, but a thoroughbred, would +find new energy somewhere and start on another lap, round and round, +repeating what he had already said a dozen times, summarizing the two +ideas he had managed to produce in four hours of sonorous chatter. With +duration as the test of quality, no one on the government had yet +succeeded in equaling a certain redheaded deputy of the Opposition who +was forever heckling the Premier, and could talk, if need be, three days +in succession for four hours a day.</p> + +<p>Rafael had heard people praise the conciseness and the clarity of +new-fangled oratory in the parliaments of Europe. The speeches of party +leaders in Paris or in London took up never more than half a column in a +newspaper. Even the old man he was answering had adopted, to be original +in everything, that selfsame conciseness: every sentence of his +contained two or three ideas. But the member from Alcira would not be +led astray by such niggardly parsimony. He believed that ponderousness +and extension were qualities indispensable to eloquence. He must fill a +whole issue of the Congressional Record, to impress his friends back +home in the District. So he talked and talked on, trying deliberately to +avoid ideas. Those he had he would keep in reserve as long as possible, +certain that the longer he held them prisoner the longer and more solemn +would his oration be.</p> + +<p>He had gained a quarter of an hour without making any reply to the +previous speech whatever, and literally burying his illustrious +antagonist in flowers. <em>Su señoria</em> was noteworthy firstly, because, +secondly, because, fourteenthly, because ... Nay more, he had +accomplished this, performed that, endeavored the other +thing—"But"—and with this <em>but</em>, alas, Rafael must begin to loosen up +on a little of what he had prepared in advance. <em>Su señoria</em> was an +"ideologue" of immense talent, but ever removed from reality; he would +govern peoples in accordance with theories dug out of books, without +paying any attention to practical considerations, to the individual and +indestructible character possessed by every nation!...</p> + +<p>And it was worth sitting an afternoon even in that Chamber to hear the +slighting tone of scorn with which the member from Alcira emphasized +that word <em>ideologue</em> and that phrase about "theories dug out of books" +and "living removed from reality!"</p> + +<p>"Good, fine. That's the way to give it to him," his comrades encouraged, +nodding their sleek bald-pates in indignation against anybody who tried +to live apart from reality. Those <em>ideologues</em> needed somebody to tell +them what was what!</p> + +<p>And the minister, Rafael's friend, the only auditor left on the Blue +Bench, pressing his huge paunch against the desk, turned his head—an +owlish, hairy head with a sharp beak—to smile indulgently on the young +man.</p> + +<p>The orator continued, his confidence increasing as he went on, fortified +by these signs of approval. He spoke of the patient, deliberate study +the committee had made of this matter of the ecclesiastical bud-gets. He +was the most modest, the least among them, but there were his +comrades—they were there, in truth, solemn gentlemen in English +frock-coats, with their hair parted in the middle, from their foreheads +to the napes of their necks—studious young men—who had flattered him +with the honor of speaking for them—and if they had not been more +economical, it was because greater economy had been impossible.</p> + +<p>And the heads of the committee-men nodded as they murmured gratefully:</p> + +<p>"Say, this fellow Brull can make quite a speech!"</p> + +<p>The government was ready to exercise any economy that should prove +prudent and feasible, without prejudice to the dignity of the nation; +but Spain was an eminently religious country, favored by God in all her +crises; and no government loyal to the national genius could ever touch +a <em>céntimo</em> of the ecclesiastical appropriation. Never! Never!...</p> + +<p>On the word <em>never</em> his voice resounded with the melancholy echo that +rings in empty houses. Rafael looked in anguish at the clock. Half an +hour. Half an hour gained, and still he had not really damaged his +outline. His talk was going so well that he was sorry the Chamber was +far from crowded!... Before him, in the shadows of the diplomatic +gallery, that fan kept fluttering. Pesky woman! Why couldn't she keep +quiet and not spoil his speech!</p> + +<p>The president, so restless and vigilant, so ever-ready with watch and +bell in hand when any of the Opposition had the floor, was now sitting +back in his chair with his eyes shut, dozing away with the confidence of +a stage director who is sure the show will go off without a hitch. The +panes of the glass dome were glowing under the rays of the sun, but they +allowed only a diffuse, green light, a discreet, soft, crypt-like +clarity to seep through into the Chamber that lay below in monastic +calm. Through the windows over the president's chair, Rafael glimpsed +patches of the blue sky, drenched in the gentle light of an afternoon of +Springtime. A white dove was hovering in the perspective of those blue +squares.</p> + +<p>Rafael felt a slackening of his powers of endurance, as if an +irresistible languor were stealing over him. The sweet smile of Nature +peering at him through the transoms of that gloomy, parliamentary tomb +had taken him back to his orange-orchards, and to his Valencian meadows +covered with flowers. He felt a curious impulse to finish his speech in +a few hasty words, grab his hat and flee, losing himself out among the +groves of the Royal Gardens. With that sun and those flowers outside, +what was he doing in that hole, talking of things that did not concern +him in the least?... But he successfully passed this fleeting crisis. He +ceased rummaging among the bundles of documents piled up on the bench, +stopped thumbing papers so as to hide his perturbation, and waving the +first sheet that came to his hand, he went on.</p> + +<p>The intention of the gentleman in opposing this appropriation was not +hidden from him. On this matter he had his own, his private and personal +ideas. "I understand that <em>su señoria</em>, in here proposing retrenchment, +is really seeking to combat religious institutions, of which he is a +declared enemy."</p> + +<p>And as he reached this point, Rafael dashed wildly into the fray. He was +treading firm and familiar ground. All this part of the speech he had +prepared, paragraph by paragraph: a defense of Catholicism, an apology +<em>pro fide</em>, so intimately bound up with the history of Spain. He could +now use impassioned outbursts and tremors of lyric enthusiasm, as if he +were preaching a new crusade.</p> + +<p>On the Opposition benches he caught the ironic glitter of a pair of +spectacles, the convulsions of a white chin quivering over two folded +arms, as if a kindly, indulgent smile had greeted his parade of so many +musty and faded commonplaces. But Rafael was not to be intimidated. He +had gotten away with an hour almost! Forward, to "Section Two" of the +outline, the part about the great national and Christian epic! And he +began to reel off visions of the cave of Covadonga; the fantastic tree +of the Reconquest "where the warrior hung up his sword, the poet his +harp," and so on and so on, for everybody hung up something there; seven +centuries of wars for the cross, a rather long time, believe me, +gentlemen, during which Saracen impiety was expelled from Spanish soil! +Then came the great triumphs of Catholic unity. Spain mistress of almost +the whole world, the sun never allowed to set on Spanish domains; the +caravels of Columbus bearing the cross to virgin lands; the light of +Christianity blazing forth from the folds of the national banner to shed +its illuminating rays throughout the earth.</p> + +<p>And as if this hymn to enlightening Christianity, chanted by an orator +who could now hardly see across the gloomy hall, had been a signal, the +electric lights went on; and the statues, the escutcheons, and the +harsh, blatant figures painted on the cupola, sprang forth from +obscurity.</p> + +<p>Rafael could hardly contain his joy at the facility with which his +speech was developing. That wave of light which was shed over the hall, +in the middle of the afternoon, while the sun was still shining, seemed +to him like the sudden entrance of Glory, approaching to give him the +accolade of renown.</p> + +<p>Caught up now in the real torrent of his premeditated verbosity, he +continued to relieve himself of all that he had learned by cramming +during the past few days. "In vain does <em>su señoria</em> fatigue his wits. +Spain is and will remain a profoundly religious country. Her history is +the history of Catholicism: she has survived in all her times of storm +and stress by tightly embracing the Cross." And he could now come to the +national wars; from the battles in which popular piety saw Saint James, +on his white steed, lopping off the heads of the Moors with his golden +cutlass, to the uprising of the people against Napoleon, behind the +banner of the parish and with their scapularies on their bosoms. He did +not have a word to say about the present. He left the pitiless criticism +of the old revolutionist intact. Why not? The dream of an ideologue! He +was absorbed in his song of the past, affirming for the hundredth time +that Spain had been great because she had been Catholic and that when +for a moment she had ceased to be Catholic, all the evils of the world +had descended upon her. He spoke of the excesses of the Revolution, of +the turbulent Republic of '73, (a cruel nightmare to all right-thinking +persons) and of the "canton" of Cartagena (the supreme recourse of +ministerial oratory),—a veritable cannibal feast, a horror that had +never been known even in this land of <em>pronunciamientos</em> and civil wars. +He tried his best to make his hearers feel the terror of those +revolutions, whose chief defect had been that they had revolutionized +nothing.... And then came a panegyric on the Christian family, on the +Catholic home, a nest of virtues and blessings, whereas in nations where +Catholicism did not reign all homes were repulsive brothels or horrible +bandit caves.</p> + +<p>"Fine, Brull, very good," grunted the minister, his elbows stretched +forward over his desk, delighted to hear his own ideas echoing from the +young man's mouth.</p> + +<p>The orator rested for a moment, with his glance sweeping the galleries +now bright with the electric lighting. The woman in the diplomatic +section had stopped fanning herself. She was following him closely. Her +eyes met his.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden Rafael nearly fell to his seat. Those eyes!... Perhaps an +astonishing resemblance! But no; it was she—she was smiling to him with +that same jesting, mocking smile of their earlier acquaintance!</p> + +<p>He felt like the bird writhing on the tree unable to free itself from +the hypnotic stare of the serpent coiled near the trunk. Those +sarcastic, mischievous eyes had upset all his train of thought. He tried +to finish in some way or other, to end his speech as soon as possible. +Every minute was an added torment to him; he imagined he could hear the +mute gibes that mouth must be uttering at his expense.</p> + +<p>Again he looked at the clock; in fifteen minutes more he would be +through. And he spurted on at a mad pace, with a hurried voice, +forgetting the devices he had thought of to prolong the peroration, +dumping them out all in a heap—anything to get through! "The Concordate... +sacred obligations toward the clergy ... their services of old ... +promises of close friendship with the Pope ... the generous father of +Spain ... in short, we cannot reduce the budget by a <em>céntimo</em> and the +committee stands, by its proposals without accepting a single amendment."</p> + +<p>As he sat down, perspiring, excited, wiping his congested face +energetically, his bench companions gathered around him congratulating +him, shaking his hands. He was every inch an orator! He should have gone +deeper into the matter and taken even more time! He shouldn't have been +so modest!</p> + +<p>And from the bench below came the grunt of the minister:</p> + +<p>"Very good, very good. You said exactly what I would have said."</p> + +<p>The old revolutionist arose to make a short rebuttal, repeating the +contentions of his original speech, of which no denial had been +attempted.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite tired," sighed Rafael, in reply to the felicitations.</p> + +<p>"You can go out if you wish," said the minister. "I think I'll answer +the rebuttal myself. It's a courtesy due to so old a deputy."</p> + +<p>Rafael raised his eyes toward the diplomatic gallery. It was empty. But +he imagined he could still make out the plumes of a woman's hat in the +dark background.</p> + +<p>He left his bench hastily and hurried to the corridor, where a number of +deputies were waiting with their congratulations.</p> + +<p>Not one of them had heard him, but they were all profuse in their +flattering remarks. They shook his hand and detained him maddeningly. +Once more he thought he could descry at the end of the corridor, at the +foot of the gallery staircase, standing out against the glass exit-door, +those black, waving plumes.</p> + +<p>He elbowed his way through the crowds, deaf to all congratulations, +brushing aside the hands that were proferred to him.</p> + +<p>Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking +out with eyes radiant with admiration.</p> + +<p>"What a woman? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> + +<p>As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step +into a vehicle. An usher of the Congress was holding the carriage door +open, with the demonstrative respect inspired by the goldbraid shining +on the driver's hat. It was an embassy coach!</p> + +<p>Rafael approached, believing, from the carriage, that it still might +prove to be a case of an astonishing resemblance. But no; it was she; +the same woman she had always been, as if eight hours and not eight +years had passed:</p> + +<p>"Leonora! You here!..."</p> + +<p>She smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him +again.</p> + +<p>"I saw you and heard you. You did very well, Rafael: I enjoyed it."</p> + +<p>And grasping his hand in a frank, hearty clasp of friendship, she +entered the carriage with a rustle of silk and fine linen.</p> + +<p>"Come! Won't you step in too?" she asked, smiling. "Join me for a little +drive along the Castellana. It's a magnificent afternoon; a little fresh +air won't do any harm after that muggy room."</p> + +<p>Rafael, to the astonishment of the usher, who was surprised to see him +in such seductive company, got in; and the carriage rolled off. There +they were, together again, sitting side by side, swaying gently back and +forth with the motion of the soft springs.</p> + +<p>Rafael was at a loss for words. The cold, ironic smile of his former +lover chilled him. He was flushed with shame at the thought of how he +had treated that beautiful creature the last time they had seen each +other. He wanted to say something, and yet he could not find a way to +begin. The ceremonious, formal <em>usted</em> she had employed in inviting him +into the carriage embarrassed him. At last he ventured, timidly, also +avoiding the intimate <em>tu</em>!</p> + +<p>"Imagine our meeting here! What a surprise!"</p> + +<p>"I got in yesterday; tomorrow I leave for Lisbon. A short stop, isn't +it! Just time for a word with the director of the <em>Real</em>; perhaps I'll +come next winter to sing <em>Die Walküre</em> here. But let's talk about you, +illustrious orator.... But I may say <em>tu</em> to you, mayn't I?" she +corrected—"for I believe we are still friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes, friends, Leonora.... I have never been able to forget you."</p> + +<p>But the feeling he put into the words vanished before the cold smile +with which she answered.</p> + +<p>"Friends; that's it," she said, slowly. "Friends, and nothing more. +Between us there lies a corpse that prevents us from getting very close +to each other again."</p> + +<p>"A corpse?" asked Rafael, not catching her meaning.</p> + +<p>"Yes; the love you murdered.... Friends, nothing more; comrades united +by complicity in a crime."</p> + +<p>And she laughed with cruel sarcasm, while the carriage turned into one +of the avenues of Recoletos. Leonora looked vacantly out upon the +central boulevard. The rows of iron benches were filled with people. +Groups of children in charge of governesses were playing gaily about in +the soft, golden splendor of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"I read in the papers this morning that don Rafael Brull, 'of the +Finance Commission,' if you please, would undertake to speak for the +Ministry on the matter of the budget; so I got down on my knees to an +old friend of mine, the secretary of the English embassy, and begged him +to come and take me to the session. This coach is his.... Poor fellow! +He doesn't know you, but the moment he saw you stand up to speak, he +took to his heels.... He missed something though; for really, you +weren't half bad. I'm quite impressed. Say, Rafael, where do you dig up +all those things?"</p> + +<p>But Rafael looked uneasily at her cruel smile and refused to accept her +praise. Besides, what did he care about his speech? It seemed to him +that he had been for years and years in that coach; that a whole +lifetime had gone by since he left the halls of the Congress. His gaze +was fixed on her in admiration, and his astonished eyes were drinking in +the beauty of her face, and of her figure.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful you are!" he murmured in impulsive enchantment. "The same +as you were then. It seems impossible that eight years can have flown +by."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I admit that I bear up well. Time seems not to touch me. A little +longer at the dressing table—that's all. I'm one of the people who die +in harness, so to speak, making no concessions, so far as looks go, to +old age. Rather than surrender, I'd kill myself. I intend to put Ninon +de Lenclos in the shade!"</p> + +<p>It was true. Eight years had made not the slightest impression on her. +The same freshness, the same robust, energetic slenderness, the +identical flames of arrogant vitality in her green eyes. Instead of +withering under the incessant parching of passion's flame, she seemed to +grow stronger, hardier, in the crucible.</p> + +<p>She measured the deputy with sarcastic playfulness.</p> + +<p>"Poor Rafael! I'm sorry I can't say as much for you. How you've changed! +You look almost like a Knight of the Crown. You're fat! You're bald! And +those eyeglasses! Why, I could hardly recognize you in the Chamber. How +my romantic Moor has aged! You poor dear! You even have wrinkles!..."</p> + +<p>And she laughed, as if it filled her with intense joy, the joy of +vengeance, to see her former lover so crestfallen at her portrayal of +his decrepitude.</p> + +<p>"You're not happy, are you! I can see that. And yet, you ought to be. +You must have married that girl your mother picked for you. You +doubtless have children.... Don't try to fib to me, just to seem more... +what shall I say ... more interesting! I can see it from the looks +of you. You are the <em>pater familias</em> all over. I am never mistaken in +such things!... Well, why aren't you happy? You have all the requisites +for a personage of note, and you will shortly be one. I'll bet you wear +that sash to hold your paunch in! You are rich, you make speeches in +that horrid, gloomy, cave. Your friends back home will go into ecstasies +when they read the oration their honorable deputy has delivered; and I +imagine they're already preparing fireworks and music for a reception +to you. What more could you ask for?"</p> + +<p>And with her eyes half-closed, smiling maliciously, she waited for his +reply, knowing in advance what it would be.</p> + +<p>"What more can I ask for? Love; Leonora, the love I once had ... with +you."</p> + +<p>And with the vehemence of other days, as if they were still among the +orange-trees of the old Blue House, the deputy gave way to his eight +years of longing.</p> + +<p>He told her of the image he nourished in his sadness. Love! The Love +that passes but once in a lifetime, crowned with flowers, and followed +by a retinue of kisses and laughter. And whosoever follows him in +obedience, finds happiness at the end of the joyous pathway; but +whosoever, through pride or selfishness, lags by the wayside, comes to +lament his folly and to expiate his cowardice in an everlasting life of +tedium and sorrow! He had sinned, grievously. That he would confess! But +could she not forgive him? He had paid for his deliquency with eight +long, monotonous, crushing, meaningless years, one suffocating stifling +night that never broke into morning. But they had met again! There was +still time, Leonora! They could still call back the Springtime of their +lives, make it burgeon anew, compel Love to retrace his footsteps, pass +their way again, stretching forth his sweet hands of youth to them!</p> + +<p>The actress was listening with a smile upon her lips, her eyes closed, +her head thrown back in the carriage. It was an expression of intense +pleasure, as if she were tasting with delight the fire of love that was +still burning in Rafael, and that, to her, meant vengeance.</p> + +<p>The horses were proceeding at a walk along la Castellana. Other +carriages were going by and the people in them peered back at the coach +with that beautiful, unknown woman.</p> + +<p>"What is your answer, Leonora? We can still be happy! Forget the past +and the wrong I did you! Imagine it was only yesterday that we said +good-bye in the orchard, and that we are meeting again today to begin +our lives over again from the beginning, to live together always, +always."</p> + +<p>"No," she replied coldly. "You yourself just said so: Love passes but +once in a lifetime. I know that from cruel experience. I have done my +best to forget. No, Love has passed us by! It would be sheer folly for +us to ask him to hunt us up again. He never comes back! Our most +desperate effort could revive barely the shadow of him. You let him +escape. Well, you must weep for your loss, just as I had to weep for +your baseness ... Besides, you don't realize the situation we are in +now! Don't you remember what we talked about on our first night there in +the moonlight? 'The arrogant month of May, the young warrior in an armor +of flowers, seeks out his beloved, Youth.' Well, where is our youth now? +Quite frankly, you can find mine on my dressing-table! I buy it at the +perfumer's; and though that gentleman is quite skilled at disguising me, +there's an oldness of the spirit underneath, a terrible thing I don't +dare think about, because it frightens me so. And yours, poor +Rafael—you just haven't any, not even the kind you can buy! Take a good +look at yourself! You're ugly, to put it mildly, my dear boy! You're +lost that attractive slimness of your younger days. Your dreams make me +laugh! A passion at this late date! The idyll of a middle-aged siren and +a bald-headed father of a litter of children, with a paunch, with a +paunch, with a paunch! Oh, Rafael! Ha, ha, ha!"</p> + +<p>The cruel mocker! How she laughed! How she was avenging herself. Rafael +grew angry at this cutting, ironic resistance. He began to flame with a +more excited passion.... The ravages of time made no difference. Could +not Love work miracles! He loved her more than he had ever loved her in +the olden days. He felt a mad hunger for her. Passion would give them +back the fires of youth. Love was like a springtime that brings new sap +to branches grown numb in the winter's cold. Let her say "Yes," and on +the instant she would behold the miracle, the resurrection of their +slumbering past, the awakening of their souls to the future of love!</p> + +<p>"And your wife? And your children?" Leonora asked, brutally, as if she +wished to bring him back to realities, with a smarting lash from a whip.</p> + +<p>But Rafael was now beside himself, drunk with the nearness of all that +beauty, and with the waves of perfume that filled the interior of the +carriage.</p> + +<p>Wife? Family? He would leave everything for her: family, future, +position. It was she he needed to live and be happy!</p> + +<p>"I will go with you; everybody is a stranger to me when I think of you. +You, you alone, are my life, my love!"</p> + +<p>"Many thanks," Leonora answered curtly. "I could not accept such a +sacrifice.... Besides, all that sanctity of the home you were just +talking about a few moments ago in the Chamber? And all that Christian +morality, without which civilization would go to the damnation bow wows! +How I laughed when I heard you say that. How you were stuffing those +poor ninkampoops!..."</p> + +<p>And again she laughed cruelly, at the contrast between his pious words +in Congress and his mad idea of forsaking everything to follow her +around the world. Oh, the hypocrite! She had felt, as she sat listening +to him, that his speech was a pack of lies, a mess of conventional +trumpery and platitudes! The only one there who had spoken with any real +sincerity, any real virtue, was that little old man, whom she had +listened to with veneration because he had been one of her father's +idols!</p> + +<p>Rafael was crushed with bitter shame. Leonora's flat refusal, her +pitiless mockery of his speech, had brought him to realize the enormity +of his baseness. She was avenging herself by bringing him face to face +with the abjectness of his mad, hopeless passion, which made him capable +of committing the lowest deeds!</p> + +<p>Dusk was gathering. Leonora ordered the driver to the Plaza de Oriente. +She was stopping in one of the houses near the Opera where many +theatrical people lodged. She was in a hurry! She had a dinner +engagement with that young man from the Embassy, and two musical critics +were to be introduced to her.</p> + +<p>"And I, Leonora? Are we not to see each other any longer?"</p> + +<p>"As far as my door, if you wish, and then ... till we meet again!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Leonora, stay here a few days! Let me see you! Let me have +the consolation of talking to you, of feeling the bitter pleasure of +your ridicule, at least!"</p> + +<p>Stay a few days!... Her days did not belong to her. She traveled from +one end of the world to the other, with her life marked off to the tick +of the clock. From Madrid to Lisbon—an engagement at the San +Carlos—three performances of Wagner! Then, a jump to Stockholm! After +that she was not quite sure where she would go; to Odessa, or to Cairo. +She was the Wandering Jew, the Valkyrie galloping along on the clouds of +a musical tempest, from frontier to frontier, from pole to pole, +arrogant, victorious, suffering not the slightest harm to health or +beauty.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you only would! If you would let me follow you! As your friend, +nothing more! As your servant, if necessary!"</p> + +<p>And he grasped her hand, passionately, thrusting his fingers up her +sleeve, fondling the delicate arm underneath her glove. She did not +resist.</p> + +<p>"There! Do you see, Rafael?" she said, smiling coldly. "You have touched +me, and it's useless; not the slightest thrill. You're as good as dead +to me. My flesh does not tingle at your fondling. In fact, I find it all +decidedly annoying!"</p> + +<p>Rafael realized that it was true. She had once trembled madly under his +caresses. Now she was quite insensible, quite cold!</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, Rafael. It's over, spelled with a capital <em>O</em>. It's not +worth wasting a moment's thought on. As I look at you now I feel the way +I do when I see one of my old dresses that, in its time, I went mad +over. I see nothing but the defects—the absurdities of the fashion that +is out of date. Our passion died as it should properly have died. +Perhaps your deserting me was for the best. It was better for you to +default in the full splendor of our honeymoon than to have broken with +me afterwards, when I should have moulded my nature forever to your +caresses. We were brought together ... oh, by the orange perfume, by +that cursed Springtime; but you were not meant for me, nor was I ever +meant for you. We are of different breeds. You were born a bourgeois. I +am an out-and-out bohemian! Love and the novelty of my kind quite, +dazzled you. You struggled hard, you beat your wings, to follow me, but +you fell to earth from the very weight of your inherited traits. You +have the appetites and the ambitions of people like you! Now you imagine +you are unhappy! But you'll find you're not when you see yourself become +a personage,' when you count the acreage of your orchards over, when you +see your children growing up to inherit papa's power and fortune. This +business of love for love's sake, mocking at law and morality, scorning +life and peacefulness, that is our privilege, the privilege of us +bohemians—the sole blessing left to us mad creatures whom society looks +upon—quite properly, I suppose—with disdainful mistrust. Each to his +own! The poultry to their quiet roost, where they can fatten in the sun; +the birds of passage to their wandering life of song, sometimes in a +flowering garden, sometimes in the cold and storm!"</p> + +<p>And smiling again, as if those words, uttered with such gravity and +conviction, had been too cruel in their effective summary of the whole +story of their love, she added in a jesting tone:</p> + +<p>"That was a fine little paragraph, wasn't it? What a pity you didn't +hear it in time to tack it on at the end of your speech!"</p> + +<p>The carriage had entered the <em>Plaza de Oriente</em>; and was drawing up in +front of Leonora's house.</p> + +<p>"May I go in with you?" the deputy asked anxiously, much as a child +might beg for a toy.</p> + +<p>"Why? You'll only be bored. It will be the same as here. Upstairs there +is no moon, and there are no orange-trees in bloom. You can't expect two +nights like that in a life like yours. Besides, I don't want Beppa to +see you. She has a vivid recollection of that afternoon in the Hôtel de +Roma when I got your note. I'd lose prestige with her if she saw me in +your company."</p> + +<p>With a commanding gesture she motioned him to the sidewalk. When the +carriage had gone they stood there together for a moment looking at each +other for the last time.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Rafael. Take good care of yourself, and try not to grow old +so rapidly. I believe it's been a real pleasure, though, to see you +again. I needed just this to convince myself it was really all over!"</p> + +<p>"But are you going like this!... Is this the way you let a passion end +that still fills my life!... When shall we see each other again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know: never ... perhaps when you least expect it. The world is +large, but when a person gads about it the way I do, you never can tell +whom you are going to meet."</p> + +<p>Rafael pointed to the Opera nearby.</p> + +<p>"And if you should come to sing ... here?... If I were actually to see +you again?...."</p> + +<p>Leonora smiled haughtily, guessing what he meant.</p> + +<p>"In that case, you will be one of my countless friends, I suppose, but +nothing more. Don't imagine that I'm a saint even now. I'm just as I was +before you knew me. The property of everybody—understand—and of +nobody! But of the janitor of the opera, if necessary, sooner than of +you. You are a corpse, in my eyes, Rafael.... Farewell!"</p> + +<p>He saw her vanish through the doorway; and he stood for a long time +there on the sidewalk, completely crushed, staring vacantly into the +last glow of twilight that was growing pale beyond the gables of the +Royal Palace.</p> + +<p>Some birds were twittering on the trees of the garden, shaking the +leaves with their mischievous playfulness, as if the fires of Springtime +were coursing in their veins. For Spring had come again, faithful and +punctual, as every year.</p> + +<p>He staggered off toward the center of the city, slowly, dejectedly, with +the thought of death in his mind, bidding farewell to all his dreams, +which that woman seemed to have destroyed forever in turning her back +implacably upon him. Yes! A corpse, indeed! He was a dead man dragging a +soulless body along under the sad glimmering of the first street-lamps. +Farewell! Farewell to Love! Farewell to Youth! For him Springtime would +never return again. Joyous Folly repelled him as an unworthy deserter. +His future was to grow a fatter and fatter paunch under the frock coat +of a "personage"!</p> + +<p>At the corner of the Calle del Arenal he heard his name called. It was +a deputy, a comrade of "the Party" who had just come from the session.</p> + +<p>"Let me congratulate you, Brull; you were simply monumental! The Chief +spoke enthusiastically of your speech to the Prime Minister! It's a +foregone conclusion. At the first new deal you'll be made +director-general or undersecretary at least! Again, my congratulations, +old fellow!"</p> + +<p>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibañez + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + +***** This file should be named 11674-h.htm or 11674-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/7/11674/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Torrent + Entre Naranjos + +Author: Vicente Blasco Ibanez + +Release Date: March 22, 2004 [EBook #11674] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +THE TORRENT + +(ENTRE NARANJOS) + + +By VICENTE BLASCO IBANEZ + + +TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY + +ISAAC GOLDBERG + +AND + +ARTHUR LIVINGSTON + +1921 + + + + +THE TORRENT + + + + +PART ONE + +I + + +"Your friends are waiting for you at the Club. They saw you for a moment +only, this morning; they'll be wanting to hear all your stories about +life in Madrid." + +Dona Bernarda fixed upon the young deputy a pair of deep, scrutinizing, +severely maternal eyes that recalled to Rafael all the roguish anxieties +of his childhood. + +"Are you going directly to the Club?..." she added. "Andres will be +starting too, right away." + +Rafael, in reply, wished a blunt "good-afternoon" to his mother and don +Andres, who were still at table sipping their coffee, and strode out of +the dining-room. + +Finding himself on the broad, red-marble staircase in the silence of +that ancient mansion, of such princely magnificence, he experienced the +sudden sense of comfort and wellbeing that a traveler feels on plunging +into a bath after a tedious journey. + +Ever since he had arrived, with the noisy reception at the station, the +hurrahs, the deafening music, handshakes here, crowding there, the +pushing and elbowing of more than a thousand people who had thronged +the streets of Alcira to get a close look at him, this was the first +moment he had found himself alone, his own master, able to do exactly as +he pleased, without needing to smile automatically in all directions and +welcome with demonstrations of affection persons whose faces he could +scarcely recall. + +What a deep breath of relief he drew as he went down the deserted +staircase, which echoed his every footstep! How large and beautiful the +_patio_ was! How broad and lustrous the leaves of the plantains +flourishing in their green boxes! There he had spent the best years of +his childhood. The little boys who in those days used to be hiding +behind the wide portal, waiting for a chance to play with the son of the +powerful don Ramon Brull, were now the grown men, the sinewy orchard +workers, who had been parading from the station to his house, waving +their arms, and shouting _vivas_ for their deputy--Alcira's "favorite +son." + +This contrast between the past and present flattered Rafael's conceit, +though, in the background of his thoughts, the suspicion lurked that his +mother had been not a little instrumental in the preparation of his +noisy reception, not to mention don Andres, and numerous other friends, +ever loyal to anyone connected with the greatness of the Brulls, +_caciques_--political bosses--and leading citizens of the district. + +To enjoy these recollections of childhood and the pleasure of finding +himself once more at home, after several months in Madrid, he stood for +some time motionless in the _patio_, looking up at the balconies of the +first story, then at the attic windows--from which in mischievous years +gone by he had many a time withdrawn his head at the sound of his +mother's scolding voice--and lastly, at the veil of luminous blue +above--a patch of sky drenched in that Spanish sunlight which ripens the +oranges to clusters of flaming gold. + +He thought he could still see his father--the imposing, solemn don +Ramon--sauntering about the _patio_, his hands behind his back, +answering in a few impressive words the questions flung at him by his +party adherents, who followed him about with idolatrous eyes. If the old +man could only have come back to life that morning to see how his son +had been acclaimed by the entire city!... + +A barely perceptible sound like the buzzing of two flies broke the deep +silence of the mansion. The deputy looked toward the only balcony window +that was open, though but slightly. His mother and don Andres were still +talking in the dining-room--and of him, as usual, without a doubt! And, +lest they should call him, and suddenly deprive him of his keen +enjoyment at being alone, he left the _patio_ and went out into the +street. + +It was only the month of March; but at two in the afternoon the air was +almost uncomfortably hot. Accustomed to the cold wind of Madrid and to +the winter rains, Rafael inhaled, with a sense of voluptuous pleasure, +the warm breeze that wafted the perfume of the blossoming orchards +through the narrow lanes of the ancient town. + +Once, years before, he had been in Italy on a Catholic pilgrimage, +entrusted by his mother to the care of a priest from Valencia, who would +not think of returning to Spain without paying a visit to don Carlos. A +memory of a Venetian _calle_ now came back to Rafael's mind as he +traversed the streets of old Alcira--shadowy, cramped, sunk deep as +wells between rows of high houses. With all the economy of a city built +on an island, Alcira rears its edifices higher and higher as its +population grows, leaving just enough space free for the bare needs of +traffic. + +The streets were deserted. The noisy, orchard workers who had welcomed +Rafael had gone back to the fields again. All the idlers had fled to the +cafes, and as the deputy walked smartly by in front of these, warm waves +of air came out upon him through the windows, with the clatter of poker +chips, the noise of billiard balls, and the uproar of heated argument. + +Rafael reached the Suburban Bridge, one of the two means of egress from +the Old City. The Jucar was combing its muddy, reddish waters on the +piles of the ancient structure. A number of row-boats, made fast to the +houses on the shore, were tugging at their moorings. Rafael recognized +among them the fine craft that he had once used for lonely trips on the +river. It lay there quite forgotten, gradually shedding its coat of +white paint out in the weather. + +Then he looked at the bridge itself; the Gothic-arched gate, a relic of +the old fortifications; the battlements of yellowish, chipped rock, +which looked as if all the rats of the river had come at night to nibble +at them; then two niches with a collection of mutilated, dust-laden +images--San Bernardo, patron Saint of Alcira, and his estimable sisters. +Dear old San Bernardo, _alias_ Prince Hamete, son of the Moorish king +of Carlet, converted to Christ by the mystic poesy of the Christian +cult,--and still wearing in his mangled forehead the nail of martyrdom! + +As Rafael walked past the rude, disfigured statue he thought of all the +stories his mother, an uncompromising clerical and a woman of credulous +faith, had told him of the patron of Alcira, particularly the legend of +the enmity and struggle between San Vicente and San Bernardo, an +ingenuous fancy of popular superstition. + +Saint Vincent, who was an eloquent preacher arrived at Alcira on one of +his tours, and stopped at a blacksmith's shop near the bridge to get his +donkey shod. When the work was done the horseshoer asked for the usual +price for his labor; but San Vicente, accustomed to living on the bounty +of the faithful, waxed indignant, and looking at the Jucar, exclaimed, +vindictively: + +"Some day folks will say: 'This is where Alcira used to be'." + +"Not while Bernardo is here!" the statue of San Bernardo remarked from +its pedestal. + +And there the statue of the saint still stood, like an eternal sentinel, +watching over the Jucar to exorcise the curse of the rancorous Saint +Vincent! To be sure the river would rise and overflow its banks every +year, reaching to the very feet of San Bernardo sometimes, and coming +within an ace of pulling the wily saint down from his perch. It is also +true that every five or six years the flood would shake houses loose +from their foundations, destroy good farm land, drown people, and commit +other horrible depredations--all in obedience to the curse of Valencia's +patron; but the saint of Alcira was the better man of the two for all +of that! And, if you didn't believe it, there the city was, still +planted firmly on its feet and quite unscathed, except for a scratch +here and there from times when the rains were exceptionally heavy and +the waters came down from Cuenca in a great roaring torrent! + +With a smile and a nod to the powerful saint, as to an old friend of +childhood, Rafael crossed the bridge and entered the _arrabal_, the "New +City," ample, roomy, unobstructed, as if the close-packed houses of the +island, to get elbow-room and a breath of air, had stampeded in a flock +to the other bank of the river, scattering hither and thither in the +hilarious disorder of children let loose from school. + +The deputy paused at the head of the street on which his club was +located. Even from there he could hear the talking and laughing of the +many members, who had gathered in much greater number than usual because +of his arrival. What would he be in for down there? A speech, probably! +A speech on local politics! Or, if not a speech, idle talk about the +orange crop, or cock-fighting. He would be expected to tell them what +kind of a man the Premier was--and then spend the afternoon analyzing +the character of every minister! Then don Andres would be there, that +boresome Mentor who, at the instance of Rafael's mother, would never let +him out of sight for a moment. Bah! The Club could wait! He would have +plenty of time later in the day to stifle in that smoke-filled parlor +where, the moment he showed his face, everybody would be upon him and +pester the life out of him with questions and wire-pulling! + +And more and more yielding to the lure of the southern sunshine and to +those perfumes of May floating about him in wintertime, he turned off +into a lane that led to the fields. + +As he emerged from the ancient Ghetto and found himself in the open +country, he drew a deep breath, as if to imprison in his lungs all the +life, bloom and color of his native soil. + +The orange orchards lined both banks of the stream with straight rows of +green, round tree-tops. The sun glistened off the varnished leaves; the +wheels of irrigating machines sounded from the distance like humming +insects. The moisture rising from the canals, joined the clouds from the +chimneys of the motors, to form a thin veil of mist over the +countryside, that gave a pearly transparency to the golden light of the +afternoon. + +To one side rose the hill of San Salvador, its crest topped with the +Hermitage, and the pines, the cypresses, and the prickly pears around +that rough testimonial of popular piety. The sanctuary seemed to be +talking to him like an indiscreet friend, betraying the real motive that +had caused him to evade his appointment with his political friends and +disobey his mother into the bargain. + +Something more than the beauty of the fields had enticed him from the +city. When the rays of the rising sun had awakened him that morning on +the train, the first thing he had seen, before opening his eyes even, +was an orange orchard, the bank of the Jucar, and a house painted +blue,--the very one that was now in sight away off there, among the +round tree-tops along the river. + +How many times in past months his thoughts had lingered on the memory of +that same scene! + +Afternoons, in the Congress, while the Premier on the Blue Bench would +be answering the interpellations of the Opposition in sharp incisive +tones, Rafael's brain would begin to doze, reduced to jelly, as it were, +by the incessant hammering of words, words, words! Before his closed +eyes a dark veil would begin to unroll as if the moist, cellar-like +gloom in which the Chamber is always plunged, had thickened suddenly, +and against this curtain, like a cinema dream, rows of orange-trees +would come into view, and a blue house with open windows; and pouring +through the windows a stream of notes from a soft voice, ever so sweet, +singing _lieder_ and ballads as an accompaniment to the hard, sonorous +paragraphs snapping from the Premier's teeth. Then applause and +disorder! The moment for voting had arrived, and the fading outlines of +the Blue House still hovering before his dreamy eyes, the member for +Alcira would ask his neighbor: + +"How do we vote? Yes or no?" + +The same it was at night at the Opera, where music served only to remind +him of a familiar voice winding like a thread of gold out across the +orchards through the orange trees; and the same again, after dinner with +his colleagues on committees, when the deputies, their cigars tilted +cockily upwards between their lips, and with all the voluptuous gaiety +inspired by good digestions, would troop off to see the night out in +some trustworthy house of assignation where their dignity as +representatives of the country would not be compromised! + +Now that blue house was actually before his eyes! And he was hurrying +toward it,--not without some hesitation; a vague uneasiness he could not +explain. His heart was in his mouth, it seemed, and he found it hard to +breathe. + +Orchard workers came along the road, occasionally, stepping aside to +make room for the famous man, though he answered their greeting +absent-mindedly. What a nuisance! They would all be sure to tell where +they had seen him! His mother would know all about it within half an +hour! And, that evening, a scene in the dining-room! As Rafael walked on +toward the Blue House, he thought bitterly of his situation. Why was he +going there anyhow? Why insist on living in a stew all the time? He had +had two or three short but violent scenes with his mother a few months +before. What a fury that stern, pious, and puritanic woman became when +she found out that her son had been calling down at the Blue House and +was on friendly terms with a strange lady, an outsider, whom the +respectable folk of the city would have nothing to do with, and of whom +not a good word was ever heard except from the men at the Club, when +they were sure their wives were not in hearing distance! + +Tempestuous scenes they had been! He was running for Congress at the +time. Was he trying--she wanted to know--to dishonor the family and +compromise his political future? Was that what his poor father had lived +for--a life of sacrifice and struggle, of service to "the Party," which, +many a time, had meant shouldering a gun? And a loose woman was to be +allowed to ruin the House of Brull, which for thirty years had been +putting every cent it owned into politics, for the benefit of My Lords +up in Madrid! And just when a Brull was about to reap the reward of so +many sacrifices at last, and become a deputy--the means perhaps of +clearing off the property, which was lousy with attachments and +mortgages!... + +Rafael had been no match for that energetic mother, the soul of "the +Party." Meekly he had promised never to return to the Blue House, never +to call again on that "loose woman"--dona Bernarda actually hissed as +she said the word. + +However, the upshot of it all had been that Rafael simply discovered how +weak he was. Despite his promise, he returned to the Blue House often, +but by round-about ways and over long detours, skulking from cover to +cover, as he had done in childhood days when stealing oranges from the +orchards. There he was, a man whose name was on the lips of the whole +county, and who at any moment might be invested with authority from the +people, thus realizing the life-long dream of his father! But the sight +of a woman in the fields, a child, a beggar, would make him blanch with +terror! And that was not the worst of it! Whenever he entered the Blue +House now he had to pretend he came openly, without any fear whatever. +And so things had gone on down to the very eve of his departure for +Madrid. + +As Rafael reached this point in his reminiscences, he asked himself what +hope had led him to disobey his mother and brook her truly formidable +wrath. + +In that blue house he had found only frank, disinterested friendship,--a +somewhat ironic comradeship, the condescending tolerance of a person +compelled by solitude to choose as her comrade the least repulsive among +a host of inferiors. Alas! How clearly he remembered and could again +foresee the sceptical, cold smile with which his words were always +received, though he was sure he had crammed them with burning passion! +What a laugh she had given,--as insolent and as cutting as a lash,--the +day he had dared to declare his love! + +"Now the soft-pedal on slush, eh, Rafaelito?... If you want us to go on +being friends, all right, but it's on condition you treat me as a man. +Comrades, eh, and nothing more." + +And with a look at him through those green, luminous, devilish eyes of +hers, she had taken her seat at the piano and begun one of her divine +songs, as if she thought the magic of her art might raise a barrier +between them. + +On another occasion, she was irritable rather; Rafael's appealing eyes, +his words of amorous adoration, seemed to provoke her, and she had said +with brutal frankness: + +"Don't waste your breath, please! I am through with love. I know men too +well! But even if anyone were to upset me again, it would not be you, +Rafaelito dear." + +And yet he had persisted, insensible to the irony and the scorn of this +terrible _amigo_ in skirts, and indifferent as well to the conflicts +that his blind passion might provoke at home if his mother knew. + +He tried to free himself from his infatuation, but unsuccessfully. With +that in view he fixed his attention on the woman's past; it was said +that despite her beauty, her aristrocratic manners, the brilliancy of +mind with which she had dazzled him--a poor country boy--she was only an +adventuress who had made her way over half the globe from one pair of +arms to another. Well, in that case, it would be a great exploit to win +a woman whom princes and celebrated men had loved! But since that was +impossible, why go on, why continue endangering his career and having +trouble with his mother all the time? + +To forget her, he stressed, before his own mind, words and attitudes of +hers that might be judged defects; and he would taste the joy of duty +well done when, after such gymnastics of the will, he could think of her +without great emotion. + +At the beginning of his life in Madrid he imagined he had recovered. New +surroundings; continuous and petty satisfactions to vanity; the +kow-towing of doorkeepers in Congress; the flattery of visitors from +here, there and everywhere who came with requests for passes to admit +them to the galleries; the sense of being treated as a comrade by +celebrities, whose names his father had always mentioned with bated +breath; the "honorable" always written before his name; all Alcira +speaking to him with affectionate familiarity; this rubbing elbows, on +the benches of the conservative majority, with a battalion of dukes, +counts and marquises--young men who had become deputies to round out the +distinction conferred by beautiful sweethearts or winning +thoroughbreds,--all this had intoxicated him, filled his mind +completely, crowding out all other thoughts, and persuading him that he +had been completely cured. + +But as he grew familiar with his new life, and the novelty of all this +adulation wore off, tenacious recollections rose again in his memory. At +night, when sleep relaxed the will to forget, which his vigilance kept +at painful tension, that blue house, the green, diabolical eyes of its +principal denizen, that pair of fresh lips with their ironic smile that +seemed to quiver between two rows of gleaming white teeth, would become +the inevitable center of all his dreams. + +Why resist any longer? He could think of her as much as he +pleased--that, at least, his mother would never learn. And he gave +himself up to the imagination of love, where distance lent an ever +stronger enchantment to that woman. + +He felt a vehement longing to return to his city. Absence seemed to do +away with all the obstacles at home. His mother was not so formidable as +he had thought. Who could tell whether, when he went back--changed as he +felt himself to be by his new experiences--it would not be easier to +continue the old relations? After so much isolation and solitude she +might receive him in more cordial fashion! + +The Cortes were about to adjourn, so, in obedience to repeated urging +from his fellow-partisans, and from dona Bernarda, to _do +something_--anything at all--to show interest in the home town--he took +the floor one afternoon at the opening of the session, when only the +president, the sergeant-at-arms, and a few reporters asleep in the +press-gallery, were present, and, with his lunch rising in his throat +from emotion, asked the Minister of Internal Affairs to show a little +more despatch in the matter of flood protection at Alcira--a bill still +in its in-fancy, though it had been pending some seventy years. + +After this he was free to return with the halo of a "business-like" +deputy shining about his head--"a zealous defender of the region's +interests," the local weekly and party organ called him. And that +morning, as he stepped off the train, the deputy, deaf to the Royal +March and to the _vivas_, stood up on tiptoe, trying to descry through +the waving banners the Blue House nestling in the distance among the +orange-trees. + +As he approached the place that afternoon he was almost sick with +nervousness and emotion. For one last time he thought of his mother, so +intent upon maintaining her prestige and so fearful of hostile gossip; +of the demagogues who had thronged the doors of the cafes that morning, +making fun of the demonstration in his honor; but all his scruples +vanished at sight of the hedge of tall rose-bays and prickly hawthorns +and of the two blue pillars supporting a barrier of green wooden bars. +Resolutely he pushed the gate open, and entered the garden. + +Orange-trees stretched in rows along broad straight walks of red earth. +On either side of the approach to the house was a tangle of tall +rose-bushes on which the first buds, heralds of an early spring, were +already beginning to appear. + +Above the chattering of the sparrows and the rustle of the wind in the +trees, Rafael could hear the sound of a piano--the keys barely touched +by the player's fingers--and a soft, timid voice, as if the song were +meant for the singer alone. + +It was she. Rafael knew the music: a _Lied_ by Schubert--the favorite +composer of the day; a master "whose best work was still unknown," as +she said in the cant she had learned from the critics, alluding to the +fact that only the least subtle of the melancholy composer's works had +thus far been popularized. + +The young man advanced slowly, cautiously, as if afraid lest the sound +of his footsteps break in upon that melody which seemed to be rocking +the garden lovingly to sleep in the afternoon's golden sunlight. + +He reached the open space in front of the house and once more found +there the same murmuring palms, the same rubblework benches with seats +and backs of flowered tile that he knew so well. There, in fact, she had +so often laughed at his feverish protestations. + +The door was closed; but through a half-opened window he could see a +patch of silk; a woman's back, bending slightly forward over the music. + +As Rafael came up a dog began to bark at the end of the garden. Some +hens that had been scratching about in sand of the drive, scampered off +cackling with fright. The music stopped. A chair scraped as it was +pushed back. The lady was rising to her feet. + +At the balcony a flowing gown of blue appeared; but all that Rafael saw +was a pair of eyes--green eyes, that seemed to fill the entire window +with a flood of light. + +"Beppa! Beppina!" cried a firm, a warm, a sonorous, soprano voice. +"_Apri la porta_. Open the door." + +And with a slight inclination of her splendid head of thick auburn hair +that seemed to crown her with a helmet of old gold, she smiled to him +with a friendly, somewhat mocking, intimacy: + +"Welcome, Rafaelito. I don't know why, but I was expecting you this +afternoon. We have heard all about your triumphs; the music and the +tumult reached even to our desert. My congratulations to the Honorable +don Rafael Brull. Come right in, I _su senoria_." + + + + +II + + +From Valencia to Jativa, in all that immense territory covered with +rice-fields and orange groves which Valencians embrace under the general +and rather vague designation of _La Ribera_, there was no one unfamiliar +with the name of Brull and the political power it stood for. + +As if national unity had not yet been effected and the country were +still divided into _taifas_ and _waliatos_ as in the days when one +Moorish King reigned over Carlet, another over Denia, and a third over +Jativa, the election system maintained a sort of inviolable rulership in +every district; and when the Administration people came to Alcira in +forecasting their political prospects, they always said the same thing: + +"We're all right there. We can rely on Brull." + +The Brull dynasty had been bossing the district for thirty years, with +ever-increasing power. + +The founder of this sovereign house had been Rafael's grandfather, the +shrewd don Jaime, who had established the family fortune by fifty years +of slow exploitation of ignorance and poverty. He began life as a clerk +in the _Ayuntamiento_ of Alcira; then he became secretary to the +municipal judge, then assistant to the city clerk, then +assistant-registrar of deeds. There was not a subordinate position in +those offices where the poor come in contact with the law that he did +not get his hands on; and from such points of vantage, by selling +justice as a favor and using power or adroitness to subdue the +refractory, he felt his way along, appropriating parcel after parcel of +that fertile soil which he adored with a miser's covetousness. + +A brazen charlatan he was, every moment talking of "Article Number +So-and-So" of the law that applied to the case. The poor orchard workers +came to have as much awe for his learning as fear of his malice, and in +all their controversies they sought his advice and paid for it, as if he +were a lawyer. + +When he had gotten a small fortune together, he continued holding his +menial posts in the city administration to retain the superstitious +respect which is inspired in peasant-folk by all who are on good terms +with the law; but not content with playing the eternal beggar, dependent +on the humble gratuities of the poor, he took to pulling them out of +their financial difficulties, lending them money on the collateral of +their future harvests. + +But six per cent seemed too petty a profit for him. The real plight of +these folk came when a horse died and they had to buy another. Don Jaime +became a dealer in dray horses, buying more or less defective animals +from gypsies in Valencia, praising their virtues to the skies, and +reselling them as thoroughbreds. And no sale on the instalment plan! +Cash down! The horses did not belong to him--as he vowed with his hand +pressed solemnly to his bosom--and their owners wished to realize on +their value at once. The best he could do in the circumstances prompted +by his greatness of heart, which always overflowed at the sight of +poverty was to borrow money for the purchase from a friend of his. + +The peasant in his desperate need would fall into the snare, and carry +off the horse after signing all kinds of notes and mortgages to cover +the loan of money he had not seen! For the don Jaime who spoke for the +unknown party in the deal transferred the cash to the same don Jaime who +spoke for the owner of the horse. Result: the rustic bought an animal, +without chaffering, at double its value, having in addition borrowed a +lot of money at cut-throat interest. In every turn-over of this sort don +Jaime doubled his principal. New straits inevitably developed for the +dupe; the interest kept piling up; hence new concessions, still more +ruinous than the first, that don Jaime might be placated and give the +purchaser a month's reprieve. + +Every Wednesday, which was market-day in Alcira and brought a great +crowd of orchard-folk to town, the street where don Jaime lived was the +busiest in the city. People came in droves to ask for renewal of their +notes, each leaving a tip of several _pesetas_ usually, not to be +counted against the debt itself. Others, humbly, timidly, as if they had +come to rob the grasping Shylock, would ask for loans; and the strange +thing about it, as the malicious noted, was that all these people, after +leaving everything they owned in don Jaime's hands, went off content, +their faces beaming with satisfaction, as if they had just been rescued +from a danger. + +This was don Jaime's chief skill. He had the trick of making usury look +like kindness; he always spoke of _those fellows_, those hidden owners +of the money and the horses--heartless wretches who were "after him," +holding him responsible for the short-comings of all their debtors. The +burdens he thus supposedly assumed won him a reputation as a +kind-hearted soul, and such confidence was the wily old demon able to +instill in his victims that when mortgages were foreclosed on homes or +fields, many of the unfortunates despoiled, would say, resignedly: + +"It's not his fault. What could the poor man do if they forced him to +it? It's those _other fellows_ who are sucking the blood of us poor +folks." + +And so, quietly, leisurely, tranquilly, don Jaime got possession of a +field here, then another there, then a third between the two; and in a +few years he had rounded out a beautiful orchard of orange-trees with +virtually no expenditure of capital at all. Thus his property went on +increasing, and, with his radiant smile, his spectacles on his forehead +and his paunch growing fatter and fatter, he could be seen surrounded by +new victims, addressing them with the affectionate _tu_, patting them on +the back, and vowing that this weakness he had for the doing of favors +would some day bring him to dying like a dog in the gutter. + +Thus he went on prospering. Nor was all the scoffing of city people of +any avail in shaking the confidence reposed in him by that flock of +rustics, who feared him as they feared the Law itself and believed in +him as they believed in God. + +A loan to a spendthrift eldest son made him the proprietor of the fine +city mansion, which came to be known as "the Brull place." From that +date he began to hob-nob with the large real-estate owners of the city, +who, though they despised this upstart, made a small place for him in +their midst with the instinctive solidarity that characterizes the +freemasonry of money. To gain a little more standing for his name, he +became a votary of San Bernardo, contributed to the funds for church +festivals, and danced attendance on the _alcalde_, whoever that "mayor" +might be. In his eyes now, the only people in Alcira were such as +collected thousands of _duros_, whenever harvest time came around. The +rest were rabble, rabble, sir! + +Then, at last he resigned the petty offices he had been filling; and +handing his usury business over to those who formerly had served him as +go-betweens, he set himself to the task of marrying off his son and sole +heir, Ramon, an idling ne'er-do-well, who was always getting into +trouble and upsetting the tranquil comfort that surrounded old Brull as +he rested from his plunderings. + +The father felt the satisfaction of a bully in having such a tall, +strong, daring and insolent son, a boy who compelled respect in cafes +and clubs more with his fists than with the special privileges conferred +in small towns by wealth. Let anyone dare make fun of the old usurer +when he had such a fire-eater to protect him! + +Ramon had wanted to join the Army; but every time he referred to what he +called his vocation, his father would fly into a rage. "Do you think +that is what I've worked for all these years?" He could remember the +time when, as a poor clerk, he had been forced to fawn on his superiors +and listen humbly, cringingly, to their reprimands. He did not want a +boy of his to be shoved about hither and thither like a mere machine. +"Plenty of brass buttons," he exclaimed with the scorn of a man never to +be taken in by external show, "and plenty of gold braid! But after all, +a slave, a slave!" + +No, he wanted to see his son free and influential, continuing the +conquest of the city, completing the family greatness of which he had +laid the foundations, getting power over people much as he himself had +gotten power over money. Ramon must become a lawyer, the only career for +a man destined to rule others. It was a passionate ambition the old +pettifogger had, to see his scion enter through the front door and with +head proudly erect, the precincts of the law, into which he had crawled +so cautiously and at the risk, more than once, of being dragged out with +a chain fastened to his ankle. + +Ramon spent several years in Valencia without getting beyond the +elementary courses in Common Law. The cursed classes were held in the +morning, you see, and he had to go to bed at dawn--the hour when the +lights in the pool-rooms went out. Besides, in his quarters at the hotel +he had a magnificent shotgun--a present from his father; and +homesickness for the orchards made him pass many an afternoon at the +pigeon traps where he was far better known than at the University. + +This fine specimen of masculine youth--tall, muscular, tanned, with a +pair of domineering eyes to which thick eyebrows gave a touch of +harshness--had been born for action, and excitement; Ramon simply +couldn't concentrate on books! + +Old Brull, who through niggardliness and prudence had placed his son on +"half rations," as he put it, sent the boy just money enough to keep him +going; but dupe, in turn, of the wiles he had formerly practiced on the +rustics of Alcira, he was compelled to make frequent trips to Valencia, +to come to some understanding with money lenders there, who had +advanced loans to his son on such terms that insolvency might lead Ramon +to a prison cell. + +Home to Alcira came rumors of other exploits by the "Prince," as don +Jaime called his boy in view of the latter's ability to run through +money. In parties with friends of the family, don Ramon's doings were +spoken of as scandalous actually--a duel after a quarrel at cards; then +a father and a brother--common workingmen in flannel shirts!--who had +sworn they would kill him if he didn't marry a certain girl he had been +taking to her shop by day and to dance-halls by night. + +Old Brull made up his mind to tolerate these escapades of his son no +longer; and he made him give up his studies. Ramon would not be a +lawyer; well, after all, one didn't have to have a degree to be a man of +importance. Besides the father felt he was getting old; it was hard for +him to look after the working of his orchards personally. He could make +good use of that son who seemed to have been born to impose his will +upon everybody around him. + +For some time past don Jaime had had his eye on the daughter of a friend +of his. The Brull house showed noticeable lack of a woman's presence. +His wife had died shortly after his retirement from business, and the +old codger stamped in rage at the slovenliness and laziness displayed by +his servants. He would marry Ramon to Bernarda--an ugly, ill-humored, +yellowish, skinny creature--but sole heiress to her father's three +beautiful orchards. Besides, she was conspicuous for her industrious, +economical ways, and a parsimony in her expenditures that came pretty +close to stinginess. + +Ramon did as his father bade him. Brought up with all the ideas of a +rural skinflint, he thought no decent person could object to marrying an +ugly bad-tempered woman, so long as she had plenty of money. + +The father-in-law and the daughter-in-law understood each other +perfectly. The old man's eyes would water at sight of that stern, +long-faced puritan, who never had much to say in the house, but went +into high dudgeon over the slightest waste on the part of the domestics, +scolding the farmhands for the merest oversight in the orchards, +haggling and wrangling with the orange drummers for a _centime_ more or +less per hundredweight. That new daughter of his was to be the solace of +his old age! + +Meantime, the "prince" would be off hunting every morning in the nearby +mountains and lounging every afternoon in the cafe; but he was no longer +content with the admiration of the idlers hanging around a billiard +table, nor was he taking part in the game upstairs. He was frequenting +the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with the _alcalde_ +and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all "decent" +folk together to take the "rabble" in hand! + +"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his +daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get +there... That's the way I like to see him." + +Ramon began by winning a seat in the _Ayuntamiento_, and soon was an +outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded +as a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the +streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest +glory was to have his enemies say of him: + +"Look out for that Ramon ... He's a tough proposition." + +Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish +hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living, +that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched" +by anyone who could serve, in tavern and cafe, as advertising agent of +his rising fame. + +And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward +with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a +short time he had become _alcalde;_ his prestige outgrew the limits of +the city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the +capital of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from +military service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that +backed him, although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw +to it that the constabulary was not too energetic in running down the +_roders_, the "wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election +time, would be forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole +country dared make a move without the previous consent of don Ramon, +whom his adherents always respectfully called their _quefe_, their +"chief." + +Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramon reach the zenith of his fame. +That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the +city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in +addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty +assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who +had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and +ambition. + +Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation +of all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his +soul heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And, +though the rabble--the political opponents of the son, that is--recalled +those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would come +to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and sane +people--people who had something in this world to lose--mourned the +death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen from the +lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune by hard +work, honest hard work! + +In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had +caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings with +peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the _cacique's_ power stifled +all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women cost very +little money, dona Bernarda pretended to know nothing about them. She +did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow, +self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties +are fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving +money. + +By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to +start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money +against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the +lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political +sovereignty over the region. + +Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramon +would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who +might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who governed +yonder in Madrid had ordered--and orders must be obeyed. In every town +whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern wine would +flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of _pesetas_ +would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don Ramon's +expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper to save on +clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly anything left +for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when the day for +the contest came around, ready in her excitement to help her husband +throw the entire house through the window, if need be. + +This, however, was all pure speculation on her part. The money that was +being scattered so madly broadcast was a "loan" simply. Some day she +would get it back with interest. Already her piercing eyes were +caressing the tiny, dark-complexioned, restless little creature that lay +across her knees, seeing in him the privileged heir-apparent who would +one day reap the harvest from all such family sacrifices. + +Dona Bernarda had taken refuge in religion as in a cool, refreshing +oasis in the desert of vulgarity and monotony in her life. Her heart +would swell with pride every time a priest would say to her in the +church: + +"Take good care of don Ramon. Thanks to him the wave of demagogy halts +at the temple door and evil fails to triumph in the District. He is the +bulwark of the Lord against the impious!" + +And when, after such a declaration, which flattered her worldly vanity +and assured her of a mansion in Heaven, she would pass through the +streets of Alcira in her calico wrapper and a shawl not over-clean, +greeted affectionately, effusively, by the leading citizens, she would +pardon don Ramon all the infidelities she knew about and consider the +sacrifice of her fortune a good investment. + +"If it were not for what we do, what would happen to the District.... +The lower scum would conquer--those wild-eyed mechanics and common +laborers who read the Valencian newspapers and talk about equality all +the time. And they would divide up the orchards, and demand that the +product of the harvests--thousands and thousands of _duros_ paid for +oranges by the Englishmen and the French--should belong to all." But to +stave off such a cataclysm, there stood don Ramon, the scourge of the +wicked, the champion of "the cause" which he led to triumph, gun in +hand, at election time; and just as he was able to send any rebellious +trouble-maker off to the penal settlement, so he found it easy to keep +at liberty all those who, despite the various murders that figured in +their biographies, lent themselves to the service of the government in +this support of "law and order!" + +The patrimony of the House of Brull went down and down, but its prestige +rose higher and higher. The sacks of money filled by the old man at the +cost of so much roguery were shaken empty over all the District; nor +were several assaults upon the municipal treasury sufficient to bring +them back to normal roundness. Don Ramon contemplated this squandering +impassively, proud that people should be talking of his generosity as +much as of his power. + +The whole District worshipped as a sacred flagstaff that bronzed, +muscular, massive figure, which floated a huge, flowing, gray-flecked +mustache from its upper end. + +"Don Ramon, you ought to remove that bush," his clerical friends would +say to him with a smile of affectionate banter. "Why, man, you look just +like Victor Emmanuel himself, the Pope's jailer." + +But though don Ramon was a fervent Catholic (who never went to mass), +and hated all the infidel turnkeys of the Holy Father, he would grin and +give a satisfied twirl at the offending mouth-piece, quite flattered at +bottom to be likened to a king. + +The _patio_ of the Brull mansion was the throne of his sovereignty. His +partisans would find him there, pacing up and down among the green boxes +of plantain trees, his hands clasped behind his broad, strong, but now +somewhat stooping back--a majestic back withal, capable of supporting +hosts and hosts of friends. + +There he "administered justice," decided the fate of families, settled +the affairs of towns--all in a few off-hand but short and decisive +words, like one of those ancient Moorish kings who, in that selfsame +territory, centuries before, legislated for their subjects under the +open sky. On market-days the _patio_ would be thronged. Carts would stop +in long lines on either side of the door. All the hitching-posts along +the streets would have horses tied to them, and inside, the house would +be buzzing like a bee-hive with the chatter of that rustic gentry. + +Don Ramon would give them all a hearing, frowning gravely meanwhile, his +chin on his bosom and one hand on the head of the little Rafael at his +side--a pose copied from a chromo of the Kaiser petting the Crown +Prince. + +On afternoons when the _Ayuntamiento_ was in session, the chief could +never leave his _patio_. Of course not a chair in the city hall could be +dusted without his permission; but he preferred to remain invisible, +like a god, knowing well that his power would seem more terrible if it +spoke only from the pillar of fire or from the whirlwind. + +All day long city councilors would go trotting back and forth from the +City Hall to the Brull _patio._ The few enemies don Ramon had in the +Council--meddlers, dona Bernarda called them--idiots who swallowed +everything in print provided it were against the King and +religion--attacked the _cacique_ persistently, censuring everything he +did. Don Ramon's henchmen would tremble with impotent rage. "That charge +must be answered! Let's see now: somebody go and ask the boss!" + +And a _regidor_ would be off to don Ramon's like a greyhound; and +arriving at the _patio_ panting, out of breath, he would heave a sigh of +relief and contentment at sight of "the chief" there, pacing up and down +as usual, ready to get his friends out of their difficulties as if the +limitless resources of Providence were at his command. "So-and-So said +this-and-that!" Don Ramon would stop in his tracks, think a moment, and +finally say, in an enigmatic oracular voice: "Very well, tell him to put +this in his pipe and smoke it!" Whereupon the henchman, mouth agape, +would rush back to the session like a racehorse. His companions would +gather about him eager to know the reply that don Ramon's wisdom had +deigned to suggest; and a quarrel would start then, each one anxious to +have the privilege of annihilating the enemy with the magic words--all +talking at the same time like magpies suddenly set chattering by the +dawn of a new light. + +If the opposition held its ground, again stupefaction would come over +them. Another mad dash in quest of a new consultation. Thus the sessions +would go by, to the great delight of the barber Cupido--the sharpest and +meanest tongue in the city--who, whenever the Council met, would observe +to his early morning shaves: + +"Holiday today: the usual race of councilors bare-back." + +When party exigencies forced don Ramon to be out of town, it was his +wife, the energetic dona Bernarda, who attended to the consultations, +issuing statements on party policy, as wise and apt as those of "the +chief" himself. + +This collaboration in the upbuilding and the up-holding of the family +influence was the single bond of union between husband and wife. This +cold woman, a complete stranger to tenderness, would flush with pleasure +every time the chief approved her ideas. If only she were "boss" of "the +Party!" ...Don Andres had often said as much himself! + +This don Andres was her husband's most intimate friend, one of those men +who are born to be second everywhere and in everything. Loyal to the +family to the point of sacrifice, he served, with the couple itself, to +fill out the Holy Trinity of the Brull religion that was the faith of +all the District. Where don Ramon could not go in person, don Andres +would be present for him, as the chief's _alter ego_. In the towns he +was respected as the supreme vicar of that god whose throne was in the +_patio_ of the plantain trees; and people too shy to lay their +supplications before the god himself, would seek out that jolly +advocate,--a very approachable bachelor, who always had a smile on his +tanned, wrinkled face, and a story under his stiff cigar-stained +mustache. + +Don Andres had no relatives, and spent almost all his time at the +Brull's. He was like a piece of furniture that seems always to be +getting in the way at first; but when all were once accustomed to him, +he became an indispensable fixture in the family. In the days when don +Ramon had been a young subordinate of the _Ayuntamiento_, he had met and +liked the man, and taking him into the ranks of his "heelers," had +promoted him rapidly to be chief of staff. In the opinion of the "boss," +there wasn't a cleverer, shrewder fellow in the world than don Andres, +nor one with a better memory for names and faces. Brull was the +strategist who directed the campaign; don Andres the tactician who +commanded actual operations and cleaned up behind the lines when the +enemy was divided and undone. Don Ramon was given to settling everything +in a violent manner, and drew his gun at the slightest provocation. If +his methods had been followed, "the Party" would have murdered someone +every day. Don Andres had a smooth tongue and a seraphic smile that +simply wound _alcaldes_ or rebellious electors around his little +finger, and his specialty was the art of letting loose a rain of sealed +documents over the District that started complicated and never-ending +prosecutions against troublesome opponents. + +He attended to "the chief's" correspondence, and was tutor and playmate +to the little Rafael, taking the boy on long walks through the orchard +country. To dona Bernarda he was confidential adviser. + +That surly, severe woman showed her bare heart to no one in the world +save don Andres. Whenever he called her his "senora," or his "worthy +mistress," she could not restrain a gesture of satisfaction; and it was +to him that she poured out her complaints against her husband's +misdeeds. Her affection for him was that of a dame of ancient chivalry +for her private squire. Enthusiasm for the glory of the house united +them in such intimacy that the opposition wagged its tongues, asserting +that dona Bernarda was getting even for her husband's waywardness. But +don Andres, who smiled scornfully when accused of taking advantage of +the chief's influence to drive hard bargains to his own advantage, was +not the man to be trifled with if gossip ventured to smirch his +friendship with the _senora_. + +Their Trinity was most closely cemented, however, by their fondness for +Rafael, the little tot destined to bring fame to the name of Brull and +realize the ambitions of both his grandfather and his father. + +Rafael was a quiet, morose little boy, whose gentleness of disposition +seemed to irritate the hard-hearted dona Bernarda. He was always hanging +on to her skirts. Every time she raised her eyes she would find the +little fellow's gaze fixed upon her. + +"Go out and play in _the patio_," the mother would say. + +And the little fellow, moody and resigned, would leave the room, as if +in obedience to a disagreeable command. + +Don Andres alone was successful in amusing the child, with his tales and +his strolls through the orchards, picking flowers for him, making +whistles for him out of reeds. It was don Andres who took him to school, +also, and who advertised the boy's fondness for study everywhere. + +If don Rafael were a serious, melancholy lad, that defect was chargeable +to his interest in books, and at the Casino, the "Party's" Club, he +would say to his fellow-worshippers: + +"You'll see something doing when Rafaelito grows up. That kid is going +to be another Canovas." + +And before all those rustic minds the vision of a Brull at the head of +the Government would suddenly flash, filling the first page of the +newspapers with speeches six columns long, and a _To Be Continued_ at +the end; and they could see themselves rolling in money and running all +Spain, just as they now ran their District, to their own sweet wills. + +Never did a Prince of Wales grow up amid the respect and the adulation +heaped upon little Brull. At school, the children regarded him as a +superior being who had condescended to come down among them for his +education. A well-scribbled sheet, a lesson fluently repeated, were +enough for the teacher, who belonged to "the Party" (just to collect his +wages on time and without trouble,) to declare in prophetic tones: + +"Go on working like that, senor de Brull. You are destined to great +things." + +At the _tertulias_ his mother attended evenings in his company, it was +enough for him to recite a fable or get off some piece of learning +characteristic of a studious child eager to bring his school work into +the conversation, for the women to rush upon him and smother him with +kisses. + +"But how much that child knows!... How brilliant he is!" + +And some old woman would add, sententiously: + +"Bernarda, take good care of the child; don't let him use his brain so +much. It's bad for him. See how peaked he looks!..." + +He finished his preparatory education with the Dominicans, taking the +leading role in all the plays given in the tiny theatre of the friars, +and always with a place in the first line on prize days. The Party organ +dedicated an annual article to the scholastic prodigies of the "gifted +son of our distinguished chief don Ramon Brull, the country's hope, who +already merits title as the shining light of the future!" + +When Rafael, escorted by his mother and half a dozen women who had +witnessed the exercises, would come home, gleaming with medals and his +arms full of diplomas, he would stoop and kiss his father's hard, +bristly hand; and that claw would caress the boy's head and +absent-mindedly sink into the old man's vest pocket--for don Ramon +expected to pay for all welcome favors. + +"Very good," the hoarse voice would murmur. "That's the way I like to +see you do ...Here's a _duro_." + +And not till the following year would the boy again know what a caress +from his father meant. On certain occasions, playing in the _patio_, he +had surprised the austere old man gazing at him fixedly, as if trying to +foresee his future. + +Don Andres took charge of settling Rafael in Valencia when he began his +university studies. The dream of old don Jaime, disillusioned in the +son, would be fulfilled in the third generation! + +"This one at least will be a lawyer!" said dona Bernarda, who in the old +days had imbibed don Jaime's eagerness for the university degree, which +to her seemed like a title of nobility for the family. + +And lest the corruption of the city should lead the son astray as it had +done Ramon in his student days, she would send don Andres frequently to +the capital, and write letter after letter to her Valencian friends, +particularly to a canon of her intimate acquaintance, asking them not to +lose sight of the boy. + +But Rafael was good behavior itself; a model boy, a "serious" young man, +the good canon assured the mother. The distinctions and the prizes that +came to him in Alcira continued to pursue him in Valencia; and besides, +don Ramon and his wife learned from the papers of the triumphs achieved +by their son in the debating society, a nightly gathering of law +students in a university hall, where future Solons wrangled on such +themes as "Resolved: that the French Revolution was more of a good than +an evil," or "Resolved, that Socialism is superior to Christianity." + +Some terrible youths, who had to get home before ten o'clock to escape a +whipping, declared themselves rabid socialists and frightened the +beadles with curses on the institution of property--all rights reserved, +of course, to apply, as soon as they got out of college, for some +position under the government as registrar of deeds or secretary of +prefecture! But Rafael, ever sane and a congenital "moderate," was not +of those fire-brands; he sat on "the Right" of the august assembly of +Wranglers, maintaining a "sound" attitude on all questions, thinking +what he thought "with" Saint Thomas and "with" other orthodox sages whom +his clerical Mentor pointed out to him. + +These triumphs were announced by telegraph in the Party papers, which, +to garnish the chief's glory and avoid suspicion of "inspiration," +always began the article with: "According to a despatch printed in the +Metropolitan press ..." + +"What a boy!" the priests of Alcira would say to dona Bernarda. "What a +silver tongue! You'll see; he'll be a second Manterola!" + +And whenever Rafael came home for the holidays or on vacation, each time +taller than before, dressed like a fashion-plate and with mannerisms +that she took for the height of distinction, the saintly mother would +say to herself with the satisfaction of a woman who knows what it means +to be homely: + +"What a handsome chap he's getting to be. All the rich girls in town +will be after him. He'll have his pick of them." + +Dona Bernarda felt proud of her Rafael, a tall youth, with delicate yet +powerful hands, large eyes, an aquiline nose, a curly beard and a +certain leisurely, undulating grace of movement that suggested one of +those young Arabs of the white cloak and elegant babooshes, who +constitute the native aristocracy of Spain's African colonies. + +Every time the student came home, his father gave him the same silent +caress. In course of time the _duro_ had been replaced by a hundred +_peseta_ note; but the rough claw that grazed his head was falling now +with an energy ever weaker and seemed to grow lighter with the years. + +Rafael, from long periods of absence, noted his father's condition +better than the rest. The old man was ill, very ill. As tall as ever, as +austere and imposing, and as little given to words. But he was growing +thinner. His fierce eyes were sinking deeper into their sockets. There +was little left to him now except his massive frame. His neck, once as +sturdy as a bull's, showed the tendons and the arteries under the loose, +wrinkled skin; and his mustache, once so arrogant, but now withering +with each successive day, drooped dispiritedly like the banner of a +defeated army wet with rain. + +The boy was surprised at the gestures and tears of anger with which his +mother welcomed expression of his fears. + +"Well, I hope he'll die as soon as possible ... Lot's of use he is to +us!... May the Lord be merciful and take him off right now." + +Rafael said nothing, not caring to pry into the conjugal drama that was +secretly and silently playing its last act before his eyes. + +Don Ramon, that somber libertine of insatiable appetites, prey to a +sinister, mysterious inebriation, was tossing in a last whirlwind of +tempestuous desire, as though the blaze of sunset had set fire to what +remained of his vitality. + +With a deliberate, determined lustfulness, he went scouring the +District like a wild satyr, and his brutish assaults, his terrorism and +abuse of authority, were reported back by scurrilous tongues to the +seignorial mansion, where his friend don Andres was trying in vain to +pacify the wife. + +"That man!" dona Bernarda would stammer in her rage. "That man is going +to ruin us! Doesn't he see he's compromising his son's future?" + +His most enthusiastic adherents, without losing their traditional +respect for him, would speak smilingly of his "weaknesses"; but at +night, when don Ramon, exhausted by his struggle with the insatiable +demon gnawing at his spirit, would be snoring painfully away, with a +disgusting rattle that made it impossible for people in the house to +sleep, dona Bernarda would sit up in her bed with her thin arms folded +across her bosom, and pray to herself: + +"My Lord, My God! May this man die as soon as possible! May all this +come to an end soon, oh Lord!" + +And Bernarda's God must have heard her prayer, for her husband got +rapidly worse. + +"Take care of yourself, don Ramon," his curate friends would say to him. +They were the only ones who dared allude to his disorderly life. "You're +getting old, and boyish pranks at your age are invitations to Death!" + +The _cacique_ would smile, proud, at bottom, that all men should know +that such exploits were possible for a man at his age. + +He had enough strength left for one more caress the day when, escorted +by don Andres, Rafael entered with his degree as a Doctor of Law. He +gave the boy his shotgun--a veritable jewel, the admiration of the +entire District--and a magnificent horse. And as if he had been waiting +around just to see the realization of old Don Jaime's ambition, which he +himself had not been able to fulfill, he passed away. + +All the bells of the city tolled mournfully. + +The Party weekly came out with a black border a palm wide; and from all +over the District folks came in droves to see whether the powerful don +Ramon Brull, who had been able to rain upon the just and unjust alike on +this earth, could possibly have died the same as any other human being. + + + + +III + + +When dona Bernarda found herself alone, and absolute mistress of her +home, she could not conceal her satisfaction. + +Now they would see what a woman could do. + +She counted on the advice and experience of don Andres, who was closer +than ever to her now; and on the prestige of Rafael, the young lawyer, +who bade fair to sustain the reputation of the Brulls. + +The power of the family continued unchanged. Don Andres, who, at the +death of his master, had succeeded to the authority of a second father +in the Brull house, saw to the maintenance of relations with the +authorities at the provincial capital and with the still bigger fish in +Madrid. Petitions were heard in the _patio_ the same as ever. Loyal +party adherents were received as cordially as before and the same favors +were done, nor was there any decline of influence in places that don +Andres referred to as "the spheres of public administration." + +There came an election for Parliament, and as usual, dona Bernarda +secured the triumph of the individual whose nomination had been dictated +from Madrid. Don Ramon had left the party machine in perfect condition; +all it needed was enough "grease" to keep it running smoothly; and there +his widow was besides, ever alert at the slightest suggestion of a creak +in the gearing. + +At provincial headquarters they spoke of the District with the usual +confidence: + +"It's ours. Brull's son is as powerful as the old man himself." + +The truth was that Rafael took little interest in "the Party." He looked +upon it as one of the family properties, the title to which no one could +dispute. He confined his personal activities to obeying his mother. "Go +to Riola with don Andres. Our friends there will be happy to see you." +And he would go on the trip, to suffer the torment of an interminable +rally, a _paella_, during which his fellow partisans would bore him with +their uncouth merriment and ill-mannered flattery. "You really ought to +give your horse a couple of days' rest. Instead of going out for a ride, +spend your afternoon at the Club! Our fellows are complaining they never +get a sight of you." Whereupon Rafael would give up his rides--his sole +pleasure practically--and plunge into a thick smoke-laden atmosphere of +noise and shouting, where he would have to answer questions of the most +illustrious members of the party. They would sit around, filling their +coffee-saucers with cigar-ash, disputing as to which was the better +orator, Castelar or Canovas, and, in case of a war between France and +Germany, which of the two would win--idle subjects that always provoked +disagreements and led to quarrels. + +The only time he entered into voluntary relations with "the Party" was +when he took his pen in hand and manufactured for the Brull weekly a +series of articles on "Law and Morality" and "Liberty and Faith,"--the +rehashings of a faithful, industrious plodder at school, prolix +commonplaces seasoned with what metaphysical terminology he remembered, +and which, from the very reason that nobody understood them, excited +the admiration of his fellow partisans. They would blink at the articles +and say to don Andres: + +"What a pen, eh? Just let anyone dare to argue with him.... Deep, that +noodle, I tell you!" + +Nights, when his mother did not oblige him to visit the home of some +influential voter who must be kept content, he would spend reading, no +longer, however, as in Valencia, books lent him by the canon, but works +that he bought himself, following the recommendations of the press, and +that his mother respected with the veneration always inspired in her by +printed paper sewed and bound, an awe comparable only to the scorn she +felt for newspapers, dedicated, every one of them, as she averred, to +the purpose of insulting holy things and stirring up the brutal passions +of "the rabble." + +These years of random reading, unrestrained by the scruples and the +fears of a student, gradually and quietly shattered many of Rafael's +firm beliefs. They broke the mould in which the friends of his mother +had cast his mind and made him dream of a broader life than the one +known to those about him. French novels transported him to a Paris that +far outshone the Madrid he had known for a moment in his graduate days. +Love stories awoke in his youthful imagination an ardor for adventure +and involved passions in which there was something of the intense love +of indulgence that had been his father's besetting sin. He came to dwell +more and more in the fictitious world of his readings, where there were +elegant, perfumed, clever women, practicing a certain art in the +refinement of their vices. + +The uncouth, sunburned orchard-girls inspired him with revulsion as if +they had been women of another race, creatures of an inferior genus. The +young ladies of the city seemed to him peasants in disguise, with the +narrow, selfish, stingy instincts of their parents. They knew the exact +market price of oranges and just how much land was owned by each +aspirant to their hand; and they adjusted their love to the wealth of +the pretender, believing it the test of quality to appear implacable +toward everything not fashioned to the mould of their petty life of +prejudice and tradition. + +For that reason he was deeply bored by his colorless, humdrum existence, +so far removed from that other purely imaginative life which rose from +the pages of his books and enveloped him with an exotic, exciting +perfume. + +Some day he would be free, and take flight on his own wings; and that +day of liberation would come when he got to be deputy. He waited for his +coming of age much as an heir-apparent waits for the moment of his +coronation. + +From early boyhood he had been taught to look forward to the great event +which would cut his life in two, opening out new pathways for a "forward +march" to fame and fortune. + +"When my little boy gets to be deputy," his mother would say in her rare +moments of affectionate expansiveness, "the girls will fight for him +because he is so handsome! And he'll marry a millionairess!" + +Meanwhile, in long years of impatient anticipation, his life went on, +with no special circumstance to break its dull monotony--the life of an +aspirant certain of his lot, "killing time" till the call should come +to enter on his heritage. He was like those noble youngsters of bygone +centuries who, graced in their cradles by the rank of colonel from the +monarch, played around with hoop and top till they were old enough to +join their regiments. He had been born a deputy, and a deputy he was +sure to be: for the moment, he was waiting for his cue in the wings of +the theatre of life. + +His trip to Italy on a pilgrimage to see the Pope was the one event that +had disturbed the dreary course of his existence. But in that country of +marvels, with a pious canon for a guide, he visited churches rather than +museums. Of theatres he saw only two--larks permitted by his tutor, +whose austerity was somewhat mollified in those changing scenes. +Indifferently they passed the famous artistic works of the Italian +churches, but paused always to venerate some relic with miracles as +famous as absurd. Even so, Rafael managed to catch a confused and +passing glimpse of a world different from the one in which he was +predestined to pass his life. From a distance he sensed something of the +love of pleasure and romance he had drunk in like an intoxicating wine +from his reading. In Milan he admired a gilded, adventurous bohemia of +opera; in Rome, the splendor of a refined, artistic aristocracy in +perpetual rivalry with that of Paris and London; and in Florence, an +English nobility that had come in quest of sunlight and a chance to air +its straw hats, show off the fair hair of its ladies, and chatter its +own language in gardens where once upon a time the somber Dante dreamed +and Boccaccio told his merry tales to drive fear of plague away. + +That journey, of impressions as rapid and as fleeting as a reel of +moving-pictures, leaving in Rafael's mind a maze of names, buildings, +paintings and cities, served to give greater breadth to his thinking, as +well as added stimulus to his imagination. Wider still became the gulf +that separated him from the people and ideas he met in his common +everyday life. He felt a longing for the extraordinary, for the +original, for the adventuresomeness of artistic youth; and political +master of a county, heir of a feudal dominion virtually, he nevertheless +would read the name of any writer or painter whatsoever with the +superstitious respect of a rustic churl. "A wretched, ruined lot who +haven't even a bed to die on," his mother viewed such people; but Rafael +nourished a secret envy for all who lived in that ideal world, which he +was certain must be filled with pleasures and exciting things he had +scarcely dared to dream of. What would he not give to be a bohemian like +the personages he met in the books of Murger, member of a merry band of +"intellectuals," leading a life of joy and proud devotion to higher +things in a bourgeois age that knew only thirst for money and prejudice +of class! Talent for saying pretty things, for writing winged verses +that soared like larks to heaven! A garret underneath the roof, off +there in Paris, in the Latin Quarter! A Mimi poor but spiritual, who +would love him, and--between one kiss and another--be able to +discuss--not the price of oranges, like the girls who followed him with +tender eyes at home--but serious "elevated" things! In exchange for all +that he would gladly have given his future deputyship and all the +orchards he had inherited, which, though encumbered by mortgages not to +mention moral debts left by the rascality of his father and +grandfather--still would bring him a tidy annuity for realizing his +bohemian dreams. + +Such preoccupations made life as a party leader, tied down to the petty +interests of a constituency, quite unthinkable! At the risk of angering +his mother, he fled the Club, to court the solitude of the hills and +fields. There his imagination could range in greater freedom, peopling +the roads, the meadows, the orange groves with creatures of his fancy, +often conversing aloud with the heroines of some "grand passion," +carried on along the lines laid down by the latest novel he had read. + +One afternoon toward the close of summer Rafael climbed the little +mountain of San Salvador, which lies close to the city. From the +eminence he was fond of looking out over the vast domains of his family. +For all the inhabitants of that fertile plain were--as don Andres said +whenever he wished to emphasize the party's greatness--like so many +cattle branded with the name of Brull. + +As he went up the winding, stony trail, Rafael thought of the mountains +of Assisi, which he had visited with his friend the canon, a great +admirer of the Saint of Umbria. It was a landscape that suggested +asceticism. Crags of bluish or reddish rock lined the roadway on either +side, with pines and cypresses rising from the hollows, and extending +black, winding, snaky roots out over the fallow soil. At intervals, +white shrines with tiny roofs harbored mosaics of glazed tiles depicting +the Stations on the _Via Dolorosa_. The pointed green caps of the +cypresses, as they waved, seemed bent on frightening away the white +butterflies that were fluttering about over the rosemary and the +nettles. The parasol-pines projected patches of shade across the burning +road, where the sun-baked earth crackled and crumbled to dead dust under +every footstep. + +Reaching the little square in front of the Hermitage, he rested from the +ascent, stretching out full length on the crescent of rubblework that +formed a bench near the sanctuary. There silence reigned, the silence of +high hill-tops. From below, the noises of the restless life and labor of +the plain came weakened, softened, by the wind, like the murmuring of +waves breaking on a distant shore. Among the prickly-pears that grew in +close thicket behind the bench, insects were buzzing about, shining in +the sun like buds of gold. Some hens, belonging to the Hermitage, were +pecking away in one corner of the square, clucking, and dusting their +feathers in the gravel. + +Rafael surrendered to the charm of the exquisite scene. With reason had +it been called "Paradise" by its ancient owners, Moors from the magic +gardens of Bagdad, accustomed to the splendors of _The Thousand and One +Nights_, but who went into ecstacies nevertheless on beholding for the +first time the wondrous _ribera_ of Valencia! + +Throughout the great valley, orange groves, extending like shimmering +waves of velvet; hedges and enclosures of lighter green, cutting the +crimson earth into geometric figures; clumps of palms spurting like jets +of verdure upward toward the sky, and falling off again in languorous +swoons; villas blue and rose-colored, nestling in flowering gardens; +white farmhouses half concealed behind green swirls of forest; spindling +smokestacks of irrigation engines, with yellow sooty tops; Alcira, its +houses clustered on the island and overflowing to the opposite bank, all +of whitish, bony hue, pock-marked with tiny windows; beyond, Carcagente, +the rival city, girdled in its belt of leafy orchards; off toward the +sea, sharp, angular mountains, with outlines that from afar suggested +the fantastic castles imagined by Dore; and inland, the towns of the +upper _ribera_ floating in an emerald lake of orchard, the distant +mountains taking on a violet hue from the setting sun that was creeping +like a bristly porcupine of gold into the hot vapors of the horizon. + +Behind the Hermitage all the lower _ribera_ stretched, one expanse of +rice-fields drowned under an artificial flood; then, Sueca and Cullera, +their white houses perched on those fecund lagoons like towns in +landscapes of India; then, Albufera, with its lake, a sheet of silver +glistening in the sunlight; then, Valencia, like a cloud of smoke +drifting along the base of a mountain range of hazy blue; and, at last, +in the background, the halo, as it were, of this apotheosis of light and +color, the Mediterranean--the palpitant azure Gulf bounded by the cape +of San Antonio and the peaks of Sagunto and Almenara, that jutted up +against the sky-line like the black fins of giant whales. + +As Rafael looked down upon the towers of the crumbling convent of La +Murta, almost hidden in its pine-groves, he thought of all the tragedy +of the Reconquest; and almost mourned the fate of those farmer-warriors +whose white cloaks he could imagine as still floating among the groves +of those magic trees of Asia's paradise. It was the influence of the +Moor in his Spanish ancestry. Christian, clerical even, though he was, +he had inherited a melancholy, dreamy turn of mind from the very Arabs +who had created all that Eden. + +He pictured to himself the tiny kingdoms of those old _walis_; vassal +districts very like the one his family ruled. But instead of resting on +influence, bribery, intimidation, and the abuse of law, they lived by +the lances of horsemen as apt at tilling the soil as at capering in +tournaments with an elegance never equalled by any chevaliers of the +North. He could see the court of Valencia, with the romantic gardens of +Ruzafa, where poets sang mournful strophes over the wane of the +Valencian Moor, while beautiful maidens listened from behind the +blossoming rose-bushes. And then the catastrophe came. In a torrent of +steel, barbarians swept down from the arid hills of Aragon to appease +their hunger in the bounty of the plain--the _almogavares_--naked, wild, +bloodthirsty savages, who never washed. And as allies of this horde, +bankrupt Christian noblemen, their worn-out lands mortgaged to the +Israelite, but good cavalrymen, withal, armored, and with dragonwings on +their helmets; and among the Christians, adventurers of various tongues, +soldiers of fortune out for plunder and booty in the name of the Cross +--the "black sheep" of every Christian family. And they seized the great +garden of Valencia, installed themselves in the Moorish palaces, called +themselves counts and marquises, and with their swords held that +privileged country for the King of Aragon, while the conquered Saracens +continued to fertilize it with their toil. + +"Valencia, Valencia, Valencia! Thy walls are ruins, thy gardens +grave-yards, thy sons slaves unto the Christian ..." groaned the poet, +covering his eyes with his cloak. And Rafael could see, passing like +phantoms before his eyes, leaning forward on the necks of small, sleek, +sinewy horses, that seemed to fly over the ground, their legs +horizontal, their nostrils belching smoke, the Moors, the real people of +Valencia, conquered, degenerated by the very abundance of their soil, +abandoning their gardens before the onrush of brutal, primitive +invaders, speeding on their way toward the unending night of African +barbarism. At this eternal exile of the first Valencians who left to +oblivion and decay a civilization, the last vestiges of which today +survive in the universities of Fez, Rafael felt the sorrow he would have +experienced had it all been a disaster to his family or his party. + +While he was thinking of all these dead things, life in its feverish +agitation surrounded him. A cloud of sparrows was darting about the roof +of the Hermitage. On the mountain side a flock of dark-fleeced sheep was +grazing; and when any of them discovered a blade of grass among the +rocks, they would begin calling to one another with a melancholy +bleating. + +Rafael could hear the voices of some women who seemed to be climbing the +road, and from his reclining position he finally made out two parasols +that were gradually rising to view over the edge of his bench. One was +of flaming red silk, skilfully embroidered and suggesting the filigreed +dome of a mosque; the second, of flowered calico, was apparently keeping +at a respectful distance behind the first. + +Two women entered the little square, and as Rafael sat up and removed +his hat, the taller, who seemed to be the mistress, acknowledged his +courtesy with a slight bow, went on to the other end of the esplanade, +and stood, with her back turned toward him, looking at the view. The +other sat down some distance off, breathing laboriously from the +exertion of the climb. + +Who were those women?... Rafael knew the whole city, and had never seen +them. + +The one seated near him was doubtless the servant of the other--her maid +or her companion. She was dressed in black, simply but with a certain +charm, like the French soubrettes he had seen in illustrated novels. But +rustic origin and lack of cultivation were evident from the stains on +the backs of her unshapely hands; from her broad, flat, finger-nails; +and from her large ungainly feet, quite out of harmony with the pair of +stylish boots she was wearing--cast-off articles, doubtless, of the +lady. She was pretty, nevertheless, with a fresh exuberance of youth. +Her large, gray, credulous eyes were those of a stupid but playful lamb; +her hair, straight, and a very light blond, hung loosely here and there +over a freckled face, dark with sunburn. She handled her closed parasol +somewhat awkwardly and kept looking anxiously at the doubled gold chain +that drooped from her neck to her waist, as if to reassure herself that +a gift long-coveted had not been lost. + +Rafael's interest drifted to the lady. His eyes rested on the back of a +head of tightly-gathered golden hair, as luminous as a burnished helmet; +on a white neck, plump, rounded; on a pair of broad, lithe shoulders, +hidden under a blue silk blouse, the lines tapering rapidly, gracefully +toward the waist; on a gray skirt, finally, falling in harmonious folds +like the draping of a statue, and under the hem the solid heels of two +shoes of English style encasing feet that must have been as agile and as +strong as they were tiny. + +The lady called to her maid in a voice that was sonorous, vibrant, +velvety, though Rafael could catch only the accented syllables of her +words, that seemed to melt together in the melodious silence of the +mountain top. The young man was sure she had not spoken Spanish. A +foreigner, almost certainly!... + +She was expressing admiration and enthusiasm for the view, talking +rapidly, pointing out the principal towns that could be seen, calling +them by their names,--the only words that Rafael could make out clearly. +Who was this woman whom he had never seen, who spoke a foreign language +and yet knew the _ribera_ well? Perhaps the wife of one of the French or +English orange-dealers established in the city! Meanwhile his eyes were +devouring that superb, that opulent, that elegant beauty which seemed to +be challenging him with its indifference to his presence. + +The keeper of the Hermitage issued cautiously from the house--a peasant +who made his living from visitors to the heights. Attracted by the +promising appearance of the strange lady, the hermit came forward to +greet her, offering to fetch water from the cistern, and to unveil the +image of the miraculous virgin, in her honor. + +The woman turned around to answer the man, and that gave Rafael an +opportunity to study her at his leisure. She was tall, ever so tall, as +tall as he perhaps. But the impression her height of stature made was +softened by a grace of figure that revealed strength allied to elegance. +A strong bust, sculpturesque, supporting a head that engaged the young +man's wrapt attention. A hot mist of emotion seemed to cloud his vision +as he looked into her large eyes, so green, so luminous! The golden hair +fell forward upon a forehead of pearly whiteness, veined at the temples +with delicate lines of blue. Viewed in profile her gracefully moulded +nose, quivering with vitality at the nostrils, filled out a beauty that +was distinctly modern, piquantly charming. In those lineaments, Rafael +thought he could recognize any number of famous actresses. He had seen +her before. Where?... He did not know. Perhaps in some illustrated +weekly! Perhaps in some album of stage celebrities! Or maybe on the +cover of some match-box--a common medium of publicity for famous +European belles. Of one thing he was certain: at sight of that wonderful +face he felt as though he were meeting an old friend after a long +absence. + +The recluse, in hopes of a perquisite, led the two women toward the door +of the hermitage, where his wife and daughter had appeared, to feast +their eyes on the huge diamonds sparkling at the ears of the strange +lady. + +"Enter, _sinorita_" the rustic invited. "I'll show you the Virgin, the +Virgin _del Lluch_, you understand, the only genuine one. She came here +alone all the way from Majorca. People down in Palma claim they have the +real Virgin. But what can they say for themselves? They are jealous +because our Lady chose Alcira; and here we have her, proving that she's +the real one by the miracles she works." + +He opened the door of the tiny church, which was as cool and gloomy as a +cellar. At the rear, on a baroque altar of tarnished gold, stood the +little statue with its hollow cloak and its black face. + +Rapidly, by rote almost, the good man recited the history of the image. +The Virgin _del Lluch_ was the patroness of Majorca. A hermit had been +compelled to flee from there, for a reason no one had been able to +discover--perhaps to get away from some Saracen girl of those exciting, +war-like days! And to rescue the Virgin from profanation he brought her +to Alcira, and built this sanctuary for her. Later people from Majorca +came to return her to their island. But the celestial lady had taken a +liking to Alcira and its inhabitants. Over the water, and without even +wetting her feet, she came gliding back. Then the Majorcans, to keep +what had happened quiet, counterfeited a new statue that looked just +like the first. All this was gospel truth, and as proof, there lay the +original hermit buried at the foot of the altar; and there was the +Virgin, too, her face blackened by the sun and the salt wind on her +miraculous voyage over the sea. + +The beautiful lady smiled slightly, as she listened. The maid was all +ears, not to lose a word of a language she but half understood, her +credulous peasant eyes traveling from the Virgin to the hermit and from +the hermit to the Virgin, plainly expressing the wonder she was feeling +at such a portentous miracle. Rafael had followed the party into the +shrine and taken a position near the fascinating stranger. She, however, +pretended not to see him. + +"That is only a legend," he ventured to remark, when the rustic had +finished his story. "You understand, of course, that nobody hereabouts +accepts such tales as true." + +"I suppose so," the lady answered coldly. + +"Legend or no legend, don Rafael," the recluse grumbled, somewhat +peeved, "that's what my grandfather and all the folk of his day used to +say; and that's what people still believe. If the story has been handed +down so long, there must be something to it." + +The patch of sunlight that shone through the doorway upon the flagstones +was darkened by the shadow of a woman. It was a poorly clad orchard +worker, young, it seemed, but with a face pale, and as rough as wrinkled +paper, all the crevices and hollows of her cranium showing, her eyes +sunken and dull, her unkempt hair escaping from beneath her knotted +kerchief. She was barefoot, carrying her shoes in her hand. She stood +with her legs wide apart, as if in an effort to keep her balance. She +seemed to feel intense pain whenever she stepped upon the ground. +Illness and poverty were written on every feature of her person. + +The recluse knew her well; and as the unfortunate creature, panting with +the effort of the climb, sank upon a little bench to rest her feet, he +told her story briefly to the visitors. + +She was ill, very, very ill. With no faith in doctors, who, according to +her, "treated her with nothing but words"; she believed that the Virgin +_del Lluch_ would ultimately cure her. And, though at home she could +scarcely move from her chair and was always being scolded by her husband +for neglecting the housework, every week she would climb the steep +mountain-side, barefoot, her shoes in her hand. + +The hermit approached the sick woman, accepting a copper coin she +offered. A few couplets to the Virgin, as usual, he supposed! + +"Visanteta, a few _gochos_!" shouted the rustic, going to the door. And +his daughter came into the chapel--a dirty, dark-skinned creature with +African eyes, who might just have escaped from a gipsy band. + +She took a seat upon a bench, turning her back upon the Virgin with the +bored ill-humored expression of a person compelled to do a dull task day +after day; and in a hoarse, harsh, almost frantic voice, which echoed +deafeningly in that small enclosure, she began a drawling chant that +rehearsed the story of the statue and the portentous miracles it had +wrought. + +The sick woman, kneeling before the altar without releasing her hold +upon her shoes, the heels of her feet, which were bruised and bleeding +from the stones, showing from under her skirts, repeated a refrain at +the end of each stanza, imploring the protection of the Virgin. Her +voice had a weak and hollow sound, like the wail of a child. Her sunken +eyes, misty with tears, were fixed upon the Virgin with a dolorous +expression of supplication. Her words came more tremulous and more +distant at each couplet. + +The beautiful stranger was plainly affected at the pitiful sight. Her +maid had knelt and was following the sing-song rhythm of the chant, with +prayers in a language that Rafael recognized at last. It was Italian. + +"What a great thing faith is!" the lady murmured with a sigh. + +"Yes, _senora_; a beautiful thing!" + +Rafael tried to think of something "brilliant" on the grandeur of faith, +from Saint Thomas, or one of the other "sound" authors he had studied. +But he ransacked his memory in vain. Nothing! That charming woman had +filled his mind with thoughts far other than quotations from the +Fathers! + +The couplets to the Virgin came to an end. With the last stanza the wild +singer disappeared; and the sick woman, after several abortive efforts, +rose painfully to her feet. The recluse approached her with the +solicitude of a shopkeeper concerned for the quality of his wares. Were +things going any better? Were the visits to the Virgin doing good?... +The unfortunate woman did not dare to answer, for fear of offending the +miraculous Lady. She did not know!... Yes ... she really must be a +little better ... But that climb!... This offering had not had such good +results as the previous ones, she thought; but she had faith: the Virgin +would be good to her and cure her in the end. At the church door she +collapsed from pain. The recluse placed her on his chair and ran to the +cistern to get a glass of water. The Italian maid, her eyes bulging with +fright, leaned over the poor woman, petting her: + +"_Poverina! Poverina!... Coraggio_!" The invalid, rallying from her +swoon, opened her eyes and gazed vacantly at the stranger, not +understanding her words but guessing their kindly intention. + +The lady stepped out to the _plazoleta_, deeply moved, it seemed, by +what she had been witnessing. Rafael followed, with affected +absent-mindedness, somewhat ashamed of his insistence, yet at the same +time looking for an opportunity to renew their conversation. + +On finding herself once more in the presence of that wonderful panorama, +where the eye ran unobstructed to the very limit of the horizon, the +charming creature seemed to breathe more freely. + +"Good God!" she exclaimed, as if speaking to herself. "How sad and yet +how wonderful! This view is ever so beautiful. But that woman!... That +poor woman!" + +"She's been that way for years, to my personal knowledge," Rafael +remarked, pretending to have known the invalid for a long time, though +he had scarcely ever deigned to notice her before. "Our peasants are +queer people. They despise doctors, and refuse their help, preferring to +kill themselves with these barbarous prayers and devotions, which they +expect will do them good." + +"But they may be right, after all!" the lady replied. "Disease is often +incurable, and science can do for it about as much as faith--sometimes, +even less.... But here we are laughing and enjoying ourselves while +suffering passes us by, rubs elbows with us even, without our +noticing!"... + +Rafael was at a loss for reply. What sort of woman was this? What a way +she had of talking! Accustomed as he was to the commonplace chatter of +his mother's friends, and still under the influence of this meeting, +which had so deeply disturbed him, the poor boy imagined himself in the +presence of a sage in skirts--a philosopher under the disguise of +female beauty come from beyond the Pyrenees, from some gloomy German +alehouse perhaps, to upset his peace of mind. + +The stranger was silent for a time, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. +Then around her attractive sensuous lips, through which two rows of +shining, dazzling teeth were gleaming, the suggestion of a smile began +to play, a smile of joy at the landscape. + +"How beautiful this all is!" she exclaimed, without turning toward her +companion. "How I have longed to see it again!" + +At last the opportunity had come to ask the question he had been so +eager to put: and she herself had offered the opportunity! + +"Do you come from here?" he asked, in a tremulous voice, fearing lest +his inquisitiveness be scornfully repelled. + +"Yes," the lady replied, curtly. + +"Well, that's strange. I have never seen you...." + +"There's nothing strange about that. I arrived only yesterday." + +"Just as I said!... I know everyone in the city. My name is Rafael +Brull. I'm the son of don Ramon, who was mayor of Alcira many times." + +At last he had let it out! The poor fellow had been dying to reveal his +name, tell who he was, pronounce that magic word so influential in the +District, certain it would be the "Open Sesame" to that wonderful +stranger's grace! After that, perhaps, she would tell him who she was! +But the lady commented on his declaration with an "Ah!" of cold +indifference. She did not show that his name was even known to her, +though she did sweep him with a rapid, scrutinizing, half-mocking glance +that seemed to betray a hidden thought: + +"Not bad-looking, but what a dunce!" + +Rafael blushed, feeling he had made a false step in volunteering his +name with the pompousness he would have used toward some bumpkin of the +region. + +A painful silence followed. Rafael was anxious to get out of his plight. +That glacial indifference, that disdainful courtesy, which, without a +trace of rudeness, still kept him at a distance, hurt his vanity to the +quick. But since there was no stopping now, he ventured a second +question: + +"And are you thinking of remaining in Alcira very long?..." + +Rafael thought the ground was giving way beneath his feet. Another +glance from those green eyes! But, alas, this time it was cold and +menacing, a livid flash of lightning refracted from a mirror of ice. + +"I don't know ..." she answered, with a deliberateness intended to +accentuate unmistakable scorn. "I usually leave places the moment they +begin to bore me." And looking Rafael squarely in the face she added, +with freezing formality, after a pause: + +"Good afternoon, sir." + +Rafael was crushed. He saw her turn toward the doorway of the sanctuary +and call her maid. Every step of hers, every movement of her proud +figure, seemed to raise a barrier in front of him. He saw her bend +affectionately over the sick orchard-woman, open a little pink bag that +her maid handed her, and, rummaging about among some sparkling trinkets +and embroidered handkerchiefs, draw out a hand filled with shining +silver coins. She emptied the money into the apron of the astonished +peasant girl, gave something as well to the recluse, who was no less +astounded, and then, opening her red parasol, walked off, followed by +her maid. + +As she passed Rafael, she answered the doffing of his hat with a barely +perceptible inclination of her head; and, without looking at him, +started on her way down the stony mountain path. + +The young man stood gazing after her through the pines and the cypresses +as her proud athletic figure grew smaller in the distance. + +The perfume of her presence seemed to linger about him when she had +gone, obsessing him with the atmosphere of superiority and exotic +elegance that emanated from her whole being. + +Rafael noticed finally that the recluse was approaching, unable to +restrain a desire to communicate his admiration to someone. + +"What a woman!" the man cried, rolling his eyes to express his full +enthusiasm. + +She had given him a _duro_, one of those white discs which, in that +atheistic age, so rarely ascended that mountain trail! And there the +poor invalid sat at the door of the Hermitage, staring into her apron +blankly, hypnotized by the glitter of all that wealth! _Duros, pesetas_, +two-_pesetas_, dimes! All the money the lady had brought! Even a gold +button, which must have come from her glove! + +Rafael shared in the general astonishment. But who the devil was that +woman? + +"How do I know!" the rustic answered. "But judging from the language of +the maid," he went on with great conviction: "I should say she was some +Frenchwoman ... some Frenchwoman ... with a pile of money!" + +Rafael turned once more in the direction of the two parasols that were +slowly winding down the slope. They were barely visible now. The larger +of the two, a mere speck of red, was already blending into the green of +the first orchards on the plain ... At last it had disappeared +completely. + +Left alone, Rafael burst into rage! The place where he had made such a +sorry exhibition of himself seemed odious to him now. He fumed with +vexation at the memory of that cold glance, which had checked any +advance toward familiarity, repelled him, crushed him! The thought of +his stupid questions filled him with hot shame. + +Without replying to the "good-evening" from the recluse and his family, +he started down the mountain, in hopes of meeting the woman again, +somewhere, some time, he knew not when nor how. The heir of don Ramon, +the hope of the District, strode furiously on, his arms aquiver with a +nervous tremor. And aggressively, menacingly, addressing his own ego as +though it were a henchman cringing terror-stricken in front of him, he +muttered: + +"You imbecile!... You lout!... You peasant! You provincial ass! You ... +rube!" + + + + +IV + + +Dona Bernarda did not suspect the reason why her son rose on the +following morning pale, and with dark rings under his eyes, as if he had +spent a bad night. Nor could his political friends guess, that +afternoon, why in such fine weather, Rafael should come and shut himself +up in the stifling atmosphere of the Club. + +When he came in, a crowd of noisy henchmen gathered round him to discuss +all over again the great news that had been keeping "the Party" in +feverish excitement for a week past: the Cortes were to be dissolved! +The newspapers had been talking of nothing else. Within two or three +months, before the close of the year at the latest, there would be a new +election, and therewith, as all averred, a landslide for don Rafael +Brull. The intimate friend and lieutenant of the House of Brull was the +best informed. If the elections took place on the date indicated by the +newspapers, Rafael would still be five or six months short of his +twenty-fifth birth-day. But don Andres had written to Madrid to consult +the Party leaders. The prime minister was agreeable--"there were +precedents!"--and even though Rafael should be a few weeks short of the +legal age, the seat would go to him just the same. They would send no +more "foundlings" from Madrid! Alcira would have no more "unknowns" +foisted upon her! And the whole Tribe of Brull dependents was preparing +for the contest with the enthusiasm of a prize-fighter sure of victory +beforehand. + +All this bustling expectation left Rafael cold. For years he had been +looking forward to that election time, when the chance would come for +his free life in Madrid. Now that it was at hand he was completely +indifferent to the whole matter, as if he were the last person in the +world concerned. + +He looked impatiently at the table where don Andres, with three other +leading citizens, was having his daily hand at cards before coming to +sit down at Rafael's side. That was a canny habit of don Andres. He +liked to be seen in his capacity of Regent, sheltering the heir-apparent +under the wing of his prestige and experienced wisdom. + +Well along in the afternoon, when the Club parlor was less crowded with +members, the atmosphere freer of smoke, and the ivory balls less noisy +on the green cloth, don Andres considered his game at an end, and took a +chair in his disciple's circle, where as usual Rafael was sitting with +the most parasitic and adulatory of his partisans. + +The boy pretended to be listening to their conversation, but all the +while he was preparing mentally a question he had decided to put to don +Andres the day before. + +At last he made up his mind. + +"You know everybody, don Andres. Well, yesterday, up on San Salvador, I +met a fine-looking woman who seems to be a foreigner. She says she's +living here. Who is she?" + +The old man burst into a loud laugh, and pushed his chair back from the +table, so that his big paunch would have room to shake in. + +"So you've seen her, too!" he exclaimed between one guffaw and another. +"Well, sir, what a city this is! That woman got in the day before +yesterday, and everybody's seen her already. She's the talk of the town. +You were the only one who hadn't asked me about her so far. And now +you've bitten!... Ho! Ho! Ho! What a place this is!" + +When he had had his laugh out--Rafael, meanwhile, did not see the +joke--he continued in more measured style: + +"That 'foreign woman,' as you call her, boy, comes from Alcira. In fact, +she was born about two doors from you. Don't you know dona Pepa, 'the +doctor's woman,' they call her--a little lady who has an orchard close +by the river and lives in the Blue House, that's always under water when +the Jucar floods? She once owned the place you have just beyond where +you live, and she's the one who sold it to your father--the only +property don Ramon ever bought, so far as I know. Don't you remember?" + +Rafael thought he did. As he went back in his memory, the picture of an +old wrinkled woman rose before his mind, a woman round-shouldered, bent +with age, but with a kindly face smiling with simple-mindedness and good +nature. He could see her now, with a rosary usually in her hand, a +camp-stool under her arm, and her _mantilla_ drawn down over her face. +As she passed the Brull door on her way to church, she would greet his +mother; and dona Bernarda would remark in a patronizing way: "Dona Pepa +is a very fine woman; one of God's own souls.... The only decent person +in her family." + +"Yes; I remember; I remember dona Pepa," said Rafael. + +"Well, your 'foreigner,'" don Andres continued, "is dona Pepa's niece, +daughter of her brother, the doctor. The girl has been all over the +world singing grand opera. You were probably too young to remember +Doctor Moreno, who was the scandal of the province in those days...." + +But Rafael certainly did remember Doctor Moreno! That name was one of +the freshest of his childhood recollections, the bugaboo of many nights +of terror and alarm, when he would hide his trembling head under the +clothes. If he cried about going to bed so early, his mother would say +to him in a mysterious voice: + +"If you don't keep quiet and go right to sleep I'll send for Doctor +Moreno!" + +A weird, a formidable personage, the Doctor! Rafael could see him as +clearly as if he were sitting there in front of him; with that huge, +black, curly beard; those large, burning eyes that always shone with an +inner fire; and that tall, angular figure that seemed taller than ever +as young Brull evoked it from the hazes of his early years. Perhaps the +Doctor had been a good fellow, who knows! At any rate Rafael thought so, +as his mind now reverted to that distant period of his life; but he +could still remember the fright he had felt as a child, when once in a +narrow street he met the terrible Doctor, who had looked at him through +those glowing pupils and caressed his cheeks gently and kindly with a +hand that seemed to the youngster as hot as a live coal! He had fled in +terror, as almost all good boys did when the Doctor petted them. + +What a horrible reputation Doctor Moreno had! The curates of the town +spoke of him in terms of hair-raising horror. An infidel! A man cut off +from Mother Church! Nobody knew for certain just what high authority had +excommunicated him, but he was, no doubt, outside the pale of decent, +Christian folks. Proof of that there was, a-plenty. His whole attic was +filled with mysterious books in foreign languages, all containing +horrible doctrines against God and the authority of His representatives +on earth. He defended a certain fellow by the name of Darwin, who +claimed than men were related to monkeys, a view that gave much +amusement to the indignant dona Bernarda, who repeated all the jokes on +the crazy notion her favorite preacher cracked of a Sunday in the +pulpit. And such a sorcerer! Hardly a disease could resist Doctor +Moreno. He worked wonders in the suburbs, among the lower scum; and +those laborers adored him with as much fear as affection. He succeeded +with people who had been given up by the older doctors, wiseacres in +long frocks and with gold-headed canes, who trusted more in God than in +science, as Rafael's mother would say in praise of them. That devil of a +physician used new and unheard-of treatments he learned from atheistic +reviews and suspicious books he imported from abroad. His competitors +grumbled also because the Doctor had a mania for treating poor folk +gratis, actually leaving money, sometimes, into the bargain; and he +often refused to attend wealthy people of "sound principles" who had +been obliged to get their confessor's permission before placing +themselves in his hands. + +"Rascal!... Heretic!... Lower scum!..." dona Bernarda would exclaim. + +But she said such things in a very low voice and with a certain fear, +for those days were bad ones for the House of Brull. Rafael remembered +how gloomy his father had been about that time, hardly even leaving the +_patio_. Had it not been for the respect his hairy claws and his +frowning eye-brows inspired, the rabble would have eaten him alive. +"Others" were in command, ... "others" ... everybody, in fact, except +the House of Brull. + +The monarchy had been treasonably overturned; the men of the Revolution +of September were legislating in Madrid. The petty tradesmen of the +city, ever rebellious against the tyranny of don Ramon, had taken guns +in their hands and formed a little militia, ready to send a fusilade +into the _cacique_ who had formerly trodden them under foot. In the +streets people were singing the _Marseillaise_, waving tricolored +bunting, and hurrahing for the Republic. Candles were being burned +before pictures of Castelar. And meantime that fanatical Doctor, a +Republican, was preaching on the public squares, explaining the "rights +of man" at daytime meetings in the country and at night meetings in +town. Wild with enthusiasm he repeated, in different words, the orations +of the portentous Tribune who in those days was traveling from one end +of Spain to the other, administering to the people the sacrament of +democracy to the music of his eloquence, which raised all the grandeurs +of History from the tomb. + +Rafael's mother, shutting all the doors and windows, would lift her +angry eyes toward heaven every time the crowd, returning from a meeting, +would pass through her street with banners flying and halt two doors +away, in front of the Doctor's house, where they would cheer, and cheer. +"How long, oh Lord, how long?" And though nobody insulted her nor asked +her for so much as a pin, she talked of moving to some other country. +Those people demanded a Republic--they belonged, as she said, to the +"Dividing-up" gang. The way things were going, they'd soon be winning; +and then they would plunder the house, and perhaps cut her throat and +strangle the baby! + +"Never mind them, never mind them!" the fallen _cacique_ would reply, +with a condescending smile. "They aren't so bad as you imagine. They'll +sing their _Marseillaise_ for a time and shout themselves hoarse. Why +shouldn't they, if they're content with so little? Other days are +coming. The Carlists will see to it that our cause triumphs." + +In don Ramon's judgment, the Doctor was a good sort, though his head may +have been a bit turned by books. He knew him very well: they had been +schoolmates together, and Rafael's father had never cared to join the +hue and cry against Doctor Moreno. The one thing that seemed to bother +him was that, as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, the Doctor's +friends were eager to send him as a deputy to the Constituent Assembly +of '73. That lunatic a deputy! Whereas he, the friend and agent of so +many Conservative ministries, had never dared think of the office for +himself, because of the fairly superstitious awe in which he held it! +The end of the world was surely coming! + +But the Doctor had refused the nomination. If he were to go to Madrid, +what would become of the poor people who depended on him for health and +protection? Besides, he liked a quiet, sedentary life, with his books +and his studies, where he could satisfy his desires without quarrels and +fighting. His deep convictions impelled him to mingle with the masses, +and speak in public places--where he proved to be a successful agitator, +but he refused to join party organizations; and after a lecture or an +oration, he would spend days and days with his books and magazines, +alone save for his sister--a docile, pious woman who worshipped him, +though she bewailed his irreligion--and for his little daughter, a +blonde girl whom Rafael could scarcely remember, because her father's +unpopularity with the "best people" kept the little child away from +"good society." + +The Doctor had one passion--music; and everybody admired his talent for +that art. What didn't the man know, anyhow? According to dona Bernarda +and her friends, that remarkable skill had been acquired through "evil +arts." It was another fruit of his impiety! But that did not prevent +crowds from thronging the streets at night, cautioning pedestrians to +walk more softly as they approached his house; nor from opening their +windows to hear better when that devil of a doctor would be playing his +violoncello. This he did when certain friends of his came up from +Valencia to spend a few days with him--a queer, long-haired crew that +talked a strange language and referred to a fellow called Beethoven +with as much respect as if he were San Bernardo himself. + +"Yes, don Andres," said Rafael. "I remember Doctor Moreno very well." +And his ears seemed to tingle again with the diabolical melodies that +had floated in to the side of his little bed on terrible nights still +fresh in his memory. + +"Very well," continued the old man. "That lady is the Doctor's daughter. +What a man he was! How he made your father and me fume in the days of +'73! Now that all that is so far in the past, I'll say he was a fine +fellow. His brain had gone somewhat bad from reading too much, like don +Quixote; and he was crazy over music. Most charming manners he had, +however. He married a beautiful orchard-girl, who happened to be very +poor. He said the marriage was ... for the purpose of perpetuating the +species--those were his very words--of having strong, sound, healthy +children. For that he didn't need to bother about his wife's social +position. What he was looking for was health. So he picked out that +Teresa of his, as strong as an ox, and as fresh as an apple. But little +good it did the poor woman. She had one baby and died a few days +afterward, despite the science and the desperate efforts of her husband. +They had lived together less than a year." + +Rafael's companions were listening with as much attention as he; for +morbid curiosity is the characteristic of the people of small places, +where the keenest pleasure available is that of knowing the private +affairs of others intimately. + +"And now comes the good part," don Andres continued. "The mad Doctor +had two saints: Castelar and Beethoven. The pictures of those fellows +were scattered in every room of the house, even in the attic. This +Beethoven (in case you don't know it), was an Italian or an Englishman, +I'm not sure which--one of those fellows who makes music up out of his +head for people to play in theatres or for lunatics like Moreno to amuse +themselves with. Well, when his daughter was born the Doctor wondered +what name to give her. As a tribute to Emilio Castelar, his idol, he +felt he ought to call her Emilia: but he liked the sound of Leonora +better (no, not Lenor, but Leonora!). According to what he told us, that +was the title of the only opera Beethoven ever wrote--an opera he could +read, for that matter, the way I read the paper. Anyhow, the foreigner +won out; and the Doctor packed the child off to church with his sister, +who took a few neighbors of the poorer sort along to see Leonora +baptized. + +"You can imagine what the priest said after he had looked in vain +through the catalogue of saints for that name. At the time I was +employed in the municipal offices, and I had to intervene. This was all +before the Revolution; Gonzalez Brabo was boss in those days--and good +old days they were! Let an enemy of law and order or sound religion just +raise his voice and he was off on his way to Fernando Pio in no time. +Well, what a racket the Doctor raised! He sat himself down in that +church--first time he'd ever been in the place--and insisted that his +daughter be labeled as he directed. Later he thought he would take her +home without any baptism at all, saying he had no use for the ceremony +anyhow, and that he put up with it only to please his sister. During +the argument, he called all the curates and acolytes assembled in the +sacristy there, a pack of 'brahmans.'" + +"He must have said Brahmins," interrupted Rafael. + +"Yes, that's it: and Bonzes, too--just joking, of course--I remember +very well. But finally he compromised and let her be baptized with the +orthodox name of 'Leonor.' Not that he cared what they called her in the +church. As he went out he said to the priest: "She will be 'Leonora' for +reasons that please her father, and which you wouldn't understand even +if I were to explain them to you." What a hubbub followed! Don Ramon and +I had to interfere to calm the good curates; they were for sending him +up for sacrilege, insult to religion, what not! We had to go some to +quiet things down. In those days, boy, a matter of that sort was more +serious than killing a man." + +"Which name did she keep?" asked a friend of Rafael. + +"Leonora, as her father wished. That girl always took after the old man. +Just as queer as he was. The Doctor all over again! I haven't seen her +yet. They say she's a stunning beauty, like her mother, who was a +blonde, and the handsomest girl in all these parts. When the Doctor had +dressed his wife up like a lady, she wasn't much for manners, but she +certainly was something to look at...." + +"And what became of Moreno?" asked another. "Is it true, as they said +years ago, that he shot himself?" + +"Oh, some say one thing, some another. Perhaps it's all a lie. Who +knows! It all happened so far away.... After the Republic fell, it was +the turn of decent people again. Poor Moreno took it all harder than he +did the death of his Teresa, and kept himself locked up in his house day +in, day out. Your father was stronger than before and we ran things in a +way that was a sight for sore eyes! Don Antonio up in Madrid gave orders +to the Governors to give us a free hand in cleaning up everything that +was left of the Revolution. The people who before had been cheering for +the Doctor all the time, now kept away from him for fear we should catch +them. Some afternoons he would go for a walk in the suburbs, or a stroll +over to his sister's orchard, near the river--always with Leonora at his +side. She was now about eleven years old. All his affection was centered +on her. Poor Doctor! How things had changed from the days when his mobs +would meet the troops shot for shot in the streets of Alcira, shouting +_vivas_ for the Federal Republic!... In his solitude and in all the +dejection coming from the defeat of his perverted ideas, he took more +than ever to music. He had but one joy left him. Leonora loved music as +much as he. She learned her lessons rapidly; and soon could accompany +her father's violoncello on the piano. They would spend the days playing +together, going through the whole pile of music sheets they kept stored +in the attic along with those accursed medical books. Besides, the +little girl showed she had a voice, and it seemed to grow fuller and +more beautiful every day. 'She will be a singer, a great singer,' her +father proclaimed enthusiastically. And when some tenant of his or one +of his dependents came into the house and could hardly believe his ears +at the sweetness of the little angel's voice, the Doctor would rub his +hands and gleefully exclaim: 'What do you think of the little lady, +eh?... Some day people in Alcira will be proud she was born here.'" + +Don Andres paused to sift his recollections, and after a long silence +added: + +"The truth is, I can't tell you any more. At that time, we were in power +again, and I had very little to do with the Doctor. We gradually lost +sight of him, forgot him, practically. The music we heard when going by +the house was all there was to remind us of him. We learned one day, +through his sister, dona Pepa, that he had gone way off with the little +girl somewhere--what was that city you visited, Rafael?--Milan, yes, +Milan, that's it! I've been told that's the market for singers. He +wanted his Leonora to become a prima donna. He never came back, poor +fellow!... Things must have gone badly with them. Every year he would +write home to his sister to sell another piece of land. It is known that +over there they lived in real poverty. In a few years the little fortune +the Doctor got from his parents was gone. Poor dona Pepa, kind old soul, +even disposed of the house--which belonged half to the Doctor and half +to her--sent him every cent of the money, and moved to the orchard. Ever +since then she's been coming in to mass and to Forty Hours in all sorts +of weather. I could learn nothing for certain after that. People lie so, +you see. Some say poor Moreno shot himself because his daughter left him +when she got placed on the stage; others say that he died like a dog in +a poorhouse. The only sure thing is that he died and that his daughter +went on having a great time all over those countries over there. The +way she went it! They even say she had a king or two. As for money! Say, +boys, there are ways and ways of earning it, and ways and ways of +spending it! The fellow who knows all about that side of her is the +barber Cupido. He imagines he's an artist, because he plays the guitar; +and besides he has a Republican grouch, and was a great admirer of her +father's. He's the only one in town who followed all she was up to, in +the papers. They say she doesn't sing under her own name, but uses some +prettier sounding one--foreign, I believe. Cupido is a regular busybody +and you can get all the latest news in his barbershop. Only yesterday he +went to dona Pepa's farmhouse to greet the '_eminent artist_,' as he +calls her. There's no end to what he tells. Trunks in every corner, +enough to pack a house-full of things into, and silk dresses ... +shopfuls of them! Hats, I can't say how many; jewelry-boxes on every +table with diamonds that strike you blind. And she told Cupido to have +the station-agent get a move on and send what was still missing--the +heavier luggage--boxes and boxes that come from way off somewhere--the +other end of the world, and that cost a fortune just to ship.... There +you are!... And why not? The way she earned it!" + +Don Andres winking maliciously and laughing like an old faun, gave a sly +nudge at Rafael, who was listening in deep abstraction to the story. + +"But is she going to live on here?" asked the young man. "Accustomed as +she is to flitting about the world, do you think she'll be able to stand +this place?" + +"Nobody can tell," don Andres replied. "Not even Cupido can find that +out. She'll stay until she gets bored, he says. And to be in less danger +of that, she has brought her whole establishment along on her back, like +a snail." + +"Well, she'll be bored soon enough," one of Rafael's friends observed. +"I suppose she thinks she's going to be admired and stared at as she was +abroad! Moreno's girl! Did you ever hear of such a family?... Daughter +of that _descamisado_, as my father calls him because he died without a +stitch on his back! And all people say of them! Last night her arrival +was the subject of conversation in every decent home in town, and there +wasn't a man who did not promise to fight shy of her. If she thinks +Alcira is anything like the places where they dance the razzle-dazzle +and there's no shame, she'll be sadly disappointed." + +Don Andres laughed slyly. + +"Yes, boys! She'll be disappointed. There's a plenty of morality in this +town, and much wholesome fear of scandal. We're probably as bad as +people in other places, but we don't want anybody to find us out. I'm +afraid this Leonora is going to spend most of her time with her aunt--a +silly old thing, whatever her many virtues may be. They say she's +brought a French maid along.... But she's beginning to cry 'sour grapes' +already. Do you know what she said to Cupido yesterday? That she had +come here with the idea of living all by herself, just to get away from +people; and when the barber spoke to her of society in Alcira, she made +a wry face, as much as to say the place was filled with no-accounts. +That's what the women were talking most about last night. You can see +why! She has always been the favorite of so many big guns!" + +An idea seemed to flit across the wrinkled forehead of don Andres, +tracing a wicked smile around his lips: + +"You know what I think, Rafael? You're young and you're handsome, and +you've been abroad. Why don't you make a try for her, if only to prick +the bubble of her conceit and show her there are people here, too. They +say she's mighty good-looking, and, what the deuce! It wouldn't be so +hard. When she finds out who you are!..." + +The old man said this with the idea of flattering Rafael, certain that +the prestige of his "prince" was such that no woman could resist him. +But Rafael had lived through the previous afternoon, and the words +seemed very bitter pills. Don Andres at once grew serious, as if a +frightful vision had suddenly passed before his eyes; and he added in a +respectful tone: + +"But no: that was only a jest. Don't pay any attention to what I say. +Your mother would be terribly provoked." + +The thought of dona Bernarda, the personification of austere, +uncompromising virtue, chased the mirth from every face in the company. + +"The strange thing about all this," said Rafael, who was anxious to turn +the conversation in a different direction, "is that now everybody +remembers the Doctor's daughter. But years and years went by without her +name being mentioned, in my hearing at least." + +"Well, it's a question of District matters, you see," the old man +answered. "All I've been telling you boys, happened long before your +day, and your parents, who knew the Doctor and his daughter, have always +been careful not to bring this woman into their conversation; for, as +Rafael's mother says, she's the disgrace of Alcira. From time to time we +got a bit of news; something that Cupido fished out of the newspapers +and spread all over town, or something that that silly dona Pepa would +let drop, while telling inquisitive people about the glories her niece +was winning abroad; anyhow, all a heap of lies that were invented I +don't know where or by whom. They kept all that quiet, banking the fire, +so to speak. If it hadn't got into the girl's head to come back to +Alcira, you would never have heard of her probably. But now she's here, +and they're telling all they know, or think they know, about her life, +digging up tales of things that happened years and years ago. You take +my word for it, boys, I've always considered her a high-flyer myself, +but, just the same, people here do tell awful whoppers ... and swear to +them. She can't be as bad as they say ... If one were to swallow +everything one hears! Wasn't poor don Ramon the greatest man the +District ever produced? Well, what don't they say about him?..." + +And the conversation drifted away from Doctor Moreno's daughter. Rafael +had learned all he wished to know. That woman had been born within a few +hundred yards of his own birthplace. They had passed their childhood +years almost side by side; and yet, on meeting for the first time in +their lives, they had felt themselves complete strangers to each other. + +This separation would increase with time. She made fun of the city, +lived outside its circle of influence, in the open country; she would +not meet the town halfway, and the town would not go to her. + +How get to know her better, then?... Rafael was tempted as he walked +aimlessly about the streets, to look up the barber Cupido in his shop +that very afternoon. That merry rogue was the only person in all Alcira +who entered her house. But Brull did not dare, for fear of gossip. His +dignity as a party leader forbade his entering that barbershop where the +walls were papered with copies of "Revolution" and where a picture of Pi +y Margall reigned in place of the King's. How could he justify his +presence in a place he had never visited before? How explain to Cupido +his interest in that woman, without having the whole city know about it +before sundown? + +Twice he walked up and down in front of the striped window-panes of the +barbershop, without mustering the courage to raise the latch. Finally he +sauntered off toward the orchards, following the riverbank slowly along, +with his gaze fixed on that blue house, which had never before attracted +his attention, but which now seemed the most beautiful detail in that +ample paradise of orange-trees. + +Through the groves he could see the balcony of the house, and on it a +woman unfolding shining gowns of delicate colors. She was shaking the +prima donna's skirts to straighten out the wrinkles and the folds caused +by the packing in the trunks. + +It was the Italian maid--that Beppa of the reddish hair whom he had seen +the previous afternoon with her mistress. + +He thought the girl was looking at him, and that she even recognized +him through the foliage, despite the distance. He felt a sudden +timorousness, like a child caught redhanded doing something wrong. He +turned in his tracks and strode rapidly off toward the city. + +But later, he felt quite comforted. Merely to have approached the Blue +House seemed like progress toward acquaintance with the beautiful +Leonora. + + + + +V + + +All work had stopped on the rich lands of the _ribera_. + +The first winter rains were falling over the entire District. Day after +day the gray sky, heavy with clouds, seemed to reach down and touch the +very tops of the trees. The reddish soil of the fields grew dark under +the continuous downpour; the roads, winding deep between the mudwalls +and the fences of the orchards, were changed to rushing streams. The +weeping orange-trees seemed to shrink and cringe under the deluge, as if +in aggrieved protest at the sudden anger of that kindly, friendly land +of sunshine. + +The Jucar was rising. The waters, turned to so much liquid clay, lashed +red and slimy against the buttresses of the bridges. People living along +the banks followed the swelling of the river with anxious eyes, studying +the markers placed along the shores to note how the water was coming up. + +_"Munta?"_ ... asked the people from the interior, in their quaint +dialect. + +_"Munta!"_ answered the river dwellers. + +And the water was indeed slowly rising, already threatening the city +that had so audaciously taken root in the very middle of its bed. + +But despite the danger, the townspeople seemed to be feeling nothing +more than uneasy curiosity. No one thought of moving across the bridges +to take refuge on the high land. Nonsense! The Jucar was always +flooding. You had to expect something of the sort every once in a while. +Thank heaven there was something to break the monotony of life in that +sleepy town! Why complain at a week's vacation? It was hard to disturb +the placid complacency of those descendants of the Moors. Floods had +been coming since the days of their fathers, their grandfathers and +their great-grandfathers, and never had the town been carried off. A few +houses at the worst. Why suppose the catastrophe would be due now?... +The Jucar was a sort of husband to Alcira. As happens in any decent +family, there would be a quarrel now and then--a thrashing followed by +kisses and reconciliation. Just imagine--living seven or eight centuries +together! Besides,--and this the lesser people thought--there was Father +San Bernardo, as powerful as God Himself in all that concerned Alcira. +He was able, single-handed, to tame the writhing monster that wound its +coiling way underneath the bridges. + +It rained day and night; and yet the city, from its animation, seemed to +be having a holiday. The young ones, sent home from school because of +the bad weather, were all on the bridges throwing branches into the +water to see how swift the current was, or playing along the lanes close +to the river, planting sticks in the banks and waiting for the +ever-broadening torrent to reach them. + +Under the shelter of the projecting eaves, whence broken water-spouts +were belching streams as thick as a man's arm, loungers in the cafes +would slip along the streets toward the river-front; and after glancing +at the flood from the scant protection of their umbrellas, would make +their way proudly back, stopping in every drinking place to offer their +opinions on the rise that had taken place since their previous +inspection. + +The city from end to end was one seething storm of heated, typically +"Southern" argument and prophecy. Friendships were being made and +broken, over questions as to whether the river had risen four inches the +past hour, or only one, and as to whether this freshet were more +important than the one five years before. + +Meantime the sky kept on weeping through its countless eyes; the river, +roaring more wrathful every moment, was now licking at the ends of the +low-lying streets near the bank, creeping up into the gardens on the +shore, stealing in between the orange-trees, opening holes in the hedges +and the mudwalls. + +The main concern of the populace was whether it were raining also in the +mountains of Cuenca. If much water came down from there, the flood would +become serious. And experienced eyes studied the color of the waters +carefully. If there was any black in them, it meant they came from the +upper provinces. + +The cloud-burst lasted for two whole days. The night of the second day +closed, and the roar of the river sounded forebodingly in the darkness. +On its black surface lights could be seen reflected like restless +flashes of flame--candles from the shore houses and lanterns of watchmen +on guard along the banks. + +In the lower streets the water was coming under the doors into the +houses. Women and children were taking refuge in the garrets while the +men, with their trousers rolled up to their knees, were splashing about +in the liquid silt, carrying their farming tools to places of safety, or +tugging at some donkey who would be balking at going too deep into the +water. + +All these people of the suburbs, on finding their houses flooded in the +darkness of night, lost the jesting calm which they had so boastfully +displayed during the daytime. Now fear of the supernatural came over +them, and with childish anxiety they sought protection of some Higher +Power to avert the danger. Perhaps this freshet was the final one! +Perhaps they were the victims destined to perish in the final downfall +of the city!... Women began to shriek with terror on seeing their +wretched lanes converted into deep canals. + +"_El pare San Bernat!... Que traguen al pare San Bernat_! Father Saint +Bernard!... Let them fetch father Saint Bernard!" + +The men looked at each other uneasily. Nobody could handle a matter like +this so well as the glorious patron. It was now high time to have +recourse to him, as had so often been done before, and get him to +perform his miracle. + +They ought to go to the City Council, and compel the big guns there, in +spite of their scepticism, to bring the saint out for the consolation of +the poor. + +In an hour a veritable army was formed. Mobs issued from the dark lanes, +paddling in the water like frogs, and raising their war-cry: "_San +Bernat! San Bernat_!"; the men, with their sleeves and trousers rolled +up, or even entirely naked save for the sash that is never removed from +the skin of a Valencian peasant; the women, with their skirts raised +over their heads for protection, sinking their tanned, skinny, +over-worked legs into the slime, and all drenched from head to foot, the +wet clothes sticking to their bodies; and at the head, a number of +strong young men with four-wicked tapers lighted, sputtering and +crackling in the rain and casting a weird flickering radiance back over +the clamoring multitude. + +"_San Bernat! San Bernat!... Viva el pare San Bernat!_ Father Saint +Bernard, _viva_!" + +Under the drizzle pouring from the sky and the streams tumbling from the +eavespouts, the mob rushed along through the streets in a wild riot. +Doors and windows flew open, and new voices were added to the delirious +uproar, while at every crossing recruits would come to swell the +on-rushing avalanche headed for the _Ayuntamiento_. Muskets, ancient +blunderbusses, and horse-pistols as big as guns, could be seen in the +menacing throng, as though those wild forms were to compel the granting +of a petition that might be denied, or to slay the river, perhaps. + +The _alcalde_, with all the members of the council, was waiting at the +door of the City Hall. They had come running to the place, marshalling +the _alguacils_ and the patrols, to face and quell the mutiny. + +"What do you want?" the Mayor asked the crowd. + +What did they want! They wanted the one remedy, the one salvation, for +the city: they wanted to take the omnipotent saint to the bank of the +river that he might awe it with his presence, just as their ancestors +had been doing for centuries and centuries, and thanks to which the city +was still standing! + +Some of the city people, whom the peasants regarded as atheists, began +to smile at the strange request. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time +getting all the valuables out of the houses on the bank? A tempest of +protests followed this proposal. "Out with the saint! Out with _San +Bernat!_ We want the miracle! The miracle!" Those simple people were +thinking of the wonders they had learned in their childhood at their +mothers' knees; times in former centuries, when it had been enough for +San Bernardo to appear on a river road, to start the flood down again, +draining off from the orchard lands as water leaks from a broken +pitcher. + +The _alcalde_, a liegeman of the Brull dynasty, was in a quandary. He +was afraid of that ugly mob and was anxious to yield, as usual; but it +would be a serious breach of etiquette not to consult "the chief." +Fortunately, just as the huge, dark mass of human beings was beginning +to surge in indignation at his silence, and hisses and shouts of anger +were being raised, Rafael appeared. + +Dona Bernarda had sent him out at the first sign of uneasiness in the +populace. It was in circumstances such as these that her husband used to +shine, taking the helm in every crisis, giving orders and settling +questions, though to no avail at all. But when the river returned to its +normal level, and danger was past, the peasant would remember don +Ramon's "sacrifices" and call him the father of the poor. If the +miraculous saint must come out, let Rafael be the one to produce him! +The elections were at hand. The flood could not have come in better +time. There must be no false steps, no frightening opportunity away. +Something rather must be done to get people to talking about him as they +used to talk about his father on similar occasions. + +So Rafael, after having the purpose of this demonstration explained to +him by the most ardent of the leaders, gave a magnificent gesture of +consent: + +"Granted; have _San Bernat_ brought out!" + +With a thunder of applause and _vivas_ for young Brull, the black +avalanche headed rumbling for the church. + +They must now persuade the curate to take the saint out, and that good +priest--a fat, kindly, but rather shrewd fellow--always objected to what +he called a bit of old-fashioned mummery. The truth was he looked +forward with little pleasure to a tramp out in the rain at the head of a +procession, trying to keep dry under an umbrella, with his _soutane_ +rolled up to his knees, and his shoes coming off at every step in the +mire. Besides, some day, in the very face of San Bernardo, the river +might carry half the city off, and then what a fix, what a fix, religion +would be in, all on account of those disturbers of the peace! + +Rafael and his henchmen of the _Ayuntamiento_ tried their hardest to +convince the curate; but his only reply was to ask whether water was +coming down from Cuenca. + +"I believe it is," said the _alcalde_. "You can see that makes the +danger worse. It's more than ever necessary to bring out the saint." + +"Well, if there's water coming down from Cuenca," the priest answered, +"we'd better let it come, and San Bernardo also had better keep +indoors, at home. Matters concerning saints must be treated with great +discretion, take my word for that.... And, if you don't agree with me, +just remember that freshet when the river got above the bridges. We +brought the saint out, and the river almost carried him off downstream." + +The crowd, growing restless at the delay, began to shout against the +priest. The good sense of that canny churchman was powerless in the face +of superstitions instilled by centuries of fanaticism. + +"Since you will it so, so let it be," he said gravely. "Let the Saint +come forth, and may the Lord have mercy on us!" + +A frenzied acclamation burst from the crowd, which now filled the whole +square in front of the church. The rain continued falling, and above the +serried ranks of heads covered with skirts, cloaks, and an occasional +umbrella, the flames of the tapers flickered, staining the wet faces +red. + +The people smiled happily in all their discomfort from the downpour. +Confident of success, they were foretasting gleefully the terror of the +stream at sight of the blessed image entering its waters. What could not +San Bernardo do? His marvelous history, a blend of Moorish and Christian +romance, flamed in all those credulous imaginations. He was a saint +native to that region--the second son of the Moorish king of Carlet. +Through his talent, courtesy and beauty he won such success at court in +Valencia, that he rose to the post of prime minister. + +Once when his sovereign had to have some dealings with the king of +Aragon, he sent San Bernardo, who at that time was called Prince Hamete, +to Barcelona. During his journey he drew up one night at the portal of +the monastery of Poblet. The chants of the Cistercians, drifting +mystical and vague through the Gothic arches, moved the Saracen youth to +the bottom of his soul. He felt drawn to the religion of his enemies by +the magic of its poetry. He received baptism, assumed the white habit of +Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and later returned to the kingdom of +Valencia to preach Christianity. There he enjoyed the tolerance Saracen +monarchs always had for new religious doctrines. He converted his two +sisters--beautiful Mooresses they were--and they took the names of +Gracia and Maria, and aflame in turn with pious fervor, they chose to go +with their brother on his tour of preachment. + +But the old king of Carlet had died, and his first-born--the arrogant +Almanzor, a brutal, vainglorious Moor--succeeded to the rulership of the +tiny state--a sort of military satrapy. This haughty potentate, offended +in his magnificence to see members of his family traveling over the +roads dressed like vagabonds and preaching a religion of beggars, called +a troop of horse and set out in pursuit of his brother and sisters. He +came upon them near Alcira, hiding on the riverbank. With one slash of +his sword he cut the heads off both his sisters; San Bernardo he +crucified and drove a big nail through his forehead. Thus the sacred +preacher perished, but all the humble continued to adore him; for here +was a handsome prince, who had turned to a poor man, become a wandering +mendicant even--a sacrifice that endeared him to the poorest of his +votaries. Of all this that crowd of peasants was thinking as it shouted +_vivas_ to San Bernardo, now, surely, prime minister of God, as he had +been of the pagan king of Valencia. + +The procession was rapidly organized. Along the narrow lanes of the +island where the rain coursed in streams, people kept coming in droves. +They were barefoot for the most part, but some were sinking shoes +indifferently into the water. Most of them had tapers or shotguns. The +women did their best to shelter little ones under the skirts they had +gathered about their heads. The musicians, all barefoot, were in regular +uniform--gold braided jackets and plumed hats--looking for all the world +like Malay chiefs who beautify their nakedness with castoff coats and +three-cornered hats the missionaries give them. + +In front of the church the lights of the tapers blended into one great +flare. Through the wide doorway the candles on the altars gleamed like a +distant constellation. + +The whole neighborhood, almost, had assembled in the square, despite the +increasing rain. Many had come to scoff. What a farce it all would be! +They did well, however, to wait two days! The rain was almost over. It +would probably stop by the time they got the Saint out! + +In double file of tapers the procession began to move between two lines +of tightly jammed spectators. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_ Hurrah for father San Bernardo!" a +multitude of hoarse voices cried. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes_! Hurrah for his sisters!" others added, to +correct the lack of gallantry displayed by the most enthusiastic of the +idolators in putting ladies last. + +For the sisters, the holy martyrs, Gracia and Maria, also figured in +the procession. San Bernardo never went anywhere alone. As even children +in baby-school knew, not a power on earth, not all the men and horses in +the orchards put together, could lift the saint from his altar unless +his sisters went first. That was one of his miracles long accredited by +tradition. He had very little confidence in women--less pious +commentators said--and not willing to trust his sisters out of sight, he +insisted that they precede him whenever he left his pedestal. + +The holy sisters appeared in the church doorway, swaying on their +litters above the heads of the worshippers. + +"_Vitol les chermanetes!_" + +And the poor _chermanetes_, dripping from every fold of their vestments, +came out into that dark, tempestuous, rain-soaked atmosphere that was +rent by sheaves of crude light from the tapers. + +The musicians tuned their instruments, ready to break into the Royal +March! In the brilliantly lighted doorway something shining could be +seen laboriously advancing, swaying this way and that, as if the waves +of an angry sea were rocking it. + +The crowd again began to cheer, and the music sounded. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat!_" + +But the music and the acclamations were drowned by a deafening crash, as +if the island had suddenly burst into a thousand pieces, dragging the +city to the depths of the Abyss. The square was shooting a fusillade of +lightning flashes, a veritable cannonade. Those ancient arms, +blunderbusses, muzzle-loaders, pistols, crammed full of powder, could +roar like artillery. All the guns in the neighborhood were saluting the +appearance of the Saint. And the crowd, drunk with the smell of powder, +began to shout and gesticulate in the presence of that bronze image, +whose round, kindly face--that of a healthy well-fed friar--seemed to +quiver with life in the light of the torches. + +Eight strong men, almost naked, came forward staggering under the weight +of the metal saint. The crowd surged against them, threatening to upset +the statue. But two bare-breasted strong-armed boys, devotees of the +patron, were marching on either side, and they fought the multitude +back. + +The women, shoved hither and thither and almost suffocated in the jam, +burst into tears as their gaze fell upon the miraculous image. + +"_Ay_, father San Bernardo! Father San Bernardo! Save us! Save us!" + +Others dragged children out from the folds of their skirts, and held +them out above their heads toward the powerful guards. + +"Lift him up! Let him kiss the Saint!" + +And those muscular peasants would pick the children up like dolls, now +by an arm, now by a leg, now by the nape of the neck, raise them to a +level with the saint, that they might kiss the bronze face, and then +toss them back into the arms of their mothers, working like automatons, +dropping one child to seize another, with the regularity of machines in +action. Many times the impact was too rough; the noses of the children +would flatten against the folds of the metallic garb; but the fervor of +the crowd seemed to infect the little ones. They were the future adorers +of the Moorish monk. Rubbing their bruises with their soft little hands +they would swallow their tears and return to their snug places in their +mothers' skirts. + +Behind the glorious saint marched Rafael and the gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ with long wax tapers; and after them the curate, +grumbling as he heard the first dashes of rain beat on the large red +silk umbrella which the sacristan held over him, and felt the impact of +the crowd of orchard-folk, that was mixed at random with the musicians. +The latter, paying more attention to where they stepped than to their +instruments, played a rather discordant march. Guns, meanwhile, +continued to blaze away. The wild cheering for San Bernardo and his +sisters went on; and, framed in a red nimbus of torch-light, greeted at +every street-corner by a new fusillade, the image sailed along over that +sea of heads, pelted by the rain, which, in the light of the candles, +looked like a maze of transparent crystal threads. Around the saint the +arms of the athletes kept ever moving, lifting children up to bump their +drooling noses on the bronze of father San Bernardo. Balconies and +windows along the way were filled with women, their heads protected by +their skirts. + +Sighs, wails, exclamations of entreaty welcomed the passing saint in a +chorus of despair and hope. + +"Save us, father San Bernardo!... Save us!..." + +The procession reached the river, crossing and recrossing the bridges +that led to the suburbs. The flickering torches were mirrored in the +dark edges of the stream, which was growing momentarily more terrifying +and clamorous. The water had not yet reached the railing, as at other +times. Miracle! San Bernardo was at work already! + +Then the procession marched to points where the river had flooded the +lanes near the bank, and turned them to virtual ponds. The more +fanatical of the devotees, lifting their tapers above their heads, went +out fearlessly neck high into the water: for surely the Saint must not +go in alone. + +One old man, shaking with malaria, caught in the rice-fields, and hardly +able to hold the taper in his trembling hands, hesitated at the brink of +the stream. + +"Go on in, _agueelo_!" the women encouraged affectionately. "Father San +Bernardo will cure you. Don't lose such a chance!" + +When the saint was out performing miracles, he might remember the old +man, too. So _agueelo_--"grandaddy"--shivering in his drenched clothes +and his teeth chattering, walked resolutely in. + +The statue was making its way very slowly along the inundated streets, +for the feet of the bearers sank deep into the water under their load; +and they could advance at all only with the aid of the faithful, who +gathered about the litter on all sides to help. A writhing mass of bare, +sinewy arms rose from the water like tentacles of a human octopus to +carry the Saint along. + +Just behind the image came the curate and the political dignitaries, +riding astride the shoulders of some enthusiasts who, for the greater +pomp of the ceremony, were willing to serve as mounts, though the tapers +of their riders kept getting into their faces. + +The curate began to feel the cold water creeping up his back, and +ordered the Saint inshore again. In fact San Bernardo was already at +the end of the lane, and actually in the river itself. His guards of +honor were having a time of it to keep their feet in the face of the +current, but they were still willing to go on, believing that the +farther the statue went into the stream, the sooner the waters would go +down. At last, however, the most foolhardy withdrew. The Saint came +back. Though the procession at once went on to the next road and to the +next, repeating the same performance. + +And suddenly it stopped raining. + +A wild cheer, a shout of joy and triumph, shook the multitude. + +"_Vitol el pare San Bernat_!..." Now would the people of the neighboring +towns dare dispute his immense power?... There was the proof! Two days +of incessant downpour, and then, the moment the Saint showed his face +out of doors--fair weather! Excuse me! + +In fervent thanksgiving weeping women rushed upon the saint and began to +kiss whatever part of the image was within reach--the handles of the +litter, the decorations of the pedestal, the bronze body itself. The +tottering structure of wood and metal began to stagger and reel like a +frail bark tossing over a sea of shrieking heads and extended arms that +trembled with exaltation. + +The procession marched on for more than an hour still along the river. +Then the priest, who was dripping wet and had exhausted more than a +dozen "horses" under him, forbade it to continue. Leave it to those +peasants, and the nonsense would go on till dawn! So the curate observed +that the Saint had already done what was required of him. Now it was +time to go home! + +Rafael handed his taper to one of his henchmen and stopped on the bridge +with a number of experienced observers, who were lamenting the damage +done by the flood. At every moment, no one could say just how, alarming +reports of the destruction wrought by the river were coming in. Now a +mill had been isolated by the waters, and the people there had taken +refuge on the roof, firing their shotguns as signals of distress. Many +orchards had been completely submerged. The few boats available in the +city were doing the best they could in the work of rescue. The valley +had become one vast lake. Rowboats caught in the shifting currents were +in danger of smashing against hidden obstructions; and it was +practically impossible to push a punt upstream with oars. + +Yet the people spoke with relative calmness. They were accustomed to +this almost annual visitation, and accepted it resignedly as an +inevitable evil. Besides, they referred hopefully to telegrams received +by the _alcalde_. By dawn help would be coming in. The governor in +Valencia was sending a detachment of marines, and the lagoon would be +filled with navy boats. Everything would be all right in a few hours. +But if the water got much higher meanwhile ...! + +They consulted stakes and other water marks along the river, and violent +disputes arose. Rafael, for his part, could see the flood was still +rising, though but slowly. + +The peasants refused to believe it. How could the river rise after +Father San Bernardo had gone into it? No, sir! it was _not_ rising. That +was all a lie intended to discredit the patron. And a sturdy youth with +flashing eyes threatened to disembowel with one stroke of his +knife--like that!--a certain scoffer who maintained that the river would +go on rising if only for the pleasure of refuting that charlatan of a +friar. + +Rafael approached the brawlers, and by the dim lantern light recognized +Cupido--the barber--a sarcastic fellow, with curly side-whiskers and an +aquiline nose, who took great pleasure in poking fun at the barbarous, +unshakable faith of the illiterate peasants. + +Brull knew the barber very well. The man was one of his childhood +favorites. Fear of his mother was the only thing that had kept him from +frequenting Cupido's shop--the rendezvous of the city's gayest set, a +hotbed of gossip and practical jokes, a school of guitar playing and +love songs that kept the whole neighborhood astir. Besides, Cupido was +the freak of the city, the sharp-tongued but irresponsible practical +joker, who was forgiven everything in advance, and could enjoy his +idiosyncrasies and speak his mind about people without starting a riot +against him. He was, for instance, the one person in Alcira who scoffed +at the tyranny of the Brulls without thereby losing entrance to the +Party Club, where the young men admired his wit and his eccentric way of +dressing. + +Rafael was still fond of Cupido, though not very intimate with him. In +all the sedate, conservative world around him, the barber seemed the +only person really worth while talking with. Cupido was almost an +artist. In winter he would go to Valencia to hear the operas praised by +the newspapers, and in one corner of his shop he had heaps of novels and +illustrated magazines, much mildewed and softened by the damp, and their +leaves worn through from continual thumbing by customers. + +He had very little to do with Rafael, guessing that the youth's mother +would not regard such a friendship with any too much favor; but he +displayed a certain liking for the boy; and addressed him familiarly, +having known him as a child. Of Rafael he said everywhere: + +"He's the best one in the family; the only Brull with more brains than +crookedness." + +Nothing too small for Cupido to notice ever happened in Alcira. Every +weakness, every foible of the city's celebrities was made public by him +in his barbershop, to the delight of the Opposition, whose members +gathered there to read their party organ. The gentlemen of the +_Ayuntamiento_ feared the barber more than any ten newspapers combined, +and whenever some famous Conservative minister referred in parliament to +a "revolutionary hydra" or a "hotbed of anarchy," they pictured to +themselves a barbershop like that of Cupido, but much larger perhaps, +scattering a poisonous atmosphere of cruel gibe and perverse effrontery +all through the nation. + +The barber was inevitably on hand where anything was going on. It might +be at the very end of the suburbs, or away out in the country. In a few +moments Cupido would put in an appearance to learn all about it, give +advice to those who might need it, arbitrate between disputants and +afterward tell the whole story with a thousand embellishments. + +He had plenty of time on his hands for leading such a life. Two young +fellows, as crazy as their employer, tended shop. Cupido paid them with +music-lessons and meals--better or worse these latter, according to the +day's receipts, which were divided fraternally among the three. And if +the "boss" sometimes astonished the city by going out for a walk in +midwinter in a suit of white duck, they, not to be outdone, would shave +off their hair and eyebrows and show heads as smooth as billiard-balls +behind the shop windows, to the great commotion of the city, which would +flock _en masse_ to see "Cupido's Chinamen." + +A flood was always a great day for the barber. He closed shop and +planted himself out on a bridge, oblivious to wind and rain, haranguing +the crowds of spectators, terrifying the stupid with his exaggerations +and inventions, and announcing hair-raising news which he asserted he +had just received from the Governor by telegraph, and according to +which, in two hours, there would not be a cellar-hole left of the place. +Even the miracle-working San Bernardo would be washed into the sea! + +When Rafael found him upon the bridge that night, after the procession, +Cupido was on the point of coming to blows with several rustics, who had +grown indignant at his heresies. + +Stepping aside from the crowd, the two began a conversation about the +dangers of the flood. Cupido, as usual, was well-informed. He had been +told a poor old man had been cut off in an orchard and drowned. That was +probably not the only accident that had taken place. Horses and pigs in +large numbers had drifted past under the bridge, early in the afternoon. + +The barber talked earnestly and with some sadness, it seemed. Rafael +listened in silence, scanning his face anxiously, as if looking for a +chance to speak of something which he dared not broach. + +"And how about the Blue House," he ventured finally, "that farm of dona +Pepa's where you go sometimes? Will anything be wrong down there?" + +"It's a good solid place," the barber replied, "and this isn't the first +flood it's been through.... But it's right on the river, and by this +time the garden must be a lake; the water will surely be up to the +second story. I'll bet dona Pepa's poor niece is scared out of her +wits... Just imagine--coming from so far away and from such pretty +places, and running into a mess like this ..." + +Rafael seemed to meditate for a moment. Then as if an idea that had been +dancing about in his head all day had just occurred to him, he said: + +"Suppose we take a run down there!... What do you say, Cupido?" + +"Down there!... And how'll we get there?" + +But the proposal, from its very rashness, was bound to appeal to a man +like the barber, who at length began to laugh, as if the adventure were +a highly amusing one. + +"You're right! We could get through! It will look funny, all right! Us +two paddling up like a couple of Venetian gondoliers to serenade a +celebrated prima donna in her fright ... I've a good mind to run home +and fetch my guitar along ..." + +"What the devil, Cupido! No guitar business! What a josher you are! Our +job is to get those women out of there. They'll get drowned if we +don't." + +The barber, insisting on his romantic idea, fixed a pair of shrewd eyes +on Rafael. + +"I see! So you're interested in the illustrious _artiste_, too ... You +rascal! You're smitten on her reputation for good looks ... But no ... I +remember ... you've seen her; she told me so herself." + +"She!... She spoke to you about me?" + +"Oh, nothing important! She told me she saw you one afternoon up at the +Hermitage." + +Cupido kept the rest to himself. He did not say that Leonora, on +mentioning Rafael's name, had added that he looked like an "idiot." + +Rafael's heart leaped with joy! She had talked of him! She had not +forgotten that meeting which had left such a painful memory in him!... +What was he doing, then, standing like a fool there on that bridge, when +down at the Blue House they might be needing a man's help? + +"Listen, Cupido; I have my boat right handy here; you know, the boat +father had made to order in Valencia as a present for me. Steel frame; +hard wood; safe as a warship. You know the river ... I've seen you +handle an oar more than once; and I've got a pair of arms myself ... +What do you say?" + +"I say, let's go," the barber answered resolutely. + +They asked for a torch, and with the help of several men dragged +Rafael's boat toward a stairway on the riverbank. + +Above, through the crowds on the bridge, the news of the expedition +flashed, but exaggerated and much idealized by the curious. The men were +going to save a poor family that had taken refuge on the roof of a +house--poor devils in danger of being swept off at any moment. Rafael +had learned of their plight, and he was starting to save them at the +risk of his own skin. And a wealthy, powerful man like him, with so much +to live for! Damn it, those Brulls were all men, anyhow!... And yet see +how people talked against them! What a heart! And the peasants followed +the blood-red glow of the torch in the boat as it mirrored across the +waters, gazing adoringly at Rafael, who was sitting in the stern. Out of +the dark entreating voices called. Many loyal followers of the Brulls +were eager to go with the chief--drown with him, if need be. + +Cupido protested. No; for a job like that, the fewer the better; the +boat had to be light; he would do for the oars and Rafael could steer. + +"Let her go! Let her go!" called Rafael. + +And the boat, after hesitating a second, shot off on the current. + +In the narrow gorge between the Old City and the New, the swollen +torrent swept them along like lightning. The barber used his oars just +to keep the boat away from the shore. Submerged rocks sent great +whirlpools to the surface and pulled the boat this way and that. The +light of the torch cast a dull reddish glow out over the muddy eddies. +Tree trunks, refuse, dead animals, went floating by, shapeless masses +with only a few dark points visible above the surface, as though some +dead man covered with mud were swimming under water. Out on that +swirling current, with the slimy vapors of the river rising to his +nostrils and the eddies sucking and boiling all around, Rafael thought +himself the victim of a weird nightmare and began even to repent of his +rashness. Cries kept coming from houses close to the river; windows were +suddenly lighted up; and from them great shadowy arms like the wings of +a windmill waved in greeting to that red flame which people saw gliding +past along the river, bringing the outlines of the boat and the two men +into distinct view. The news of their expedition had spread throughout +the city and people were on the watch for them as they sped by: "_Viva_ +don Rafael! _Viva_ Brull!" + +But the hero who was risking his life to save a family of poor folks out +there in the darkness of that sticky, murky, sepulchral night, had in +mind only one thing--a blue house, into which he was to penetrate at +last, in so strange and romantic a fashion. + +From time to time a scraping sound or a jolt of the boat would bring him +back to reality. + +"Your tiller there!" Cupido would shout, without, however, taking his +eyes from the water ahead. "Look out, Rafaelito, or we'll get smashed!" + +The boat was indeed a good one, for any other, would long before have +come to grief in those rapids jammed with rocks and debris. + +They were around the city in no time. Few lighted windows were now to be +seen. High, steep banks of slippery mud--quite unscalable--crested with +walls, were slipping past on either hand, with an occasional palisade, +the piles just emerging from the water. Somewhat ahead, the open river, +where the two arms that girt the Old City reunited in what was now a +vast lake! + +The two men went on blindly. All normal landmarks were gone. The banks +had disappeared, and in the blackness, beyond the red circle of torch +light, they could make out only water and then more water--an immense +incessantly rolling sheet that was taking them they knew not where. From +time to time a black spot would show above the muddy surface; the crest +of some submerged canebrake; the top of a tree; a strange, fantastic +vegetation that seemed to be writhing in the gloom. The river, free now +from the gorges and shallows around the city, had ceased its roaring. It +seethed and swirled along in absolute silence, effacing all trace of the +land. The two men felt like a couple of shipwrecked sailors adrift on a +shoreless, sunless ocean, alone save for the reddish flame flickering at +the prow, and the submerged treetops that appeared and vanished rapidly. + +"Better begin to row, Cupido," said Rafael. "The current is very strong. +We must be still in the river. Let's turn to the right and see if we can +get into the orchards." + +The barber bent to the oars, and the boat, slowly, on account of the +current, came around and headed for a line of tree-tops that peered +above the surface of the flood like seaweed floating on the ocean. +Shortly the bottom began to scrape on invisible obstacles. Entanglements +below were clutching at the keel, and it took some effort occasionally +to get free. The lake was still dark and apparently shoreless, but the +current was not so strong and the surface had stopped rolling. The two +men knew they had reached dead water. What looked like dark, gigantic +mushrooms, huge umbrellas, or lustrous domes, caught the reflection of +the torch, at times. Those were orange-trees. The rescuers were in the +orchards. But in which? How find the way in the darkness? Here and there +the branches were too thick to break through and the boat would tip as +if it were going over. They would back water, make a detour, or try +another route. + +They were going very slowly for fear of striking something, zig-zagging +meanwhile to avoid snags. As a result they lost direction altogether, +and could no longer say which way the river lay. Darkness and water +everywhere! The submerged orange-trees, all alike, formed complicated +lanes over the inundation, a labyrinth in which they grew momentarily +more confused. They were now rowing about quite aimlessly. + +Cupido was perspiring freely, under the hard work. The boat was moving +slower and slower because of the branches catching at the keel. + +"This is worse than the river," he murmured. "Rafael, you're facing +forward. Can't you make out any light ahead?" + +"Not a one!" + +The torch would throw some huge clump of leaves into relief for a +moment. When that was gone, the light would be swallowed up into damp, +thick, empty space. + +Thus they wandered about and about the flooded countryside. The barber's +strength had given out and he passed the oars over to Rafael, who was +also nearly exhausted. + +How long had they been gone? Were they to stay there forever? And their +minds dulled by fatigue and the sense of being lost, they imagined the +night would never end--that the torch would go out and leave the boat a +black coffin, for their corpses to float in eternally. + +Rafael, who was now facing astern suddenly noticed a light on his left. +They were going away from it; perhaps that was the house they had been +so painfully searching for. + +"It may be," Cupido agreed. "Perhaps we went by without seeing it, and +now we're downstream, toward the sea.... But even if it is not the Blue +House, what of it? The main thing is to find someone there. That's far +better than wandering around here in the dark. Give me the oars, again +Rafael. If that isn't dona Pepita's place, at least we'll find out where +we are." + +He pulled the boat around, and gradually they made their way through the +treetops toward the light. They struck several snags, orchard fences, +perhaps, or submerged walls--but the light kept growing brighter. +Finally it had become a large red square across which dark forms were +moving. Over the waters a golden, shimmering wake of light was +streaming. + +The torch from the boat brought out the lines of a broad house with a +low roof that seemed to be floating on the water. It was the upper story +of a building that had been swamped by the inundation. The lower story +was under water. The flood, indeed, was getting closer to the upper +rooms. The balconies and windows looked like landings of a pier in an +immense lake. + +"Seems to me as if we'd struck the place," the barber said. + +A warm, resonant voice, that of a woman, vibrant, but with a deep, +melodious softness, broke the silence. + +"Hey, you in the boat there!... Here, here!" + +The voice betrayed no fear. It showed not a trace of emotion. + +"Didn't I tell you so I ..." the barber exclaimed. "The very place we +were looking for. Dona Leonora!... It's I! It's I!" + +A rippling laugh came out into gloom. + +"Why, it's Cupido! It's Cupido!... I can tell him by his voice. Auntie, +auntie! Don't cry any more. Don't be afraid; and stop your praying, +please! Here comes the God of Love in a pearl shallop to rescue us!" + +Rafael shrank at the sound of that somewhat mocking voice, which seemed +to people the darkness with brilliantly colored butterflies. + +Now in the luminous square of a window he could make out the haughty +profile of a woman among other black forms that were going to and fro +past the light inside, in agreeable surprise at the unexpected visit. + +The craft drew up to the balcony. The men rose to their feet and were +able to reach an iron railing. The barber, from the prow, was looking +for something strong where he could make the boat fast. + +Leonora was leaning over the balustrade while the light from the torch +lit up the golden helmet of her thick, luxuriant hair. She was trying to +identify that other man down there who had bashfully sat down again in +the stern. + +"You're a real friend, Cupido!... Thank you, thank you, ever and ever +so much. This is one of the favors we never forget.... But who has come +along with you?..." + +The barber was already fastening the boat to the iron railing. + +"It's don Rafael Brull," he answered slowly. "A gentleman you have met +already, I believe. You must thank him for this visit. The boat is his, +and it was he who got me out on this adventure." + +"Oh, thank you, Senor Brull," said Leonora, greeting the man with the +wave of a hand that flashed blue and red from the rings on its fingers. +"I must repeat what I said to our friend Cupido. Come right in, and I +hope you'll excuse my introducing you through a second-story window." + +Rafael had jumped to his feet and was answering her greeting with an +awkward bow, clasping the iron railing in order not to fall. Cupido +jumped into the house and was followed by the young man, who took pains +to make the climb gracefully and sprightly. + +He was not sure how well he succeeded. That had been too much excitement +for a single night: first the wild trip through the gorges near the +city; then those hours of desperate aimless rowing over the winding +lanes of the flooded countryside; and now, all at once, a solid floor +under his feet, a roof over his head, warmth, and the society of that +madly beautiful woman, who seemed to intoxicate him with her perfume, +and whose eyes he did not dare meet with his own for fear of fainting +from embarrassment. + +"Come right in, _caballero_," she said to him. "You surely need +something after this escapade of yours. You are sopping wet, both of +you.... Poor boys! Just look at them!... Beppa!... Auntie! But do come +in, sir!" + +And she fairly pushed Rafael forward with a sort of maternal +authoritativeness, much as a kindly woman might take her child in hand +after he has done some naughty prank of which she is secretly proud. + +The rooms were in disorder. Clothes everywhere and heaps of rustic +furniture that contrasted with the other pieces arranged along the +walls! The household belongings of the gardener had been brought +upstairs as soon as the flood started. An old farmer, his wife--who was +beside herself with fear--and several children, who were slinking in the +corners, had taken refuge in the upper story with the ladies, as soon as +the water began seeping into their humble home. + +Rafael entered the dining-room, and there sat dona Pepita, poor old +woman, heaped in an armchair, the wrinkles of her features moistened +with tears and her two hands clutching a rosary. Cupido was trying +vainly to cheer her with jokes about the inundation. + +"Look, auntie! This gentleman is the son of your friend, dona Bernarda. +He came over here in a boat to help us out. It was very nice of him, +wasn't it?" + +The old woman seemed quite to have lost her mind from terror. She looked +vacantly at the new arrivals, as if they had been there all their lives. +At last she seemed to realize what they were saying. + +"Why, it's Rafael!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Rafaelito.... And you +came to see us in such weather! Suppose you get drowned? What will your +mother say?... Lord, how crazy of you! Lord!" + +But it was not madness, and even if it were, it was very sweet of him! +That, at least, was what Rafael seemed to read in those clear, luminous +eyes of the golden sparkles that caressed him with their velvety touch +every time he dared to look at them. Leonora was staring at him: +studying him in the lamplight, as if trying to understand the difference +between the man in front of her and the boy she had met on her walk to +the Hermitage. + +Dona Pepa's spirits rallied now that men were in the house; and with a +supreme effort of will, the old lady decided to leave her armchair for a +look at the flood, which had stopped rising, if, indeed, it were not +actually receding. + +"How much water, oh Lord our God!... How many terrible things we'll +learn of tomorrow! This must be a punishment from Heaven ... a warning +to us to think of our many sins." + +Leonora meanwhile was bustling busily about, hurrying the refreshments. +Those gentlemen couldn't be left like that--she kept cautioning to her +maid and the peasant woman. Just imagine, with their clothes wet +through! How tired they must be after that all night struggle! Poor +fellows! It was enough just to look at them! And she set biscuits on the +table, cakes, a bottle of rum--everything, including a box of Russian +cigarettes with gilded tips--to the shocked surprise of the gardener's +wife. + +"Let them come here, auntie," she said to the old lady. "Don't make them +talk any more now.... They need to eat and drink a little, and get +warm.... I'm sorry I have so little to offer you. What in the world can +I get for them? Let's see! Let's see!" + +And while the two men were being forced, by that somewhat despotic +attentiveness, to take seats at the table, Leonora and her maid went +into the adjoining room, where keys began to rattle and tops of chests +to rise and fall. + +Rafael, in his deep emotion, could scarcely manage a few drops of rum; +but the barber chewed away for all he was worth, downing glass after +glass of liquor, and talking on and on through a mouth crammed with food +while his face grew redder and redder. + +When Leonora reappeared, her maid was following her with a great bundle +of clothes in her arms. + +"You understand, of course, we haven't a stitch of men's clothes in the +house. But in war-time we get along as best we can, eh? We're in what +you might call a state of siege here." + +Rafael noted the dimples that a charming smile traced in those wonderful +cheeks! And what perfect teeth--jewels in a casket of red velvet! + +"Now, Cupido; off with those wet things of yours; you're not going to +catch pneumonia on my account, and thus deprive the city of its one +bright spot. Here's something to put on while we are drying your +clothes." + +And she offered the barber a magnificent gown of blue velvet, with +veritable cascades of lace at the breast and on the sleeves. + +Cupido nearly fell off his chair.... Was he going to dress in top style +for once in his life? And with those side-whiskers?... How the people in +Alcira would howl if they could only see him now! And entering at once +into the fun of the situation, he hastened into the next room to don his +gown. + +"For you," Leonora said to Rafael with a motherly smile, "I could find +only this fur cloak. Come, now, take off that jacket of yours; it's +dripping wet." + +With a blush, the young man refused. No, he was all right! Nothing would +happen to him! He had been wetter than that many times. + +Leonora without losing her smile, seemed to grow impatient. No one in +that house ever talked back to her. + +"Come, Rafael, don't be so silly. We'll have to treat you like a child." + +And taking him by a sleeve, as if he were a refractory baby, she began +to pull at his jacket. + +The young man, in his confusion, was hardly aware of what was taking +place. He seemed to be traveling along on an endless horizon, at greater +speed than he had been swept down the river just before. She had called +him by his first name; he was a pampered guest in a house he had for +months been trying in vain to enter, and she, Leonora, was calling him +"child" and treating him like a child, as if they had been friends all +their lives. What sort of woman was this? Was he not lost in some +strange world? The women of the city--the girls he met at the parties at +his home, seemed to be creatures of another race, living far, ever so +far, away, at the other end of the earth, cut off from him forever by +that immense sheet of water. + +"Come, Mr. Obstinate, or we'll have to undress you like a doll." + +She was bending over him; he could feel her breath upon his cheeks, and +the touch of her delicate, agile hands; and a sense of delicious +intoxication swept over him. + +The fur coat was drawn snugly about his shoulders. It was a rare +garment; a cloak of blue fox as soft as silk, thick, yet light as the +plumes of some fantastic bird. Though Rafael passed for a tall man, its +edges touched the floor. The young man realized that thousands of francs +had suddenly been thrown over his back, and tremblingly he gathered the +bottom up, lest he should step upon it. + +Leonora laughed at his embarrassment. + +"Don't be afraid; no matter if you do tread on it. One would think you +were wearing a sacred veil from the respect you show that coat. It isn't +worth much. I use it only to travel in. A grandduke gave it to me in +Saint Petersburg." + +And to show more clearly how little she prized the princely gift, she +wrapped it closer around the boy, patting at his shoulders to fit it +more tightly to him. + +Slowly they walked back into the front room. Meanwhile, the appearance +of the barber, dressed in his luxuriant gown, was greeted with shouts of +laughter in the dining-room. Cupido was taking full advantage of the +occasion. The train in one hand and stroking his side-whiskers with the +other, he was writhing about like a prima donna in her big scene and +singing in a falsetto soprano voice. The peasant family laughed like +mad, forgetting the disaster that had overtaken their home; Beppa opened +her eyes wide, surprised at the elegant figure of the man, and the grace +with which he pronounced the Italian verses. Even poor dona Pepa hitched +around in her armchair and applauded. The barber, according to her, was +the most charming devil in the world. + +Rafael was standing on the balcony, at Leonora's side, his gaze lost in +the darkness, his spirit lulled by the music of her sweet voice, his +body snug and comfortable in that elegant garment which seemed to have +retained something of the warmth and perfume of her shoulders. With +marks of very real interest, she was questioning him about the desperate +trip down the river. + +Rafael answered her inquiries with bated breath. + +"What you have done," the prima donna was saying, "deserves my deep, +deep gratitude! It is a chivalrous act worthy of ancient times. +Lohengrin, arriving in his little boat to save Elsa! Only the swan is +lacking ...unless you want to call Cupido a swan...." + +"And suppose you had been carried off--drowned!..." the youth exclaimed +in justification of his rashness. + +"Drowned!...I must confess that at first I was somewhat afraid. Not so +much of dying, for I'm somewhat tired of life--as you will realize after +you've known me a little longer. But a death like that, suffocated in +that mud, that filthy, dirty water that smells so bad, doesn't at all +appeal to me. If it were some green, transparent Swiss lake!... I want +beauty even in death; I'm concerned with the 'final posture,' like the +Romans, and I was afraid of perishing here like a rat in a sewer.... And +nevertheless, I couldn't help laughing at my aunt and our poor servants +to see the fright they were in!... Now the water is no longer rising, +and the house is strong. Our only trouble is that we're cut off, and +I'm waiting for daylight to come so that we can see where we are. The +sight of all this country changed into a lake must be very beautiful, +isn't it, Rafael?" + +"You've probably seen far more interesting things," the young man +replied. + +"I don't deny that; but I'm always most impressed by the sensation of +the moment." + +And she fell silent, showing by her sudden seriousness the vexation that +his distant allusion to her past had caused. + +For some moments neither of them spoke; and it was Leonora who finally +broke the silence. + +"The truth is, if the water had gone on rising, we would have owed our +lives to you.... Let's see, now, frankly: why did you come? What kind +inspiration made you think of me. You hardly know me!" + +Rafael blushed with embarrassment, and trembled from head to foot, as if +she had asked him for a mortal confession. He was on the point of +uttering the great truth, baring in one great explosion all his thoughts +and dreams and dreads of past days. But he restrained himself and +grasped wildly for an answer. + +"My enthusiasm for the artist," he replied timidly. "I admire your +talent very much." + +Leonora burst into a noisy laugh. + +"But you don't know me! You've never heard me sing!... What do you know +about my "talent," as they call it? If it weren't for that chatterbox of +a Cupido, Alcira would never dream that I am a singer and that I'm +somewhat well-known--except in my own country." + +Rafael was crushed by the reply; he did not dare protest. + +"Come, Rafael," the woman continued affectionately, "don't be a child +and try to pass off the fibs boys use to deceive mama with. I know why +you came here. Do you imagine you haven't been seen from this very +balcony hovering about here every afternoon, lurking in the road like a +spy? You are discovered, sir." + +The shy Rafael thought the balcony was collapsing underneath his feet. +He shivered in abject terror, drew the fur cloak tighter around him, +without knowing what he was about, and shook his head in energetic +denial. + +"So it's not true, you fraud?" she said, with comic indignation. "You +deny that since we met up at the Hermitage you have been taking all your +walks in this neighborhood? _Dios mio_! What a monster of falsehood have +we here? And how brazenly he lies." + +And Rafael, vanquished by her frank merriment, had finally to smile, +confessing his crime with a loud laugh. + +"You're probably surprised at what I do and say," continued Leonora +drawing closer to him, leaning a shoulder against his with unaffected +carelessness, as if she were with a girl friend. "I'm not like most +women. A fine thing it would be for me, with the life I lead, to play +the hypocrite!... My poor aunt thinks I'm crazy because I say just what +I feel; in my time I've been much liked and much disliked on account of +the mania I have for not concealing anything.... Do you want me to tell +you the real truth?... Very well; you've come here because you love me, +or, at least, because you think you love me: a failing all boys of your +age have, as soon as they find a woman different from the others they +know." + +Rafael bowed his head and said nothing; he did not dare look up. He felt +the gaze of those green eyes upon the back of his head and they seemed +to reach right into his soul. + +"Let's see your face. Raise that head of yours a little. Why don't you +say it isn't so, as you did before? Am I right or not?" + +"And supposing you were right?..." Rafael ventured to murmur, finding +himself thus suddenly discovered. + +"Since I know I am, I thought it best to provoke this explanation, so as +to avoid any misunderstandings. After what has happened to-night, I want +to have you for a friend; friend you understand, and nothing more; a +comradeship based on gratitude. We ought to know in advance exactly +where we stand. We'll be friends, won't we?... You must feel quite at +home here; and I'm sure I shall find you a very agreeable chum. What +you've done to-night has given you a greater hold on my affection than +you could ever have gained in any ordinary social way; but you're going +to promise me that you won't drift into any of that silly love-making +that has always been the bane of my existence." + +"And if I can't help myself?" murmured Rafael. + +"'And if I can't help myself'," said Leonora, laughing and mimicking +the voice of the young man and the expression on his face. "'And if I +can't help myself'! That's what they all say! And why can't you help +yourself? How can one take seriously a love for a woman you are now +seeing for the second time? These sudden passions are all inventions of +you men. They're not genuine. You get them out of the novels you read, +or out of the operas we sing. Nonsense that poets write and callow boys +swallow like so many boobies and try to transplant into real life! The +trouble is we singers are in the secret, and laugh at such bosh. Well, +now you know--good friends, and the soft pedal on sentiment and drama, +eh? In that way we'll get along very well and the house will be yours." + +Leonora paused and, threatening him playfully with her forefinger, +added: + +"Otherwise, you may consider me just as ungrateful and cruel as you +please, but your gallant conduct of to-night won't count. You'll not be +permitted to enter this place again. I want no adorers; I have come here +looking for rest, friendship, peace ... Love! A beautiful, cruel +hoax!..." + +She was speaking very earnestly, without moving, her gaze lost on that +immense sheet of water. + +Rafael dared to look at her squarely now. He had raised his head and was +studying her as she stood there thinking. Her beautiful face was tinted +with a bluish light, that seemed to surround her with a halo of romance. +Morning was coming on, and the leaden curtains of the sky were rent in +the direction of the sea, allowing a livid light to filter through. + +Leonora shivered as if from cold, and snuggled instinctively against +Rafael. With a shake of her head she seemed to rout a troop of painful +thoughts, and stretching out a hand to him she said: + +"Which shall it be? Friends, or distant acquaintances? Do you promise to +be good, be a real comrade?" + +Rafael eagerly clasped that soft, muscular hand, and felt her rings cut +deliciously into his fingers. + +"Very well--friends then!... I'll resign myself, since there's no help +for it." + +"In that case you will find what you now believe a sacrifice something +quite tolerable and quite consoling; you don't know me, but I know +myself. Believe me, even should I come to love you--as I never +shall--you would be the loser by it. I am worth much more as a friend +than as a lover. And more than one man in the world has found that out." + +"I will be a friend, ready to do much more for you than I've done +to-night. I hope you will come to know me too." + +"No promises now! What more can you do for me? The river doesn't flood +every day. You can't expect to be a hero every other moment. No, I'm +satisfied with to-night's exploit. You can't imagine how grateful I am. +It has made a very deep impression on my--friendly--heart.... May I be +quite frank? Well, when I met you there at the Hermitage, I took you for +one of these local _senoritos_ who have such an easy time of it in town, +and so, look upon every woman they meet as their property for the +asking. Afterwards, when I saw you lurking about the house, my scorn +increased. 'Who does that little dandy think he is?' I said to myself. +And how Beppa and I laughed over it! I hadn't even noticed your face +and your figure: I hadn't realized how handsome you were...." + +Leonora laughed at the thought of how angry she had been, and Rafael, +overwhelmed by such candor, likewise smiled to conceal his +embarrassment. + +"But after what happened to-night I am fond of you ... as people are +fond of friends. I am alone here: the friendship of a good and noble boy +like yourself, capable of sacrifice for a woman whom he hardly knows, is +a very comforting thing to have. Besides, that much doesn't compromise +me. I am a bird of passage, you see; I have alighted here because I'm +tired, ill--I don't just know what's the matter, but deeply broken in +spirit anyhow. I need rest, just plain existence--a plunge into sweet +nothingness, where I can forget everything; and I gratefully accept your +friendship. Later on, when you least expect it, probably, I'll fly away. +The very first morning when I wake up, feel quite myself again--and hear +inside my head the song of the mischievous bird that has advised me to +do so many foolish things in my life--I'll pack up my trunk and take +flight! I'll drop you a line of course; I'll send you newspaper +clippings that speak of me, and you'll see you have a friend who does +not forget you and who sends you greetings from London, Saint +Petersburg, or New York--any one of the corners of this world which many +believe so large yet where I am unable to stir without encountering +things that bore me." + +"May that moment be long delayed!" said Rafael. "May it never come!" + +"Rash boy!" Leonora exclaimed. "You don't know me. If I were to stay +here very long, we'd finish by quarreling and coming to blows. At bottom +I hate men: I have always been their most terrible enemy." + +Behind their backs they heard the rustle of the gown that Cupido was +dragging along behind him with absurd antics. He was coming to the +balcony with dona Pepita to see the sunrise. + +Through its dense clouds the sky was beginning to shed a gray, wan +light, under which the vast, watery plain took on the whitish color of +absinthe. Down the stream the debris of the inundation was floating, +sweepings of wretched poverty, uprooted trees, clumps of reeds, thatched +roofs from huts, all dirty, slimy, nauseating. Bits of flotsam and +jetsam became entangled between the orange-trees and formed dams that +little by little grew with the new spoils brought along by the current. + +In the distance at the very end of the lake, a number of black points +could be seen in regular rhythmic motion, stirring their legs like +aquatic flies around some roofs barely protruding above the immense +field of water. The rescuers had arrived from Valencia--with whale-boats +of the Fleet, brought overland by rail to the scene of the flood. + +The provincial authorities would soon be arriving in Alcira; and the +presence of Rafael was indispensable. Cupido himself, with sudden +gravity, advised him to go and meet those boats. + +While the barber was putting on his own clothes, Rafael, with intense +regret, removed his fur cloak. It seemed that in taking it off he was +losing the warmth of that night of sweet intimacy, the contact of that +soft shoulder that had for hours long been leaning against him. + +Leonora meanwhile looked at him fixedly. + +"We understand each other, don't we?" she asked, slowly. "Friends, with +no hope of anything more than that. If you break the pact, you'll not +enter this place again, not even by the second-story window, as you did +last night." + +"Yes, friends and nothing more," Rafael murmured with a tone of sincere +sadness, that seemed to move Leonora. + +Her green eyes lighted up: her pupils seemed to glitter with spangles of +gold. She stepped nearer and held out her hand. + +"You're a good boy; that's the way I like you: resignation and +obedience. For this time, and in reward for your good sense, we'll make +just one exception. Let's not part thus coldly.... So,--you may kiss +me,--as they do it on the stage--here!" + +And she raised her hand up toward his lips. Rafael seized it hungrily +and kissed it over and over again, until Leonora, tearing it away with a +violence that showed extraordinary strength, reprimanded him sharply. + +"You rogue!... Up to mischief so soon! What an abuse of confidence? +Good-bye! Cupido is calling you.... Good-bye." + +And she pushed him toward the balcony, where the barber was already +holding the boat against the railing. + +"Hop in, Rafael," said Cupido. "Better lean on me; the water's going +down and the boat's very low," Rafael jumped into his white craft, +which was now dirty and stained from the red water. The barber took the +oars. They began to move away. + +"Good-bye! Good-bye! Many thanks!" cried dona Pepa. The maid and the +whole family of the gardener had come out on the balcony. + +Rafael let go the tiller, and turned toward the house. He could see +nothing, however, but that proud beauty, who was waving her handkerchief +to them. He watched her for a long time, and when the crests of the +submerged trees hid the balcony from view, he bowed his head, giving +himself up entirely to the silent pleasure of tasting the sweetness that +he could still feel upon his burning lips. + + + + +VI + + +The elections set the whole District agog. The crucial moment for the +House of Brull had come, and all its loyal henchmen, as though still +uncertain of the Party's omnipotence, and fearing the sudden appearance +of hidden enemies, were running this way and that about the city and the +outlying towns, shouting Rafael's name as a clarion call to victory. + +The inundation was something of the forgotten past. The beneficent sun +had dried the fields. The orchards fertilized by the silt of the recent +flood looked more beautiful than ever. A magnificent harvest was +forecasted, and, as sole reminders of the catastrophe, there remained +only a shattered enclosure here, a fallen fence there, or some sunken +road with the banks washed away. Most of the damage had been repaired in +a few days, and people were quite content, referring to the past danger +jokingly. Until next time! + +Besides, plenty of relief money had been given out. Help had come from +Valencia, from Madrid, from every corner of Spain, thanks to the +whimpering publicity given the inundation in the local press; and since +the pious believer must attribute all his boons to the protection of +some patron saint, the peasants thanked Rafael and his mother for this +alms, resolving to be more faithful than ever to the powerful family. +So--long live the Father of the Poor! + +Dona Bernarda's ambitious dreams were on the point of realization, and +she could not give herself a moment's rest. Her son's cool indifference +was something she could not understand for the life of her! The District +was his all right, but was that a reason for falling asleep on the job? +Who could tell what the "enemies of law and order"--there was more than +one of them in the city--might spring at the very last moment? No, he +must wake up--go and make a speech--now at this town, now at that--and +say a few words of encouragement to the people of property, especially. +And why not visit the _alcalde_, down in X---, just to show that poor +devil he was being taken seriously. Rafael must show himself in public, +keep everybody talking about him and thinking about him! + +And Rafael obeyed, but taking good care to avoid the company of don +Andres on such trips, in order to spend a few hours at the Blue House on +the way out or back, or else, to cut his engagement altogether and pass +the day with Leonora, trembling to return home lest his mother should +have learned what he had been up to. + +Dona Bernarda, in fact, had not been slow in detecting her son's new +friendship. To begin with, her one concern in life was Rafael's health +and conduct. And in that gossipy inquisitive country-town, her son could +do virtually nothing which she did not know all about in the course of a +few hours. An indiscreet remark of Cupido had even brought her to the +bottom of that mysterious and perilous night trip down the flooded +river--not to rescue a "poor family," but to call on that +_comica_--that "chorus girl"--as dona Bernarda called Leonora in a +furious burst of scorn. Stormy scenes occurred that were to leave a +strong undercurrent of bitterness and fear in Rafael's character. Dona +Bernarda's harshness of disposition broke the young man's spirit, making +him realize with what good reason he had always feared his mother. That +uncompromising pietist, with her armorplate of impeccable virtue and +"sound principles" about her, crushed him flat with her very first +words. What in the world was he thinking of? Was he bound to dishonor +the name of Brull? Now after so many, many years of family sacrifice, +was he going to make a fool of himself, and give his enemies a hold on +him, just because of the first ballet-skirt that came along? And in her +rage she did not hesitate to rend the veil of reticence behind which her +conjugal fury and her conjugal unhappiness had run their parallel +courses. + +"The same as your father!" dona Bernarda exclaimed. "There's no escaping +blood: a woman-chaser, a friend of low-lives, ready to drive me out of +house and home for the sake of any one of them ... and I, big fool that +I am, work for men like that! Forgetting the salvation of my soul in the +next world to see you get farther along in this than your father did!... +And how do you repay me? Just as he did; with one disappointment, one +irritation, after another!" + +Then softening somewhat and feeling the need of imparting her great +plans for the future, she would pass from anger to friendly confidence, +and give Rafael insight into the condition of the family. He was so busy +with Party affairs, and thumbing his big books upstairs, that he did +not know how things were going at home. And he didn't need to know for +that matter: she was there to take care of that. But Rafael must realize +the gaps that had been opened in their fortune by his father's wild +conduct just before he died. She was performing miracles of economy. +Thanks to her efficient administration of affairs, and to the loyal aid +of don Andres, many debts had already been paid off, and she had +redeemed several mortgages. But the burden was a heavy one and it would +still be many years before she could call herself quite free of it. + +Besides--and as dona Bernarda came to this part of her talk she grew +tenderer and more insinuating still--he was now the leading man of the +District and so he must be the wealthiest. Now that wouldn't be a +difficult thing to manage. All he had to do was, be a good son, and +follow the advice of his mama, who loved him more than anything else in +the world... A deputy now, and later on, when he came back from Madrid, +marry! There were plenty of good girls around--well brought up, educated +in the fear of the Lord--and millionairesses besides--who would be more +than glad to be his wife. + +Rafael smiled faintly at this harangue. He knew whom his mother had in +mind--Remedios, the daughter of the richest man in town--a rustic, the +latter, with more luck than brains, who flooded the English markets with +oranges and made enormous profits, circumventing by instinctive +shrewdness all the commercial combinations made against him. + +That was why Rafael's mother was always insistently urging her son to +visit the house of Remedios, inventing all sorts of pretexts to get him +there. Besides, dona Bernarda invited Remedios to the Brull place +frequently, and rarely indeed did Rafael come home of an afternoon +without finding that timid maiden there--a dull, handsomish sort of +girl, dressed up in clothes that did cruel injustice to a peasant beauty +rapidly transformed, by her father's good luck, into a young "society" +girl. + +"But, mama," said Rafael, smiling. "I'm not thinking of marriage!... And +when I do, I'll have to consider my own feelings." + +After that interview a moral gulf had opened between mother and son. As +a child, Rafael had known his mother to frown and sulk after some +mischievous prank of his. But now, her aggressive, menacing, +uncommunicative glumness was prolonged for days and days. + +On returning home at night he would find himself subjected to a +searching cross-examination that would last all during supper. Don +Andres would usually be present, though he did not dare raise his head +when that masterful woman spoke. Where had he been? Whom had he seen?... +Rafael felt himself surrounded by a system of espionage that followed +him wherever he went in the city or in the country. + +"No sir, today you were at the chorus-girl's house again!... Take care, +Rafael! Mark my word! You're killing me, you're killing me ...!" + +And then those absurd clandestine trips to the Blue House began, the +leading man of the district, the advocate of Alcira's fortunes, creeping +on his stomach, skulking from bush to bush, in order not to be seen by +telltale observers! + +Don Andres did his best to console the irate woman. It was just a +passing whim of Rafael's! Boys will be boys! You've got to let them have +a good time now and then! What do you expect with a handsome fellow like +that and from the best family in the region! And the cynical old man, +accustomed to easy conquests in the suburbs, blinked maliciously, taking +it for granted that Rafael had won a complete triumph down at the Blue +House. How else explain the youth's assiduity in his visits there, and +his timid though tenacious rebelliousness against his mother's +authority? + +"Such affairs, oh you enjoy them--what's the use! But in the end they +weary a fellow, dona Bernarda," the old man said sententiously. "She'll +be clearing out some fine day. Besides, just let Rafael go to Madrid as +deputy, and see the society there! When he comes back he'll have +forgotten this woman ever existed!" + +The faithful lieutenant of the Brulls would have been astonished to know +how little Rafael was progressing with his suit. + +Leonora was not the woman that she had shown herself on the night of the +flood. With the fascination of danger gone, the novelty of the +adventure, and the extraordinary circumstances of their second +interview, she treated Rafael with a kindly indifference like any other +of the adorers who had flocked about her in her day. She had come to +look upon him as a new piece of furniture that she found in place in +front of her every afternoon; an automaton, who appeared as regularly as +a clock strikes, to spend hours and hours staring at her, pale, +shrinking with an absurd consciousness of inferiority, and often +answering her questions with stupid phrases that made her laugh. + +Her irony and deliberate frankness wounded Rafael cruelly. "Hello, +Rafaelito," she would say sometimes as he came in. "You here again? +Better look out! People will be talking about us before long. Then what +will mama say to you?" And Rafael would be stung to the quick. What a +disgrace, to be tied to a mother's apron-strings, and have to stoop to +all those subterfuges to visit this place without raising a rumpus at +home! + +But try as he would, meanwhile, he could not shake off the spell that +Leonora was exercising over him. + +Besides, what wonderful afternoons when she deigned to be good! +Sometimes, wearied with walks about the open country, and bored, as +might have been expected of a frivolous, fickle character like hers, +with the monotony of the landscape of orange-trees and palms, she would +take refuge in her parlor, and sit down at the piano! With the hushed +awe of a pious worshipper, Rafael would take a chair in a corner, and +gluing his eyes upon those two majestic shoulders over which curly +tresses fell like golden plumes, he would listen to her rich, sweet, +mellow voice as it blended with the languishing chords of the piano; +while through the open windows the breath of the murmurous orchard made +its way drenched in the golden light of autumn, saturated with the +seasoned perfume of the ripe oranges that peered with faces of fire +through the festoons of leaves. + +Shubert, with his moody romances, was her favorite composer. The +melancholy of that sad music had a peculiar fascination for her in her +solitude. Her passionate, tumultuous soul seemed to fall into a +languorous enervation under the fragrance of the orange blossoms. At +times, she would be assailed by sudden recollections of triumphs on the +stage, and on such occasions, setting the piano ringing with the sublime +fury of the Valkyries' Ride, she would begin to shout Brunhilde's +"Hojotojo," the impetuous, savage war-cry of Wotan's daughter--a +melodious scream with which she had brought many an audience to its +feet, and which, in that deserted paradise, made Rafael shudder and +admire, as if the singer were some strange divinity--a blond goddess +with green eyes, wont to charge across the ice-fields through whirlwinds +of driving snow, but who, there, in a land of sunshine, had deigned to +become a simple, an entrancing woman! + +And then again, throwing her beautiful body back in her chair, as if in +her mind's eye she could see some old palatial hall festooned with +roses, and in it a maze of hoop skirts, powdered wigs, and red heels, +whirling in the dance, she would brush the keys with a minuet by Mozart, +as subtly fragrant as priceless perfume, as seductive as the smile of a +painted princess with beauty-patches and false dimples! + +Rafael had not forgotten the first night of their friendship, nor the +fingers that had been offered to his lips in that selfsame parlor. Once +he was moved to repeat the scene, and bending low over the keys, had +tried to kiss Leonora's hand. + +The actress started, as if awakening from a dream. Her eyes flashed +angrily, though her lips did not lose their smile; and she raised her +hand threateningly, with all its fantastic glitter of jewelry, and +pretended to strike at him: + +"Take care, Rafael; you're a child and I'll treat you as such. You +already know that I don't like to be annoyed. I won't send you away this +time, but if you do it again, you'll get a good cuffing. Don't forget +that when I want my hand kissed I begin by giving it voluntarily. What a +nuisance! Such a thing happens only once in a life-time.... But, I +understand: no more music for today; it's all over! I'll have to +entertain the little boy so's he won't fuss." + +And she began to tell him stories of her professional career, which +Rafael at once appraised as new progress toward intimacy with the divine +beauty. + +He looked over her pictures for the various operas in which she had +sung; a rich collection of beautiful photographs, with studio signatures +in almost every European tongue, some of them in strange alphabets that +Rafael could not identify. That pale, mystic Elizabeth of _Tannhaeuser_ +had been taken in Milan; that ideal, romantic Elsa of _Lohengrin_, in +Munich; here was a wide-eyed, bourgeois Eva from _die Meistersinger_, +photographed in Vienna; there a proud arrogant Brunhilde, with hostile, +flashing eyes, that bore the imprint of St. Petersburg. And there were +other souvenirs of seasons at Covent Garden, at the San Carlos of +Lisbon, the Scala of Milan, and opera houses of New York and Rio de +Janeiro. + +As Rafael handled the large pasteboard mountings, he felt much like a +boy watching strange steamers entering a harbor and scattering the +perfumes of distant, mysterious lands all around. Each picture seemed +to wrap him in the atmosphere of its country, and from that peaceful +salon, murmuring with the breathing of the silent orchard, he seemed to +be traveling all over the earth. + +The photographs were all of the same characters--heroines of Wagner. +Leonora, a fanatic worshipper of the German genius, was ever speaking of +him in terms of intimate familiarity, as if she had known him +personally, and wished to sing no operas but his. And in her eager +desire to compass all the Master's work, she did not hesitate to +compromise her reputation for power and vigor by attempting roles of +lighter or tenderer vein. + +Rafael gazed at the portraits one by one; here she seemed emaciated, +wan, as if she had just recovered from an illness; there, she was strong +and proud, as if challenging the world with her beauty. + +"Oh, Rafael!" she murmured pensively. "Life isn't all gaiety. I have had +my stormy times like everybody else. I have lived centuries, it seems, +and these strips of cardboard are chapters of my life-story." + +And while she surrendered to a dreamy re-living of the past, Rafael +would go into ecstasies over a picture of Brunhilde, a beautiful +photograph which he had more than once thought of stealing. + +That Brunhilde was Leonora herself; the arrogant Valkyrie, the strong, +the valiant Amazon, capable of trying to beat him for the slightest +unwarranted liberty he took--and of doing it besides. Beneath the helmet +of polished steel, with its two wings of white plumes, her blond locks +fell, while a savage flash glittered in her green eyes, and her +nostrils seemed to palpitate with indomitable fierceness. A cloak fell +from her shoulders that were round, muscular, powerful. A steel coat of +mail curved outward around her magnificent bust, and her bare arms, one +holding the lance, and the other resting on a burnished shield, as +shining and luminous as a sheet of crystal, showed vigor and strength +under feminine grace of line. There she was in all her goddess-like +majesty--the Pallas of a mythology of the North, as beautiful as +heroism, as terrible as war. Rafael could understand the mad enthusiasm, +the electrified commotion of her audiences as they saw her stepping out +among the rocks of painted canvas, setting the boards a-tremble with her +lithe footsteps, rudely raising her lance and shield above the white +wings of her helmet and shouting the cry of the Valkyries--"_Hojotoho!_" +which, repeated in the green tranquility of that Valencian orchard, +seemed to make the lanes of foliage quiver with a tremor of admiring +ecstasy. + +Across the whole world, and everywhere in triumph, that whimsical, +adventuresome, madcap woman, of whose life as an actress so many stories +were told, had carried the arrogance of the virgin warrior-maid +conceived by the master Wagner. In a bulky book, of uneven irregular +pages, where the singer with the minute conscientiousness of a child, +had preserved everything the newspapers of the globe had written about +her, Rafael found echos of her stormy ovations. Many of the printed +clippings were yellow with age, but they could still evoke before his +dazzled eyes, visions of theaters packed with elegant, sensuous women, +as beautiful as Wotan's daughter in the coat-of-mail; atmospheres hot +with light and enthusiasm, a-glitter with sparkling jewels and +sparkling eyes; and in the background, with her helmet and her lance, +the dominating Valkyrie herself greeted with frantic applause and +limitless admiration. + +In the collection were newspaper reproductions of the singer's +photographs, biographical notices, critical articles relating to the +triumphs of the celebrated _diva_ Leonora Brunna--for such was the stage +name adopted by Doctor Moreno's daughter--clipping after clipping +printed in Castilian or South American Spanish; columns of the clear, +close print of English papers; paragraphs on the coarse, thin paper of +the French and Italian press; compact masses of Gothic characters, which +troubled Rafael's eyes, and unintelligible Russian letters, that, to +him, looked like whimsical scrawls of a childish hand. And all in praise +of Leonora, one universal tribute to the talent of that woman, who was +looked upon so scornfully by the citified peasants of the boy's native +town. A divinity, indeed! And Rafael felt a growing hatred and contempt +for the gross, uncouth virtue of those who had left her in a social +vacuum. Why had she come to Alcira, anyway? What could possibly have led +her to abandon a world of triumphs, where she was admired by everyone, +for the life, virtually, of a barnyard? + +Later she showed him some of her more personal mementoes; jewels of rare +beauty, expensive baubles, "testimonials," reminiscent of "evenings of +honor," when admirers had surprised her in the green room while outside +the audience was applauding wildly, and she, lowering her lance, and +surrounded by ushers with huge bouquets, would step forward to the +footlights and make her bow of acknowledgment, under a deluge of tinsel +and flowers. One medallion bore the portrait of the venerable don Pedro +of Brazil, the artist-emperor, who paid tribute to the singer in a +greeting written in diamonds. Gem-incrusted frames of gold spoke of +enthusiasts who perhaps had begun by desiring the woman to resign +themselves in the end to admiration for the artist. Here was a +collection of illuminated diplomas from charitable societies thanking +her for assistance at benefits. Queen Victoria of England had given her +a fan with an autograph dated from a concert at Windsor Castle. From +Isabel II came a royal bracelet, as a souvenir of various evenings at +the Castilla Palace in Paris. Millionaires, princes, grand-dukes, +presidents of Spanish-American republics, had left a whole museum of +costly trinkets at her feet. Characteristic of adorers from the United +States, where people always temper enthusiasm with usefulness, were a +number of portfolios, their bindings much worn by time, containing +railroad shares, land titles, stocks in enterprises of varying +stability, suggesting the rambles of the American promotor from the +prairies of Canada to the pampas of the Argentine. + +In the presence of all the trophies that the arrogant Valkyrie had +gathered in on her triumphal passage through the world, Rafael felt +pride, first of all, at being friends with such a woman; but at the same +time a sense of his own insignificance, exaggerating, if anything, the +difference that separated them. How in the world had he ever dared make +love to a person like Leonora Brunna? + +Finally came the most interesting, the most intimate of all her +treasures--an album which she allowed him hurriedly to glimpse through, +forbidding him, however, even to look at certain of the pages. It was a +volume modestly bound in dark leather with silver clasps; but Rafael +gazed upon it as on a wonderful fetish, and with all the awe-struck +adoration inspired by great names. Kings and emperors were the least +among the celebrities who had knelt in homage before the goddess. The +overshadowing geniuses of art were there, dedicating a word of +affection, a line of verse, a bar of music, to the beautiful songstress. +Rafael stared in open-mouthed wonderment at the signatures of the old +Verdi and of Boito. Then came the younger masters, of the new Italian +school, noisy and triumphant with the clamor of art brought within range +of the mob. In gallant phrases the Frenchmen, Massenet and Saint-Saens, +paid their respects to the greatest interpreter of the greatest of +composers; Rafael could decipher what was in Italian, scenting the sweet +perfume of Latin adulation despite the fact that he scarcely knew the +language. A sonnet by Illica moved him actually to tears. Other +inscriptions were meaningless to him--the lines from Hans Keller, +especially, the great orchestral conductor, disciple and confidant of +Wagner, the artistic executor, charged with watching over the master's +glory--that Hans Keller of whom Leonora was speaking all the time with +the fondness of a woman and the admiration of an artist--all of which +did not prevent her from adding that he was "a barbarian." Stanzas in +German, in Russian and in English, which, as the singer re-read them +brought a contented smile to her features, Rafael, to his great +despair, could not induce her to translate. + +"Those are matters you wouldn't understand. Go on to the next page. I +mustn't make you blush." + +And that was the only explanation she would give--as though he were a +child. + +Some Italian verses, written in a tremulous hand and in crooked lines, +attracted Rafael's attention. He could half make their meaning out, but +Leonora would never let him finish reading them. It was an amorous, +desperate lament; a cry of racking passion condemned to disappointment, +writhing in isolation like a wild beast in its cage: Luigi Macchia. + +"And who is Luigi Macchia?" asked Rafael. "Why such despair?" + +"He was a young fellow from Naples," Leonora answered, at last, one +afternoon, in a sad voice, and turning her head, as if to conceal the +tears that had come to her eyes. "One day they found him under the pine +trees of Posilipo, with a bullet through his head. He wanted to die, you +see, and he killed himself.... But put all this aside and let's go down +to the garden. I need a breath of air." + +They sauntered along the avenue that was bordered with rose-bushes, and +several minutes went by before either of them spoke. Leonora seemed +quite absorbed in her thoughts. Her brows were knitted and her lips +pressed tightly together, as if she were suffering the sting of painful +recollections. + +"Suicide!" she said at last. "Doesn't that seem a silly thing to do, +Rafael? Kill yourself for a woman? Just as if we women were obliged to +love every man who thinks he's in love with us!... How stupid men are! +We have to be their servants, love them willy-nilly. And if we don't, +they kill themselves just to spite us." + +And she was silent for a time. + +"Poor Macchia! He was a good boy, and deserved to be happy. But if I +were to surrender to every desperate protestation made to me!... +However, he went and did just what he said he would do.... How crazy +they get! And the worst of it is, I have found others like him in my +travels." + +She explained no farther. Rafael gazed at her, but respected her +silence, trying in vain to guess the thoughts that were stirring behind +her shining eyes, as green and golden as the sea under a noonday sun. +What a wealth of romance must be hidden in that woman's past! What +tragedies must have been woven into the checkered fabric of her +wonderful career!... + +So the days went by, and election time came around. Rafael, in passive +rebellion against his mother, who rarely spoke a word to him now, had +completely neglected the campaign. But on the decisive Sunday he +triumphed completely, and Rafael Brull, Deputy from Alcira, spent the +night shaking hands, receiving congratulations, listening to serenades, +waiting for morning to come that he might run to the Blue House and +receive Leonora's ironic good wishes. + +"I'm very glad to hear it," the actress said. "Now you'll be leaving +very soon and I'll lose sight of you. It was high time really! You know, +my dear child, you were beginning to get tiresome with your assiduous +worship, that mute, persistent, tenacious adoration of yours. But up in +Madrid you'll get over it all. Tut, tut, now ... don't say you won't. No +need to perjure yourself. I guess I know what young men are like! And +you're a young man. The next time we meet, you'll have other things in +your head. I'll be a friend, just a friend; and that's what--and all--I +want to be." + +"But will I find you here when I come back?" Rafael asked, anxiously. + +"You want to know more things than anybody I ever knew! How can I say +whether I'll be here or not? Nobody in the world was ever sure of +holding me. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow myself.... But, no," she +continued, gravely, "if you come back by next spring, you'll find me +here. I'm thinking of staying surely until then. I want to see the +orange-trees in bloom, go back to my early childhood--the only memories +of my past that have followed me everywhere. Many a time I have gone to +Nice, spending a fortune and crossing half the world to get there--and +just to see a handful of puny orange-trees in bloom; now I want to take +one great, deep, plunge into the deluge of orange blossoms that +inundates these fields every year. It's the one thing that keeps me in +Alcira.... I'm sure. So if you come back about that season, you will +find me; and we will meet for one last time; for that will be the limit +of my endurance. I shall simply have to fly away, however hard poor +auntie takes it.... For the present, however, I am quite comfortable. +You see I was so tired! I find this solitude a welcome refuge after a +stormy voyage. Only something very important indeed could persuade me to +leave it at once." + +But they saw each other on many another afternoon in the garden, there. +It was saturated now with the fragrance of ripe oranges. The vast valley +lay blue beneath the winter sun. Oranges, oranges, everywhere, reaching +out, it seemed, through the foliage, to the industrious hands that were +plucking them from the branches. Carts were creaking all along the +roads, trundling heaps of golden fruit over the ruts. The large shipping +houses rang again with the voices of girls singing at their work as they +selected and wrapped the oranges in paper. Hammers were pounding at the +wooden crates, and off toward France and England in great golden waves +those daughters of the South rolled--capsules of golden skin, filled +with sweet juice--the quintessence of Spanish sunshine. + +Leonora, standing on tiptoe under an old tree, with her back toward +Rafael, was looking for a particularly choice orange among the dense +branches. As she swayed this way and that, the proud, graceful curves of +her vigorous slenderness became more beautiful than ever. + +"I'm leaving tomorrow," the young man said, dispiritedly. + +Leonora turned around. She had found her orange and was peeling it with +her long pink nails. + +"Tomorrow?" she said, smiling. "Everything comes if you wait long +enough!... The best of success to you, senor deputy." + +And bringing the fragrant fruit to her lips, she sank her white, +glistening teeth into the golden pulp, closing her eyes rapturously, to +sense the full warm sweetness of the juice. + +Rafael stood there pale and trembling, as if something desperate were +in his mind. + +"Leonora! Leonora!... Surely you are not going to send me away like +this?" + +And then suddenly, carried away by a passion so long restrained, so long +crushed under timidity and fear, he ran up to her, seized her hands and +hungrily sought her lips. + +"Oh! What in the world are you up to, Rafael?... How dare you!" she +cried. And with one thrust of her powerful arms she threw him back, +staggering, against the orange-tree. The young man stood there with +lowered head, humiliation and shame written on every line of his face. + +"You see, I'm a strong woman," said Leonora, in a voice quivering with +anger. "None of your foolish tricks, or you'll be sorry!" + +She glared at him for a long time; but then gradually recovered her +equanimity, and began to laugh at the pitiable spectacle before her. + +"But what a child you are, Rafael!... Is that what you call a friendly +good-bye?... How little you know me, silly! You force matters, you do, I +see. Well just understand, I'm impregnable, unless I choose to be +otherwise. Why, men have died without being able to kiss so much as the +tip of my fingers. It's time you were going, Rafael. We'll still be +friends, of course.... But in case we are to see each other again, don't +forget what I tell you. We are through with such nonsense once and for +all. Don't waste your time. I cannot be yours. I'm tired of men; perhaps +I hate them. I have known the handsomest, the most elegant, the most +famous of them all. I have been almost a queen; queen 'on the left hand +side,' as the French say, but so much mistress of the situation that, +had I cared to get mixed up in such vulgarity, I could have changed +ministries and overturned thrones. Men renowned in Europe for their +elegance--and their follies--have grovelled at my feet, and I have +treated them worse than I have treated you. The most celebrated women +have envied me and hated me--copying my dresses and my poses. And when, +tired of all that brilliancy and noise, I said 'Good-bye' and came to +this retreat, do you think it was to give myself to a village +_senorito_, though a few hundred country bumpkins think he is a +wonder?... Oh, say, Rafael, really...." + +And she laughed a cruel, mocking laugh--that cut Rafael to the quick. +The young man bowed his head and his chest heaved painfully, as if the +tears that could not find issue through his eyes were stifling, choking +him. He seemed on the point of utter collapse. + +Leonora repented of her cruelty. + +She stepped up to the boy until she was almost touching him. Then taking +his chin in her two hands, she made him raise his head. + +"Oh, I have hurt you, haven't I! What mean things I said to the poor +child! Let me see now. Lift that head up! Look me straight in the eye! +Say that you forgive me.... That cursed habit I have of never holding my +tongue! I have offended you; but please, don't pay any attention to +that! I was joking! What a fine way of repaying you for what you did +that night!... No; Rafael, you are a very handsome chap indeed ... and +very distinguished ... and you will make a great name for yourself, up +in Madrid!... You'll be what they call a 'personage,' and you'll +marry--oh my--a very stylish, elegant, society girl! I can see all +that.... But, meanwhile, my dear boy, don't depend on me. We are going +to be friends, and nothing more than friends, ever! Why, there are tears +in your eyes! Well, here. Come ... kiss my hand, I will let you ... as +you did that night--there, like that! I could be yours only if I loved +you; but alas! I shall never fall in love with the dashing Rafaelito! +I'm an old woman, already, and I've been so lavish with my heart, spent +it so freely, I'm afraid I have none left.... Poor, poor little Rafael! +I'm so sorry ... but, you see, you came so late ... so late ...!" + + + + +PART TWO + +I + + +Hidden in the tall, thick rose-bushes that bounded the _plazoleta_ in +front of the Blue House, and under four old dead palms that drooped +their branches dry and melancholy under the vigorous tufts of younger +trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests +of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques +and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Saracen rule--sturdy, but +comfortable seats, with the graceful lines of the sofas of the +Eighteenth Century; and in them Leonora liked to spend her time in late +afternoons especially, when the palm trees covered the little square +with a cool, delightful shade. + +On that warm March day, dona Pepa was sitting in one of them, her +silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose, reading the "Life" of the day's +saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the _campagna_ of +Rome, Beppa had been trained to piety from her earliest years; and she +was listening attentively so as not to miss a word. + +On the other bench were Leonora and Rafael. The actress, with lowered +head, was following the movements of her hands, busily engaged on some +embroidery. + +Rafael found Leonora much changed after his months of absence. + +She was dressed simply, like any young lady of the city; her face and +hands, so white and marble-like before, had taken on the golden +transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the +Valencian sun. Her slender fingers were bare of all rings, and her pink +ears were not, as formerly, a-gleam with thick clusters of diamonds. + +"I've become a regular peasant, haven't I?" she said, as if she could +read in Rafael's eyes his astonishment at the transformation she had +undergone. "It's life in the open that works such miracles: today one +frill, tomorrow another, and a woman eventually gets rid of everything +that was once a part of her body almost. I feel better this way.... +Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the +perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of +fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who +had to paint herself every night like a clown before she could appear +before an audience. Take a good look at me! Well ... what do you think? +You might mistake me for one of your vassals almost, eh? I'll bet that +if I had gone out this morning to join your demonstration at the station +you wouldn't have recognized me in the crowd." + +Rafael was going to say--and quite seriously, too--that he thought her +more beautiful than ever. Leonora seemed to have descended from her +height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed what was coming, and to +forestall any compliments, hastened to resume control of the +conversation. + +"Now don't say you like me better this way. What nonsense! Remember, you +come from Madrid, from real elegance, a world you did not know +before!... But, to tell the truth, I like this simplicity; and the +important thing in life is to please yourself, isn't it? It was a slow +transformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually +filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland +delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human +animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up +again. Why, Rafaelito! If nothing extraordinary happens and the devil +doesn't give an unexpected tug at my sleeve, I can conceive of staying +on here forever. I think of the outer world as a sailor must of the sea, +when he finds himself all cosy at home after a voyage of continuous +tempest." + +"That's right, do stay," said Rafael. "You can't imagine how I worried +up in Madrid wondering whether or not I'd find you here on my return." + +"Don't go telling any fibs," said Leonora, gently, smiling with just a +suggestion of gratification. "Do you think we haven't been following +your doings in Madrid? Though you never were a friend, exactly, of good +old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently--and all sorts of +nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing--the +postscript, with your regards to the 'illustrious artist,' sure to +provoke the consoling reply that the 'illustrious artist' was still +here. How those letters made me laugh!" + +"Anyway, that will prove I wasn't lying that day when I assured you I +would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I didn't! The separation has +made me worse, much worse, in fact." + +"Thanks, Rafael," Leonora answered, quite seriously, as if she had lost +mastery over the irony of former days. "I know you're telling the +truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You understand, +of course, that I can't love you.... So--if you don't mind--let's talk +of something else." + +And hastily, to shift the conversation from such dangerous ground, she +began to chat about her rustic pleasures. + +"I have a hen-coop that's too charming for anything. If you could only +see me mornings, in a circle of cackling feathers, throwing fusillades +of corn about to keep the roosters away. You see they get under my +skirts and peck at my feet. It's hard to realize I can be the same woman +who, just a few months ago, was brandishing a stage lance and +interpreting Wagner's dreams, no less, as finely as you please! You'll +soon see _my_ vassals. I have the most astonishing layers you ever saw; +and every morning I rummage around in the straw like a thief to get the +eggs, and when I find them, they are still warm.... I've forgotten the +piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon--I +don't know why--I just felt like spending a little while in the society +of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of +the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the +thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby +in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my +dear deputy, that everything here is mere play--just chickens and the +simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I +have done big things to the house. You would never guess! A bathroom, if +you please! And it just scandalizes poor auntie; while Beppa says it's +a sin to give so much thought to matters of the body. I could give up +many of my old habits, but not my bath; it's the one luxury I have kept, +and I sent to Valencia for the plumbers, the marble, and the wood and... +well ... it's a gem. I'll show it to you, by and by. If some fine day I +should suddenly take it into my head to fly away, that bath will remain +here, for my poor aunt to preach about and show how her madcap niece +squandered a mint of money on sinful folly, as she calls it." + +And she laughed, with a glance at the innocent dona Pepa, who, there on +the other bench, was for the hundredth time explaining to the Italian +maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying +to persuade the "foreigner" to transfer her faith to that saint, and +waste no more time on the second or third raters of Italy. + +"Don't imagine," the actress continued, "that I forgot you during all +this time. I am a real friend, you see, and take an interest! I learned +through Cupido, who ferrets out everything, just what you were doing in +Madrid. I, too, figured among your admirers. That proves what friendship +can do! ... I don't know why, but when senor Brull is concerned, I +swallow the biggest whoppers, though I know they're lies. When you made +your speech in the Chambers on that matter of flood protection, I sent +to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many +times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met +Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have +known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer +eloquence--not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of +them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my +dressing-room--once I had sung at the 'Real.' Well, despite all that, I +took the exaggerations your party friends printed about you quite +seriously for some days, putting you on a level with all the solemn +top-notchers I have known. And why, do you suppose? Perhaps from my +isolation and tranquillity here, which do make you lose perspective; or +perhaps it was the influence of environment! It is impossible to live in +this region without being a subject of the Brulls!... Can I be falling +in love with you unawares?" + +And once more she laughed the gleeful, candid, mocking laugh of other +days. At first she had received him seriously, simply, under the +influence still of solitude, country life and the longing for rest and +quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of +that lovesick expression in eyes which now, however, showed a trace of +self-possession, the old teaser had reappeared in her; and her irony cut +into the youth's flesh like a steel blade. + +"Stranger things than that have happened," Rafael snapped boldly, and +imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you +should wind up by falling in love with even me--out of pity, of course!" + +"No," answered Leonora bluntly. "It's not even humanly conceivable. I'll +never fall in love with you ... And even if I should," she continued in +a gentle, almost mothering tone, "you would never know about it. I +should keep it jolly well to myself--so as to prevent your going crazy +on finding your affections returned. All afternoon I have been trying +to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have +inquired about your life in Madrid--even going into details that haven't +the slightest interest for me--all to keep the talk off love. But with +you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. +Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you--I must not love you. If +I had made your acquaintance somewhere else, but under the same romantic +circumstances, I don't say it mightn't have happened. But here!... My +scruples may make you laugh, but I feel as though I'd be committing a +crime to love you. It would be like entering a home and repaying the +hospitality by purloining the silverware." + +"That's a new kind of nonsense you are talking," Rafael exclaimed. "Just +what do you mean? I don't think I understand, exactly." + +"Well, you live here, you see, and you hardly realize what it's all +like. Love for love's sake alone! That may happen in the world where I +come from. There folks aren't scandalized at things. Virtue is +broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have +their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too +harshly. But here!... Here love is the straight and narrow path that +leads to marriage. Now let's see how good a liar you are! Would you be +capable of saying that you would marry me?..." + +She gazed straight at the youth out of her green, luminous, mocking +eyes, and with such frankness that Rafael bowed his head, stuttering as +he started to speak. + +"Exactly," she went on. "You wouldn't, and you are right. For that +would be a piece of solemn, deliberate barbarity. I'm not one of the +women who are made for such things. Many men have proposed marriage to +me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once +they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their +marquisates, with the idea that title and social position would hold me +back when I got bored and tried to fly away. But imagine me married! +Could anything be more absurd?" + +She laughed hysterically, almost, but with an undertone that hurt Rafael +deeply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which +reminded the young man of Mephisto's mirth during his infernal serenade +to Marguerite. + +"Moreover," continued Leonora, recovering her composure, "you don't seem +to realize just how I stand in this community. Don't imagine what's said +about me in town escapes me ... I just have to notice the way the women +look at me the few times I go in there. And I know also what happened to +you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. +The gossip of these people carries--it reaches even this solitary spot. +I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even heard +about the squabbles you've had at home over coming here. Well, we must +put a stop to all that! I am going to ask you not to visit me any more. +I will always be your friend; but if we stop seeing each other it will +be to the advantage of us both." + +That was a painful thrust for Rafael. So she knew! But to escape from +what he felt to be a ridiculous position, he affected an air of +independence. + +"Don't you believe such bosh! It's just election gossip spread by my +enemies. I am of age, and I daresay I can go where I please, without +asking mamma." + +"Very well; keep on coming, if you really want to; but all the same, it +shows how people feel toward me--a declaration of war, virtually. And if +I should ever fall in love with you ... heavens! What would they say +then? They'd be sure I had come here for the sole purpose of capturing +their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It +would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they +talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a lamb, imagine how their +tongues would wag then!... No, I'm not looking for excitement! Let them +snap at me as much as they please; but I mustn't be to blame. It must be +out of pure envy on their part. I wouldn't stoop to provoking them!" + +And with a turn of her head in the direction of the city that was hidden +from view behind the rows of orange-trees, she laughed disdainfully. + +Then her gleeful frankness returned once more--a candor of which she was +always ready to make herself the first victim--and in a low, +confidential, affectionate tone she continued: + +"Besides, Rafaelito, you haven't had a good look at me. Why, I'm almost +an old woman!... Oh, I know it, I know it. You don't have to tell me. +You and I are of the same age; but you are a man; and I'm a woman. And +the way I've lived has added considerably to my years. You are still on +the very threshold of life. I've been knocking about the world since I +was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, +my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me +worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just +gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't +advance a step on the stage without rousing the jealousy of someone; and +that kind of jealousy is the most bloodthirsty of human passions. Can +you imagine what my kind colleagues say about me? That I've gotten along +as a woman of the _demimonde_ rather than as an artist--that I'm a +_cocotte_, using my voice and the stage for soliciting, as it were." + +"Damn the liars!" cried Rafael hotly. "I'd like to have someone say that +in my hearing." + +"Bah! Don't be a child. Liars, yes, but what they say has a grain of +truth in it. I have been something of the sort, really; though the blame +had not been wholly mine ... I've done crazy foolish things--giving a +loose rein to my whims, for the fun of the thing. Sometimes it would be +wealth, magnificence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, +ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the +novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at +finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of +mine--it has taken in a good part of Europe--I have come to one +conclusion: either that what the poets call love is a lie, a pleasant +lie, if you wish; or else that I was not born to love, that I am immune; +for as I go back over my exciting and variegated past, I have to +recognize that in my life love has not amounted to this!" + +And she gave a sharp snap with her pink fingers. + +"I am telling you everything, you see," she continued. "During your long +absence I thought of you often. Somehow I want you to know me +thoroughly, once and for all. In that way perhaps we can get along +together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will +walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a +priest listen to her confession. I am in that mood this afternoon. I +feel as though I must tell everything. Even if I tried not to, I should +not succeed. There's a little demon inside me here urging me, compelling +me, to unveil all my past." + +"Please feel quite free to do so. To be a confessor even, to deserve +your confidence, is some progress for me, at any rate." + +"Progress? But why should you care to progress ... into my heart! My +heart is only an empty shell! Do you think you'd be getting much if you +got me? I'm absolutely, absolutely worthless! Don't laugh, please! I +mean it! Absolutely worthless. Here in this solitude I have been able to +study myself at leisure, see myself as I really am. I recognize it plain +as day: I am nothing, nothing. Good looking?... Well, yes; I confess I +am not what you'd call ugly. Even if, with a ridiculous false modesty, I +were to say I was, there's my past history to prove that plenty of men +have found me beautiful. But, alas, Rafaelito! That's only the outside, +my facade, so to speak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and +show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a +ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned +my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into +the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old +hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have +all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see +that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on +the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, +come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that will go to the bottom as +soon as it strikes deep water, and carry you down with it!... Rafael, my +dear boy, don't be foolish. I am all right to have as a friend; but it's +too late for me to be anything more ... even if I were to love you. We +are of a different breed. I have been studying you, and I see that you +are a sensible, honest, plodding sort of fellow. Whereas I--I belong to +the butterflies, to the opposite of all you are. I am a conscript under +the banner of Bohemia, and I cannot desert the colors. Each of us on his +own road then. You'll easily find a woman to make you happy.... The +sillier she is, the better.... You were born to be a family man." + +It occurred to Rafael that she might be poking fun at him, as she so +often did. But no; there was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The +forced smile had vanished from her face. She was speaking tenderly, +affectionately, as if in motherly counsel to a son in danger of going +wrong. + +"And don't make yourself over, Rafael. If the world were made up of +people like me, life would be impossible. I too have moments when I +should like to become a different person entirely--a fowl, a cow, or +something, like the folks around me, thinking of money all the time, and +of what I'll eat tomorrow; buying land, haggling with farmers on the +market, studying fertilizers, having children who'd keep me busy with +their colds and the shoes they'd tear, my widest vision limited to +getting a good price for the fall crop. There are times when I envy a +hen. How good it must be, to be a hen! A fence around me to mark the +boundaries of my world, my meals for the trouble of pecking at them, my +life-work to sit hour after hour in the sun, balanced on a roost.... You +laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and +the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a +pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of +it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant +women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a +whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to +Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They +can hardly believe their eyes when they see the _sinorita_ isn't half so +black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw +up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and +I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me.... Now all that is +agreeable, isn't it? Peace; the affection of the humble; an innocent old +woman, my poor aunt, who seems to have grown younger since I came here! +Nevertheless, some fine day, this shell, this rustic bark that has +formed around me in the sun and the air of the orchards, will burst, and +the woman of old--the Valkyrie--will step out of it again. And then, to +horse, to horse! Off on another gallop around the world, in a tempest of +pleasure, acclaimed by a chorus of brutal libertines!... I am sure that +is bound to happen. I swore to remain here until Spring. Well, Spring is +almost here! Look at those rose-bushes! Look at those orange-trees! +Bursting with life! Oh, Rafael, I'm afraid of Springtime. Spring has +always been a season of disaster for me." + +And she was lost in thought for a moment. Dona Pepa and the Italian maid +had gone into the house. The good old woman could never keep away from +the kitchen long. + +Leonora had dropped her embroidery upon the bench and was looking +upward, her head thrown back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and +drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as if visions of the past were +filing by in front of her. Suddenly she shuddered and sat up. + +"I'm afraid I'm ill, Rafael. I don't know what's the matter with me +today. Perhaps it's the surprise of seeing you; this talk of ours that +has called me back to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... +Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, +though you don't know it, of making me talk, of reminding me of things I +was determined to forget.... Come, give me your arm; let's walk out +through the garden; it will do me good." + +They arose, and began to saunter along over the broad avenue that led +from the gate to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost +in the thick crests of the orange-trees. Leonora smiled mischievously +and lifted a forefinger in warning. + +"I took it for granted you had returned from your trip a more serious, +a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Besides, +you know already that I'm strong, and can fight--if I have to." + + + + +II + + +Rafael spent a sleepless night tossing about in his bed. + +Party admirers had honored him with a serenade that had lasted beyond +midnight. The "prominents" among them had shown some pique at having +cooled their heels all afternoon at the Club waiting for the deputy in +vain. He put in an appearance well on towards evening, and after shaking +hands once more all around and responding to speeches of congratulation, +as he had done that morning, he went straight home. + +He had not dared raise his head in Dona Bernarda's presence. He was +afraid of those glowering eyes, where he could read, unmistakably, the +detailed story of everything he had done that afternoon. At the same +time he was nursing a resolve to disobey his mother, meet her +domineering, over-bearing aggressiveness with glacial disregard. + +The serenade over, he had hurried to his room, to avoid any chance of an +accounting. + +Snug in his bed, with the light out, he gave way to an intense, a +rapturous recollection of all that had taken place that afternoon. For +all the fatigue of the journey and the bad night spent in a +sleeping-car, he lay there with his eyes open in the dark, going over +and over again in his feverish mind all that Leonora told him during +that final hour of their walk through the garden. Her whole, her real +life's story it had been, recorded in a disordered, a disconnected +way--as if she must unburden herself of the whole thing all at +once--with gaps and leaps that Rafael now filled in from his own lurid +imagination. + +Italy, the Italy of his trip abroad, came back to him now, vivid, +palpitant, vitalized, glorified by Leonora's revelations. + +The shadowy majestic Gallery of Victor Emmanuel at Milan! The immense +triumphal arch, a gigantic mouth protended to swallow up the Cathedral! +The double arcade, cross-shaped, its walls covered with columns, set +with a double row of windows under a vast crystal roof. Hardly a trace +of masonry on the lower stories; nothing but plate glass--the windows of +book-shops, music shops, cafes, restaurants, jewelry stores, +haberdasheries, expensive tailoring establishments. + +At one end, the Duomo, bristling with a forest of statues and perforated +spires; at the other, the monument to Leonardo da Vinci, and the famous +_Teatro de la Scala_! Within the four arms of the Gallery, a continuous +bustle of people, an incessant going and coming of merging, dissolving +crowds: a quadruple avalanche flowing toward the grand square at the +center of the cross, where the Cafe Biffi, known to actors and singers +the world over, spreads its rows of marble tables! A hubbub of cries, +greetings, conversations, footsteps, echoing in the galleries as in an +immense cloister, the lofty skylight quivering with the hum of busy +human ants, forever, day and night, crawling, darting this way and that, +underneath it! + +Such is the world's market of song-birds; the world's Rialto of Music; +the world's recruiting office for its army of voices. From that center, +march forth to glory or to the poorhouse, all those who one fine day +have touched their throats and believed they have some talent for +singing. In Milan, from every corner of the earth, all the unhappy +aspirants of art, casting aside their needles, their tools or their +pens, foregather to eat the macaroni of the _trattoria_, trusting that +the world will some day do them justice by strewing their paths with +millions. Beginners, in the first place, who, to make their start, will +accept contracts in any obscure municipal theatre of the Milan district, +in hopes of a paragraph in a musical weekly to send to the folks at home +as evidence of promise and success; and with them, overwhelming them +with the importance of their past, the veterans of art--the celebrities +of a vanished generation: tenors with gray hair and false teeth; strong, +proud, old men who cough and clear their throats to show they still +preserve their sonorous baritone; retired singers who, with incredible +niggardliness, lend their savings at usury or turn shopkeepers after +dragging silks and velvets over world famous "boards." + +Whenever the two dozen "stars," the stars of first magnitude that shine +in the leading operas of the globe, pass through the Gallery, they +attract as much admiring attention as monarchs appearing before their +subjects. The _pariahs_, still waiting for a contract, bow their heads +in veneration; and tell, in bated breath, of the castle on Lake Como +that the great tenor has bought, of the dazzling jewels owned by the +eminent soprano, of the graceful tilt at which the applauded baritone +wears his hat; and in their voices there is a tingle of jealousy, of +bitterness against destiny--the feeling that they are just as worthy of +such splendor--the protest against "bad luck," to which they attribute +failure. Hope forever flutters before these unfortunates, blinding them +with the flash of its golden mail, keeping them in a wretched despondent +inactivity. They wait and they trust, without any clear idea of how they +are to attain glory and wealth, wasting their lives in impotence, to die +ultimately "with their boots on," on some bench of the Gallery. + +Then, there is another flock, a flock of girls, victims of the Chimera, +walking with a nimble, a prancing step, with music scores under their +arms, on the way to the _maestro's_; slender, light-haired English +_misses_, who want to become prima donnas of comic opera; fair-skinned, +buxom Russian _parishnas_ who greet their acquaintances with the +sweeping bow of a dramatic soprano; Spanish _senoritas_ of bold faces +and free manners, preparing for stage careers as Bizet's +cigarette-girl--frivolous, sonorous song-birds nesting hundreds of +leagues away, and who have flown hither dazzled by the tinsel of glory. + +At the close of the Carnival season, singers who have been abroad for +the winter season appear in the Gallery. They come from London, St. +Petersburg, New York, Melbourne, Buenos Aires, looking for new +contracts. They have trotted about the globe as though the whole world +were home to them. They have spent a week in a train or a month on a +steamer, to get back to their corner in the Gallery. Nothing has +changed, for all of their distant rambles. They take their usual table. +They renew their old intrigues, their old gossip, their old jealousies, +as if they had been gone a day. They stand around in front of the +show-windows with an air of proud disdain, like princes traveling +incognito, but unable quite to conceal their exalted station. They tell +about the ovations accorded them by foreign audiences. They exhibit the +diamonds on their fingers and in their neckties. They hint at affairs +with great ladies who offered to leave home and husband to follow them +to Milan. They exaggerate the salaries they received on their trip, and +frown haughtily when some unfortunate "colleague" solicits a drink at +the nearby Biffi. And when the new contracts come in, the mercenary +nightingales again take wing, indifferently, they care not whither. Once +more, trains and steamers distribute them, with their conceits and their +petulances, all over the globe, to gather them in again some months +later and bring them back to the Gallery, their real home--the spot to +which they are really tied, and on which they are fated to drag out +their old age. + +Meantime, the _pariahs_, those who never arrive, the "bohemians" of +Milan--when they are left alone console themselves with tales of famous +comrades, of contracts they themselves refused to accept, pretending +uncompromising hauteur toward impresarios and composers to justify their +idleness; and wrapped in fur coats that almost sweep the ground, with +their "garibaldis" on the backs of their heads, they hover around +Biffi's, defying the cold draughts that blow at the crossing of the +Gallery, talking and talking away to quiet the hunger that is gnawing at +their stomachs; despising the humble toil of those who make their living +by their hands, continuing undaunted in their poverty, content with +their genius as artists, facing misfortune with a candor and an +endurance as heroic as it is pathetic, their dark lives illumined by +Hope, who keeps them company till she closes their eyes. + +Of that strange world, Rafael had caught a glimpse, barely, during the +few days he had spent in Milan. His companion, the canon, had run across +a former chorister from the cathedral of Valencia, who could find +nothing to do but loiter night and day about the Gallery. Through him +Brull had learned of the life led by these journeymen of art, always on +hand in the "marketplace", waiting for the employer who never comes. + +He tried to picture the early days of Leonora in that great city, as one +of the girls who trot gracefully over the sidewalks with music sheets +under their arms, or enliven the narrow side streets with all those +trills and cadences that come streaming out through the windows. + +He could see her walking through the Gallery at Doctor Moreno's side: a +blonde beauty, svelte, somewhat thin, over-grown, taller than her years, +gazing with astonishment through those large green eyes of hers at the +cold, bustling city, so different from the warm orchards of her +childhood home; the father, bearded, wrinkled, nervous, still irritated +at the ruin of his Republican hopes; a veritable ogre to strangers who +did not know his lamb-like gentleness. Like exiles who had found a +refuge in art, they two went their way through that life of emptiness, +of void, a world of greedy teachers anxious to prolong the period of +study, and of singers incapable of speaking kindly even of themselves. + +They lived on a fourth floor on the _Via Passarella_--a narrow, gloomy +thoroughfare with high houses, like the streets of old Alcira, preempted +by music publishers, theatrical agencies and retired artists. Their +janitor was a former chorus leader; the main floor was rented by an +agency exclusively engaged from sun to sun in testing voices. The others +were occupied by singers who began their vocal exercises the moment they +got out of bed, setting the house ringing like a huge music-box from +roof to cellar. The Doctor and his daughter had two rooms in the house +of _Signora Isabella_, a former ballet-dancer who had achieved notorious +"triumphs" in the principal courts of Europe, but was now a skeleton +wrapped in wrinkled skin, groping her way through the corridors, +quarreling over money in foul-mouthed language with the servants, and +with no other vestiges of her past than the gowns of rustling silk, and +the diamonds, emeralds and pearls that took their turns in her stiff, +shrivelled ears. This harpy had loved Leonora with the fondness of the +veteran for the new recruit. + +Every day Doctor Moreno went to a cafe of the Gallery, where he would +meet a group of old musicians who had fought under Garibaldi, and young +men who wrote _libretti_ for the stage, and articles for Republican and +Socialist newspapers. That was his world: the only thing that helped him +endure his stay in Milan. After a lonely life back there in his native +land, this corner of the smoke-filled cafe seemed like Paradise to him. +There, in a labored Italian, sprinkled with Spanish interjections, he +could talk of Beethoven and of the hero of Marsala; and for hour after +hour he would sit wrapt in ecstasy, gazing, through the dense +atmosphere, at the red shirt and the blond, grayish locks of the great +Giuseppe, while his comrades told stories of this, the most romantic, of +adventurers. + +During such absences of her father, Leonora would remain in charge of +_Signora Isabella_; and bashful, shrinking, half bewildered, would spend +the day in the salon of the former ballet-dancer, with its coterie of +the latter's friends, also ruins surviving from the past, burned-out +"flames" of great personages long since dead. And these witches, smoking +their cigarettes, and looking their jewels over every other moment to be +sure they had not been stolen, would size up "the little girl," as they +called her, to conclude that she would "go very far" if she learned how +to "play the game." + +"I had excellent teachers," said Leonora, in speaking of that period of +her youth. "They were good souls at bottom, but they had very little +still to learn about life. I don't remember just when I began to see +through them. I don't believe I was ever what they call an 'innocent' +child." + +Some evenings the Doctor would take her to his group in the cafe, or to +some second balcony seat under the roof of _La Scala_, if a couple of +complimentary tickets happened to come his way. Thus she was introduced +to her father's friends, bohemians with whom music went hand in hand +with the ideas and the ideals of revolution, curious mixtures of artist +and conspirator; aged, bald-headed, near-sighted "professors," their +backs bent by a lifetime spent leaning over music stands; and swarthy +youths with fiery eyes, stiff, long hair and red neckties, always +talking about overthrowing the social order because their operas had +not been accepted at _La Scala_ or because no _maestro_ could be found +to take their musical dramas seriously. One of them attracted Leonora. +Leaning back on a side-seat in the cafe, she would sit and watch him for +hours and hours. He was a fair-haired, extremely delicate boy. His +tapering goatee and his fine, silky hair, covered by a sweeping, soft +felt hat, made her think of Van Dyck's portrait of Charles I of England +that she had seen in print somewhere. They called him "the poet" at the +cafe, and gossip had it that an old woman, a retired "star," was paying +for his keep--and his amusements--until his verses should bring him +fame. "Well," said Leonora, simply, with a smile, "he was my first +love--a calf-and-puppy love, a schoolgirl's infatuation which nobody +ever knew about"; for though the Doctor's daughter spent hours with her +green golden eyes fixed upon the poet, the latter never suspected his +good fortune; doubtless because the beauty of his patroness, the +superannuated _diva_, had so obsessed him that the attractions of other +women left him quite unmoved. How vividly Leonora remembered those days +of poverty and dreams!... Little by little the modest capital the Doctor +owned in Alcira vanished, what with living expenses and music lessons. +Dona Pepa, at her brother's instance, sold one piece of land after +another; but even such remittances were often long delayed; and then, +instead of eating in the _trattoria_, near _la Scala_, with dancing +students and the more successful of the young singers, they would stay +at home; and Leonora would lay aside her scores and take a turn at +cooking, learning mysterious recipes from the old _danseuse_. For weeks +at a time they would live on nothing but macaroni and rice served _al +burro_, a diet that her father abhorred, the Doctor, meanwhile, +pretending illness to justify his absence from the cafe. But these +periods of want and poverty were endured by father and daughter in +silence. Before their friends, they still maintained the pose of +well-to-do people with plenty of income from property in Spain. + +Leonora underwent a rapid transformation. She had already passed her +period of growth--that preadolescent "awkward age" when the features are +in constant change before settling down to their definitive forms and +the limbs seem to grow longer and longer and thinner and thinner. The +long-legged spindling "flapper," who was never quite sure where to stow +her legs, became the reserved, well-proportioned girl with the +mysterious gleam of puberty in her eyes. Her clothes seemed, naturally, +willingly, to curve to her fuller, rounding outlines. Her skirts went +down to her feet and covered the skinny, colt-like appendages that had +formerly made the denizens of the Gallery repress a smile. + +Her singing master was struck with the beauty of his pupil. As a tenor, +Signor Boldini had had his hour of success back in the days of the +_Statuto_, when Victor Emmanuel was still king of Piedmont and the +Austrians were in Milan. Convinced that he could rise no higher, he had +come to earth, stepping aside to let those behind him pass on, turning +his stage experience to the advantage of a large class of girl-students +whom he fondled with an affectionate, fatherly kindliness. His white +goatee would quiver with admiring enthusiasm, as, playfully, lightly, he +would touch his fingers to those virgin throats, which, as he said, +were his "property." "All for art, and art for all!" And this motto, the +ideal of his life, he called it, had quite endeared him to Doctor +Moreno. + +"That fellow Boldini could not be fonder of my Leonora if she were his +own daughter," the Doctor would say every time the _maestro_ praised the +beauty and the talent of his pupil and prophesied great triumphs for +her. + +And Leonora went on with her lessons, accepting the light, the playful, +the innocent caresses of the old singer; until one afternoon, in the +midst of a romanza, there was a hateful scene: the _maestro_, despite +her horrified struggling, claimed a feudal right--the first fruits of +her initiation into theatrical life. + +Through fear of her father Leonora kept silent. What might he not do on +finding his blind confidence in the _maestro_ so betrayed? She sank into +resigned passivity at last, and continued to visit Boldini's house +daily, learning ultimately to accept, as a matter of professional +course, the repulsive flattery of refined vice. + +Poor Leonora entered on a life of wrong through the open door, learning, +at a single stroke, all the turpitude acquired by that shrivelled +_maestro_ during his long career back-stage. Boldini would have kept her +a pupil forever. He could never find her just well enough prepared to +make her debut. But hardly any money was coming from Spain now. Poor +dona Pepa had sold everything her brother owned and a good deal of her +own land besides. Only at the cost of painful stinting could she send +him anything at all. The Doctor, through connections with itinerant +directors and impresarios _a l'aventure_, "launched" his daughter +finally. Leonora began to sing in the small theatres of the Milan +district--two or three night engagements at country fairs. Such +companies were formed at random in the Gallery, on the very day of the +performance sometimes,--troupes like the strolling players of old, +leaving at a venture in a third-class compartment on the train with the +prospect of returning on foot if the impresario made off with the money. + +Leonora began to know what applause was, what it meant to give _encore_ +after _encore_ before crowds of rustic landowners, dressed in their +Sunday clothes, and ladies with false rings and plated chains; and she +had her first thrills of feminine vanity on receiving bouquets and +sonnets from subalterns and cadets in small garrison towns. Boldini +followed her everywhere, neglecting his lessons, in pursuit of this, his +last depraved infatuation. "All for art, art for all!" He must enjoy the +fruits of his creation, be present at the triumphs of his star pupil! So +he said to Doctor Moreno; and that unsuspecting gentleman, thankful for +this added courtesy of the master, would leave her more and more to the +old satyr's care. + +The escape from that life came when she secured a contract for a whole +winter in Padua. There she met the tenor Salvatti, a high and mighty +_divo_, who looked down upon all his associates, though tolerated +himself, by the public, only out of consideration for his past. + +For years now he had been holding his own on the opera stage, less for +his voice than for his dashing appearance, slightly repaired with pencil +and rouge, and the legend of romantic love affairs that floated like a +rainbow around his name--noble dames fighting a clandestine warfare for +him; queens scandalizing their subjects by blind passions he inspired; +eminent divas selling their diamonds for the money to hold him faithful +by lavish gifts. The jealousy of Salvatti's comrades tended to +perpetuate and exaggerate this legend; and the tenor, worn out, poor, +and a wreck virtually for all of his pose of grandeur, was able to make +a living still from provincial publics, who charitably applauded him +with the self-conceit of climbers pampering a dethroned prince. + +Leonora, playing opposite that famous man, "starring," singing duets +with him, clasping hands that had been kissed by the queens of art, was +deeply stirred. This, at last, was the world she had dreamed of in her +dingy garret in Milan. Salvatti's presence gave her just the illusion of +aristocratic grandeur she had longed for. Nor was he slow in perceiving +the impression he had made upon that promising young woman. With a cold +calculating selfishness, he determined to profit by her naive +admiration. Was it love that thrust her toward him? As, so long +afterwards, she analyzed her passion to Rafael, she was vehemently +certain it had not been love: Salvatti could never have inspired a +genuine feeling in anyone. His egotism, his moral corruptness, were too +close to the surface. No, he was a philanderer simply, an exploiter of +women. But for her it had been a blinding hallucination nevertheless, +fraught, during the first days, at least, with the delicious +exhiliration, the voluptuous abandonment of true love. She became the +slave of the decrepit tenor, voluntarily, just as she had become her +_maestro's_ slave through fear. And so complete had her infatuation +been, so overpowering its intoxication, that, in obedience to Salvatti, +she fled with him at the end of the season, and deserted her father, who +had objected to the intimacy. + +Then came the black page in her life, that filled her eyes with +anguished tears as she went on with her story. What folks said about her +father's end was not true. Poor Doctor Moreno had not committed suicide. +He was altogether too proud to confess in that way the deep grief that +her ingratitude had caused him. + +"Don't talk to me about that woman," he would say fiercely to his +landlady at Milan whenever the old _danseuse_ would mention Leonora. "I +have no daughter: it was all a mistake." + +Unbeknown to Salvatti, who became terribly grasping as he saw his power +waning, Leonora would send her father a few hundred francs from London, +from Naples, from Paris. The Doctor, though in direst poverty, would at +once return the checks "to the sender" and, without writing a word; +where-upon Leonora paid an allowance every month to the housekeeper, +begging her not to abandon the old man. + +The unhappy Doctor needed, indeed, all the care the landlady and her old +friends could give him. The _povero signor spagnuolo_--the poor Spanish +gentleman--spent his days locked up in his room, his violoncello between +his knees, reading Beethoven, the only one "in his family"--as he +said--"who had never played him false." When old Isabella, tired of his +music, would literally put him out of the house to get a breath of air, +he would wander like a phantom through the Gallery, distantly greeted +by former friends, who avoided closer contact with that black +despondency and feared the explosions of rage with which he received +news of his daughter's rising fame. + +A rapid rise she was making in very truth! The worldly old women who +foregathered in the ballet-dancer's little parlor, could not contain +their admiration for their "little girl's" success; and even grew +indignant at the father for not accepting things "as things had to be." +Salvatti? Just the support she needed! An expert pilot, who knew the +chart of the opera world, who would steer her straight and keep her off +the rocks. + +The tenor had skilfully organized a world wide publicity for his young +singer. Leonora's beauty and her artistic verve conquered every public. +She had contracts with the leading theatres of Europe, and though +critics found defects in her singing, her beauty helped them to forget +these, and one and all they contributed loyally to the deification of +the young goddess. Salvatti, sheltering his old age under this prestige +which he so religiously fostered, was keeping in harness to the very +end, and taking leave of life under the protecting shadow of that woman, +the last to believe in him and tolerate his exploitation. + +Applauded by select publics, courted in her dressing-room by celebrated +men and women, Leonora began to find Salvatti's tyranny unbearable. She +now saw him as he really was: miserly, petulant, spoiled by praise. +Every bit of her money that came into his hands disappeared, she knew +not where. Eager for revenge, though really answering the lure of the +elegant world she glimpsed in the distance but was not yet a part of, +she began to deceive Salvatti in passing adventures, taking a diabolical +pleasure in the deceit. But no; as she looked back on that part of her +life with the sober eye of experience, she understood that she had +really been the one deceived. Salvatti, she remembered, would always +retire at the opportune moment, facilitating her infidelities. She +understood now that the man had carefully prepared such adventures for +her with influential men whom he himself introduced to make certain +profits out of the meeting--profits that he never declared. + +After three years of this sort of life, when Leonora had reached the +full splendor of her beauty, she chanced to become the favorite of +fashion for one whole summer at Nice. Parisian newspapers, in their +"society columns" referred, in veiled language, to the passion of an +aged king, a democratic monarch, who had left his throne, much as a +manufacturer of London or a stockbroker of Paris would leave his office, +for a vacation on the Blue Coast. This tall, robust gentleman with a +patriarchal beard--the very type of the good king in fairy tales--had +not hesitated to be seen in public with a beautiful _artiste_. + +That conquest, fleeting though it had been, put the finishing touch on +Leonora's eminence! "Ah! La Brunna!" people would declare +enthusiastically. "The favorite of king Ernesto.... Our greatest +artist." And troops of adorers began to besiege her under the keen, +mercenary eyes of the tenor Salvatti. + +About this time her father died in a hospital at Milan--a very sad end, +as Signora Isabella, the former ballet-dancer, explained in her letters. +Of what had he died?... The old lady could not say, as the physicians +had differed; but her own view of the matter was that the _povero signor +spagnuolo_ had simply grown tired of living--a general collapse of that +wonderful constitution, so strong, so powerful, in a way, yet strangely +susceptible to moral and emotional influences. He was almost blind when +admitted to the hospital. He seemed quite to have lost his mind--sunk in +an unbreakable silence. Isabella had not dared to keep him in her house +after he had fallen into that coma. But the strange thing was, that as +death drew near, his memory of the past suddenly cleared, and the nurses +would hear him groan for nights at a time, murmuring in Spanish with +tenacious persistency: + +"Leonora! My darling! Where are you?... Little girl, where are you?" + +Leonora wept and wept, and did not leave her hotel for more than a week, +to the great disgust of Salvatti, who observed, in addition, that tears +were not good for her complexion. + +Alone in the world!... Her own wrong-doing had killed her poor father! +No one was left now except her good old aunt, who was "existing" far +away in Spain, like a vegetable in a garden, her stupid mind entirely on +her prayer-book. Leonora vented her anguish in a burst of hatred for +Salvatti. He was responsible for her abandonment of her father! She +deserted him, taking up with a certain count Selivestroff, a handsome +and wealthy Russian, captain in the Imperial Guard. + +So she had found her destiny! Her life would always be like that! She +would pass from stage to stage, from song to song, belonging to +everybody--and to nobody! + +That fair Russian, so strong, so manly, so thoroughly a gentleman, had +loved her truly, with a passionate humble adoration. + +He would kneel submissively at her feet, like Hercules in the presence +of Adriadne, resting his chin on her knees, looking up into her face +with his gray, kindly, caressing eyes. Timidly, doubtfully, he would +approach her every day as if he were meeting her for the first time and +feared a repulse. He would kiss her softly, delicately, with hushed +reserve, as if she were a fragile jewel that might break beneath his +tenderest caress. Poor Selivestroff! Leonora had wept at the thought of +him. In Russia and with princely Russian sumptuousness, they had lived +for a year in his castle, in the country, among a population of sodden +_moujiks_ who worshipped that beautiful woman in the white and blue furs +as devotedly as if she had been a Virgin stepping forth from the gilded +background of an ikon. + +But Leonora could not live away from stageland: the ladies of the rural +aristocracy avoided her, and she needed applause and admiration. She +induced Selivestroff to move to St. Petersburg, and for a whole winter +she sang at the Opera there, like a grand dame turned opera singer out +of love for the work. + +Once more she became the reigning _belle_. All the young Russian +aristocrats who held commissions in the Imperial Guard, or high posts in +the Government, spoke enthusiastically of the great Spanish beauty; and +they envied Selivestroff. The count yearned moodily for the solitude of +his castle, which held so many loving memories for him. In the bustling, +competitive life of the capital, he grew jealous, sad, melancholy, +irritable at the necessity of defending his love. He could sense the +underground warfare that was being waged against him by Leonora's +countless admirers. + +One morning she was rudely awakened and leapt out of bed to find the +count stretched out on a divan, pale, his shirt stained with blood. A +number of gentlemen dressed in black were standing around him. They had +just brought him in from a carriage. He had been wounded in the chest. +The evening before, on leaving the theatre, the count had gone up for a +moment to his Club. He had caught an allusion to Leonora and himself in +some words of a friend. There had been blows--then hasty arrangements +for a duel, which had been fought at sunrise, with pistols. Selivestroff +died in the arms of his mistress, smiling, seeking those delicate, +powerful, pearly hands for one last time with his bleeding lips. Leonora +mourned him deeply, truly. The land where she had been so happy with the +first man she had really loved became intolerable to her, and abandoning +most of the riches that the count had given her, she went forth into the +world again, storming the great theatres in a new fever of travel and +adventure. + +She was then just twenty-three, but already felt herself an old woman. +How she had changed!... More affairs? As she went over that period of +her life in her talk with Rafael, Leonora closed her eyes with a shudder +of modesty and remorse. Drunk with fame and power she had rushed about +the world lavishing her beauty on anyone who interested her for the +moment. The property of everybody and of nobody! She could not remember +the names, even, of all the men who had loved her during that era of +madness, so many had been caught in the wake of her stormy flight across +the world! She had returned to Russia once, and been expelled by the +Czar for compromising the prestige of the Imperial Family, through an +affair with a grand duke who had wanted to marry her. In Rome she had +posed in the nude for a young and unknown sculptor out of pure +compassion for his silent admiration; and she herself made his "Venus" +public, hoping that the world-wide scandal would bring fame to the work +and to its author. In Genoa she found Salvatti again, now "retired," and +living on usury from his savings. She received him with an amiable +smile, lunched with him, treated him as an old comrade; and at dessert, +when he had become hopelessly drunk, she seized a whip and avenged the +blows she had received in her time of slavery to him, beating him with a +ferocity that stained the apartment with gore and brought the police to +the hotel. Another scandal! And this time her name bandied about in a +criminal court! But she, a fugitive from justice, and proud of her +exploit, sang in the United States, wildly acclaimed by the American +public, which admired the combative Amazon even more than the artist. + +There she made the acquaintance of Hans Keller, the famous orchestra +conductor, and a pupil and friend of Wagner. The German _maestro_ became +her second love. With stiff, reddish hair, thick-rimmed eyeglasses, an +enormous mustache that drooped over either side of his mouth and framed +his chin, he was certainly not so handsome as Selivestroff. But he had +one irresistible charm, the charm of Art. With the tragic Russian in her +mind and on her conscience, she felt the need of burning herself in the +immortal flame of the ideal; and she adored the famous musician for the +artistic associations that hovered about him. For the first time, the +much-courted Leonora descended from her lofty heights to seek a man's +attention and came with her amorous advances to disturb the placid calm +of that artist so wholly engrossed in the cult of the sublime Master. + +Hans Keller noticed the smile that fell like a sunbeam upon his music +scrolls. He closed them and let himself be drawn off on the by-paths of +love. Leonora's life with the _maestro_ was an absolute rupture with all +her past. Her one wish was to love and be loved--to throw a cloak of +mystery over her real self, ashamed as she now was of her previous wild +career. Her passion enthralled the musician and she in turn felt at once +stirred and transfigured by the atmosphere of artistic fervor that +haloed the illustrious pupil of Wagner. + +The spirit of Him, the Master, as Hans Keller called Wagner with pious +adoration, flashed before the singer's eyes like the revealing glory +that converted Paul on the road to Damascus. Music, as she now saw +clearly for the first time, was not a means of pleasing crowds, +displaying physical beauty, and attracting men. It was a religion--the +mysterious power that brings the infinite within us into contact with +the infinite that surrounds us. She became the sinner awakening to +repentance, and yearning for the atoning peace of the cloister, a +Magdalen of Art, touched on the high road of worldliness and frivolity +by the mystic sublimity of the Beautiful; and she cast herself at the +feet of Him, the supreme Master, as the most victorious of men, lord of +the mystery that moves all souls. + +"Tell me more about Him," Leonora would say. "How much I would give to +have known him as you did!... I did see him once in Venice: during his +last days ...he was already dying." + +And that meeting was, indeed, one of her most vivid and lasting +memories. The declining afternoon enlivening the dark waters of the +Grand Canal with its opalescent spangles; a gondola passing hers in the +opposite direction; and inside, a pair of blue, imperious eyes, shining, +under thick eyebrows, with the cold glint of steel--eyes that could +never be mistaken for common eyes, for the divine fire of the Elect, of +the demi-God, was bright within them! And they seemed to envelop her in +a flash of cerulean light. It was He--ill, and about to die. His heart +was wounded, bleeding, pierced, perhaps, by the shafts of mysterious +melody, as hearts of the Virgin sometimes bleed on altars bristling with +swords. + +Leonora could still see him as if he were there in front of her. He +looked smaller than he really was, dwarfed, apparently, by illness, and +by the wrack of pain. His huge head, the head of a genius, was bent low +over the bosom of his wife Cosima. He had removed the black felt hat so +as to catch the afternoon breeze full upon his loose gray locks. His +broad, high curved forehead, seemed to weigh down upon his body like an +ivory chest laden full of unseen jewels. His arrogant nose, as strong as +the beak of a bird of prey, seemed to be reaching across the sunken +mouth toward the sensuous, powerful jaw. A gray beard ran down along the +neck, that was wrinkled, wasted with age. A hasty vision it had been, to +be sure; but she had seen him; and his venerable figure remained in her +memory like a landscape glimpsed at the flare of a lightning-flash. She +had witnessed his arrival in Venice to die in the peace of those canals, +in that silence which is broken only by the stroke of the oar--where +many years before he had thought himself dying as he wrote his +_Tristan_--that hymn to the Death that is pure, to the Death that +liberates! She saw him stretched out in the dark boat; and the splash of +the water against the marble of the palaces echoed in her imagination +like the wailing, thrilling trumpets at the burial of Siegfried--the +hero of Poetry marching to the Valhalla of immortality and glory upon a +shield of ebony--motionless, inert as the young hero of the Germanic +legend--and followed by the lamentations of that poor prisoner of life, +Humanity, that ever eagerly seeks a crack, a chink, in the wall about +it, through which the inspiriting, comforting ray of beauty may +penetrate. + +And the singer gazed with tearful eyes at the broad _boina_ of black +velvet, the lock of gray hair, two broken, rusty steel pens--souvenirs +of the Master, that Hans Keller had piously preserved in a glass case. + +"You knew him--tell me how he lived. Tell me everything: talk to me +about the Poet ... the Hero." + +And the musician, no less moved, described the Master as he had seen him +in the best of health; a small man, tightly wrapped in an +overcoat--with a powerful, heavy frame, however, despite his slight +stature--as restless as a nervous woman, as vibrant as a steel spring, +with a smile that lightly touched with bitterness his thin, colorless +lips. Then came his "genialities," as people said, the caprices of his +genius, that figure so largely in the Wagner legend: his smoker, a +jacket of gold satin with pearl flowers for buttons; the precious cloths +that rolled about like waves of light in his study, velvets and silks, +of flaming reds and greens and blues, thrown across the furniture and +the tables haphazard, with no reference to usefulness--for their sheer +beauty only--to stimulate the eye with the goad of color, satisfy the +Master's passion for brightness; and perfumes, as well, with which his +garments--always of oriental splendor--were literally saturated; phials +of rose emptied at random, filling the neighborhood with the fragrance +of a fabulous garden, strong enough to overcome the hardiest uninitiate, +but strangely exciting to that Prodigy in his struggle with the Unknown. + +And then Hans Keller described the man himself, never relaxed, always +quivering with mysterious thrills, incapable of sitting still, except at +the piano, or at table for his meals; receiving visitors standing, +pacing back and forth in his salon, his hands twitching in nervous +uncertainty; changing the position of the armchairs, rearranging the +furniture, suddenly stopping to hunt about his person for a snuff-box or +a pair of glasses that he never found; turning his pockets inside out, +pulling his velvet house-cap now down over one eye, now back over the +crown of his head, or again, throwing it into the air with a shout of +joy or crumpling it in his hand, as he became excited in the course of a +discussion! + +And Keller would close his eyes, imagining that he could still hear in +the silence, the faint but commanding voice of the Master. Oh, where was +he now? On some star, doubtless, eagerly following the infinite song of +the spheres, a divine music that only his ears had been attuned to hear! +And to choke his emotion, the musician would sit down at the piano, +while Leonora, responsive to his mood, would approach him, and standing +as rigid as a statue, with her hands lost in the musician's head of +rough tangled hair, sing a fragment from the immortal _Tetralogy_. + +Worship of Wagner transformed the butterfly into a new woman. Leonora +adored Keller as a ray of light gone astray from the glowing star now +extinguished forever; she felt the joy of humbleness, the sweetness of +sacrifice, seeing in him not the man, but the chosen representative of +the Divinity. Leonora could have grovelled at Keller's feet, let him +trample on her--make a carpet of her beauty. She willed to become a +slave to that lover who was the repository of the Master's thoughts; and +who seemed to be magnified to gigantic proportions by the custody of +such a treasure. + +She tended him with the exquisite watchfulness of an enamored servant, +following him, on his trips in the summer, the season of the great +concerts, to Leipzig, Geneva, Paris; and she, the most famous living +prima donna, would stay behind the scenes, with no jealousy for the +applause she heard, waiting for Hans, perspiring and tired, to drop the +baton amid the acclamations of the audience and come back-stage to have +her dry his forehead with an almost filial caress. + +And thus they traveled about Europe, spreading the light of the Master; +Leonora, voluntarily in the background, like a patrician of old, dressed +as a slave and following the Apostle in the name of the New Word. + +The German musician let himself be adored, receiving all her caresses of +enthusiasm and love with the absent-mindedness of an artist so +preoccupied with sounds that at last he comes to hate words. He taught +his language to Leonora that she might some day realize a dream of hers +and sing in Bayreuth; and he grounded her in the principles that had +guided the Master in the creation of his great characters. And so, when +Leonora made her appearance on the stage one winter with the winged +helmet and the lance of the Valkyrie, she attained an eminence in +Wagnerian interpretation that was to follow her for the remainder of her +career. Hans himself was carried away by her power, and could never +recover from his astonishment at Leonora's complete assimilation of the +spirit of the Master. + +"If only He could hear you!" he would say with conviction. "I am sure He +would be content." + +And the pair traveled about the world together. Every springtime she, as +spectator, would watch him directing Wagnerian choruses in the "Mystic +Abyss" at Bayreuth. Winters it was he who went into ecstasies under her +tremendous "_Hojotoho_!"--the fierce cry of a Valkyrie afraid of the +austere father Wotan; or at sight of her awakening among the flames for +the spirited Siegfried, the hero who feared nothing in the world, but +trembled at the first glance of love! + +But artists' passions are like flowers, fragrant, but quickly +languishing. The rough German musician was a simple person, unstable, +fickle, ready to be amused at any new plaything. Leonora admitted to +Rafael that she could have lived to old age submissively at Keller's +side, pampering his whims and selfish caprices. But one day Keller +deserted her, as she had deserted others, to take up with a sickly, +languid contralto, whose best charms could have been hardly comparable +to the morbid delicacy of a hot-house flower. Leonora, mad with love and +jealousy, pursued him, knocking at his door like a servant. For the +first time she felt the voluptuous bitterness of being scorned, +discarded, until reaction from despair brought her back to her former +pride and self-control! + +Love was over. She had had enough of artists; though an interesting sort +of folk they were in their way. Far preferable were the ordinary, normal +men she had known before Keller's time! The foolisher--the more +commonplace--the better! She would never fall in love again! + +Wearied, broken in spirit, disillusioned, she went back into her old +world. But now the legend of her past beset her. Again men came, +passionately besieging her, offering her wealth in return for a little +love. They talked of killing themselves if she resisted, as if it were +her duty to surrender, as if refusal on her part were treachery. The +gloomy Macchia committed suicide in Naples. Why? Because she did not +capitulate to his melancholy sonnets! In Vienna there had been a duel, +in which one of her admirers was slain. An eccentric Englishman followed +her about, looming in her pathway everywhere like the shadow of a fatal +Destiny, vowing to kill anybody she should prefer to him.... She had had +enough at last! She was wearied of such a life, disgusted at the male +voracity that dogged her every step. She longed to fall out of sight, +disappear, find rest and quiet in a complete surrender to some boundless +dream. And the thought--a comforting, soothing thought, it had been--of +the distant land of her childhood came back to her, the thought of her +simple, pious aunt, the sole survivor of her family, who wrote to her +twice every year, urging her to reconcile her soul with God--to which +end the good old Dona Pepa was herself aiding with prayer! + +She felt, too, somehow, without knowing just why, that a visit to her +native soil would soften the painful memory of the ingratitude that had +cost her father's life. She would care for the poor old woman! Her +presence would bring a note of cheer into that gray, monotonous +existence that had gone on without the slightest change, ever. And +suddenly, one night, after an "Isolde" in Florence, she ordered Beppa, +the loyal and silent companion of her wandering life, to pack her +things! + +Home! Home! Off for her native land! And might she find there something +to keep her ever from returning to the troubled stirring world she was +leaving! + +She was the princess of the fairy tales longing to become a shepherdess. +There she meant to stay, in the shade of her orange-trees, now and then +fondling a memory of her old life, perhaps, but wishing eternally to +enjoy that tranquillity, fiercely repelling Rafael, therefore, because +he had tried to awaken her, as Siegfried rouses Brunhilde, braving the +flames to reach her side. + +No; friends, friends, nothing else! She wanted no more of love. She +already knew what that was. Besides, he had come too late.... + +And Rafael tossed sleeplessly in his bed, rehearsing in the darkness the +story he had been told. He felt dwarfed, annihilated, by the grandeur of +the men who had preceded him in their adoration of that woman. A king, +great artists, handsome and aristocratic paladins, Russian counts, +potentates with vast wealth at their command! And he, a humble country +boy, an obscure junior deputy, as submissive as a child to his mother's +despotic ways, forced to beg for the money for his personal expenses +even--he was trying to succeed them! + +He laughed with bitter irony at his own presumptuousness. Now he +understood Leonora's mocking tone, and the violence she had used in +repulsing all boorish liberties he had tried to take. But despite the +contempt he began to feel for himself, he lacked the strength to +withdraw now. He had been caught up in the wake of seduction, the +maelstrom of love that followed the actress everywhere, enslaving men, +casting them, broken in spirit and in will, to earth, like so many +slaves of Beauty. + + + + +III + + +"Good morning, Rafaelito ... we are seeing each other betimes today.... +I am up so early not to miss the marketing. I remember that Wednesday +was always a great event in my life, as a child. What a crowd!..." + +And Leonora, with the great swarming cities far from her mind, was +really impressed at the numbers of bustling people crowding the little +square, called _del Prado_, where every Wednesday the "grand market" of +the Alcira region was held. + +Their sashes bulging with money bags, peasants were coming into town to +buy supplies for the whole week out in the orange country. Orchard women +were going from one stall to the next, as slender of body and as neatly +dressed as the peasant girls of an opera ballet, their hair in +_senorita_ style, their skirts of bright batiste gathered up to hold +their purchases and showing fine stockings and tight-fitting shoes +underneath. Tanned faces and rough hands were the only signs to betray +the rustic origin of the girls; because those were prosperous days for +the orange growers of the District. + +Along the walls hens were clucking, ranged in piles and tied together by +the feet. Here and there were pyramids of eggs, vegetables, fruit. In +"shops" that were set up in the morning and taken down at night, +drygoods dealers were selling colored sashes, strips of cotton cloth and +calico, and black woolsey, the eternal garb of every native of the +Jucar valley. Beyond the Prado, in _El Alborchi_, was the hog market; +and then came the _Hostal Gran_ where horses were tried out. On +Wednesdays all the business of the neighborhood was transacted--money +borrowed or paid back, poultry stocks replenished, hogs bought to fatten +on the farms, whole families anxiously following their progress; and new +cart-horses, especially, the matter of greatest concern to the farmers, +secured on mortgage, usually, or with cash saved up by desperate +hoarding. + +Though the sun had barely risen, the crowd, smelling of sweat and soil, +already filled the market place with busy going and coming. The +orchard-women embraced as they met, and with their heavy baskets propped +on their hips, went into the chocolate shops to celebrate the encounter. +The men gathered in groups; and from time to time, to "buck up" a +little, would go off in parties to swallow a glass of sweet brandy. In +and out among the rustics walked the city people: "petty bourgeois" of +set manners, with old capes, and huge hempen baskets, where they would +place the provisions they had bought after tenacious hagglings; +_senoritas_, who found in these Wednesday markets a welcome relief from +the monotony of their secluded life at home; idlers who spent hour after +hour at the stall of some vendor friend, prying into what each marketer +carried in his basket, grumbling at the stinginess of some and praising +the generosity of others. + +Rafael gazed at his friend in sheer astonishment. What a beauty she was! +Who could ever have taken her, in that costume, for a world-famous prima +donna! + +Leonora looked the living picture of an orchard girl: a plain cotton +dress, in anticipation of spring; a red kerchief around her neck; her +blond hair uncovered, combed back with artful carelessness and hastily +knotted low on the back of her head. Not a jewel, not a flower! Only her +height and her striking comeliness marked her off from the other girls. +Under the curious, devouring glances of the whole market throng, Rafael +smilingly greeted her, feasting his eyes on her fresh, pink skin, still +radiant from the morning bath, inhaling the subtle, indefinable +fragrance that hovered about that strong, healthy, youthful person. + +She was constantly smiling, as if bent on dazzling the bumpkins, who +were gaping at her from a distance, with the pearly flash of her teeth. +The market-place began to buzz with admiring curiosity, or the thrill of +scandal. There, face to face, in view of the whole city, the deputy and +the opera singer were talking and laughing together like the best of +friends! + +Rafael's supporters--the chief officials in the city government--who +were loitering about the square, could not conceal their satisfaction. +Even the humblest of the constables felt a certain pride. That beautiful +fairy was talking with "the Chief," smiling at him, even. What an honor +for "the Party!" But after all, why not? Everything considered, don +Rafael Brull deserved all that, and more! And those men, who were very +careful to keep silent when their wives spoke indignantly of the +"stranger," admired her with the instinctive fervor that beauty +inspires, and envied the deputy his good fortune. The old orchard-women +wrapped the couple in caressing glances of approval. There was a +handsome pair! What a fine match! + +The town ladies in passing by would draw up full height and pretend not +to see them. On meeting acquaintances they would make wry faces and say +ironically: "Did you see?... here she is, in full sight of everybody, +casting her fly for dona Bernarda's son!" What a disgrace! It was +getting so a decent woman hardly dared go out of doors! + +Leonora, quite unconscious of the interest she was arousing, chattered +on about her shopping. Beppa, you see, had decided to stay at home with +her aunt that morning; so she had come with her gardener's wife and +another woman--there they were over there with the large baskets. She +had no end of things to get--and she laughed as she read off the list. A +regular housewife she had become, yes, sir! She knew the price of +everything and could tell down to a _centime_ just what it was costing +her to live. It was like those hard times back in Milan, when she had +gone with her music roll under her arm to get macaroni, butter or coffee +at the grocer's. And what fun it all was!... However, Leonora observed +that, without a doubt, her audience was interpreting her cordial offhand +way with Rafael in the worst light possible. She gave him her hand and +took leave. It was growing late! If she stood there much longer the best +of the market would be carried off by others--if she found anything at +all left! "Down to business, then! Good-bye!" + +And the young man saw her make her way, followed by the two country +women, through the crowds, pausing at the booths, welcomed by the +vendors with their best smiles, as a customer who never haggled; +interrupting her purchases to fondle the filthy, whining children the +poor women were carrying in their arms, and taking the best fruits out +of her basket to give to the little ones. + +And everywhere general admiration! "_Asi, sinorita_!--Here, my dear +young lady!" "_Vinga, dona Leonor_!--This way, dona Leonora!" the +huckstresses cried, calling her by name to show greater intimacy. And +she would smile, with a familiar intimate word for everybody, her hand +frequently visiting the purse of Russian leather that hung from her +wrist. Cripples, blind beggars, men with missing arms or legs, all had +learned of the generosity of that woman who scattered small change by +the fistful. + +Rafael gazed after her, smiling indifferently in acknowledgment of the +congratulations the town notables were heaping on him. The +_alcalde_--the most hen-pecked husband in Alcira, according to his +enemies--affirmed with sparkling eyes that for a woman like that he was +capable of doing almost any crazy thing. And they all joined in a chorus +of invidious praise, taking it for granted that Rafael was the +_artiste's_ accepted lover; though the youth himself smiled bitterly at +the thought of his real status with that wonderful woman. + +And she vanished, finally, into the sea of heads at the other end of the +market-place; though Rafael, from time to time, thought he could still +make out a mass of golden hair rising above the _chevelures_ of the +other girls. Willingly he would have followed; but Don Matias was at his +side--don Matias, the wealthy orange exporter, father of the wistful +Remedios who was spending her days obediently at dona Bernarda's side. + +That gentleman, heavy of speech and heavier still of thought, was +pestering Rafael with a lot of nonsense about the orange business, +giving the young man advice on a new bill he had drawn up and wanted to +have introduced in Congress--a protectionist measure for Spanish +oranges. "Why, it will be the making of the city, boy! Every mother's +son of us swimming in money!" as he guaranteed with his hand upon his +heart. + +But Rafael's gaze was lost in the distant reaches of the Prado, to catch +one more fleeting glimpse of a golden head of hair--proof of Leonora's +presence still! He found it hard to be courteous, even, to this man who, +according to authentic rumor, was destined to be his father-in-law. Of +all the drawling trickling words only a few reached his ears, beating on +his brain like monotonous hammer blows. "Glasgow ... Liverpool ... new +markets ... lower railroad rates ... The English agents are a set of +thieves ..." + +"Very well, let them go hang," Rafael answered mentally. And giving a +mechanical "yes, yes!" to propositions he was not even hearing, he gazed +away more intently than ever, fearing lest Leonora should already have +gone. He felt relieved, however, when a gap opened in the crowd and he +could see the actress seated in a chair that had been offered her by a +huckstress. She was holding a child upon her knees, and talking with a +tiny, wretched, sickly creature who looked to Rafael like the +orchard-woman they had met at the hermitage. + +"Well, what do you think of my plan?" don Matias asked. + +"Excellent, magnificent, and well worthy of a man like you, who knows +the question from top to bottom. We'll discuss the matter thoroughly +when I return to the Cortes." + +And to avoid a second exposition, he patted the wealthy boor on the +back, and wondered why in the world Fortune should have picked such a +disgusting man to smile on. + +The whole city had known don Matias when he went around in peasant's +clogs and worked a tiny orchard he had secured on lease. His son, a +virtual half-wit, who took advantage of every opportunity to rifle the +old man's pockets and spend the money in Valencia with bull-fighters, +gamblers and horse-dealers, went barefoot in those days, scampering +about the roads with the children of the gipsies encamped in _El +Alborchi_. His daughter--the now well-behaved, the now modest, Remedios, +who was passing day after day at complicated needlework under the +tutelage of dona Bernarda--had grown up like a wild rabbit of the +fields, repeating with shocking fidelity all the oaths and vile language +she heard from the carters her father drank with. + +"But you have to be an ox to get rich these days!" the barber Cupido +would say when don Matias came up for discussion. + +Little by little the man had worked his way into the orange export +business--to England especially. His first stock he bought on credit; +and at once Fortune began to blow upon him with bloated cheeks, and she +was still puffing and puffing! His wealth had been accumulated in a few +years. In crises where the most powerful vessels foundered, that rude +and heavy bark, sailing on without chart or compass, suffered not the +slightest harm. His shipments always arrived at the psychological +moment. The fancy, carefully-selected oranges of other merchants would +land at Liverpool or London when the markets were glutted and prices +were falling scandalously. The lucky dolt would send anything at all +along, whatever was available, cheap; and circumstances always seemed to +favor him with an empty market and prices sky-high regardless of +quality. He realized fabulous profits. He had nothing but scorn for all +the wiseacres who subscribed to the English papers, received daily +bulletins and compared market quotations from year to year, getting, for +all their pains, results that made them tear their hair. He was an +ignoramus and he was proud of it! He trusted to his lucky star. Whenever +he thought it best, he would ship his produce off from the port of +Valencia, and--there you are!--it would always turn out that his oranges +found no competition on arrival and brought the highest prices. More +than once it had happened that rough weather held his vessel up. +Well--the market would sell out, and his shipment would have a clear +field just the same! + +Within two years he had a place in town and had become a "personage." He +would smilingly declare that he wouldn't "go to the wall for under +eighty thousand _duros_." Later, ever on the wing, his fortune reached +dizzy heights. Folks whispered in superstitious awe the figures he made +in net profits at the end of every sailing. He owned warehouses as +large as churches in the vicinity of Alcira, employing armies of girls +to wrap the oranges and regiments of carpenters to make the crates. He +would buy the crop of an entire orchard at a single glance and never be +more than a few pounds off. As for the pay he gave, the city was proud +of its millionaire. Not even the Bank of Spain enjoyed the respect and +confidence his firm had won. No clerks and cashiers! No mahogany +furniture! Everything above board! Ask for a hundred thousand; and if +don Matias said "yes," he just went in to his bedroom and, God knows +from where, he would draw out a roll of bank-notes the size of your +body! + +And this lucky rustic, this upstart lout, rich without deserving it for +any competence he had, was giving himself the airs of an intelligent +dealer, presuming to approach Rafael, "his deputy," with a proposal for +a freight-rate bill to promote the shipping of oranges into the interior +of Spain! As if a little thing like a bill in Congress would make any +difference to his way of getting money! + +Of his wretched past don Matias preserved but a single trait: his +respect for the house of Brull. The rest of the city he treated with a +certain uppishness; but he could not conceal the awe which dona Bernarda +inspired in him--a feeling that was strengthened by gratitude for her +kindness in singling him out (after he had become rich), and for the +interest she showed in his "little girl." He cherished a vivid memory of +Rafael's father, the "greatest man" he had known in all his life. It +seemed as though he could still see don Ramon stopping on his big horse +in front of his humble farmhouse and, with the air of a grand lord, +leaving orders for what don Matias was to do in the coming elections. +He knew the bad state in which the great man had left his affairs upon +his death; and more than once he had given money to dona Bernarda +outright, proud that she should do him the honor of appealing to him in +her straits. But in his eyes, the House of Brull, poor or rich, was +always the House of Brull, the cradle of a dynasty whose authority +no power could shake. He had money. But those _others_, the +Brulls--ah!--they had, up there in Madrid, friends, influence! If they +wanted to they could get the ear of the Throne itself. They were people +with a "pull," and if anyone suggested in his presence that Rafael's +mother was thinking of Remedios as a daughter-in-law, don Matias would +redden with satisfaction and modestly reply: + +"I don't know; I imagine it's all talk. My Remedios is only a town girl, +you see. The senor deputy is probably thinking of someone from the +'upper crust' in Madrid." + +Rafael had for some time been aware of his mother's plans. But he had no +use for "that crowd." The old man, despite his boresome habit of +suggesting "new bills," he could stand on account of his touching +loyalty to the Brull family. But the girl was an utterly insignificant +creature, pretty, to be sure, but only as any ordinary young girl is +pretty. And underneath that servile gentleness of hers lay an +intelligence even more obtuse than her father's, a mind filled with +nothing but piety and the religious phrases in which she had been +educated. + +That morning, followed by an aged servant, and with all the gravity of +an orphan who must busy herself with the affairs of her household and +act as head of the home, Remedios had walked by Rafael twice. She +scarcely looked at him. The submissive smile of the future slave with +which she usually greeted him had disappeared. She was quite pale, and +her colorless lips were pressed tight together. Without a doubt in the +world she had seen him, from a distance, talking and laughing with "the +chorus girl." His mother would know all about it within an hour! Really, +that young female seemed to think he was her private property! And the +angry expression on her face was that of a jealous wife taking notes for +a curtain-lecture! + +Scenting a danger Rafael took hasty leave of don Matias and his other +friends, and left the market place to avoid another meeting with +Remedios. Leonora was still there. He would wait for her on the road to +the orchard. He must take advantage of the early hour! + +The orange country seemed to be quivering under the first kisses of +spring. The lithe poplars bordering the road were covered with tender +leaves. In the orchards the buds on the orange-trees, filling with the +new sap, were ready to burst, as in one grand explosion of perfume, into +white fragrant bloom. In the matted herbage on the river-banks the first +flowers were growing. Rafael felt the cool caress of the sod as he sat +down on the edge of the road. How sweet everything smelled! What a +beautiful day it was! + +The timorous, odorous violet must be sprouting on the damp ground yonder +under the alders! And he went looking along the stream for those little +purple flowers that bring dreams of love with their fragrance! He would +make a bouquet to offer Leonora as she came by. + +He felt thrilled with a boldness he had never known before. His hands +burned feverishly. Perhaps it was the emotion from his own sense of +daring. He had resolved to settle things that very morning. The fatuity +of the man who feels himself ridiculous and is determined to raise +himself in the eyes of his admirers, excited him, filling him with a +cynical rashness. + +What would his friends, who envied him as Leonora's lover, say if they +knew she was treating him as an insignificant friend, a good little boy +who helped her while away the hours in the solitude of her voluntary +exile? + +A few kisses--on her hand; a few kind words; many many cruel jests, such +as come from a chum conscious of superiority ... that was all he had won +after months and months and months of assiduous courtship, months of +disobedience to his mother, in whose house he had been living like a +stranger, without affection, at daggers' points; months of exposure to +the criticism of his enemies, who suspected him of a liaison with the +"chorus girl" and were raising their brows, horror-stricken, in the name +of morality. How they would scoff, if they knew the truth! Those +addlepates down at the Club were always boasting of their amorous +adventures, which began inevitably with the sudden physical attack and +ended in easy triumph. + +With the Spaniard's mortal dread of looking ridiculous, Rafael began to +assure himself that those brutes were right--that such was the road to +a woman's heart. He had been too respectful, too humble, gazing at +Leonora, timidly, submissively, from afar, as an idolater might look at +an ikon. Bosh! Wasn't he a man, and isn't the man the stronger? Some +show of a male authority, that was what she needed! He liked her! Well, +that was the end of it! His she must be! Besides, since she treated him +so kindly, she surely loved him! A few scruples perhaps! But that would +be nothing, before a show of real manhood! + +Just as this valorous decision had emerged in the full splendor of its +dignity from the mess of vacillation in his weak, irresolute character, +Rafael heard voices down the road. He jumped to his feet. Leonora was +approaching, followed by the two peasant women, who were bent low under +their heavily laden baskets. + +"Here, too!" the actress exclaimed with a laugh that rippled charmingly +under the white skin of her throat. "You are getting to be my shadow. In +the market place, on the road, everywhere! I find you every time I look +around!" + +She accepted the bouquet of violets from the young man's hand, inhaling +their fragrance with evidence of keen enjoyment. + +"Thanks, Rafael, they are the first I have seen this season. My +beautiful, faithful old friend! Springtime! You have brought her to me +this year, though I felt her coming days before! I am so happy--can't +you see? I feel as though I'd been a silkworm all winter, coiled up in a +cocoon, and had now suddenly grown my wings! And I'm going to fly out +over this great green carpet, so sweet with its first perfumes! Don't +you feel as I do, Rafael?..." + +Rafael, gravely, said he did. He, too, felt a seething in his blood, the +nip of life in every one of his pores! And his eyes ran over the bare +neck in front of him, a neck of such tempting smoothness, its white +beauty set off by the red kerchief; and over the violets resting on that +strong, robust bosom. The two orchard women exchanged a shrewd smile, a +meaningful wink, at sight of Rafael, and went on ahead of their +mistress, with the evident design of not disturbing the couple by their +presence; but Leonora caught the look on their faces. + +"Yes, go right on," she said. "We'll take our time, but we'll be there +soon!" + +And when they were out of hearing she resumed, pointing to the women +with her closed parasol: + +"Did you see that? Didn't you notice their smiles and the winks they +exchanged when they saw you on the road?... Oh, Rafael! You are blind as +a bat! And no good is going to come of it! If I had any reputation to +lose, I'd be mighty careful with a friend like you! What do you suppose +they are thinking?" + +And she laughed with a pout of condescension, as though for her part, +she did not care what people might be saying about her friendship with +Rafael. + +"On the market-place all the huckstresses talk to me about you, with the +idea of flattering me. They assure me we'd make a wonderful couple. My +kitchen woman seizes every opportunity to tell me how handsome you are. +You ought to thank her.... Even my aunt, my poor aunt, with one leg in +the grave, drew it out the other day to say to me: 'Do you notice that +Rafael visits us quite frequently? Do you think he wants to marry you?' +Marry, you see! Ha, ha, ha! Marry! That's all poor auntie can see in the +world for a woman!" + +And she went on gaily chattering like a wild bird escaped from a cage +and happy at its liberty, though her frank, mocking laughter was in +strange contrast with the expression of sinister determination on +Rafael's face. + +"But how glum and queer you look today! Are you ill?... What's the +matter?" + +Rafael took advantage of this opening. Ill, yes! Sick with love! He knew +the whole place was gossiping about them. But it wasn't his fault. He +simply couldn't hide his feelings. If she only realized what that mute +adoration was costing him! He had tried to root the thought of her out +of his mind, but that had been impossible. He must see her, hear her! He +lived for her alone. Study? Impossible! Play, with his friends? They had +all become obnoxious to him! His house was a cave, a cellar, a place to +eat in and sleep in. He left it the moment he got out of bed, and kept +away from the city, too, which seemed stuffy, oppressive, like a jail to +him. Off to the fields; to the orchards, to the Blue House where she +lived! He would wait and wait for afternoon to come--the time when, by a +tacit arrangement neither of them had proposed, he might enter her +orchard and find her on the bench under the four dead palms!... Well, he +could not go on living that way. Poor folks envied him his power, +because he was a deputy, at twenty-five! And yet his one purpose in life +was to be ... well, she could guess what ... that garden bench, for +instance, gently, deliciously burdened with her weight for whole +afternoons; or that needlework which played about in her soft fingers; +or one of her servants, Beppa, perhaps, who could waken her in the +morning, bend low over her sleeping head, and smooth the loose tresses +spread like rivulets of gold over the white pillow. A slave, an animal, +a thing even, provided it should be in continuous contact with her +person--that was what he longed to be; not to find himself obliged, at +nightfall, to leave her after a parting absurdly prolonged by childish +pretexts, and return to his irritating, common, vulgar life at home, to +the solitude of his room, where he imagined he could see a pair of green +eyes staring at him from every dark corner, tempting him. + +Leonora was not laughing. Her gold-spotted eyes had opened wide; her +nostrils were quivering with emotion. She seemed deeply moved by the +young man's eloquent sincerity. + +"Poor Rafael! My poor dear boy!... And what are we going to do?" + +Down at the Blue House, Rafael had never dared speak so openly. The +presence of Leonora's servants; the nonchalant, mocking air with which +she welcomed him at the door; the irony with which she met his every +hint at a declaration had always crushed, humiliated him. But there, on +the open highway, it was different somehow. He felt free. He would empty +his whole heart out. + +What anguish! Every day he went to the Blue House trembling with hope, +enthralled in his dream of love! "Perhaps it will be today," he would +say to himself each time. And his legs would give way at the knees, and +he would choke as he swallowed! Then, hours later, at nightfall, he +would slink home, downcast, dispirited, desperate, staggering along the +road under the star-light as if he were drunk, repressing the tears +burning in his eyes, longing for the peace of death, like a weary +explorer who must go on and on breaking his way over one ice-field after +another. She must have noticed, surely! She must have seen the untiring +efforts he made to please her!... Ignorant, humble, recognizing the vast +gulf that separated them because of the different lives they had led, +how he had worked to raise himself to a level with the men who had loved +and won her! If she spoke of the Russian count--a model of stylish +elegance--the next day, to the great astonishment of his mother, Rafael +would take out his best clothes and, all sweating in the hot sun and +nearly strangled by a high collar, he would set out along that same +road--his Road to Calvary--walking on his toes like a boarding-school +girl in order not to get his shoes dirty. If Hans Keller had come to +Leonora's mind, he would run through his histories of music, and +dressing up like some artist he had read about in novels, would come to +her house fully intending to deliver an oration on the immortal Master, +Wagner, whom he knew nothing at all about, but whom he adored as a +member of his family.... Good God! All that was ridiculous, he knew very +well; it would have been far better to present himself just as he was, +undisguised, in all his littleness. He knew that this pretending to +equality with the thousand or more figures flitting in Leonora's memory, +was grotesque. But there was nothing, absolutely nothing he would not do +to stir her heart a little, be loved for a day, a minute, a second--and +then die!... + +There was a note of such real feeling in the youth's confession that +Leonora, more and more deeply moved, unconsciously drew closer to him, +almost grazing him as they walked along; and she smiled slightly, as she +repeated her previous phrase--a blend of motherly affection and +compassion: + +"Poor Rafael!... My poor dear boy!" + +They had reached the gate to the orchard. The walk inside was deserted. +In the little square some hens were scratching about. + +Overwhelmed by the strain of that confession, in which he had vented the +anguish and dreams of many months, Rafael leaned against the trunk of an +old orange-tree. Leonora stood in front of him, listening to his words, +with head lowered, making marks on the ground with the tip of her red +parasol. + +Die, yes; he had often read in novels about people dying for love. And +he had always laughed at the absurdity of such a thing. But he +understood now. Many a night, tossing in his delirium, he had thought of +ending his misery in some tragic manner. The violent, domineering blood +of his father seethed in his veins. Once firmly convinced she could +never be his, he would kill her, to keep her from belonging to +anybody... and then stab himself! They would fall together to the +blood-soaked ground, and lie there as on a bed of red damask, and he +would kiss her cold lips, without fear of being disturbed; kiss her and +kiss her, till the last breath of his life exhaled upon her livid mouth. + +He seemed to be saying all that with deadly earnestness. The muscles of +his strong face quivered, and his eyes--Moorish eyes--glowed like live +coals. Leonora was looking at him passionately now, as if a man were in +front of her. She shuddered with a strange fascination as she pictured +his barbarous dreams, fraught with blood and death. This was something +new! This boy, when he saw that his love was vain, would not gloomily +and prosaically slay himself as Macchia, the Italian poet, had done. He +would die, but asserting himself, killing the woman, destroying his idol +when it would not harken to his entreaties! + +And, pleasantly excited by Rafael's tragic demeanor, she gave way to the +thrill of it, letting herself be carried along by his anguished rapture. +He had taken her arm and was drawing her off the path, out among the +low-hanging branches of the orange-trees. + +For some time they were both silent. Leonora seemed to be drinking in +the virile perfume of that savage passionate adoration. + +Rafael thought he had offended her, and was sorry for his violent words. + +She must pardon him; he was beside himself, exasperated beyond bounds at +her strange resistance. Leonora! Leonora! Why persist in spoiling a +perfectly beautiful thing? He was not wholly a matter of indifference in +her eyes. She did not dislike him. Otherwise she would not have let him +be a friend and have permitted his frequent visits. Love?... Of course +she did not love him--poor unhappy wretch that he was, incapable of +inspiring passion in a woman like her. But let her just accept him. He +would teach her to love him in time, win her by the sheer beauty of his +own tenderness and worship. His love alone, alas, was great enough for +both of them and for all the famous lovers in history put together! He +would be her slave; a carpet for her to tread underfoot; a dog, always +at her feet, his eyes burning with the fire of eternal fidelity! She +would finally learn to be fond of him, if not out of passion, at least +out of gratitude and pity! + +And as he spoke, he brought his face close to Leonora's, looking for his +own image in the depths of her green eyes; and he pressed her arm in a +fever of passion. + +"Careful, Rafael.... That hurts! Let go, of me." + +And as if suddenly sensing a danger in the full of a sweet dream, she +shuddered and pulled herself free with a nervous violence. + +Then, quite recovered from the intoxication into which she had been led +by Rafael's passionate appeal, she began to speak calmly, composedly. + +No; what he asked was impossible. Her fate was ordained; she did not +want love any more.... Friendship had carried them a bit astray. It was +her fault, but she would find a way to remedy that. If she had known him +years before--perhaps! She might have learned to love him. He was more +worthy of being loved than many of the men she had accepted. But he had +come too late. Now she was content with just living. Besides, what a +horror! Imagine a "grand passion" in a petty environment such as they +were in, a tiny world of gossip-mongers and evil tongues! Imagine having +to hide like a criminal to express a noble emotion! No, when she loved, +she loved in the open, with the sublime immodesty of the masterpiece +that scandalizes bumpkins with its naked beauty! How impossible it would +be, finding herself nibbled at constantly by gossiping fools, quite +beneath her contempt. She would feel the scorn and the indignation of a +whole town about her. They would accuse her of leading an innocent boy +astray, alienating him from his own mother. "No, Rafael; a thousand +times no; I have a little conscience left! I'm not the irresponsible +siren I used to be." + +"But what about me?" cried the youth, seizing her arm again with a +boyish petulance. "You think of yourself and of other people, but never +of me. What am I going to do all along with my suffering?" + +"Oh, you? Why ... you will forget," said Leonora gravely. "I have just +realized this very moment that it is impossible for me to stay here any +longer. We two must separate. I will leave before Spring is over; I'll +go ... I don't know where, back to the world at any rate, take up my +singing again, where I'll not find men of just your kind. Time, and my +absence, will attend to the curing of you." + +Leonora winced before the flash of savage desire that gleamed in +Rafael's eyes. On her face she felt the ardent breath of lips that were +seeking her own, and she heard him murmur with a stifled roar of +passion: + +"No. You shall not go; I refuse to let you go!" + +And she felt his strong arms close about her, swaying her from head to +foot, in a clasp to which madness added strength. Her feet left the +ground, and a brutal thrust threw her to her side at the foot of an +orange-tree. + +But, in a flash, the Valkyrie reappeared in Leonora. With a supreme +effort, she struggled free from the encircling vise, sat up, threw +Rafael violently to his back, got to her feet, and stamped a foot +brutally and mercilessly down upon the young man's chest, using her +whole weight as though bent on crushing the very framework of his body. + +Her face was an inspiring thing to look upon. She seemed to have gone +mad! Her blond hair had fallen awry and was flecked with leaves and +grass and bark. Her green eyes flashed with metallic glints, like +daggers. Her lips were pale from emotion. And in that wild posture, +whether through force of habit, or the suggestiveness of the effort she +had made, she raised her warcry--a piercing, savage "_Hojotoho!_" that +rent the calm of the orchard, frightening the hens and sending them +scampering off over the paths. Her parasol she brandished as if it were +the lance of Wotan's daughter, and several times she aimed it at +Rafael's eyes, as if she intended to spear him blind. + +The youth seemed to have collapsed less from the violence of the +struggle than from an overpowering sense of shame. He lay motionless on +the ground, without protesting, and as if not caring ever to rise +again--longing to die under the pressure of that foot which was so +heavily weighing down upon him, taking away his breath. + +Leonora regained her composure, and slowly stepped back. Rafael sat up, +and reached for his hat. + +It was a painful moment. They stood there cold, as if the sun had gone +out and a glacial wind were blowing through the orchard. + +Rafael kept his eyes to the ground, afraid to look up and meet her gaze, +ashamed at the thought of his disordered clothes, which were soiled with +dirt; humiliated at having been beaten and pummeled like a robber caught +by a victim he had expected to find powerless. + +He heard Leonora's voice addressing him with the scornful "_tu_" a lady +might use toward her lowest inferiors. + +"Go!" + +He raised his head and found Leonora looking at him, her eyes ablaze +with anger and offended dignity. + +"I'm never taken by force," she said coldly. "I give myself ... if I +feel like it." + +And in the gesture of scorn and rage with which she dismissed him, +Rafael thought he caught a trace of loathing at some memory of +Boldini--that repugnant lecher, who had been the only person in the +world to win her by violence. + +Rafael tried to stammer an excuse, but that hateful association of the +brutal scene rendered her implacable. + +"Go! Go, or I'll beat you again!... And never come back!" + +And to emphasize the words, as Rafael, humiliated and covered with dirt, +was leaving the garden, she shut the gate behind him with such a violent +slam that the bars almost went flying. + + + + +IV + + +Dona Bernarda was much pleased with Rafael. The angry glances, the +gestures of impatience, the wordless arguments between mother and son, +which the household had formerly witnessed in such terror, had come to +an end. + +The boy had not been visiting the Blue House for some time. She knew +that with absolute certainty, thanks to the gratuitous espionage +conducted for her by persons attached to the Brull family. He scarcely +ever left the house; a few moments at the Club after lunch; and the rest +of the day in the dining-room, with her and family friends; or else, +shut up in his room, with his books, probably, which the austere senora +revered with the superstitious awe of ignorance. + +Don Andres, her advisor, commented upon the change with a gloating "I +told you so." What had he always said, when dona Bernarda, in the +confiding intimacies of that friendship which amounted almost to a +senile, a tranquil, a distantly respectful passion, would complain of +Rafael's contrariness? That it would all pass; that it was a young man's +whim; that youth must have its fling! What was the use? Rafael hadn't +studied to be a monk! Many boys his age, and even older ones, were far +worse!... And the old gentleman smiled, for he was thinking of his own +easy conquests with the wretched flock of dirty, unkempt peasant girls +who wrapped the oranges in the shipping houses of Alcira. "You see, dona +Bernarda, you suffered too much with don Ramon. You are a bit too +exacting with Rafael. Let him have a good time! Let him enjoy himself! +He'll get tired of that chorus girl soon enough, pretty as she is. Then +you can take hold and start him right!" + +Dona Bernarda once again had reason to appreciate the talent of her +counsellor. His predictions, made with a cynicism that always caused the +pious lady to blush, had been fulfilled to the letter! + +She, too, was sure it was all over. Her son was not so blind as his +father had been. He had soon wearied of a "lost woman" like Leonora; he +had decided it was not worth while to quarrel with his mamma over so +trifling a matter, and have his enemies discredit him on that account. +He was returning to the path of duty; and to express her unbounded joy, +the good woman could not pamper him enough. + +"And how about ... that?" her friends would ask her, mysteriously. + +"Nothing," she would answer, with a proud smile. "Three weeks have gone +by and he hasn't shown the slightest inclination to go back. No, Rafael +is a good boy. All that was just a young one's notion. If you could only +see him keeping me company in the parlor every afternoon! An angel! Good +as pie! He spends hour after hour chatting with me and Matias's +daughter." + +And then, broadening her smile and winking cunningly, she would add: + +"I think there's something doing in that direction." + +And indeed something was "doing"; at least, to judge by appearances. +Bored with wandering from room to room through the house, sick of his +books, with which he would spend hours and hours turning pages without +really seeing a word that was printed on them, Rafael had taken refuge +in the sitting-room where his mother did her sewing, supervising a +complicated piece of embroidery that Remedios was making. + +The girl's submissive simplicity appealed to Rafael. Her ingenuousness +gave him a sense of freshness and repose. She was a cosy secluded refuge +where he might sleep after a tempest. His mother's satisfied smile was +there to encourage him in this feeling. Never had he seen her so kind +and so communicative. The pleasure of having him once more safe and +obedient in her hands had mollified that disposition so stern by nature +as to verge on rudeness. + +Remedios, with her head bowed low over her embroidery, would blush deep +red whenever Rafael praised her work or told her she was the prettiest +girl in all Alcira. He would help her thread her needles, and hold his +hands out to make a winding frame for the skeins; and more than once, +with the familiarity of an old playmate, he would pinch her +mischievously through the embroidery hoop. And she would never miss the +chance to scream scandal. + +"Rafael, don't be crazy," his mother would say, threatening him +indulgently with her withered forefinger. "Let Remedios work; if you +carry on so I won't let you come into the parlor." + +And at night, alone in the dining-room with don Andres, when the hour +of confidences came, dona Bernarda would forget the affairs of "the +House" and of "the Party," to say with satisfaction: + +"It's going better." + +"Is Rafael taking to her?" + +"More and more every day. We're getting there, we're getting there! That +boy is the living image of his father when it comes to matters like +this. Believe me, you can't let one of that tribe out of your sight a +minute. If I didn't keep my eye peeled, that young devil would be doing +something that would discredit the House forever." + +And the good woman was sure that Doctor Moreno's daughter--that +abominable creature whose good looks had been her nightmare for some +months past--no longer existed for Rafael. + +She knew, from her spies, that on one market morning the two had met on +the street in town. Rafael had looked the other way, as if trying to +avoid her; the "_comica_" had turned pale and walked straight ahead +pretending not to see him. What did that mean?... A break for good of +course! The impudent hussy was livid with rage, you see, perhaps because +she could not trap her Rafael again; for he, weary of such +uncleanliness, had abandoned her forever. Ah, the lost soul, the +indecent gad-about! Excuse me! Was a woman to educate a son in the +soundest and most virtuous principles, make a somebody of him, and then +have an adventuress come along, a thousand times worse than a common +street-woman, and carry him off, as nice as you please, in her filthy +hands? What had the daughter of that scamp of a doctor thought?... Let +her fume! "You're sore just because you see he's dumped you for good!" + +In the joy of her triumph dona Bernarda was thinking anxiously of her +son's marriage to Remedios, and, coming down one peg on the ladder of +her dignity toward don Matias, she began to treat the exporter as a +member of the family, commenting contentedly upon the growing affection +that united their two children. + +"Well, if they're fond of each other," said the rustic magnate, "the +wedding can take place tomorrow so far as I'm concerned. Remedios means +a good deal to me; hard to find a girl like her for running a house; but +that needn't interfere with the marriage. I'm mighty well satisfied, +dona Bernarda, that we should be related through our children. I'm only +sorry that don Ramon isn't here to see it all." + +And that was true. The one thing lacking to the millionaire's perfect +joy was that he would never have the chance to treat the tall, imposing +Don Ramon on equal terms for once,--the crowning triumph of a self-made +man. + +Dona Bernarda, too, saw in this union the realization of her fondest +dreams: money joined to power; the millions of a business, whose +marvelous successes seemed like deliberate tricks of Chance, coming to +revivify with their sap of gold the Brull family tree, which was showing +the signs of age and long years of struggle! + +Spring had come on apace. Some afternoons dona Bernarda would take "the +children" to her own orchards or to the wealthy holdings of don Matias. +It was a sight worth seeing--the kindly shrewdness with which she +chaperoned the young couple, shouting with shocked alarm if they +disappeared behind the orange-trees for a moment or two in their +frolics. + +"That Rafael of ours," she would say to don Andres, mimicking the long +face he used to put on when bringing up her troubles with her husband, +"what a rascal he is! I'll bet he's got both arms around her by this +time!" + +"Let 'em alone, let 'em alone, dona Bernarda! The deeper in he gets with +this one, the less likely he'll be to go back to the other." + +Back to her?... There was no fear of that. It was enough to watch Rafael +picking flowers and weaving them into the girl's hair while she +pretended to fight him off, blushing like a rose, and quite moved at +such homage. + +"Now be good, Rafaelito," Remedios would murmur in a sort of entreating +bleat, "don't touch me; don't be so bold." + +But her emotion would so betray her that you could see the thing she +most wanted in the world was for Rafael to place upon her body once +again those hands that made her tingle from the tips of her toes to the +roots of her hair. She resisted only because such was the duty of a +well-educated Christian girl. Like a young she-goat she would dash off +with graceful, tripping bounds between the rows of orange-trees, and _su +senoria_, the member from Alcira, would give chase with all his might, +his nostrils quivering and his eyes ablaze. + +"Let's see if he can catch you!" the mother would call, with a laugh. +"Run and let him try to catch you!" + +Don Andres would roll up his wrinkled face into the smile of an old +faun. Such play made him feel young again. + +"Huh, _senora_! I believe you. This is getting on--on, and then some. +I'd say, marry them off pretty quick; for, if you don't, mark my word, +there'll soon be something for Alcira to laugh about." + +And they were both mistaken. Neither the mother nor don Andres was +present to note the expression of dejection and despair on Rafael's face +when he was alone, shut up in his room, where, in the dark corners, he +could still see a pair of green, mysterious eyes gleaming at him and +tempting him. + +Go back to her? Never! He still felt the shame, the humiliation of that +morning. He could see himself in all his tragic ridiculousness, in a heap +on the ground, trampled under foot by that Amazon, covered with dirt, as +humble and abashed as a criminal caught redhanded and with no excuse. +And then that word, that had cut like the lash of a whip: "Go!" As if he +were a lackey who had dared approach a Duchess! And then that gate +slamming behind him, falling like a slab over a tomb, setting up an +eternal barrier between him and the love of his life! + +No, he would never go back! He was not brave enough to face her again. +That morning when he had met her by chance near the market-place, he +thought he would die of shame; his legs sagged under him, and the street +turned black as if night had suddenly fallen. She had disappeared; but +there was a ringing in his ears; and he had had to take hold of +something, as if the earth were swaying under his feet, and he would +fall. + +He needed to forget that unutterable disgrace--a recollection as +tenacious as remorse itself. That was why he had plunged into the +affair with his mother's protegee--as a sort of anaesthetic. She was a +woman! And his hands, which seemed to have been unbound since that +painful morning, went out toward her; his tongue, free after his +vehement confession of love at the orchard-gate, spoke glibly now +expressing an adoration that seemed to go beyond the inexpressive +features of Remedios, and reach far, far away, to the Blue House, where +the other woman was, offended and in hiding. + +With Remedios he would feel some sign of life, only to relapse into +torpid gloom the moment he was left alone. It was a foamy, frothy +intoxication he felt when with the girl, an effervescence that all +evaporated in solitude. He thought of Remedios as a piece of green +fruit--sound, free of cut or stain, and with all the color of maturity, +but lacking the taste that satisfies and the perfume that enthralls. + +In his strange situation, spending days in childish games with a young +girl who aroused in him nothing more than the bland sense of fraternal +comradeship, and nights in sad and sleepless recollection, the one thing +that pleased him was intimacy with his mother. Peace had been restored +to the home. He could come and go without being conscious of a pair of +eyes glaring upon him and without hearing words of indignation stifled +between grating teeth. + +Don Andres and his friends at the Club kept asking him when the wedding +would take place. In presence of "the children" dona Bernarda would +speak of alterations that would have to be made in the house. She and +the servants would occupy the ground floor. The whole first story would +be for the couple, with new rooms that would be the talk of the +city--they would get the best decorators in Valencia! Don Matias treated +him familiarly, just as he had in the old days when he came to the +_patio_ to get his orders from don Ramon and found Rafael, as a child, +playing at his father's feet. + +"Everything I have will be for you two. Remedios is an angel, and the +day I die, she will get more than my rascal of a son. All I ask of you +is not to take her off to Madrid. Since she is leaving my roof, at least +let me be able to see her every day." + +And Rafael would listen to all these things as in a dream. In reality he +had not expressed the slightest desire to marry; but there was his +mother, taking everything for granted, arranging everything, imposing +her will, accelerating his sluggish affection, literally forcing +Remedios into his arms! His wedding was a foregone conclusion, the topic +of conversation for the entire city. + +Sunk in this sadness, in the clutch of the tranquillity which now +surrounded him and which he was afraid to break; weak, as a matter of +character, and without will power, he sought consolation in the +reflection that the solution his mother was preparing was perhaps for +the best. + +His friendship with Leonora had been broken forever. Any day she might +take flight! She had said so very often. She would be going very +soon--when the blossoms were off the orange-trees! What would be left +for him then ... except to obey his mother? He would marry, and perhaps +that would serve as a distraction. Little by little his affection for +Remedios might grow. Perhaps in time he would even come to love her. + +Such meditations brought him a little calm, lulling him into an +attitude of agreeable irresponsibility. He would turn child again, as he +once had been, have his mother take charge of everything; let himself be +drawn along, passive, unresisting, by the current of destiny. + +But at times this resignation boiled up into hot, seething ebullitions +of angry protest, of raging passion. At night Rafael could not sleep. +The orange-trees were beginning to bloom. The blossoms, like an odorous +snow, covered the orchards and shed their perfume as far even as the +city streets. The air was heavy with fragrance. To breathe was to scent +a nosegay. Through the window-gratings under the doors, through the +walls, the virginal perfume of the vast orchards filtered--an +intoxicating breath, that Rafael, in his impassioned restlessness, +imagined as wafted from the Blue House, caressing Leonora's lovely +figure, and catching something of the divine fragrance of her redolent +beauty. And he would roll furiously between the sheets, biting the +pillow and moaning. + +"Leonora! Leonora!" + +One night, toward the end of April, Rafael drew back in front of the +door to his room, with the tremor he would have felt on the threshold of +a place of horror. He could not endure the thought of the night that +awaited him. The whole city seemed to have sunk into languor, in that +atmosphere so heavily charged with perfume. The lash of spring was +stirring all the impulses of life with its exciting caress, and goading +every feeling to new intensity. Not the slightest breeze was blowing. +The orchards saturated the calm atmosphere with their odorous +respiration. The lungs expanded as if there were no air, and all space +were being inhaled in each single breath. A voluptuous shudder was +stirring the countryside as it lay dozing under the light of the moon. + +Hardly realizing what he was doing, Rafael went down into the street. +Soon he found himself upon the bridge, where a few strollers, hat in +hand, were breathing the night air eagerly, looking at the clusters of +broken light that the moon was scattering over the river like fragments +of a mirror. + +He went on through the silent, deserted streets of the suburbs, his +footsteps echoing from the sidewalks. One row of houses lay white and +gleaming under the moon. The other was plunged in shadow. He was drawn +on and on into the mysterious silence of the fields. + +His mother was asleep, he suddenly reflected. She would know nothing. He +would be free till dawn. He yielded further to the attraction of the +roads that wound in and out through the orchards, where so many times he +had dreamed and hoped. + +The spectacle was not new to Rafael. Every year he had watched that +fertile plain come to life at the touch of Springtime, cover itself with +flowers, fill the air with perfumes; and yet, that night, as he beheld +the vast mantle of orange-blossoms that had settled over the fields, and +was gleaming in the moonlight like a fall of snow, he felt himself +completely in control of an infinitely sweet emotion. + +The orange-trees, covered from trunk to crown with white, ivory-smooth +flowerets, seemed like webs of spun glass, the vegetation of one of +those fantastic snow-mantled landscapes that quiver sometimes in the +glass spheres of paper-weights. The perfume came in continuous, +successive waves, rolling out upon the infinite with a mysterious +palpitation, transfiguring the country, imparting to it a feeling of +supernaturalness--the vision of a better world, of a distant planet +where men feed on perfume and live in eternal poetry. Everything was +changed in this spacious love-nest softly lighted by a great lantern of +mother-of-pearl. The sharp crackling of the branches sounded in the deep +silence like so many kisses; the murmur of the river became the distant +echo of passionate love-making, hushed voices whispering close to the +loved one's ears words tremulous with adoration. From the canebrake a +nightingale was singing softly, as if the beauty of the night had +subdued its plaintive song. + +How good it was to be alive! The blood tingled more rapidly, more hotly, +through the body! Every sense seemed sharper, more acute; though that +landscape imposed silence with its pale wan beauty, just as certain +emotions of intense joy are tasted with a sense of mystic shrinking! + +Rafael followed the usual path. He had turned instinctively toward the +Blue House. + +The shame of his disgrace still smarted raw within him. Had he met +Leonora now in the middle of the road he would have recoiled in childish +terror; but he would not meet her at such an hour. That reflection gave +him strength to walk on. Behind him, over the roofs of the city, the +tolling of a clock rolled. Midnight! He would go as far as the wall of +her orchard, enter if that were possible, stand there a few moments in +silent humility before the house, looking up adoringly at the windows +behind which Leonora lay sleeping. + +It would be his farewell! The whim had occurred to him as he left the +city and saw the first orange-trees laden with the blossoms whose +perfume had for many months been holding the songstress there in patient +expectation. Leonora would never know he had been near her in the silent +orchard bathed in moonlight, taking leave of her with the unspoken +anguish of an eternal farewell, as to a dream vanishing on the horizon +of life! + +The gate with the green wooden bars came into view among the trees--the +gate that had been slammed behind him in insulting dismissal. Among the +thorns of the hedge he looked for an opening he had discovered in the +days when he used to hover about the house. He went through, and his +feet sank into the fine, sandy soil of the orange-groves. Above the tops +of the trees, the house itself could be seen, white in the moonlight. +The rain-troughs of the roof and the balustrades of the balconies shone +like silver. The windows were all closed. Everything was asleep. + +He was about to step forward, when a dark form shot out from between two +orange-trees and stopped near him with a muffled growl. It was the house +dog, an ugly, ill-tempered animal trained to bite before it barked. + +Rafael recoiled instinctively from the warm breath of that panting, +furious muzzle which was reaching for his leg; but the dog, after a +second's hesitation, began to wag its tail with pleasure; and was +content merely to sniff at the boy's trousers so as to make absolutely +sure of an old friend's identity. Rafael patted him on the head, as he +had done so many times, distractedly, in conversations with Leonora on +the bench in the _plazoleta_. A good omen this encounter seemed! And he +walked on, while the dog resumed his watch in the darkness. + +Timidly he made his way forward in the shelter of a large patch of +shadow cast by the orange-trees, dragging himself along, almost, like a +thief afraid of an ambuscade. + +He reached the walk leading to the _plazoleta_ and was surprised to find +the gate half open. Suddenly he heard a suppressed cry near by. + +He turned around, and there on the tile bench, wrapped in the shadow of +the palm-trees and the rose-bushes, he saw a white form--a woman. As she +rose from her seat the moonlight fell squarely on her features. + +"Leonora!" + +The youth would have gladly sunk into the earth. "Rafael! You here?..." + +And the two stood there in silence, face to face. He kept his eyes fixed +on the ground, ashamed. She looked at him with a certain indecision. + +"You've given me a scare that I'll never forgive you for," she said at +last. "What are you doing here?..." + +Rafael was at a loss for a reply. He stammered with an embarrassment +that quite impressed Leonora; but despite his agitation, he noticed a +strange glitter in the girl's eyes, and a mysterious veiling of her +voice that seemed to transfigure her. + +"Come, now," said Leonora gently, "don't hunt up any far-fetched +excuses.... You were coming to bid me good-bye--and without trying to +see me! What a lot of nonsense! Why don't you say right out that you +are a victim of this dangerous night--as I am, too?" + +And her eyes, glittering with a tearful gleam, swept the _plazoleta_, +which lay white in the moonlight; and the snowy orange-blossoms, the +rose-bushes, the palm-trees, that stood out black against the blue sky +where the stars were twinkling like grains of luminous sand. Her voice +trembled with a soft huskiness, as caressing as velvet. + +Rafael, quite encouraged by this unexpected reception, tried to beg +forgiveness for the madness that had caused his expulsion from the +place; but the actress cut him short. + +"Let's not discuss that unpleasant thing! It hurts me just to think of +it. You're forgiven; and since you've fallen on this spot as though +heaven had dropped you here, you may stay a moment. But ... no +liberties. You know me now." + +And straightening up to her full height as an Amazon sure of herself, +she turned to the bench, motioning to Rafael to take a seat at the other +end. + +"What a night!... I feel a strange intoxication without wine! The +orange-trees seem to inebriate me with their very breath. An hour ago my +room was whirling round and round, as though I were going to faint. My +bed was like a frail bark tossing in a tempest. So I came down as I +often do; and here you can have me until sleep proves more powerful than +the beauty of this beautiful night." + +She spoke with a languid abandonment; her voice quivering, and tremors +rippling across her shoulders, as if all the perfume were hurting her, +oppressing her powerful vitality. Rafael sat looking at her over the +length of the bench--a white, sepulchral figure, wrapped in the hooded +cape of a dressing-gown--the first thing she had laid hands upon when +she had thought of going out into the garden. + +"I was frightened when I saw you," she continued, in a slow, faint +voice. "A little fright, nothing more! A natural surprise, I suppose; +and yet, I was thinking of you that very moment. I confess it. I was +saying to myself: 'What can that crazy boy be doing, at this hour, I +wonder?' And suddenly you appeared, like a ghost. You couldn't sleep; +you were excited by all this fragrance; and you have come to try your +luck anew, with the hope that brought you here at other times." + +She spoke without her usual irony, softly, simply, as if she were +talking to herself. Her body was thrown limply back against the bench, +one arm resting behind her head. + +Rafael started to speak once more of his repentance, of his desire to +kneel in front of the house there in mute entreaty for pardon, while she +would be sleeping in the room above. But Leonora interrupted him again. + +"Hush! Your voice is very loud. They might hear you. My aunt's room is +in the other wing of the house, but she's not a heavy sleeper.... +Besides, I don't care to listen to talk about remorse, pardon, and such +things. It makes me think of that morning. The mere fact that I am +letting you stay here ought to be enough, oughtn't it? I want to forget +all that.... Hush, Rafael! Silence makes the beauty of the night more +wonderful. The fields seem to be talking with the moon, and these waves +of perfume that are sweeping over us are echoes of their passionate +words." + +And she fell silent, keeping absolutely still, her eyes turned upward, +catching the moonbeams in their tear-like moisture. From time to time +Rafael saw her quiver with a mysterious tremor; then extend her arms and +cross them behind her head of golden hair, in a voluptuous stretch that +made her white robe rustle, while her limbs grew taut in a delicious +tension. She seemed upset, ill almost; at times her panting breath was +like a sob. Her head drooped over a shoulder and her breast heaved with +countless sighs. + +The youth was obediently silent, fearing lest the remembrance of his +base audacity should again come up in the conversation; and not +venturing to reduce the distance that separated them on the bench. She +seemed to divine what he was thinking and began to speak, slowly, of the +abnormal state of mind in which she found herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me tonight. I feel like crying, +without knowing why. I am filled with a strange inexplicable happiness, +and yet I could just weep and weep. Oh, I know--it's the Springtime; all +this fragrance that whips my nerves like a lash. I really believe I'm +crazy.... Springtime! My best friend--though she has done me only wrong! +If ever I have been guilty of any foolish thing in my life, Spring was +at the bottom of it.... It's youth reborn in us--madness paying us its +annual visit.... And I--ever faithful to her, adoring her; waiting in +this out-of-the-way spot almost a year for her to come, to see her once +more in her best clothes, crowned with orange-blossoms like a virgin--a +wicked virgin who pays me back for my devotion with betrayal!... Just +see what I've come to! I am ill--I don't know why--with excess of life, +perhaps. She drives me on I don't know where, but certainly where I +ought not to go.... If it weren't for sheer will-power on my part, I'd +collapse in a heap on this bench here. I'm just like a drunken man +bending every effort to keep his feet and walk straight." + +It was true; she was really ill. Her eyes grew more and more tearful; +her body was quivering, shrinking, collapsing, as if life were +overflowing within her and escaping through all her pores. + +Again she was silent, for a long time, her eyes gazing vacantly into +space; then, she murmured, as if in answer to a thought of her own. + +"No one ever understood as well as He. He knew everything, felt as +nobody ever felt the mysterious hidden workings of Nature; and He sang +of Springtime as a god would sing. Hans used to remark that many a time; +and it's so." + +Without turning her head she added, in a dreamy musing voice. + +"Rafael, you don't know _Die Walkuere_, do you? You've never heard the +Spring Song?" + +He shook his head. And Leonora, with her eyes still gazing moonward, her +head resting back against her arms, which escaped in all their round, +pearly strength from her drooping sleeves, spoke slowly, collecting her +memories, recreating in her mind's eye that Wagnerian scene of such +intense poetry--the glorification and the triumph of Nature and Love. + +Hunding's hut, a barbaric dwelling, hung with savage trophies of the +chase, suggesting the brutish existence of man scarcely yet possessed of +the world, in perpetual strife with the elements and with wild animals. +The eternal fugitive, forgotten of his father,--Sigmund by name, though +he calls himself "Despair," wandering years and years through the +forests, harrassed by beasts of prey who take him for one of themselves +in his covering of skins, rests at last at the foot of the giant oak +that sustains the hut; and as he drinks the hidromel in the horn offered +to him by the sweet Siglinda, he gazes into her pure eyes and for the +first time becomes aware that Love exists. + +The husband, Hunding, the wild huntsman, takes leave of him at the end +of the rustic supper: "Your father was the Wolf, and I am of the race of +Hunters. Until the break of day, my house protects you; you are my +guest; but as soon as the sun rises in the heavens you become my enemy, +and we will fight.... Woman, prepare the night's drink; and let us be +off to bed." + +And the exile sits alone beside the fireplace, thinking of his immense +loneliness. No home, no family, not even the magic sword promised him by +his father the Wolf. And at daybreak, out of the hut that shelters him +the enemy will come to slay him. The thought of the woman who allayed +his thirst, the sparkle of those pure eyes wrapping him in a gaze of +pity and love, is the one thing that sustains him.... She comes to him +when her wild consort has fallen asleep. She shows him the hilt of the +sword plunged into the oak by the god Wotan; nobody can pull it out: it +will obey only the hand of him to whom it has been destined by the god. + +As she speaks the wandering savage gazes at her in ecstasy, as if she +were a white vision revealing to him the existence of something more +than might and struggle in the world. It is the voice of Love. Slowly he +draws near; embraces her; clasps her to his heart, while the door is +pushed open by the breeze and the green forest appears, odorous in the +moonlight--nocturnal Springtime, radiant and glorious, wrapped in a +mantle of music and perfume. + +Siglinda shudders. "Who has come in?" No one--and yet, a Stranger has +entered the hovel, opening the door with an invisible hand. And Sigmund, +at the inspiration of Love, divines the identity of the visitant. "It is +Springtime laughing in the air about your tresses. The storms are gone; +gone is the dark solitude. The radiant month of May, a young warrior in +an armor of flowers, has come to give chase to bleak Winter, and in all +this festival of rejoicing Nature, seeks his sweetheart: Youth. This +night, which has brought you to me, is the unending night of Spring and +Youth." + +And, Leonora was thrilled as she heard in her memory the murmur of the +orchestra accompanying the song of tenderness inspired by Spring; the +rustle of the forest branches benumbed by the winter, now swaying with +the new sap that had flowed into them like a torrent of vitality; and +out on the brightly lighted _plazoleta_ she could almost see Sigmund and +Siglinda clasping in an eternal unseverable embrace, as she had seen +them from the wings of the opera, where she would be waiting as a +Valkyrie to step out and set an audience wild with her mighty +"_Hojotoho!"_ + +She was feeling the same loneliness and yearning that Sigmund felt in +Hunding's hovel. Without a family, without a home, wandering over the +world, she longed for someone to lean on, someone to clasp tenderly to +her heart! And it was she who unconsciously, instinctively, had drawn +closer to Rafael, and placed her hand in his. + +She was ill. She sighed softly with the appealing entreaty of a child, +as if the intense poetry of that memory of music had shattered the frail +remnant of will that had kept her mistress of herself. + +"I don't know what's the matter with me to-night. I feel as though I +were dying.... But such a sweet death! So sweet!... What madness, +Rafael! How rash it was of us to have seen each other on such a +night!..." + +And with supplicating eyes, as if entreating forgiveness, she gazed out +into the majestic moonlight, where the silence seemed to be stirring +with the palpitation of a new life. She could divine that something was +dying within her, that her will lay prostrate on the ground, without +strength to defend itself. + +Rafael, too, was overwhelmed. He held her clasped against his breast, +one of her hands in his. She was weak, languid, will-less, incapable of +resistance; yet he did not feel the brutal passion of the previous +meeting; he did not dare to move. A sense of infinite tenderness came +over him. All he yearned for was to sit there hour after hour in contact +with that beautiful form, clasping her tightly to him, making her one +with him, as a jewel-case might guard a jewel. + +He whispered mysteriously into her ear, hardly knowing what he was +saying; tender words that seemed to be coming from someone within him, +thrilling him with a tingling, suffocating passion as they left his +lips. + +Yes, it was true; that night was the night dreamed of by the immortal +Poet; the wedding night of smiling Youth and of martial May in his armor +of flowers. The fields were quivering voluptuously under the rays of the +moon; and they, two young hearts, feeling the flutter of Love's wings +about their hair, why should they sit unresponsive there, blind to the +beauty of the night, deaf to the infinite caress that was echoing from +all around? + +"Leonora! Leonora!" moaned Rafael. + +He had slipped down from the bench. Before he was aware of it, he found +himself kneeling at her feet, clutching her hands, and thrusting his +face upward without daring to reach her lips. + +She drew weakly back, protesting feebly, with a girlish plaint: + +"No, no; it would hurt me.... I feel that I'm dying." + +"You belong to me," the youth continued with an exaltation +ill-suppressed. "You belong to me forever; to gaze into your dear eyes, +and to murmur in your ear, your sweet, beautiful, name, and die, if need +be, here. What do we care for the world and its opinions?" + +And Leonora with weakening resistance, continued to refuse: + +"No, no.... I must not. It's a feeling I can't explain." + +And that was so. The gentle quiver of Nature under the kiss of +Springtime, the intense perfume of the flower that is the emblem of +virginity, had transfigured that madcap singer, that adventuress of a +career so checkered, who had been violently thrust into her first +experience of passion, and now for the first time felt the blush of +modesty in the arms of a man. Nature, intoxicating her, shattering her +will, seemed to have created a strange virginity in that body so +familiar with the call of passion. + +"Oh, Rafael, what is happening to me?... What's happening to me? It must +be love; a new love that I did not think I should ever know.... Rafael ... +Rafael, my own boy!" + +And weeping softly, she took his head in her hands, pressed her lips to +his, and then fell back in her seat with eyes distended, maddened with +the joy of that kiss. + +"I belong to you, Rafael! Yours ... but forever. I have always loved you +from the first, but now ... I adore you.... For the first time in my +life I say that with all my soul." + +Hardly able to realize his good fortune, Rafael was thrilled by a deeply +generous sentiment. There was nothing he would not give to that +woman.... + +"Yes; you belong to me forever.... I will marry you." + +But in his dreamy, wild intoxication he saw the artiste's eyes open wide +in surprise, as a sad smile flitted across her lips. + +"Marry me And why?... That's well enough for other women; but me you +must love, my darling child, ever so much, as much as you can.... Just +love me!... I believe only in Love!" + + + + +V + + +"But my dear child, when are we getting to this island of yours?... It +bores me to be here sitting on this seat, so far away from my little +boy, watching his arms get tired from all that rowing. I must kiss him.. +even if he says no! It will rest him, I am sure." + +And rising to her feet, Leonora took two steps forward in the white +boat, though threatening to upset it, and kissed Rafael several times. +He lay aside the oars and laughingly defended himself. + +"Madcap! We'll never get there at this rate. With rests like this we +make very little progress, and I've promised to take you to my island." + +Once again he bent to the oars, heading out toward midstream over the +moonlit water, as if to vouchsafe the groves on either bank an equal +pleasure in the romantic escapade. + +It had been one of her caprices--a desire repeated during his visits to +the Blue House on some afternoons, in the presence of dona Pepa and the +maid, and on every night, as he passed through the opening in the hedge +where Leonora's bare arms were waiting for him in the darkness. + +For more than a week Rafael had been living in a sweet dream. Never had +he imagined that life could be so beautiful. It was a mood of delicious +abstraction. The city no longer existed for him. The people that moved +about him seemed like so many spectres: his mother and Remedios were +invisible beings. Their words he would hear and answer without taking +the trouble to look up. + +He spent his days in feverish impatience for night to come--that the +family might finish supper and leave him free to go to his room, whence +he would cautiously tip-toe, as soon as the house was silent and +everybody was asleep. + +Indifferent to everything foreign to his love, he did not realize the +effect his conduct was having on his mother. She had noticed that his +door was locked all morning while he slept off the fatigue of a +sleepless night. She had already tired of asking him whether he was ill, +and of getting the same reply: + +"No, mama; I've been working nights; an important study I'm preparing." + +It was all his mother could do on such occasions to restrain herself +from shouting "Liar!" Two nights she had gone up to his room, to find +the door locked and the keyhole dark. Her son was not inside. She would +lie awake for him now; and every morning, somewhat before dawn, she +would hear him softly open the outside door and tip-toe up the stairs, +perhaps in his stocking-feet. + +The female Spartan said nothing however, hoarding her indignation in +silence, complaining only to don Andres of the recrudescence of a +madness that was upsetting all her plans. Through his numerous henchmen +the counselor kept watch upon the young man. His spies followed Rafael +cautiously through the night, up to the gate of the Blue House. + +"What a scandal!" exclaimed dona Bernarda. "At night, too! He'll wind +up by bringing her into this house! Can it be that that simpleton of a +dona Pepita is blind to all this?" + +And there was Rafael, unaware of the storm that was gathering about his +head, no longer deigning even to speak to Remedios, or look at her, as +with her head bowed like a sulky goat, she went around stifling her +tears at the memory of those happy strolls in the orchard under dona +Bernarda's surveillance. + +The deputy had eyes for nothing outside of the Blue House; his happiness +had blinded him. The one thing that annoyed him was the necessity of +hiding his joy--his inability to make his good fortune public, so that +all his admirers might learn of it. + +He would willingly have gone back to the days of the Roman decadence, +when the love affairs of the powerful became matters of national +adoration. + +"What do I care for their gossip" he once said to Leonora. "I love you +so much that I'd like to see the whole city worship you in public. I'd +like to snatch you up in my arms, and appear upon the bridge at high +noon, before a concourse stupefied by your beauty: 'Am I or am I not +your "_quefe_"?' I'd ask. 'Well, if I am, adore this woman, who is my +very soul and without whom I could not live. The affection which you +have for me you must have also for her.' And I'd do just as I say if it +were possible." + +"Silly boy ... adorable child," she had replied, showering him with +kisses, brushing his dark beard with her soft, quivering lips. + +And it was during one of their meetings--when their words were broken +by sudden impulses of affection, and their lips were tightly pressed +together--that Leonora had expressed her capricious desire. + +"I'm stifling in this house. I hate to caress you inside four walls, as +if you were only a passing whim. This is unworthy of you. You are Love, +who came to seek me out on the most beautiful of nights. I like you +better in the open air. You look more handsome to me then, and I feel +younger." + +And recalling those trips down the river about which Rafael had told her +so many times when they were only friends--that islet with its curtains +of reeds, the willows bending over the water and the nightingale singing +from its hiding-place--she had asked him, eagerly: + +"What night are you going to take me there? It's a whim of mine, a wild +idea; but, what does love exist for, if not to make people do the +foolish things that sweeten life?... Carry me off in your boat! The bark +that bore you there will transport the two of us to your enchanted +island; we will spend the whole night in the open air." + +And Rafael, who was flattered by the idea of taking his love publicly +down the river, through the slumbering countryside, unfastened his boat +at midnight under the bridge and rowed it to a canebrake near Leonora's +orchard. + +An hour later they emerged through the opening in the hedge, arm in arm, +laughing at the mischievous escapade, disturbing the majestic silence of +the landscape with noisy, insolent kisses. + +They got into the boat, and with a favoring current, began to descend +the Jucar, lulled by the murmur of the river as it glided between the +high mudbanks covered with reeds that bent low over the water and +formed mysterious hiding places. + +Leonora clapped her hands with delight. She threw over her neck the silk +shawl with which she had covered her head. She unbuttoned her light +traveling coat, and inhaled with deep enjoyment the moist, somewhat +muggy breeze that was curling along the surface of the river. Her hand +trembled as it dipped into the water from time to time. + +How beautiful it was! All by themselves, and wandering about, as if the +world did not exist; as if all Nature belonged to them, to them alone! +Here they were, slipping past clusters of slumbering houses, leaving the +city far behind. And nobody had suspected that passion, which in its +enthusiasm had broken its chains and left its mysterious lair to have +the heavens and the fields for sympathetic witnesses. Leonora would have +wished that the night should never end; that the waning moon, which +seemed to have been slashed by a sword, should stop eternally in the sky +to wrap them forever in its feeble, dying light; that the river should +be endless, and the boat float on and on until, overwhelmed by so much +love, they should breathe the last gasp of life away in a kiss as +tenuous as a sigh. + +"If you could only know how grateful I am to you for this excursion, +Rafael!... I'm happy, so happy. Never have I had such a night as this. +But where is the island? Have we gone astray, as you did the night of +the flood?" + +No! At last they reached the place. There Rafael had spent many an +afternoon hidden in the bushes, cut off by the encircling waters, +dreaming that he was an adventurer on the virgin prairies or the vast +rivers of America, performing exploits he had read about in the novels +of Fenimore Cooper and Mayne Reid. + +A tributary joined the Jucar at this point, emptying gently into the +main stream from under a thicket of reeds and trees that formed a +triumphal arch of foliage. At the confluence rose the island--a tiny +piece of land almost level with the water, but as fresh as green and +fragrant as an aquatic bouquet. The banks were lined with dense clumps +of cane, and a few willows that bent their hairy foliage low over the +water, forming dark vaults through which the boat could make its way. + +The two lovers entered the shade. The curtain of branches concealed them +from the river; a bare tear of moonlight managed to filter through the +mane of willows. + +Leonora felt a first sense of uneasiness in this dark, damp, cave-like +haunt. Invisible animals took to the water with dull splashes as they +heard the boat's bow touch the mud of the bank. The actress clutched her +lover's arm with nervous pleasure. + +"Here we are," murmured Rafael. "Hold on to something and get out. +Careful, careful! Don't you want to hear the nightingale? Here we have +him. Listen." + +It was true. In one of the willows, at the other side of the island, the +mysterious bird was trilling from his hiding place, a dizzying shower of +notes, which broke at the crescendo of the musical whirl-pool into a +plaint as soft and long-sustained as a golden thread stretched in the +silence of the night across the river, that seemed to be applauding +with its hushed murmur. To get nearer, the lovers went up through the +rushes, stopping, bending over at each step, to keep the branches from +crackling underneath their feet. + +Favoring moisture had covered the islet with an exuberant undergrowth. +Leonora repressed exclamations of glee as she found her feet caught in +meshes of reeds or received the rude caresses of the branches that +snapped back, as Rafael went ahead, and brushed against her face. She +called for help in a muffled voice; and Rafael, laughing also, would +hold out his hand to her, taking her finally to the very foot of the +tree where the nightingale was singing. + +The bird, divining the presence of intruders, ceased his song. Doubtless +he had heard the rustle of their clothing as they sat down at the foot +of the tree, or the tender words they were murmuring into each other's +ear. + +Over all, the silence of slumbering Nature reigned--that silence made up +of a thousand sounds, harmonizing and blending in one majestic calm; the +murmur of the water, the stirring of the foliage, the mysterious +movements of unseen creatures crawling along under the leaves or +patiently boring their winding galleries in the creaking trunks. + +The nightingale began again to sing, timidly, like an artist afraid of +an impending interruption. He uttered a few disconnected notes with +anxious rests between them--love sighs they seemed, broken by sobs of +passion. Then gradually he took courage, regained self-confidence, and +entered on his full song, just as a soft breeze rose, swept over the +island, and set all the trees and reeds rustling in mysterious +accompaniment. + +The bird gradually grew intoxicated with the sound of his own trilling, +cadenced, voice; one could almost see him up there in the thick +darkness, panting, ardent, in the spasm of his musical inspiration, +utterly engrossed in his own beautiful little world of song, overwhelmed +by the charm of his own artistry. + +But the bird had ceased his music when the two lovers awoke in a tight +embrace, still in ecstasy from the song of love to which they had fallen +asleep. Leonora was resting a dishevelled head on Rafael's shoulder, +caressing his neck with an eager, wearied breathing, whispering in his +ear, random, incoherent words that still were vibrant with emotion. + +How happy she was there! Everything comes for true love! Many a time, +during the days of her unkindness to him, she had looked out from her +balcony upon the river winding down through the slumbering countryside; +and she had thought with rapture of a stroll some day through that +immense garden on Rafael's arm--of gliding, gliding down the Jucar, to +that very island. + +"My love is an ancient thing," she murmured. "Do you suppose, I have +been loving you only since the other night? No, I have loved you for a +long, long time.... But don't you go and get conceited on that account, +_su senoria_! I don't know how it began: It must have been when you were +away in Madrid. When I saw you again I knew that I was lost. If I still +resisted, it was because I was a wise woman; because I saw things +clearly. Now I'm mad and I've thrown my better judgment to the winds. +God knows what will become of us.... But come what may, love me, Rafael, +love me. Swear that you'll love me always. It would be cruel to desert +me after awakening a passion like this." + +And, in an impulse of dread, she nestled closer against his breast, sank +her hands into his hair, lifted her head back to kiss him avidly on the +face, the forehead, the eyes, the lips, nibbling playfully, tenderly at +his nose and chin, yet with an affectionate vehemence that drew cries of +mock protest from Rafael. + +"Madcap!" he muttered, smiling. "You're hurting me." + +Leonora looked steadily at him out of her two great eyes that were +a-gleam with love. + +"I could eat you up," she murmured. "I feel like devouring you, my +heaven, my king, my god.... What have you given me, tell me, little boy? +How have you been able to fascinate me, make me feel a passion that I +never, never felt before?" + +And again they fell asleep. + +Rafael stirred in his lover's arms, and suddenly sat up. + +"It must be late. How many hours have we been here, do you suppose?" + +"Many, many hours," Leonora answered sadly. "Hours of happiness always +go so fast." + +It was still dark. The moon had set. They arose and, hand in hand, +groping their way along, they reached the boat. The splash of the oars +began again to sound along the dark stream. + +Suddenly the nightingale again piped gloomily in the willow wood, as if +in farewell to a departing dream. + +"Listen, my darling," said Leonora. "The poor little fellow is bidding +us good-bye. Just hear how plaintively he says farewell." + +And in the strange exhiliration that comes from fatigue, Leonora felt +the flames of art flaring up within her, seething through her organism +from head to foot. + +A melody from _Die Meistersinger_ came to her mind, the hymn that the +good people of Nuremberg sing when Hans Sachs, their favorite singer, as +bounteous and gentle as the Eternal Father, steps out on the platform +for the contest in poetry. It was the song that the poet-minstrel, the +friend of Albrecht Duerer, wrote in honor of Luther when the great +Reformation broke; and the prima donna, rising to her feet in the stern, +and returning the greeting of the nightingale began: + + "_Sorgiam, che spunta il dolce albor, + cantar ascolto in mezzo ai fior + voluttuoso un usignol + spiegando a noi l'amante vol_!..." + +Her ardent, powerful voice seemed to make the dark surface of the river +tremble; it rolled in harmonious waves across the fields, and died away +in the foliage of the distant island, whence the nightingale trilled an +answer that was like a fainting sigh. Leonora tried to reproduce with +her lips the majestic sonorousness of the Wagnerian chorus, mimicking +the rumbling accompaniment of the orchestra, while Rafael beat the +water with his oars in time with the pious, exalted melody with which +the great Master had turned to popular poetry adequately to greet the +outbreak of Reform. + +They went on and on up the river against the current, Leonora singing, +Rafael bending over the oars, moving his sinewy arms like steel springs. +He kept the boat inshore, where the current was not so strong. At times +low branches brushed the heads of the lovers, and drops of dew fell on +their faces. Many a time the boat glided through one of the verdant +archways of foliage, making its way slowly through the lily-pads; and +the green overhead would tremble with the harmonious violence of that +wonderful voice, as vibrant and as resonant as a great silver bell. + +Day had not yet dawned--the _dolce albor_ of Hans Sachs' song--but at +any moment the rosy rim of sunrise would begin to climb the sky. + +Rafael was hurrying to get back as soon as possible. Her sonorous voice +of such tremendous range seemed to be awakening the whole countryside. +In one cottage a window lighted up. Several times along the river-bank, +as they rowed past the reeds, Rafael thought he heard the noise of +snapping branches, the cautious footsteps of spies who were following +them. + +"Hush, my darling. You had better stop singing; they'll recognize you. +They'll guess who you are." + +They reached the bank where they had embarked. Leonora leaped ashore. +They must separate there; for she insisted on going home alone. And +their parting was sweet, slow, endless. + +"Good-bye, my love; one kiss. Until tomorrow ... no, later--today." + +She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to +snuggle again in her lover's arms. + +"Another, my prince ... the last." + +Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the +garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, +creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy +melody of an orchard boy. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Now I must really go. They'll discover us." + +Wrapping her coat about her she hurried away, waving a final farewell to +him with her handkerchief. + +Rafael rowed upstream toward the city. That part of the trip--he +reflected--alone, tired, and struggling against the current, was the one +bad part of the wonderful night. When he moored his boat near the bridge +it was already broad day. The windows of the river houses were opening. +Over the bridge carts laden with produce for the market were rumbling, +and orchard women were going by with huge baskets on their heads. All +these people looked down with interest on their deputy. He must have +spent the night fishing. And this news passed from one to the other, +though not a trace of fishing tackle was visible in the boat. How they +envied rich folks, who could sleep all day and spend their time just as +they pleased! + +Rafael jumped ashore. All that curiosity he was attracting annoyed him. +His mother would know everything by the time he got home! + +As he climbed slowly and wearily, his arms numb from rowing, to the +bridge, he heard his name called. + +Don Andres was standing there, gazing at him out of those yellow eyes of +his, scowling through his wrinkles with an expression of stern +authority. + +"You've given me a fine night, Rafael. I know where you've been. I saw +you row off last night with that woman; and plenty of my friends were on +hand to follow you and find out just where you went. You've been on the +island all night; that woman was singing away like a lunatic.... God of +Gods, boy! Aren't there any houses in the world? Do you have to play the +band when you're having an affair, so that everybody in the Kingdom can +come and look?" + +The old man was truly riled; all the more because he was himself the +secretive, the dexterous, libertine, adopting every precaution not to be +discovered in his "weaknesses." Was it anger or envy that he felt on +seeing a couple enough in love with each other to be fearless of gossip +and indifferent to danger, to throw prudence to the winds, and flaunt +their passion before the world with the reckless insolence of happiness? + +"Besides, your mother knows everything. She's discovered what you've +been up to, these nights past. She knows you haven't been in your room. +You're going to break that woman's heart!" + +And with paternal severity he went on to speak of dona Bernarda's +despair, of the danger to the future of the House, of the obligations +they were under to don Matias, of the solemn promise given, of that poor +girl waiting to be married! + +Rafael walked along in silence and like an automaton. That old man's +chatter brought down around his head, like a swarm of pestering +mosquitoes, all the provoking, irritating obligations of his life. He +felt like a man rudely awakened by a tactless servant in the middle of a +sweet dream. His lips were still tingling with Leonora's kisses! His +whole body was aglow with her gentle warmth! And here was this old +curmudgeon coming along with a sermon on "duty," "family," "what they +would say"--as if love amounted to nothing in this life! It was a plot +against his happiness, and he felt stirred to the depths with a sense of +outrage and revolt. + +They had reached the entrance to the Brull mansion. Rafael was fumbling +about for the key-hole with his key. + +"Well," growled the old man. "What have you got to say to all this? What +do you propose to do? Answer me! Haven't you got a tongue in your head?" + +"I," replied the young man energetically--"will do as I please." + +Don Andres jumped as though he had been stung. My, how this Rafael had +changed!... Never before had he seen that gleam of aggressiveness, +arrogance, belligerency in the eye of the boy! + +"Rafael, is that the way you answer me,--a man who has known you since +you were born? Is that the tone of voice you use toward one who loves +you as your own father loved you?" + +"I'm of age, if you don't mind my saying so!" Rafael replied. "I'm not +going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the +street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to +yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!" + +As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the +semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that +entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning, +tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice. + +But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless +and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for +some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own. + + + + +VI + + +"You're right, don Andres. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That +wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse, +than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I +should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to +you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The +other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he +treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he +pleases, or--what amounts to the same thing--he'll keep up his affair +with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand +debauch, like his father.... My God! And that's what I've suffered for +all these years. That's what I get for sacrificing myself, day in day +out, trying to make somebody out of him!" + +The austere dona Bernarda, dethroned by her son's resolute +rebelliousness, wept as she said this. In her tears of a mother's grief +there was something also of the chagrin of the authoritarian on finding +in her own home a will rebellious to hers and stronger than hers. + +Between sobs she told don Andres how her son had been carrying on since +his declaration of independence. He was no longer cautious about +spending the night away from home. He was coming in now in broad +daylight; and, afternoons, with his meals "still in his mouth" as she +said, he would take the road to the Blue House, on the run almost, as if +he could not get to perdition soon enough. The dead hand of his father +was upon him! + +All you had to do was look at him. His face discolored, yellow, pale; +his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones; and--the only sign of +life--the fire that gleamed in his eyes like a spark of wild joy! Oh, a +curse was on the family! They were all alike ...! + +The mother did her best to conceal the truth from Remedios. Poor girl! +She was going about crestfallen and in deep dejection, unable to explain +Rafael's sudden withdrawal. + +The matter had to be kept secret; and that was what held dona Bernarda's +rage within bounds during her rapid, heated exchanges with her son. + +Perhaps everything would come out all right in the end--something +unforeseen would turn up to undo the evil spell that had been cast over +Rafael. And in this hope she used every effort to keep Remedios and her +father from learning what had happened. She feigned contentment in their +presence, and invented a thousand pretexts--studies, work, even +illness--to justify her son's neglect of his "fiancee." At the same +time, the disconsolate mother feared the people around her--the gossip +of a small town, bored with itself, ever on the alert, hunting for +something interesting to talk about and get scandalized about. + +The news of Rafael's affair spread like wildfire meanwhile, considerably +magnified as it passed from mouth to mouth. People told hair-raising +tales of that expedition down the river, of walks through the orange +groves, of nights spent at dona Pepa's house, Rafael entering in the +dark, in his stocking feet, like a thief; of silhouettes of the lovers +outlined in suggestive poses against the bedroom curtain; of their +appearing in windows their arms about each other's waists, looking at +the stars--everything sworn to by voluntary spies, who could say "I saw +it with my own eyes"--persons who had spent whole nights, on the +river-bank, behind some fence, in some clump of bushes, to surprise the +deputy on his way to or from his assignations. + +In the cafes or at the Casino, the men openly envied Rafael, commenting +with eyes a-glitter on his good fortune. That fellow had been born under +a lucky star! But later at home they would add their stern voices to the +chorus of indignant women. What a scandal! A deputy, a public man, a +"personage" who ought to set an example for others! That was a disgrace +to the constituency! And when the murmur of general protest reached the +ears of dona Bernarda, she lifted her hands to heaven in despair. Where +would it all end! Where would it all end! That son of hers was bent on +ruining himself! + +Don Matias, the rustic millionaire, said nothing; and, in the presence +of dona Bernarda, at least, pretended to know nothing. His interest in a +marriage connection with the Brull family counselled prudence. He, too, +hoped that it would all blow over, prove to be the blind infatuation of +a young man. Feeling himself a father, more or less, to the boy, he +thought of giving Rafael just a bit of advice when he came upon him in +the street one day. But he desisted after a word or two. A proud glance +of the youth completely floored him, making him feel like the poor +orange-grower of former days, who had cringed before the majestic, +grandiose don Ramon! + +Rafael was intrenched in haughty silence. He needed no advice. But alas! +When at night he reached his beloved's house--it seemed to be redolent +with the very perfume of her, as if the furniture, the curtains, the +very walls about her had absorbed the essence of her spirit--he felt the +strain of that insistent gossip, of the persecution of an entire city +that had fixed its eyes upon his love. + +Two against a multitude! With the serene immodesty of the ancient +idylls, they had abandoned themselves to passion in a stupid, narrow +environment, where sprightly gossip was the most appreciated of the +moral talents! + +Leonora grew sad. She smiled as usual; she flattered him with the same +worship, as if he were an idol; she was playful and gay; but in moments +of distraction, when she did not notice that he was watching, Rafael +would surprise a cast of bitterness about her lips--and a sinister light +in her eyes, the reflection of painful thoughts. + +She referred with acrid mirth one night to what people were saying about +them. Everything was found out sooner or later in that city! The gossip +had gotten even to the Blue House! Her kitchen woman had hinted that she +had better not walk so much along the river front--she might catch +malaria. On the market place the sole topic of conversation was that +night trip down the Jucar ... the deputy, sweating his life out over +the oars, and she waking half the country up with her strange songs!... +And she laughed, but with a hard, harsh laugh of affected gaiety that +showed the nervousness underneath, though without a word of complaint. + +Rafael remorsefully reflected that she had foreseen all that in first +repelling his advances. He admired her resignation. She would have been +justified in rebuking him for the harm he had done her. As it was, she +was not even telling him all she knew! Ah, the wretches! To harass an +innocent woman so! She had loved him, given herself to him, bestowed on +him the royal gift of her person. And the deputy began to hate his city, +for repaying in insult and scandal the wondrous happiness she had +conferred on its "chief"! + +On another night Leonora received him with a smile that frightened him. +She was affecting a mood of hectic cheerfulness, trying to drown her +worries by sheer force, overwhelming her lover with a flood of light, +frivolous chatter; but suddenly, at the limit of her endurance, she gave +way, and in the middle of a caress, burst into tears and sank to a +divan, sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"Why what's the matter? What has happened ...?" + +For a time she could not answer, her voice was too choked with weeping. +At last, however, between sobs, burying her tear-stained face on +Rafael's shoulder, she began to speak, completely crushed, fainting from +virtual prostration. + +She could stand it no longer! The torture was becoming unbearable. It +was useless for her to pretend. She knew as well as he what people were +saying in the city. They were spied upon continuously. On the roads, in +the orchard, along the river, there were people constantly on the watch +for something new to report. That passion of hers, so sweet, so +youthful, so sincere, was a butt of public laughter, a theme for idle +tongues, who flayed her as if she were a common street-woman, because +she had been good to him, because she had not been cruel enough to watch +a young man writhe in the torment of passion, indifferently.... But +though this persecution from a scandalized public was bad enough, she +did not mind it. Why should she care what those stupid people said? But, +alas, there were others--the people around Rafael, his friends, his +family, ... his mother! + +Leonora sat silent for a moment, as if waiting to see the effect of that +last word; unless, indeed, she were hesitating, out of delicacy, to +include her lover's family in her complaint. The young man shrank with a +terrible presentiment. Dona Bernarda was not the woman to stand by idle +and resigned in the face of opposition, even from him! + +"I see ... mother!" he said in a stifled voice. "She has been up to +something. Tell me what it is. Don't be afraid. To me you are dearer +than anything else in the world." + +"Well ... there is auntie ..." Leonora resumed; and Rafael remembered +that dona Pepa, remarking his assiduous visits to the Blue House, had +thought her niece might be contemplating marriage. In the afternoon, +Leonora explained, she had had a _scene_ with her aunt. Dona Pepa had +gone into town to confession, and on coming out of church had met dona +Bernarda. Poor old woman! Her abject terror on returning home betrayed +the intense emotion Rafael's mother had succeeded in wakening in her. +Leonora, her niece, her idol, lay in the dust, stripped of that blind, +enthusiastic, affectionate trust her aunt had always had for her. All +the gossip, all the echoes of Leonora's adventurous life, that +had--heretofore but feebly--come to her ears, the old lady had never +believed, regarding them as the work of envy. But now they had been +repeated to her by dona Bernarda, by a lady "in good standing," a good +Christian, a person incapable of falsehood. And then after rehearsing +that scandalous biography, Rafael's mother had come to the shocking +effrontery with which her niece and Rafael were rousing the whole city; +flaunting their wrong-doing in the face of the public; and turning her +home, the respectable, irreproachable home of dona Pepa, into a den of +vice, a brothel! + +And the poor woman had wept like a child in her niece's presence, +adjuring her to "abandon the wicked path of transgression," shuddering +with horror at the great responsibility she, dona Pepa, had unwittingly +assumed before God. All her life she had labored and prayed and fasted +to keep her soul clean. She had thought herself almost in a state of +grace, only to awaken suddenly and find herself in the very midst of sin +through no fault of her own--all on account of her niece, who had +converted her holy, her pure, her pious home into an ante-chamber of +hell! And it was the poor woman's superstitious terror, the conviction +of damnation that had seized on dona Pepa's simple soul, that wounded +Leonora most deeply. + +"They've robbed me of all I had in the world," she murmured desperately, +"of the affection of the only dear one left after my father died. I am +not the child of former days to auntie; that is apparent from the way +she looks at me, the way she shuns me, avoiding all contact with me.... +And just because of you, because I love you, because I was not cruel to +you! Oh, that night! How I shall suffer for it!... How clearly I foresaw +how it would all end!" + +Rafael was humiliated, crushed, filled with shame and remorse at the +suffering that had fallen upon this woman, because she had given herself +to him. What was he to do? The time had come to prove himself the +strong, the resourceful man, able to protect the beloved woman in her +moment of danger. But where should he strike first to defend her?... + +Leonora lifted her head from her lover's shoulder, and withdrew from his +embrace. She wiped away her tears and rose to her feet with the +determination of irrevocable resolution. + +"I have made up my mind. It hurts me very much to say what I am going to +say; but I can't help it. It will do you no good to say 'no'--I cannot +stay under this roof another day. Everything is over between my aunt and +me. Poor old woman! The dream I cherished was to care for her lovingly, +tenderly till she died in my arms, be to her what I failed to be to +father.... But they have opened her eyes. To her I am nothing but a +sinner now and my presence upsets everything for her.... I must go away. +I've already told Beppa to pack my things.... Rafael, my love, this is +our last night together.... To-morrow ... and you will never see me +again." + +The youth recoiled as if someone had struck him in the breast. + +"Going? Going ...? And you can say that coolly, simply, just like that? +You are leaving me ... this way ... just when we are happiest ...?" + +But soon he had himself in hand again. This surely could be nothing more +than a passing impulse, a notion arrived at in a flash of anger. Of +course she did not really mean to go! She must think things over, see +things clearly. That was a crazy idea! Desert her Rafaelito? Absurd! +Impossible! + +Leonora smiled sadly. She had expected him to talk that way. She, too, +had suffered much, ever so much, before deciding to do it! It made her +shudder to think that within two days she would be off again, alone, +wandering through Europe, caught up again in that wild, tumultuous life +of art and love, after tasting the full sweetness of the most powerful +passion she had ever known--of what she believed was her "first love." +It was like putting to sea in a tempest with destination unknown. She +loved him, adored him, worshipped him, more than ever now that she was +about to lose him. + +"Well, why are you going?" the young man asked. "If you love me, why are +you forsaking me?" + +"Just because I love you, Rafael.... Because I want you to be happy." + +For her to remain would mean ruin for him: a long battle with his +mother, who was an implacable, a merciless foe. Dona Bernarda might be +killed, but never conquered! Oh, no! How horrible! Leonora knew what +filial cruelty was! How had she treated her father? She must not now +come between a son and a mother! Was she, perhaps, a creature accursed, +born forever to corrupt with her very name the sacredest, purest +relations on earth? + +"No, you must be good, my heart. I must go away. We can't go on loving +each other here. I'll write to you, I'll let you know all I'm doing.... +You'll hear from me every day, if I have to write from the North Pole! +But you must stay! Don't drive your mother to despair! Shut your eyes to +the poor woman's injustice! For after all, she is doing it all out of +her immense love for you.... Do you imagine I am glad to be leaving +you--the greatest happiness I have ever known?" + +And she threw her arms about Rafael, kissing him over and over again, +caressing his bowed, pensive head, within which a tempest of conflicting +ideas and resolutions was boiling. + +So those bonds which he had come to believe eternal were to be broken? +So he was to lose so easily that beauty which the world had admired, the +possession of which had made him feel himself the first among men? She +talked of a love from a distance, of a love persisting through years of +separation, travel, all the hazards of a wandering life; she promised to +write to him every day!... Write to him ... from the arms of another +man, perhaps! No! He would never give up such a treasure; never! + +"You shall not go," he answered at last decisively. "A love like ours is +not ended so easily. Your flight would be a disgrace to me--it would +look as if I had affronted you in some way, as if you were tired of me." + +Deep in his soul he felt eager to make some chivalrous gesture. She was +going away because she had loved him! He should stay behind, sad and +resigned like a maid abandoned by a lover, and with the sense of having +harmed her on his conscience! _Ira de dios_! He, as a man, could not +stand by with folded arms accepting the abnegation of a woman, to stick +tied to his mother's apron-strings in boobified contentment. Even girls +ran away from home and parents sometimes, in the grip of a powerful +love; and he, a man, a man "in the public eye" also--was he to let a +beautiful girl like Leonora go away sorrowful and in tears, so that he +could keep the respect of a city that bored him and the affection of a +mother who had never really loved him? Besides, what sort of a love was +it that stepped aside in a cowardly, listless way like that, when a +woman was at stake, a woman for whom far richer, far more powerful men +than he, men bound to life by attractions that he had never dreamed of +in his countrified existence, had died or gone to ruin?... + +"You shall not go," he repeated, with sullen obstinacy. "I won't give up +my happiness so easily. And if you insist on going, we will go +together." + +Leonora rose to her feet all quivering. She had been expecting that; her +heart had told her it was coming. Flee together! Have her appear like an +adventuress, drawing Rafael on, tearing him from his mother's arms after +crazing him with love? Oh, no! Thanks! She had a conscience! She did +not care to burden it with the execration of a whole city. Rafael must +consider the matter calmly, face the situation bravely. She must go away +alone. Afterwards, later on, she would see. They might chance to meet +again; perhaps in Madrid, when the Cortes reassembled! He would be +there, and alone; she could find a place at the _Real_, singing for +nothing if that should prove necessary. + +But Rafael writhed angrily at her resistance. He could not live without +her! A single night without seeing her would mean despair. He would end +as Macchia ended! He would shoot himself! + +And he seemed to mean it. His eyes were fixed on the floor as if he were +staring at his own corpse, lying there on the pavement, motionless, +covered with blood, a revolver in its stiffened hand. + +"Oh, no! How horrible! Rafael, my Rafael!" Leonora groaned, clasping him +around the neck, hanging upon him in terror. + +Her lover continued to protest. He was free. Had he been a married man; +if, in his flight, he were leaving a wife behind to cry betrayal, or +children calling for his help in vain, it would all be a different +matter. She could properly feel the repugnance of a kind heart unwilling +that love should mean a shattered home! But whom was he abandoning? A +mother, who, in a short time, would find consolation in the thought that +he was well and happy, a mother jealous of any rivalry in her son's +affection, and to that jealousy willing to sacrifice his very happiness! +Any harm an elopement would bring would by no means be irreparable. No, +they must go away together, parade their love through the whole world! + +But Leonora, lowering her head again, repeated feebly: + +"No, my mind is made up. I must go alone. I haven't the strength to face +a mother's hatred." + +Rafael flushed indignantly: + +"Why not say outright that you don't love me. You're tired of me, and of +this environment. The hankering for your old life has come over you +again; your old world is calling!" + +The actress fixed her great, luminous, tear-stained eyes upon him. And +they were filled with tenderness and pity. + +"Tired of you!... When I have never felt such desperation as tonight! +You say I want my old life back. You don't realize that to leave here +seems like entering a den of torture.... Oh, dear heart, you'll never +know how much I love you." + +"Well, then ...?" + +And to tell everything, to spare no detail of the danger he would face +after separation, Rafael spoke of the life he would lead alone with his +mother in that dull, unspeakable city. Leonora was assuming that +affection played some part in his mother's indignant opposition. Well, +dona Bernarda did love him--agreed: he was her only son; but ambition +was the decisive thing in her schemes, her passion for the +aggrandizement of the House--the controlling motive of her whole life. +She was openly, frankly, using him as security in an alliance she was +planning with a great fortune. She wanted to marry him to money: and if +Leonora were to go, if he were left alone, forsaken, then despair--and +time, which can do all things--would break his will; and eventually he +would succumb, like a victim at the altar, who, in his terror and +abasement, does not sense the real significance of the sacrifice forced +upon him. + +The words reached a jealous spot in Leonora's heart. All the scattered +rumors that had come to her ears in former days now echoed in her +memory. She knew that Rafael was telling the truth. The man she loved, +given away by his mother--to another woman!... Lost forever if she lost +him now!... And her eyes opened wide with horror and revulsion. + +"And I refuse, Leonora, do you understand? I refuse!" continued her +lover with unaffected resolution. "I belong to you, you are the only +woman I love. I shall follow you all over the world, even against your +wishes, to be your servant, see you, speak to you, and there are not +millions enough in the world to stop me!" + +"Oh, my darling! My darling! You love me, you love me--as I love you!" + +And in a frenzy of passion she fell impetuously, madly upon him, +clutching him in her arms like a fury. In her caresses Rafael felt an +intensity that almost frightened him. The room seemed to be whirling +about him. Trembling, limp and weak, he sank to the divan, overwhelmed, +pounded to pieces, it seemed, by that vehement adoration, that caught +him up and carried him away like a tumultuous avalanche. His senses left +him in that trembling confusion, and he closed his eyes. + +When he opened them, the room was dark. Around his neck he could feel a +gentle arm that was tenderly sustaining him, and Leonora was whispering +in his ear. + +Agreed! They would go together: to continue their love duct in some +charming place, where nobody knew them, where envy and vulgarity would +not disturb. Leonora knew every nook in the world. She would have none +of Nice and the other cities of the Blue Coast, pretty places, +coquettish, bepowdered and rouged like women fresh from their dressing +tables! Besides there would be too many people there. Venice was better. +They would thread the narrow, solitary silent canals there, stretched +out in a gondola, kissing each other between smiles, pitying the poor +unfortunate mortals crossing the bridges over them, unaware of how great +a love was gliding beneath their feet! + +But no, Venice is a sad place after all: when it rains, it rains and +rains! Naples rather; Naples! _Viva Napoli_! And Leonora clapped her +hands in glee! Live in perpetual sunshine, freedom, freedom, freedom to +love openly, as nakedly as the _lazzaroni_ walk about the streets! She +owned a house in Naples,--at Posilipo, that is--a _villino_, in pink +stucco, a dainty little place with fig trees, nopals and parasol pines, +that ran in a grove down a steep promontory to the sea I They would fish +in the bay there--it was as smooth and blue as a looking-glass! And +afternoons he would row her out to sea, and she would sing, looking at +the waters ablaze with the sunset, at the plume of smoke curling up from +Vesuvius, at the immense white city with its endless rows of windows +flaming like plaques of gold in the afterglow. Like gipsies they would +wander through the countless towns dotting the shores of the miraculous +Bay; kissing on the open sea among the fisherboats, to the accompaniment +of passionate Neapolitan boat-songs; spending whole nights in the open +air, lying in each other's arms on the sands, hearing the pearly +laughter of mandolins in the distance, just as that night on the island, +they had heard the nightingale! "Oh, Rafael, my god, my king! How +wonderful!" + +When day dawned, they were still sitting there weaving fanciful plans +for the future, arranging all the details of their elopement. She would +leave Alcira as soon as possible. He would join her two days later, when +all suspicion had been quieted, when everybody would imagine she was +far, far away. Where would they meet? At first they thought of +Marseilles, but that was a long way off! Then they thought of Barcelona. +But that, too, meant hours of travel, when hours, minutes, counted for +so much. It seemed utterly incredible that they could live two days +without each other! No, the sooner they met again the better! And, +bargaining with time like peasants in a market, at last they chose the +nearest city possible, Valencia. + +For love--true love--is fond of brazenness! + + + + +VII + + +They had just finished lunch among the trunks and boxes that occupied a +great part of Leonora's room in the _Hotel de Roma_ in Valencia. + +For the first time they were at a table in familiar intimacy, with no +other witness than Beppa, who was quite accustomed to every sort of +surprise in her mistress's adventurous career. The faithful maid was +examining Rafael with a respectful kindliness, as if he were a new idol +that must share the unswerving devotion she showed for Leonora. + +This was the first moment of tranquillity and happiness the young man +had tasted for some days. The old hotel, with its spacious rooms, its +high ceilings, its darkened corridors, its monastic silence, seemed to +him a veritable abode of delight, a grateful place of refuge where for +once he would be free of the gossip and the strife that had been +oppressing him like a belt of steel. Besides, he could already feel the +exotic charm that lingers around harbors and great railroad terminals. +Everything about the place, from the macaroni of the lunch, and the +Chianti in its straw-covered, heavy-paunched bottle, to the musical, +incorrect Spanish of the hotel-proprietors--fleshy, massive men with +huge mustaches in Victor Emmanuel style--spoke of flight, of delightful +seclusion in that land so glowingly described by Leonora. + +She had made an appointment with him in that hotel, a favorite haunt of +artists. Somewhat off the main thoroughfares, the "Roma" occupies one +whole side of a sleepy, peaceful, aristocratic square with no noise save +the shouting of cab-drivers and the beating of horses' hoofs. + +Rafael had arrived on the first morning train--and with no baggage; like +a schoolboy playing truant, running off with just the clothes he had on +his back. The two days since Leonora left Alcira had been days of +torture to him. The singer's flight was the talk of the town. People +were scandalized at the amount of luggage she had. Counted over in the +imagination of that imaginative city, it eventually came to fill all the +carts in the province. + +The man who knew the business to the bottom was Cupido, the barber, who +had dispatched the trunks and cases for her. He knew where the dangerous +woman was bound, and he kept it so secret that everybody found it out +before the train started. She was going back to Italy! He himself had +checked and labelled the baggage to the Customs' House at the +frontier--cases as big as a house, man! Trunks he could have lain down +comfortable in, with his two "Chinamen" to boot! And the women, as they +listened to his tale, applauded the departure with undissimulated +pleasure. They had been liberated from a great danger. Joy go with her! + +Rafael kept quite to himself. He was vexed at the curiosity of people, +at the scoffing sympathy of his friends who condoled with him that his +happiness was ending. For two days he remained indoors, followed by his +mother's inquiring glances. Dona Bernarda felt more at ease now that the +evil influence of the "chorus girl" promised to be over; but none the +less she did not lose her frown. With a woman's instinct, she still +scented the presence of danger. + +The young man could hardly wait for the time to come. It seemed +unbearable for him to be there at home while "she" was away off +somewhere, alone, shut up in a hotel, waiting just as impatiently as he +was for the moment of reunion. + +What a sunrise it had been that day when he set out! Rafael burned with +shame as he crept like a burglar in his stockings and on tip-toe, +through the room where his mother received the orchard-folk and adjusted +all accounts pertaining to the tilling of the land. He groped his way +along guided by the light that came in through the chinks in the closed +windows. His mother was sleeping in a room close by; he could hear her +breathe--the labored respiration of a deep sleep that spelled recovery +from the insomnia of the days of his love trysts. He could still feel +the criminal shudder that rippled through him at a slight rattle of the +keys, which had been left with the confidence of unlimited authority in +the lock of an old chest where dona Bernarda kept her savings. With +tremulous hands he had collected all the money she had put away in the +small boxes there. A thief, a thief! But, after all, he was taking only +what belonged to him. He had never asked for his share of his father's +estate. Leonora was rich. With admirable delicacy she had refused to +talk of money during their preparations for the journey; but he would +refuse to live on her! He did not care to be like Salvatti, who had +exploited the singer in her youth! That thought it had been which gave +him strength to take the money finally and steal out of the house. But +even on the train he felt uneasy; and _su senoria_, the deputy, shivered +with an instinctive thrill of fear, every time a tricorne of the Civil +Guard appeared at a railroad station. What would his mother say when she +got up and found the money gone? + +As he entered the hotel his self-confidence returned and his spirits +revived. He felt as if he were entering port after a storm. He found +Leonora in bed, her hair spread over the pillow in waves of gold, her +eyes closed, and a smile on her lips, as if he had surprised her in the +middle of a dream, where she had been tasting her memories of love. They +ordered lunch in the room early, intending to set out on their journey +at once. Circumspection, prudence, until they should be once beyond the +Spanish border! They would leave that evening on the Barcelona mail for +the frontier. And calmly, tranquilly, like a married couple discussing +details of house-keeping in the calm of a quiet home, they ran over the +list of things they would need on the train. + +Rafael had nothing. He had fled like a fugitive from a fire, with the +first clothes he laid hands on as he bounded out of bed. He needed many +indispensable articles, and he thought of going out to buy them--a +matter of a moment. + +"But are you really going out?" asked Leonora with a certain anguish, as +if her feminine instinct sensed a danger. "Are you going to leave me +alone?..." + +"Only a moment. I won't keep you waiting long." + +They took leave of each other in the corridor with the noisy, +nonchalant joy of passion, indifferent to the chamber-maids who were +walking to and fro at the other end of the passageway. + +"Good-bye, Rafael.... Another hug; just one more." + +And as, with the taste of the last kiss still fresh on his lips, he +reached the square, he saw a bejewelled hand still waving to him from a +balcony. + +Anxious to get back as soon as possible, the young man walked hurriedly +along, elbowing his way among the cab-drivers swarming in front of the +great _Palacio de Dos Aguas_, closed, silent, slumbering, like the two +giants that guarded its portals, displaying in the golden downpour of +sunlight the overdecorated yet graceful sumptuousness of its roccoco +facade. + +"Rafael! Rafael!..." + +The deputy turned around at the sound of his name, and blanched as if he +had seen a ghost. It was don Andres, calling to him. + +"Rafael! Rafael!" + +"You?... Here?" + +"I came by the Madrid express. For two hours I've been hunting for you +in all the hotels of Valencia. I knew you were here.... But come, we +have a great deal to talk over. This is not just the place to do it." + +And the old Mentor glowered hatefully at the _Hotel de Roma_, as if he +wanted to annihilate the huge edifice with everybody in it. + +They walked off, slowly, without knowing just where they were going, +turning corners, passing several times through the same streets, their +nerves tense and quivering, ready to shout at the top of their lungs, +yet using every effort to speak softly, so as not to attract attention +from the passers-by who were rubbing against them on the narrow +side-walks. + +Don Andres, naturally, was the first to speak: + +"You approve of what you've done?" + +And seeing that Rafael, like a coward, was trying to pretend innocent +astonishment, asking "what" he had done, observing that he had come to +Valencia on a matter of business, the old man broke into a rage. + +"Now, see here, don't you go lying to me: either we're men or we're not +men. If you think you've acted properly, you ought to stand up for it +and say so. Don't imagine you're going to pull the wool over my eyes and +then run off with that woman to God knows where. I've found you and I'm +not going to let you go. I want you to know the truth. Your mother is +sick abed; she tipped me off and I caught the first train to get here. +The whole house is upside down! At first it was thought a robbery had +been committed. By this time the whole city must be agog about you. Come +now!... What do you say to that? Do you want to kill your mother? Well, +you're going about it right! Good God! And this is what they call a 'boy +of talent,' a 'young man of promise'! How much better it would have been +if you were a dunce like me or your father--but a dunce at least who +knows how to get a woman if he has to, without making a public ass of +himself!" + +Then he went into detail. Rafael's mother had gone to the old chest to +get some money for one of her laborers. Her cry of horror and alarm had +thrown the whole house into an uproar. Don Andres had been hastily +summoned. Suspicions against the servants, a "third degree" for the +whole lot, all of them protesting and weeping, in outrage! Until finally +dona Bernarda sank to a chair in a swoon, whispering into her adviser's +ear: + +"Rafael is not in the house. He has gone ... perhaps never to return. I +am sure of it--he took the money!" + +While the others were getting the sobbing mother to bed, and sending for +the doctor, don Andres had made for the station to catch the express. He +could tell from the way people looked at him that everybody knew what +had been going on. Gossip had already connected the excitement in the +Brull mansion with Rafael's taking the early train! He had been seen by +several persons, in spite of his precautions. + +"Well, is the Hon. don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, satisfied with +his morning's work? Don't you think the laugh your enemies have raised +deserves an _encore_!" + +For all his bitter sarcasm the old man spoke in a faltering voice, and +seemed on the verge of tears. The labor of his entire life, the great +victories won with don Ramon, that political power which had been so +carefully built up and sustained over decades, was about to crumble to +ruins; all because of a light-headed, erratic boy who had handed to the +first skirt who came along everything that belonged to him and +everything that belonged to his friends as well. + +Rafael had gone into the interview in an aggressive mood, ready to +answer with plain talk if that sodden idiot should go too far in his +recriminations. But the sincere grief of the old man touched him deeply. +Don Andres, who resembled Rafael's father as the cat resembles the +tiger, could think of nothing but Brull politics; and he was almost +sobbing as he saw the danger which the prestige of the Brull House was +running. + +With bowed head, crushed by the realization of the scene that had +followed his flight, Rafael did not notice where they were going. But +soon he became conscious of the perfume of flowers. They were crossing a +garden; and as he looked up he saw the figure of Valencia's conqueror on +his sinewy charger glistening in the sun. + +They walked on. The old man began in wailing accents to describe the +situation which the Brull House was facing. That money, which perhaps +Rafael still had in his pocket--more than thirty thousand +_pesetas_--represented the final desperate efforts of his mother to +rescue the family fortune, which had been endangered by don Ramon's +prodigal habits. The money was his, and don Andres had nothing to say in +that regard. Rafael was at liberty to squander it, scatter it to the +four winds of heaven; but don Andres wasn't talking to a child, he was +talking to a man with a heart: so he begged him, as his childhood +preceptor, as his oldest friend, to consider the sacrifices his mother +had been making--the privations she had imposed upon herself, going +without new clothes, quarreling with her help over a _centimo_, despite +all her airs as a grand lady, depriving herself of all the dainties and +comforts that are so pleasant to old age--all that her son, her _senor +hijo_, might waste it in gay living on a woman! Thirty thousand! And +don Andres mentioned the sum with bated breath! It had taken so much +trouble to hoard it! Come, man! The sight of such things was enough to +make a fellow cry like a baby!... + +And suppose his father, don Ramon, were to rise from the grave? Suppose +he could see how his Rafael were destroying at a single stroke what it +had cost him so many years to build up, just because of a woman!... + +They were now crossing a bridge. Below, against the background of white +gravel in the river-bed the red and blue uniforms of a group of soldiers +could be seen; and the drums were beating, sounding in the distance like +the humming of a huge bee-hive--worthy accompaniment, Rafael reflected, +to the old man's evocation of the youth's father. Rafael thought he +could almost see in front of him the massive body, the flourishing +mustache, the proud, arrogant brow of don Ramon, a born fighter, an +adventurer destined from the cradle to lead men and impose his will upon +inferiors. + +What would that heroic master of men have said of this? Don Ramon would +give a lot of money to a woman--granted--but he wouldn't have swapped +all the beauties on earth put together for a single vote! + +But his son, the boy on whom he had grounded his fondest hopes--the +redeemer destined to raise the House of Brull to its loftiest glory--the +future "personage" in Madrid, the fondled heir-apparent, who had found +his pathway already cleared for him at birth--was throwing all his +father's labors through the window, the way you toss overboard +something it has cost you nothing to earn! It was easy to see that +Rafael had never known what hard times were--those days of the +Revolution, when the Brulls were out of power and held their own just +because don Ramon was a bad man with a gun--desperate election +campaigns, when you marched to victory over somebody's dead body, bold +cross-country rides on election night, never knowing when you would meet +the _roder_ in ambush--the outlaw sharpshooter who had vowed to kill don +Ramon; then endless prosecutions for intimidation and violence, which +had given dona Bernarda and her husband months and months of anxiety, +lest a catastrophe from one moment to the next bring prison and +forfeiture of all their property! All that his father had gone through, +for his boy's sake; to carve out a pedestal for Rafael, pass on to him a +District that would be his own, blazing a path over which he might go to +no visible limit of glory! And he was just throwing it all away, +relinquishing forever a position that had been built up at the cost of +years and years of labor and peril! That is what he would be doing, +unless that very night he returned home, refuting by his presence there +the rumors his scandalized adherents were circulating. + +Rafael shook his head. The mention of his father had touched him, and he +was convinced by the old man's arguments; but none the less he was +determined to resist. No, and again no; his die was cast: he would +continue on his way. + +They were now under the trees of the Alameda. The carriages were rolling +by, forming an immense wheel in the center of the avenue. The harnesses +of the horses and the lamps of the drivers' boxes gleamed in the +sunlight. Women's hats and the white lace shawls of children could be +seen through the coach windows as they passed. + +Don Andres became impatient with the youth's stubbornness. He pointed to +all those happy, peaceful-looking families out for their afternoon +drive--wealth, comfort, public esteem, abundance, freedom from struggle +and toil! _Cristo_, boy! Was that so bad, after all? Well, that was just +the life he could have if he would be good and not turn his back on his +plain duty--rich, influential, respected, growing old with a circle of +nice children about him. What more could a decent person ask for in this +world? + +All that bohemian nonsense about pure love, love free from law and +restraint, love that scoffs at society and its customs, sufficient unto +itself and despising public opinion, that was just bosh, the humbug of +poets, musicians and dancers--a set of outcasts like that woman who was +taking him away, cutting him off forever from all the ties that bound +him to family and country! + +The old man seemed to take courage from Rafael's silence. He judged the +moment opportune for launching the final attack upon the boy's +infatuation. + +"And then, what a woman! I have been young, like you, Rafael. It's true +I didn't know a stylish woman like this one, but, bah! they're all +alike. I have had my weaknesses; but I tell you I wouldn't have lifted a +finger for this actress of yours! Any one of the girls we have down home +is worth two of her. Clothes, yes, talk, yes, powder and rouge inches +deep!... I'm not saying she's bad to look at--not that; what I say +is... well, it doesn't take much to turn your head--you're satisfied +with the leavings of half the men in Europe...." + +And he came to Leonora's past, the lurid, much exaggerated legend of her +journey through life--lovers by the dozens; statues and paintings of her +in the nude; the eyes of all Europe centered on her beauty; the public +property of a continent! "That was virtue to go crazy about, come now! +Quite worth leaving house and home for, no doubt of that!" + +The old man winced under the flash of anger that blazed in Rafael's +eyes. They had just crossed another bridge, and were entering the city +again. Don Andres, wretched coward that he was, sidled away to be within +reach of the customs' office if the fist he could already see cleaving +the air should come his way. + +Rafael, in fact, stopped in his tracks, glaring. But in a second or two +he went on his way again, dejected, with bowed head, ignoring the +presence of the old man. Don Andres resumed his place at the boy's side. + +The cursed old fox! He had stuck the knife in the right place! Leonora's +past! Her favors distributed with mad lavishness over the four corners +of the globe! An army of men of every nation owning her for a moment +with the appeal of luxury or the enchantment of art! A palace today and +a hotel tomorrow! Her lips repeating in all the languages of Babel the +very words of love that had fired him as if he had been the first to +hear them! He was going to lose everything for that--that refuse, as don +Andres said--a public scandal, a ruined reputation; and a murdered +mother perhaps,--for that! Oh, that devil of a don Andres! How cunningly +he had slashed him, and then plunged his fingers into the bleeding gash +to make the wound deeper! The old man's plain common-sense had shattered +his dream. That man had been the rustic, cunning Sancho at the side of +the quixotic don Ramon; and he was playing the same role with Rafael! + +Leonora's story came back to the boy in one flash--the frank confession +she had made during the days of their mere friendship, when she had told +him everything to prevent his continuing to desire her. However much she +might adore him, he would be nothing after all but a successor to a +Russian count, and a German musician; the latest, simply among those +countless ephemeral lovers, whom she had barely mentioned but who must +none the less have left some trace in her memory. The last item in a +long inventory! The most recent arrival, coming several years late, and +content to nibble at the soggy over-ripe fruit which they had known when +it was fresh and firm. Her kisses that so deeply disturbed him! What +were they but the intoxicating, unhealthful perfume of a whole career of +corruptness and licentiousness, the concentrated essence of a world +madly dashing at her seductive beauty, as a bird of night breaks its +head against the globe of a lighthouse? Give up everything for that! The +two of them traveling about the world, free, and proud of their +passion!... And out in that world he would encounter many of his +predecessors; and they would look at him with curious, ironic eyes, +knowing of her all that he would know, able to repeat all the panting +phrases she would speak to him in the exaggerations of her insatiable +passion! The strange thing about it was that all this had not occurred +to him sooner. Blind with happiness, he had never thought an instant of +his real place in that woman's life! + +How long had they been walking through the streets of Valencia?... His +legs were sagging under him! He was faint with weariness. He could +hardly see. The gables of the houses were still tipped with sunlight, +yet he seemed to be groping about in a deep night. + +"I'm thirsty, don Andres. Let's go in somewhere." + +The old man headed him toward the Cafe de Espana, his favorite resort. +He selected the table in the center of the big square salon under the +four clocks supported by the angel of Fame. The walls were covered with +great mirrors that opened up fantastic perspectives in the dingy room +where the gilded ornaments were blackened by the smoke and a crepuscular +light filtered in through the lofty skylight as into a sombre crypt. + +Rafael drank, without realizing just what his glass contained--a poison, +it felt like, that froze his heart. Don Andres sat looking at the +writing articles on the marble table: a letter-case of wrinkled +oil-cloth, and a grimy ink-well. He began to rap upon them with the +holder of the public pen--rusty and with the points bent--an instrument +of torture well fitted for a hand committed to despair! + +"We have just an hour to catch our train! Come, Rafael, be a man! +There's still time! Come, let's get out of this mess we're in!" + +And he held out the pen, though he had not said a word about writing to +anybody. + +"I can't, don Andres. I'm a gentleman. I've given my word; and I will +not go back upon it, come what may!" + +The old man smiled ironically. + +"Very well, be as much of a gentleman as you please. She deserves it! +But when you break with her, when she leaves you, or you leave her, +don't come back to Alcira. Your mother won't be there to welcome you! I +shall be--I don't know where; and those who made you deputy will look +upon you as a thief who robbed and killed his mother.... Oh, get mad if +you want to--beat me up even; people at the other tables are already +looking at us.... Why not top the whole business off with a saloon +brawl? But just the same, everything I've been saying to you is gospel +truth!..." + +In the meantime Leonora was growing impatient in her hotel room. Three +hours had gone by. To relieve her nervousness she sat down behind the +green curtain at the window watching pedestrians crossing the square. + +How like a small piazza of old Florence this place was, with its stately +aristocratic residences, shrouded in imposing gloom; it's grass-grown, +cobblestone pavements hot from the sun; its sleepy solitude: an +occasional woman, or a priest, or a tourist,--and you could hear their +footsteps even when they were far away! Here was a curious corner of the +_Palacio de Dos Agnas_--panels of jasper stucco with a leaf design on +the mouldings! That talking came from the drivers gathered in the hotel +door--the innkeeper and the servants were setting the chairs out on the +sidewalk as if they were back at home--in a small Italian town! Behind +the roof opposite, the sunlight was gradually fading, growing paler and +softer every moment. + +She looked at her watch. Six o'clock! Where on earth could that Rafael +have gone? They were going to lose the train. In order to waste no time, +she ordered Beppa to have everything in readiness for departure. She +packed her toilet articles; then closed her trunks, casting an inquiring +glance over the room with the uneasiness of a hasty leave-taking. On an +armchair near the window she laid her traveling coat, then her hand-bag, +and her hat and veil. They would have to run the moment Rafael came in. +He would probably be very tired and nervous from returning so late. + +But Rafael did not come!... She felt an impulse to go out and look for +him; but where? She had not been in Valencia since she was a child. She +had forgotten the streets. Then she might actually pass Rafael on the +way without knowing it, and wander aimlessly about while he would be +waiting for her at the hotel. No. It would be better to stay there! + +It was now dusk and the hotel-room was virtually dark. She went to the +window again, trembling with impatience, filled with all the gloom of +the violet light that was falling from the sky with a few red streaks +from the sunset. They would surely lose the train now! They would have +to wait until the next day. That was a disappointment! They might have +trouble in getting away! + +She whirled nervously about as she heard someone calling from the +corridor. + +"Madame, madame, a letter for you!" + +A letter for her!... She snatched it feverishly from the bell-boy's +hand, while Beppa, seated on a trunk, looked on vacantly, without +expression. + +She began to tremble violently. The thought of Hans Keller, the +ungrateful artist, suddenly rose in her memory. She looked for a candle +on the chiffonier. There was none. Finally she went to the balcony and +tried to read the letter in the little light there was. + +It was his handwriting on the envelope--but tortuous, labored, as if it +were the product of a painful effort. She felt all her blood rush back +upon her heart. Madly she tore the letter open, and read with the haste +of a person anxious to drain the cup of bitterness at a single draught, +skipping a line here and a line there, taking in only the significant +words. + +"My mother very ill.... I must go home for a day or two ... my duty as a +son ... we'll soon meet again." And then all the cowardly, conventional +excuses that chivalry has created to soften the harshness of +desertion--the promise to join her again as soon as possible; passionate +protestations that she was the only woman in the world he loved. + +Her first thought was to go back to Alcira at once, walk there if +necessary, find the scamp somewhere, throw the letter into his face, +beat him, claw him to pieces! + +"Ah, the wretch! The infamous, cowardly, unspeakable wretch!" she cried. + +Beppa had found a candle. She lighted it. And there her mistress +was--staggering, deathly pale, her eyes wide open, her lips white with +anguish! Leonora began to walk up and down the apartment, taut and +strained, as if her feet were not moving at all, as if she were being +thrust about by an invisible hand. + +"Beppa," she groaned finally, "he has gone. He is deserting me." + +The maid did not care about the desertion particularly. She had been +through that before. She was thinking about Leonora, waiting for the +impending crisis, studying the anguished countenance of her mistress +with her own placid, bovine eyes. + +"The wretch!" Leonora hissed, pacing back and forth in the chamber. +"What a fool, what a complete, unconscionable fool I have been! Giving +myself to that man, believing in that man, trusting that man, giving up +my peace of mind, the last relative I had in the world for that man!... +And why would he not let me go off alone? He made me dream of an eternal +springtime of love, and now he deserts me.... He has tricked me ... he +is laughing at me ... and I can not hate him. Why did he insist on +rousing me when I was there alone, quite peaceful, forgetting +everything, sunk in a placid indulgent calm!... The cool fraud that he +was!... But what do I care, after all?... It's all over. Come Beppa, +cheer up! Hah-hah! Come, Beppa! We're off! We're off! We're going to +sing again! Off over the whole globe. Good-bye to this rat-hole forever! +I'm through educating children! Now for life again! And we'll drain them +dry, the brutes! Kick them about like the selfish donkeys they are! +Well, well! I can't believe I've been taken in this way! Isn't it a +joke? The best joke you ever heard! Ha, ha, ha! And I thought I knew the +world ...! Ha, ha! Ha, ha!..." + +And her laugh was audible distinctly down in the square. It was a wild, +shrill, metallic laughter, that seemed to be rending her flesh! The +whole hotel was in commotion, while the actress, with foaming lips, fell +to the floor and began to writhe in fury, overturning the furniture and +bruising her body on the iron trimmings of her trunks. + + + + +PART THREE + + +I + +"Don Rafael, the gentlemen of the Committee on the Budget are waiting +for you in the second section." + +"I'll be there directly." + +And the deputy bent low over his desk in the writing-room of the +Congress, went on with his last letter, adding one more envelope to the +heap of correspondence piled up at the end of the table, near his cane +and his silk hat. + +This was his daily grind, the boresome drudgery of every afternoon; and +around him, with similar expressions of disgust on their faces, a large +number of the country's representatives were busy at the same task. +Rafael was answering petitions and queries, stifling the complaints and +acknowledging the wild suggestions that came in from the District--the +endless clamor of the voters at home, who never met the slightest +annoyance in their various paths of life without at once running to +their deputy, the way a pious worshipper appeals to the miracle-working +saint. + +He gathered up his letters, gave them to an usher to mail, and +sauntering off with a counterfeit sprightliness that was more +counterfeit as he grew fatter and fatter with the years, walked through +to the central corridor, a prolongation of the lobby in front of the +_Salon de Conferencias_. + +The Honorable senor don Rafael Brull, member from Alcira, felt as much +at ease as if he were in his own house when he entered that corridor,--a +dark hole, thick with tobacco smoke, and peopled with black suits +standing around in groups or laboriously elbowing their way through the +crowds. + +He had been there eight years; though he had almost lost count of the +times he had been "duly elected" in the capricious ups and downs of +Spanish politics, which give to Parliaments only a fleeting existence. +The ushers, the personnel of the Secretariat, the guards and janitors, +treated him with deferential intimacy, as a comrade on a somewhat higher +level, but as much of a fixture as they were to the Spanish Congress. He +was not one of those men who are miraculously washed into office on the +crest of a reform wave, but never succeed in repeating the trick, and +spend the rest of their lives idling on the sofas of the Conference +Chamber, with wistful memories of lost greatness, waiting to enter +Congress afternoons, to preserve their standing as ex-deputies, and +forever hoping that their party will some day return to power, so that +once again they may sit on the red benches. No, don Rafael Brull was a +gentleman with a District all his own: he came with a clean, undisputed +and indisputable certificate of election, whether his own party or the +Opposition were in the saddle. For lack of other discoverable merit in +him, his fellow-partisans would say: "Brull is one of the few who come +here on honest returns." His name did not figure brilliantly in the +Congressional record, but there was not an employee, not a journalist, +not a member of the "ex-honorables" who, on noticing the word "Brull" on +all the committees, did not at once exclaim: "Ah, yes! Brull ... of +Alcira." + +Eight years of "service to the country." Eight years of lodging-house +life, while yonder lay a sumptuous home adorned with a luxuriousness +that had cost his mother and his father-in-law half a fortune! Long +seasons of separation from his wife and his children--and without +amusements, to avoid spending money lest the folks at home suspect him +of dereliction in public--and private--duty! What a dog's life his eight +years as deputy had been! Indigestion from the countless gallons of +sugared water drunk at the Congressional bar; callouses on his feet from +endless promenades along the central corridor, absentmindedly knocking +the varnish off the tiles of the wainscoating with the tip of his cane; +an incalculable quantity of _pesetas_ spent on carriages, through fault +of his supporters, who sent him trotting every morning from one Ministry +to the next, asking for the earth, and getting a grain of sand! + +He had not as yet gotten anywhere in particular; but according to +Chamber gossip he was a "serious" well-balanced young man, of few words, +but good ones, and sure some day to be rewarded with a Portfolio. +Content with the role of safety and sanity that had been assigned to +him, he laughed very seldom, and dressed soberly, with not a dissonant +color to brighten his black attire. He would listen patiently to things +that did not concern him in the least, rather than venture a personal +opinion with the chance of going wrong--satisfied with premature +wrinkles, premature corpulency, and premature baldness, since nothing +could be more respectable than a thoughtful face, a conspicuous paunch, +and a pate that could shine with venerable brilliancy under the lamps of +the Chamber. At thirty-four, he looked more like forty-five. When he +spoke he would remove his spectacles with a gesture he had carefully +imitated from the deceased leader of "the Party." He would never take +the floor without prefacing his remarks with: "My understanding is ...," +or "I have my own humble opinion on this matter...." And this was what +don Rafael Brull had learned in eight years of parliamentary assiduity! + +The new Conservative leader, seeing that he could always depend on +Brull's vote and that Alcira elections cost "the Party" nothing, had a +certain consideration for Rafael. He was a soldier always on hand for +roll-call, whenever a new Parliament was formed. He would present +himself with his certificate of election, whether his party, with all +the insolence of victory, occupied the benches on the Right, or hungry +and defiant, and reduced in numbers, was huddled on the Left, determined +to find fault with everything the reigning Ministry did. Two sessions as +part of the minority had won him a certain intimacy with the leader in +that frank comradeship that Oppositions always have, since, from leader +down to the most silent member, all the deputies "out of power" are on a +level. Besides, in those two seasons of misfortune, to aid in the +destructive tactics of his faction, he put little interpellations to the +government, at the openings of the sessions when the crowds were small; +and more than once he heard from the pale smiling lips of the chief: +"Very good, Brull; that was to the point." And such congratulations +were duly echoed in his home city, where rustic imagination did the +rest. + +In addition, a few parliamentary honors had come his way; the "Grand +Cross" had been given him, as it is given to most deputies of a certain +length of service--from membership, eventually, on committees charged +with representing the legislative branch of the government at formal +public functions. If an "Answer to the Message" was to be taken "to the +Palace," he was one of those chosen for the purpose; and he trembled +with emotion to think of what his mother, his wife, all the people down +yonder at home would say if they could see him riding there in the +sumptuous carriage of state, preceded by bright-liveried horsemen and +saluted by trumpets blaring the royal march! He was also usually among +the delegates who came out on the staircase of the Congress to welcome +Their Majesties on the opening of a parliament. Finally, for one +session, he was on "the Committee for the Interior," an appointment that +raised his prestige a thousand percent among the ushers. + +"That fellow Brull," they would say in the Chamber, "will be somebody +the day his party returns to power." + +Well, now "the Party" was in power again. During one of those ordered, +calculated "changes of direction" to which Spain lives subject, because +of its parliamentary system of party weights and party balances, the +Conservatives captured the premiership; and Rafael went on the budget +committee. There he would do something more than make interpellations +when he opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had to win his spurs, +justify his filling one of those posts which, according to report, his +chief was holding for him. + +The green deputies, the younger set constituting the new majority, elect +and triumphant through grace of the Ministry of the Interior, respected +him and deferred to what he said, much as students listen to a tutor who +they know receives his orders from the master directly--the +subordination of freshmen, as it were, to the sophomore who knows the +rules. + +Whenever a vote was being taken and the Opposition was excited over the +chance of putting the government in the minority, the Premier would look +about anxiously over the hall for Brull. + +"See here, Brull, better bring your people in; we're going to have a +close call." + +And Brull, proud at being noticed thus, would dash out like a streak of +lightning while the bells were ringing and the ushers were running about +summoning the deputies to vote. He would make the rounds of the desks in +the writing rooms, elbow his way into groups in the corridors; and +filling with self-importance because of the authority conferred upon +him, he would rudely shoo the ministerial flock off toward the Chamber, +grumbling fogeywise and assuring them that "in his time," when he was +serving his first term, there was "far better discipline." When the vote +was all in and the victory won, he would sigh with satisfaction. He had +saved the government! And perhaps the nation! + +At times a residue of the sincerity and frankness of his character as a +boy would rise to the surface in him. Then cruel doubts would assail his +faith in himself. Weren't they all playing a stupid comedy there +without the slightest wit or sense in it? Really was what they said and +did there of the slightest importance to the country--to anybody? + +Standing in the corridor, he would feel the nervous flutter of the +journalists about him--those poor, intelligent, attractive, young +fellows, who found it so hard to make a living. From the press-gallery +they would sit and look down on the legislators the way birds in the +treetops must look down on the wretchedness of the streets below, +laughing at the nonsense those solemn baldpates were talking! Could a +farce on the stage be more amusing? + +To Rafael those "intellectuals" seemed to bring a breeze from out of +doors into the close, sordid, vitiated air of the Chamber. They stood +for the thought of the world outside--the idea fatherless, unsponsored, +the aspiration of the great masses--a breath of fresh air in the +sick-room of a chronic invalid forever dying, forever unburiable. + +Their judgment always differed from that of the country's +representatives. His Excellency senor don What's-his-Name was in their +eyes, a mud-eel, and in their lingo a _congrio_; the illustrious orator +What-do-you-call-him, who took up a sixteen-page sheet in the +Congressional Record every time he spoke, was a _percebe_, a "barnacle +on the keel of Progress"; every act of parliament struck them as a bit +of balderdash, though, to hold their jobs, they praised it to the skies +in their articles. And why was it that the country, in some mysterious +way, would always think eventually what those boys thought, so long, and +only so long, as they remained boys? Would they have to come down from +their scats in the press-gallery to the red benches on the floor before +the real will of the country would make itself felt? + +Rafael Brull finally realized that national opinion was present on the +floor, among his fellow members, also, but like a mummy in a +sarcophagus: bound hand and foot in rhetoric and conventional utterance, +spiced, embalmed with proprieties that made any outburst of sincerity, +any explosion of real feeling, evidence of "bad taste!" + +In reality everything was going well with the Ship of State. The nation +had passed from action to talk, and from talk to passivity, and from +passivity to resignation. The era of revolutions was gone forever. The +infallible system of government had proved to be this mechanism of +pre-arranged "crises" and amicable exchanges of patronage between +Liberals and Conservatives, each member of the party in power and each +member of the party out of power knowing just what he was to say and +just what he was to get. + +So, in that palace of over-ornate architecture, as pretentious and as +showy as the mansion of a millionaire _parvenu_, Rafael was condemned to +spend his lifetime, foregoing the blue sky and the flowering fields and +orchards of Alcira that a family ambition might be realized. + +Nothing noteworthy had occurred during those eight years. His life had +been a muddy, monotonous stream, with neither brilliancy nor beauty in +its waters, lazily meandering along, like the Jucar in winter. As he +looked back over his career as a "personage," he could have summed it up +in three words: he had married. + +Remedios was his wife. Don Matias was his father-in-law. He was +wealthy. He had control over a vast fortune, for he exercised despotic +rule over his wife's peasant father, the most fervent of his admirers. +His mother seemed to have put the last of her strength into the +arrangement of that "marriage of convenience." She had fallen into a +senile decrepitude that bordered on dotage. Her sole evidence of being +alive was her habit of staying in church until the doors were closed and +she could stay no longer. At home she did nothing but recite the rosary, +mumbling away in some corner of the house, and taking no part in the +noisy play of her grandchildren. Don Andres had died, leaving Rafael +sole "boss" of "the Party." He had had three children. They had had +their teeth, their measles, their whooping-cough. These episodes, with a +few escapades of that brother of Remedios, who feared Rafael's paunch +and bald head more than the wrath of don Matias, were the only +distractions in a thoroughly dull existence. + +Every year he bought a new piece of land. He felt a thrill of pride when +from the top of San Salvador--that Hermitage, alas, of such desperate +and unfading memory!--he looked down upon the vast patches of land with +orange-trees in straight rows and fenced in by green walls, that all, +all, belonged to him. The joy of ownership, the intoxication of property +had gone to his head. + +As he entered the old mansion, entirely made over now, he felt the same +sense of well-being and power. The old chest in which his mother used to +keep her money stood where it had always stood; but it was no longer +devoted to savings hoarded slowly at the cost of untold sacrifice and +privation to raise mortgages and temporize with creditors. Never again +had he tip-toed up in the dark to rifle it. Now it was his own. And at +harvest time it became literally crammed with the huge rolls of +banknotes his father-in-law paid over in exchange for the oranges of the +Brull orchards. And Rafael had a covetous eye on what don Matias had in +the banks; for all that, too, would come to him when the old man died. +Acquisitiveness--money and land--had become his one, his ruling passion. +Monotony, meanwhile, had turned him into an accurate, methodical, +meticulous machine; so that every night he would make out a schedule, +hour for hour, of all that he would do on the following day. At the +bottom of this passion for riches conjugal contagion probably lay. Eight +years of unbroken familiarity had finally inoculated him with most of +the obsessions and most of the predilections of his wife. + +The shrinking, timorous little she-goat that used to gambol about with +him in pursuit, the poor child who had been so wistful and downcast +during the days of his wantonness, had now become a woman with all the +imperious obstinacy, all the domineering superiority of the female of +the species as it has evolved in the countries of the South. Cleanliness +and frugality in Remedios took the form of unendurable tyranny. She +scolded her husband if he brought the slightest speck of dust into the +house on his shoes. She would turn the place upside down, flay all the +servants alive, if ever a few drops of oil were spilled from a jar, or a +crumb of bread were wasted on the table. + +"A jewel for the home! And didn't I tell you so?" her father would +whisper, satisfied with his daughter's obtrusive qualities. + +Rafael, for his part, found them intolerable. He had tried to love his +bride in the early months of their marriage. He made an honest effort to +forget, and recall the playful, passionate impulses he had felt on those +days when he had chased her around the orchards. But after a first fever +of passion had passed, she had proved to be a cold, calculating +child-bearer, hostile to expansiveness of love out of religious +scruples, viewing it her duty to bring new offsprings into the world to +perpetuate the House of Brull and to fill "grandaddy" don Matias with +pride at sight of a nursery full of future "personages" destined to the +heights of political greatness in the District and in the nation. + +Rafael had one of those gentle, temperate, honest, households that, on +the afternoon of their walk through Valencia, don Andres had pointed out +to him as a radiant hope, if only he would turn his back on his mad +adventure. He had a wife; and he had children; and he was rich. His +father-in-law ordered shotguns for him from his correspondents in +England. Every year a new horse was added to the stable, and don Matias +would see to purchasing the best that could be found in the fairs of +Andalusia. He hunted, took long horseback rides over the roads of the +district, dispensed justice in the _patio_ of the house, just as his +father don Ramon had done. His three little ones, finding him somewhat +strange after his long absences in Madrid and more at home with their +grand-parents than with him, would group themselves with bowed, bashful +heads around his knees, silently waiting for his paternal kiss. +Everything attainable around him was within his reach for the asking; +and yet--he was not happy. + +From time to time the adventure of his youth would come back to his +mind. The eight years that had passed seemed to have put a century +between him and those ancient days. Leonora's face had slowly, slowly, +faded in his memory, till all he could remember were her two green eyes, +and her blond hair that crowned her with a crown of gold. Her aunt, the +devout, ingenuous dona Pepa, had died some time since--leaving her +property for the salvation of her soul. The orchard and the Blue House +belonged now to Rafael's father-in-law, who had transferred to his own +home the best of its equipment--all the furniture and decorations that +Leonora had bought during her period of exile, while Rafael had been in +Madrid and she had thought of living the rest of her life in Alcira. + +Rafael carefully avoided revisiting the Blue House, out of regard for +his wife's possible susceptibilities. As it was, the woman's silence +sometimes weighed heavily upon him, a strange circumspection, which +never permitted the slightest allusion to the past. In the coldness and +the uncompromising scorn with which she abominated any poetic madness in +love, an important part was doubtless played by the suppressed memory of +her husband's adventure with the actress, which everybody had tried to +conceal from her and which had deeply disturbed the preparations for her +wedding. + +When the deputy was alone in Madrid, as much at liberty as before his +marriage, he could think of Leonora freely, without those restraints +which seemed to disturb him back at home in the bosom of his family. +What could have become of her? To what limits of mad frolic had she gone +after that parting which even after years had passed, still brought a +blush of shame to Rafael's cheeks? The Spanish papers paid very little +attention to matters of foreign art. Only twice in their columns did he +discover Leonora's stage name with an account of her new triumphs. She +had sung in Paris in French, with as much success as a native _artiste_. +The purity of her accent had surprised everyone. In Rome she had played +the "lead" in an opera by a young Italian composer, and her coming had +been announced by press agents as a great event. The opera had failed to +please; not so the singer. Her audience had been moved to tears by her +execution of a scene in the last act, where she wept for a lost love. + +After that--silence, no news whatever! She had disappeared. A new love +affair, Rafael supposed, a new outburst of that vehement passion which +made her follow her chosen man like a slave. And Rafael felt a flash of +jealousy at the thought, as if he had rights over the woman still, as if +he had forgotten the cruelty with which he had bidden her farewell. + +That, fundamentally, had been the cause of all the bitterness and +remorse in his life. He understood now that Leonora had been his one +genuine passion: the love that comes to people once in a lifetime. It +had been within reach of his hand, and he had failed to grasp it, had +frightened it away forever with a cowardly act of villany, a cruel +farewell, the shame of which would go to the grave with him. Garlanded +in the orange-blossoms of the orchard, Love had passed before him, +singing the Hymn of wild Youth that knows neither scruples nor ambition. +Love, true love had invited him to follow--and he had answered with a +stab--in the back! That love would never return, as he well knew. That +mysterious being with its smiles and with its frolics, goes forever when +once it goes. It knows no bartering with destiny. It demands blind +obedience and bids the lover take the woman who offers her hand, +orchard-maid or prima donna as she may be. The man who hesitates is +lost. + +And Rafael felt that an endless night had closed around him! He found +all his efforts to escape from his dullness and depression vain. He +could not shake off the senility that was creeping over his spirit. +Sadly he bowed to the conviction that another love like the first was +impossible. + +For two months he had been the lover of Cora, a popular girl of the +private rooms of the Fornos, a tall, thin, strong Galician beauty--as +strong, alas, as the other. Cora had spent a few months in Paris, and +had returned thence with her hair bleached and a distinctly French +manner of lifting her skirt as if she were strolling along the +_trottoir_ of the _boulevards_. She had a sweet way of mixing French +words in her conversation, calling everybody _mon cher_ and pretending +expertness in the organization of a supper. At all events she shone like +a great _cocotte_ among her competitors, though her real asset was a +line of _risque_ stories, and a certain gift for low songs. + +Rafael soon wearied of this affair. He did not like her manufactured +beauty, nor her tiresome chatter that always turned on fashions. She was +always wanting money for herself and for her friends. Rafael, as a +wealthy miser, grew alarmed. Remorsefully he thought of his children's +future, as if he were ruining them; and of what his economical Remedios +would say of his considerably augmented expenditures. Well he knew that +Remedios haggled for everything down to the last _centimo_, and that her +one extravagance was an occasional new shawl for the local Virgin, and +an annual _fiesta_ for the Saint with a large orchestra and hundreds of +candles! He broke off relations with the Galician _boulevardiere_, and +found the rupture a sweet relief. It seemed to remove a sully from the +memory of his youthful passion. Moreover, his Party had just returned to +power and it was important to have no blemish on his standing as a +"serious" person! He resumed his seat on the Right, and near the Blue +Bench this time, as one of the senior deputies. The moment for work had +come! Now, it was time to see whether he could not make a position for +himself with one good boost! + +They named him to the Committee on the Budget, and he took it upon +himself to refute certain strictures presented by the Opposition to the +Government program on Pardon and Justice. One friend he could count on +was the minister: a respectable, solemn marquis who had once been an +Absolutist, and who, wearied of platonisms, as he put it, had finally +"recognized" the liberal regime, without amending his former ideas, +however. + +Rafael was as nervous as a schoolboy on the eve of his first +examinations. At the library he studied everything that had been said on +the subject by countless deputies in a century of Parliamentary +government. His friends in the Conference Chamber--the legislative +bohemia of "ex-honorables" and unsuccessful aspirants, who were loyal to +him in gratitude for passes to the floor--were encouraging him and +prophesying victory. They no longer approached him to begin: "When I was +auditor ..." to indulge in a veritable intoxication on the fumes of +their past glory; no longer did they ask him what don Francisco thought +of this, that, or the other thing, to draw their own wild inferences +from his replies and start rumors going based on "inside information." +Now, quite frankly, they "advised" him, giving him hints in accordance +with what they had said or meant to say during that discussion of the +budget back in Gonzalez Brabo's time, to end by murmuring, with a smile +that gave him the shudders: "Well, anyhow, we'll see! Good luck to you!" + +And that flock of disgruntled spirits who sat around waiting for an +election that would never come and ran like old war-horses at the scent +of gun-powder to group themselves, as soon as a row started and the bell +began to ring for order, in two factions on either side of the +president's chair, could never have imagined that the young deputy, on +many a night, broke off his study with a temptation to throw the thick +tomes of records against the wall, yielding finally, with thrills of +intense voluptuousness, to the thought of what might have become of him +had he gone out into life on his own in the trail of a pair of green +eyes whose golden lights he thought he could still see glittering in +front of him between the lines of clumsy parliamentary prose, tempting +him as they had tempted him of yore! + + + + +II + + +"Order of the day. Resumption of debate on ecclesiastical +appropriations!" + +The Chamber suddenly came to life with a wild movement of dispersion, +something comparable to the stampede of a herd or the panic of an army. +The deputies of quickest motory reactions were on their feet in an +instant, followed by dozens and dozens of others, all making for the +doors. Whole blocks of seats were emptied. + +The Chamber had been packed from the opening of the Session. It was a +day of intense excitement: a debate between the leader of the Right and +a former comrade who was now in the Opposition. The jealousy between the +two old cronies was resulting in a small-sized scandal. Mutual secrets +of their ancient intimacy as colleagues were coming to light--many of +the intrigues that had settled historic parliamentary contests for the +premiership. The galleries were filled with spectators who had come to +enjoy the fun. The deputies and ministers occupied every seat on either +hand of the presidential chair. But now the incident was closed. Two +hours of veiled insult and pungent gossip had passed all too soon. And +the phrase "Ecclesiastical Appropriations" had served as a fire-alarm. +Run--do not walk--to the nearest exit! + +However, the name of the orator who was now being given the floor +served to check the stampede somewhat, much as routs have been stopped +by some great historic warcry. A few deputies hurried back to their +benches. All eyes turned toward the extreme Left of the Chamber, where, +a white head, rising above the red seats over a pair of spectacles and a +gently ironical smile, was coming into view. + +The old man was on his feet, at last. He was small, so frail of person, +that he hardly overtopped the men still seated. All his vital energies +had been concentrated in that huge, nobly proportioned head of his, pink +at the top, with shocks of white hair combed back over it. His pale +countenance had the warlike transparency of a sound, vigorous old age. +To it a shining, luminous silvery beard added a majesty like that with +which Sacred Art used to picture the Almighty. + +The venerable orator folded his arms and waited for the noise in the +Chamber to cease. When the last determined fugitives had disappeared +through the exit doors, he began to speak. The journalists in the +press-gallery craned their necks toward "the tribune," hushing for +silence in order not to lose a word. + +This man was the patriarch of the Chamber. He represented "the +Revolution"--not only the old-fashioned, the political, revolution, but +the modern, the social and economic revolution. He was the enemy of all +present systems of government and society. His theories irritated +everybody, like a new and incomprehensible music falling on slumbering +ears. But he was listened to with respect, with the veneration inspired +by his years and his unsullied career. His voice had the melodious +feebleness of a muffled, silver bell; and his words rolled through the +silence of the hall with a certain prophetic stateliness, as if the +vision of a better world were passing before his eyes as he spoke, the +revelation of a perfect society of the future, where there would be no +oppression and no misery, the dream he had so often dreamed in the +solitude of his study. + +Rafael was sitting at the head of the committee bench, somewhat apart +from his companions. They were giving him ample room, as bull-fighters +do their _matador_. He had bundles of documents and volumes piled up at +his seat, in case he should need to quote authorities in his reply to +the venerable orator. + +He was studying the old man admiringly and in silence. What a strong, +sturdy spirit, as hard and cold and clear as ice! That veteran had +doubtless had his passions like other men. At moments, through his calm +impassive exterior, a romantic vehemence would seem to burn, a poetic +ardor, that politics had smothered, but which smouldered on as volcanic +fires lie dormant rumbling from time to time under the mantle of snow on +a mountain peak. But he had known how to adjust his life to duty; and +without belief in God, with the support of philosophy only, his virtue +had been strong enough to disarm his most violent enemies. + +And a weakling, a dawdler like himself, must reply to a hero like +that!... Rafael began to be afraid; and to recover his spirits he swept +the hall with his eyes. What the regular hangers-on of the sessions +would have called a medium-sized house! A few deputies scattered about +the benches! But the public galleries were filled with spectators, +workingmen mostly, absolutely quiet, and all ears, as if they were +drinking in every word of the old republican! In the reserved seats, +just previously packed with curiosity-seekers interested in the set-to +scheduled for the opening of the session, only a few foreign tourists +were left. They were taking in everything--even the fantastic uniforms +of the mace-bearers; and they were determined not to leave until they +were put out. A few women of the so-called "parliament set," who came +every afternoon when there was a squabble on the program, were munching +caramels and staring in wonderment at the old man. There he was, the +arch enemy of law and order! The man whose name it was bad form to +mention at their afternoon teas! Who would have supposed he had such a +kindly, harmless face? How easily, with what naturalness and grace, he +wore his frock coat! Incredible!... In the diplomatic gallery a solitary +lady! She was extravagantly attired in a huge picture hat with black +plumes. Almost hidden behind her was a fair haired youth, his hair +parted in the middle, his dress the height of correctness and foppery. +Some rich tourist-woman probably! She was directly opposite Rafael's +bench. He could see that her gloved hand rested on the railing, as she +moved her fan to and fro with an almost discourteous noise. The rest of +her body was lost in the darkness of the gallery. She bent back from +time to time to whisper and laugh with her escort. + +Somewhat reassured by the empty appearance of the house, Rafael scarcely +paid any further attention to the orator. He had guessed all that the +man would say, and he was satisfied. The outline of the long answer he +had prepared would not in the least be affected. + +The old man was inflexible and unchangeable. For thirty years he had +been saying the same thing over and over again. Rafael had read that +speech any number of times. The man had made a close study of national +evils and abuses, and had formulated a complete and pitiless criticism +of them in which the absurdities stood out by force of contrast. With +the conviction that truth is forever the same and that there is nothing +ever so novel as the truth, he had kept repeating his criticism year +after year in a pure, concise, sonorous style that seemed to scatter the +ripe perfume of the classics about the muggy Chamber. + +He spoke in the name of the future Spain, of a Spain that would have no +kings, because it would be governed by itself; that would pay no +priests, because, respecting freedom of conscience, it would recognize +all cults and give privileges to none. And with a simple, unaffected +urbanity, as if he were constructing rhyming verses, he would pair +statistics off, underscoring the absurd manner in which the nation was +taking leave of a century of revolution during which all peoples had +done things while Spain was lying stagnant. + +More money, he pointed out, was spent on the maintenance of the Royal +House than upon public education. Conclusion: the support of a single +family in idleness was worth more than the awakening of an entire people +to modern life! In Madrid, in the very capital, within sight of every +one of his hearers, the schools remained in filthy hovels, while +churches and convents rose overnight on the principal streets like +magic palaces. During twenty-odd years of Restoration, more than fifty +completely new, religious edifices, girding the capital with a belt of +glittering structures, had been built. On the other hand, only a single +modern school, at all comparable to the ordinary public schools of any +town in England or Switzerland! The young men of the nation were feeble, +unenthusiastic, selfish and--pious--in contrast with fathers, who had +adored the generous ideals of liberty and democracy and had stood for +action, revolt! The son was an old man at majority, his breast laden +with medals, with no other intellectual stimulus than the debates of his +religious fraternity, trusting his future and his thinking to the Jesuit +introduced into the family by the mother, while the father smiled +bitterly, realizing that he was a back-number, belonging to a different +world, to a dying generation--though to a generation which had +galvanized the nation for a moment with the spirit of revolutionary +protest! + +Here was the Church collecting pay for its services from the faithful, +and then over again from the State! Here was the Ministry of the +Interior appealing for a reduction in taxes--a program of strict +economy--while new bishoprics were being created and ecclesiastical +appropriations swelled for the benefit of the upper clergy; and with no +advantage at all, meanwhile, to the proletariat of the soutane, to the +poor curates who, to make a bare living, had to practice the most +impious worldliness and unscrupulously exploit the house of God! And +while this was going on public works could wait, towns could go without +roads, Districts without railroads, though the wildest savages of Asia +and Africa had both! Fields could continue to perish of drought while +nearby rivers continued to pour their unutilized waters into the sea! + +A thrill of conviction rippled through the Chamber. The silence was +absolute. Everybody was holding his breath so as not to lose a syllable +from that faint voice, which sounded like a cry from a distant tomb. It +was as though Truth in person were passing through those murky +precincts; and when the orator ended with an invocation to the future, +in which social absurdities and injustice should no longer exist, the +silence became deeper still, as if a glacial blast of death were blowing +upon those brains that had thought themselves deliberating in the best +of all possible worlds. + +It was now time for the reply. Rafael arose, pale, pulling at his cuffs, +waiting a few minutes for the excitement in the Chamber to subside. The +audience had relaxed and was whispering and stirring about, after the +sustained attention compelled by the concise style and the barely +audible voice of the old man. + +If Rafael was depending on the sympathy of an audience to encourage him, +things looked promising indeed! The hall began to empty. Why not? Who is +interested in a committee's reply to the Opposition? Besides, Brull had +a bundle of documents on hand. A long-winded affair! Let's escape! +Deputies filed by in line across the semi-circle in front of him; while +above, in the galleries, the desertion was general. The caramel-chewers, +noting that the display of celebrities was over for the day, rose from +their places. Their coaches were ready outside for a ride through the +Castellana. That strange woman in the diplomatic gallery had also risen +to go. But no: she was giving her hand to her companion, bidding him +good-bye. Now she had resumed her seat, continuing the busy movement of +her fan that annoyed Rafael so. Thanks for the compliment, my fair one I +Though as far as he was concerned, the whole audience might have gone, +leaving only the president and the mace-bearers. Then he could speak +without any fear at all! The public galleries, especially, unnerved him. +Nobody had moved there. Those workingmen were without doubt waiting for +the rebuttal of his answer from their venerable spokesman. Rafael felt +that the swarthy heads above all those dirty blouses and shirt-fronts +without collars or neckties were eyeing him with stony coldness. "Now +we'll see what this ninny has got to say!" + +Rafael began with a eulogy on the immaculate character, the political +importance and the profound learning of that venerable septuagenarian +who still had strength to battle consistently and nobly for the lost +cause of his youth. An exordium of this nature was the regular +procedure. That was how "the Chief" did things. And as he spoke, +Rafael's eyes turned anxiously upon the clock. He wanted to be long, +very long. If he did not talk for an hour and a half or two hours he +would feel disgraced. Two hours was the least to be expected from a man +of his promise. He had seen party chiefs and faction leaders go it for a +whole afternoon, from four to eight, hoarse and puffing, sweating like +diggers in a sewer, with their collars wilted to rags, watching the +great hall-clock with the intentness of a man waiting to be hanged. +"Still an hour left before closing time!" a speaker's friends would say. +And the great orator, like a wearied horse, but a thoroughbred, would +find new energy somewhere and start on another lap, round and round, +repeating what he had already said a dozen times, summarizing the two +ideas he had managed to produce in four hours of sonorous chatter. With +duration as the test of quality, no one on the government had yet +succeeded in equaling a certain redheaded deputy of the Opposition who +was forever heckling the Premier, and could talk, if need be, three days +in succession for four hours a day. + +Rafael had heard people praise the conciseness and the clarity of +new-fangled oratory in the parliaments of Europe. The speeches of party +leaders in Paris or in London took up never more than half a column in a +newspaper. Even the old man he was answering had adopted, to be original +in everything, that selfsame conciseness: every sentence of his +contained two or three ideas. But the member from Alcira would not be +led astray by such niggardly parsimony. He believed that ponderousness +and extension were qualities indispensable to eloquence. He must fill a +whole issue of the Congressional Record, to impress his friends back +home in the District. So he talked and talked on, trying deliberately to +avoid ideas. Those he had he would keep in reserve as long as possible, +certain that the longer he held them prisoner the longer and more solemn +would his oration be. + +He had gained a quarter of an hour without making any reply to the +previous speech whatever, and literally burying his illustrious +antagonist in flowers. _Su senoria_ was noteworthy firstly, because, +secondly, because, fourteenthly, because ... Nay more, he had +accomplished this, performed that, endeavored the other +thing--"But"--and with this _but_, alas, Rafael must begin to loosen up +on a little of what he had prepared in advance. _Su senoria_ was an +"ideologue" of immense talent, but ever removed from reality; he would +govern peoples in accordance with theories dug out of books, without +paying any attention to practical considerations, to the individual and +indestructible character possessed by every nation!... + +And it was worth sitting an afternoon even in that Chamber to hear the +slighting tone of scorn with which the member from Alcira emphasized +that word _ideologue_ and that phrase about "theories dug out of books" +and "living removed from reality!" + +"Good, fine. That's the way to give it to him," his comrades encouraged, +nodding their sleek bald-pates in indignation against anybody who tried +to live apart from reality. Those _ideologues_ needed somebody to tell +them what was what! + +And the minister, Rafael's friend, the only auditor left on the Blue +Bench, pressing his huge paunch against the desk, turned his head--an +owlish, hairy head with a sharp beak--to smile indulgently on the young +man. + +The orator continued, his confidence increasing as he went on, fortified +by these signs of approval. He spoke of the patient, deliberate study +the committee had made of this matter of the ecclesiastical bud-gets. He +was the most modest, the least among them, but there were his +comrades--they were there, in truth, solemn gentlemen in English +frock-coats, with their hair parted in the middle, from their foreheads +to the napes of their necks--studious young men--who had flattered him +with the honor of speaking for them--and if they had not been more +economical, it was because greater economy had been impossible. + +And the heads of the committee-men nodded as they murmured gratefully: + +"Say, this fellow Brull can make quite a speech!" + +The government was ready to exercise any economy that should prove +prudent and feasible, without prejudice to the dignity of the nation; +but Spain was an eminently religious country, favored by God in all her +crises; and no government loyal to the national genius could ever touch +a _centimo_ of the ecclesiastical appropriation. Never! Never!... + +On the word _never_ his voice resounded with the melancholy echo that +rings in empty houses. Rafael looked in anguish at the clock. Half an +hour. Half an hour gained, and still he had not really damaged his +outline. His talk was going so well that he was sorry the Chamber was +far from crowded!... Before him, in the shadows of the diplomatic +gallery, that fan kept fluttering. Pesky woman! Why couldn't she keep +quiet and not spoil his speech! + +The president, so restless and vigilant, so ever-ready with watch and +bell in hand when any of the Opposition had the floor, was now sitting +back in his chair with his eyes shut, dozing away with the confidence of +a stage director who is sure the show will go off without a hitch. The +panes of the glass dome were glowing under the rays of the sun, but they +allowed only a diffuse, green light, a discreet, soft, crypt-like +clarity to seep through into the Chamber that lay below in monastic +calm. Through the windows over the president's chair, Rafael glimpsed +patches of the blue sky, drenched in the gentle light of an afternoon of +Springtime. A white dove was hovering in the perspective of those blue +squares. + +Rafael felt a slackening of his powers of endurance, as if an +irresistible languor were stealing over him. The sweet smile of Nature +peering at him through the transoms of that gloomy, parliamentary tomb +had taken him back to his orange-orchards, and to his Valencian meadows +covered with flowers. He felt a curious impulse to finish his speech in +a few hasty words, grab his hat and flee, losing himself out among the +groves of the Royal Gardens. With that sun and those flowers outside, +what was he doing in that hole, talking of things that did not concern +him in the least?... But he successfully passed this fleeting crisis. He +ceased rummaging among the bundles of documents piled up on the bench, +stopped thumbing papers so as to hide his perturbation, and waving the +first sheet that came to his hand, he went on. + +The intention of the gentleman in opposing this appropriation was not +hidden from him. On this matter he had his own, his private and personal +ideas. "I understand that _su senoria_, in here proposing retrenchment, +is really seeking to combat religious institutions, of which he is a +declared enemy." + +And as he reached this point, Rafael dashed wildly into the fray. He was +treading firm and familiar ground. All this part of the speech he had +prepared, paragraph by paragraph: a defense of Catholicism, an apology +_pro fide_, so intimately bound up with the history of Spain. He could +now use impassioned outbursts and tremors of lyric enthusiasm, as if he +were preaching a new crusade. + +On the Opposition benches he caught the ironic glitter of a pair of +spectacles, the convulsions of a white chin quivering over two folded +arms, as if a kindly, indulgent smile had greeted his parade of so many +musty and faded commonplaces. But Rafael was not to be intimidated. He +had gotten away with an hour almost! Forward, to "Section Two" of the +outline, the part about the great national and Christian epic! And he +began to reel off visions of the cave of Covadonga; the fantastic tree +of the Reconquest "where the warrior hung up his sword, the poet his +harp," and so on and so on, for everybody hung up something there; seven +centuries of wars for the cross, a rather long time, believe me, +gentlemen, during which Saracen impiety was expelled from Spanish soil! +Then came the great triumphs of Catholic unity. Spain mistress of almost +the whole world, the sun never allowed to set on Spanish domains; the +caravels of Columbus bearing the cross to virgin lands; the light of +Christianity blazing forth from the folds of the national banner to shed +its illuminating rays throughout the earth. + +And as if this hymn to enlightening Christianity, chanted by an orator +who could now hardly see across the gloomy hall, had been a signal, the +electric lights went on; and the statues, the escutcheons, and the +harsh, blatant figures painted on the cupola, sprang forth from +obscurity. + +Rafael could hardly contain his joy at the facility with which his +speech was developing. That wave of light which was shed over the hall, +in the middle of the afternoon, while the sun was still shining, seemed +to him like the sudden entrance of Glory, approaching to give him the +accolade of renown. + +Caught up now in the real torrent of his premeditated verbosity, he +continued to relieve himself of all that he had learned by cramming +during the past few days. "In vain does _su senoria_ fatigue his wits. +Spain is and will remain a profoundly religious country. Her history is +the history of Catholicism: she has survived in all her times of storm +and stress by tightly embracing the Cross." And he could now come to the +national wars; from the battles in which popular piety saw Saint James, +on his white steed, lopping off the heads of the Moors with his golden +cutlass, to the uprising of the people against Napoleon, behind the +banner of the parish and with their scapularies on their bosoms. He did +not have a word to say about the present. He left the pitiless criticism +of the old revolutionist intact. Why not? The dream of an ideologue! He +was absorbed in his song of the past, affirming for the hundredth time +that Spain had been great because she had been Catholic and that when +for a moment she had ceased to be Catholic, all the evils of the world +had descended upon her. He spoke of the excesses of the Revolution, of +the turbulent Republic of '73, (a cruel nightmare to all right-thinking +persons) and of the "canton" of Cartagena (the supreme recourse of +ministerial oratory),--a veritable cannibal feast, a horror that had +never been known even in this land of _pronunciamientos_ and civil wars. +He tried his best to make his hearers feel the terror of those +revolutions, whose chief defect had been that they had revolutionized +nothing.... And then came a panegyric on the Christian family, on the +Catholic home, a nest of virtues and blessings, whereas in nations where +Catholicism did not reign all homes were repulsive brothels or horrible +bandit caves. + +"Fine, Brull, very good," grunted the minister, his elbows stretched +forward over his desk, delighted to hear his own ideas echoing from the +young man's mouth. + +The orator rested for a moment, with his glance sweeping the galleries +now bright with the electric lighting. The woman in the diplomatic +section had stopped fanning herself. She was following him closely. Her +eyes met his. + +Of a sudden Rafael nearly fell to his seat. Those eyes!... Perhaps an +astonishing resemblance! But no; it was she--she was smiling to him with +that same jesting, mocking smile of their earlier acquaintance! + +He felt like the bird writhing on the tree unable to free itself from +the hypnotic stare of the serpent coiled near the trunk. Those +sarcastic, mischievous eyes had upset all his train of thought. He tried +to finish in some way or other, to end his speech as soon as possible. +Every minute was an added torment to him; he imagined he could hear the +mute gibes that mouth must be uttering at his expense. + +Again he looked at the clock; in fifteen minutes more he would be +through. And he spurted on at a mad pace, with a hurried voice, +forgetting the devices he had thought of to prolong the peroration, +dumping them out all in a heap--anything to get through! "The +Concordate... sacred obligations toward the clergy ... their services +of old ... promises of close friendship with the Pope ... the generous +father of Spain ... in short, we cannot reduce the budget by a _centimo_ +and the committee stands, by its proposals without accepting a single +amendment." + +As he sat down, perspiring, excited, wiping his congested face +energetically, his bench companions gathered around him congratulating +him, shaking his hands. He was every inch an orator! He should have gone +deeper into the matter and taken even more time! He shouldn't have been +so modest! + +And from the bench below came the grunt of the minister: + +"Very good, very good. You said exactly what I would have said." + +The old revolutionist arose to make a short rebuttal, repeating the +contentions of his original speech, of which no denial had been +attempted. + +"I'm quite tired," sighed Rafael, in reply to the felicitations. + +"You can go out if you wish," said the minister. "I think I'll answer +the rebuttal myself. It's a courtesy due to so old a deputy." + +Rafael raised his eyes toward the diplomatic gallery. It was empty. But +he imagined he could still make out the plumes of a woman's hat in the +dark background. + +He left his bench hastily and hurried to the corridor, where a number of +deputies were waiting with their congratulations. + +Not one of them had heard him, but they were all profuse in their +flattering remarks. They shook his hand and detained him maddeningly. +Once more he thought he could descry at the end of the corridor, at the +foot of the gallery staircase, standing out against the glass exit-door, +those black, waving plumes. + +He elbowed his way through the crowds, deaf to all congratulations, +brushing aside the hands that were proferred to him. + +Near the door he stumbled into two of his associates, who were looking +out with eyes radiant with admiration. + +"What a woman? Eh?" + +"She looks like a foreigner. Some diplomat's wife, I guess!" + + + + +III + + +As he came out of the building he saw her on the sidewalk, about to step +into a vehicle. An usher of the Congress was holding the carriage door +open, with the demonstrative respect inspired by the goldbraid shining +on the driver's hat. It was an embassy coach! + +Rafael approached, believing, from the carriage, that it still might +prove to be a case of an astonishing resemblance. But no; it was she; +the same woman she had always been, as if eight hours and not eight +years had passed: + +"Leonora! You here!..." + +She smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to see him +again. + +"I saw you and heard you. You did very well, Rafael: I enjoyed it." + +And grasping his hand in a frank, hearty clasp of friendship, she +entered the carriage with a rustle of silk and fine linen. + +"Come! Won't you step in too?" she asked, smiling. "Join me for a little +drive along the Castellana. It's a magnificent afternoon; a little fresh +air won't do any harm after that muggy room." + +Rafael, to the astonishment of the usher, who was surprised to see him +in such seductive company, got in; and the carriage rolled off. There +they were, together again, sitting side by side, swaying gently back and +forth with the motion of the soft springs. + +Rafael was at a loss for words. The cold, ironic smile of his former +lover chilled him. He was flushed with shame at the thought of how he +had treated that beautiful creature the last time they had seen each +other. He wanted to say something, and yet he could not find a way to +begin. The ceremonious, formal _usted_ she had employed in inviting him +into the carriage embarrassed him. At last he ventured, timidly, also +avoiding the intimate _tu_! + +"Imagine our meeting here! What a surprise!" + +"I got in yesterday; tomorrow I leave for Lisbon. A short stop, isn't +it! Just time for a word with the director of the _Real_; perhaps I'll +come next winter to sing _Die Walkuere_ here. But let's talk about you, +illustrious orator.... But I may say _tu_ to you, mayn't I?" she +corrected--"for I believe we are still friends." + +"Yes, friends, Leonora.... I have never been able to forget you." + +But the feeling he put into the words vanished before the cold smile +with which she answered. + +"Friends; that's it," she said, slowly. "Friends, and nothing more. +Between us there lies a corpse that prevents us from getting very close +to each other again." + +"A corpse?" asked Rafael, not catching her meaning. + +"Yes; the love you murdered.... Friends, nothing more; comrades united +by complicity in a crime." + +And she laughed with cruel sarcasm, while the carriage turned into one +of the avenues of Recoletos. Leonora looked vacantly out upon the +central boulevard. The rows of iron benches were filled with people. +Groups of children in charge of governesses were playing gaily about in +the soft, golden splendor of the afternoon. + +"I read in the papers this morning that don Rafael Brull, 'of the +Finance Commission,' if you please, would undertake to speak for the +Ministry on the matter of the budget; so I got down on my knees to an +old friend of mine, the secretary of the English embassy, and begged him +to come and take me to the session. This coach is his.... Poor fellow! +He doesn't know you, but the moment he saw you stand up to speak, he +took to his heels.... He missed something though; for really, you +weren't half bad. I'm quite impressed. Say, Rafael, where do you dig up +all those things?" + +But Rafael looked uneasily at her cruel smile and refused to accept her +praise. Besides, what did he care about his speech? It seemed to him +that he had been for years and years in that coach; that a whole +lifetime had gone by since he left the halls of the Congress. His gaze +was fixed on her in admiration, and his astonished eyes were drinking in +the beauty of her face, and of her figure. + +"How beautiful you are!" he murmured in impulsive enchantment. "The same +as you were then. It seems impossible that eight years can have flown +by." + +"Yes; I admit that I bear up well. Time seems not to touch me. A little +longer at the dressing table--that's all. I'm one of the people who die +in harness, so to speak, making no concessions, so far as looks go, to +old age. Rather than surrender, I'd kill myself. I intend to put Ninon +de Lenclos in the shade!" + +It was true. Eight years had made not the slightest impression on her. +The same freshness, the same robust, energetic slenderness, the +identical flames of arrogant vitality in her green eyes. Instead of +withering under the incessant parching of passion's flame, she seemed to +grow stronger, hardier, in the crucible. + +She measured the deputy with sarcastic playfulness. + +"Poor Rafael! I'm sorry I can't say as much for you. How you've changed! +You look almost like a Knight of the Crown. You're fat! You're bald! And +those eyeglasses! Why, I could hardly recognize you in the Chamber. How +my romantic Moor has aged! You poor dear! You even have wrinkles!..." + +And she laughed, as if it filled her with intense joy, the joy of +vengeance, to see her former lover so crestfallen at her portrayal of +his decrepitude. + +"You're not happy, are you! I can see that. And yet, you ought to be. +You must have married that girl your mother picked for you. You +doubtless have children.... Don't try to fib to me, just to seem more... +what shall I say ... more interesting! I can see it from the looks of +you. You are the _pater familias_ all over. I am never mistaken in such +things!... Well, why aren't you happy? You have all the requisites for a +personage of note, and you will shortly be one. I'll bet you wear that +sash to hold your paunch in! You are rich, you make speeches in that +horrid, gloomy, cave. Your friends back home will go into ecstasies when +they read the oration their honorable deputy has delivered; and I +imagine they're already preparing fireworks and music for a reception +to you. What more could you ask for?" + +And with her eyes half-closed, smiling maliciously, she waited for his +reply, knowing in advance what it would be. + +"What more can I ask for? Love; Leonora, the love I once had ... with +you." + +And with the vehemence of other days, as if they were still among the +orange-trees of the old Blue House, the deputy gave way to his eight +years of longing. + +He told her of the image he nourished in his sadness. Love! The Love +that passes but once in a lifetime, crowned with flowers, and followed +by a retinue of kisses and laughter. And whosoever follows him in +obedience, finds happiness at the end of the joyous pathway; but +whosoever, through pride or selfishness, lags by the wayside, comes to +lament his folly and to expiate his cowardice in an everlasting life of +tedium and sorrow! He had sinned, grievously. That he would confess! But +could she not forgive him? He had paid for his deliquency with eight +long, monotonous, crushing, meaningless years, one suffocating stifling +night that never broke into morning. But they had met again! There was +still time, Leonora! They could still call back the Springtime of their +lives, make it burgeon anew, compel Love to retrace his footsteps, pass +their way again, stretching forth his sweet hands of youth to them! + +The actress was listening with a smile upon her lips, her eyes closed, +her head thrown back in the carriage. It was an expression of intense +pleasure, as if she were tasting with delight the fire of love that was +still burning in Rafael, and that, to her, meant vengeance. + +The horses were proceeding at a walk along la Castellana. Other +carriages were going by and the people in them peered back at the coach +with that beautiful, unknown woman. + +"What is your answer, Leonora? We can still be happy! Forget the past +and the wrong I did you! Imagine it was only yesterday that we said +good-bye in the orchard, and that we are meeting again today to begin +our lives over again from the beginning, to live together always, +always." + +"No," she replied coldly. "You yourself just said so: Love passes but +once in a lifetime. I know that from cruel experience. I have done my +best to forget. No, Love has passed us by! It would be sheer folly for +us to ask him to hunt us up again. He never comes back! Our most +desperate effort could revive barely the shadow of him. You let him +escape. Well, you must weep for your loss, just as I had to weep for +your baseness ... Besides, you don't realize the situation we are in +now! Don't you remember what we talked about on our first night there in +the moonlight? 'The arrogant month of May, the young warrior in an armor +of flowers, seeks out his beloved, Youth.' Well, where is our youth now? +Quite frankly, you can find mine on my dressing-table! I buy it at the +perfumer's; and though that gentleman is quite skilled at disguising me, +there's an oldness of the spirit underneath, a terrible thing I don't +dare think about, because it frightens me so. And yours, poor +Rafael--you just haven't any, not even the kind you can buy! Take a good +look at yourself! You're ugly, to put it mildly, my dear boy! You're +lost that attractive slimness of your younger days. Your dreams make me +laugh! A passion at this late date! The idyll of a middle-aged siren and +a bald-headed father of a litter of children, with a paunch, with a +paunch, with a paunch! Oh, Rafael! Ha, ha, ha!" + +The cruel mocker! How she laughed! How she was avenging herself. Rafael +grew angry at this cutting, ironic resistance. He began to flame with a +more excited passion.... The ravages of time made no difference. Could +not Love work miracles! He loved her more than he had ever loved her in +the olden days. He felt a mad hunger for her. Passion would give them +back the fires of youth. Love was like a springtime that brings new sap +to branches grown numb in the winter's cold. Let her say "Yes," and on +the instant she would behold the miracle, the resurrection of their +slumbering past, the awakening of their souls to the future of love! + +"And your wife? And your children?" Leonora asked, brutally, as if she +wished to bring him back to realities, with a smarting lash from a whip. + +But Rafael was now beside himself, drunk with the nearness of all that +beauty, and with the waves of perfume that filled the interior of the +carriage. + +Wife? Family? He would leave everything for her: family, future, +position. It was she he needed to live and be happy! + +"I will go with you; everybody is a stranger to me when I think of you. +You, you alone, are my life, my love!" + +"Many thanks," Leonora answered curtly. "I could not accept such a +sacrifice.... Besides, all that sanctity of the home you were just +talking about a few moments ago in the Chamber? And all that Christian +morality, without which civilization would go to the damnation bow wows! +How I laughed when I heard you say that. How you were stuffing those +poor ninkampoops!..." + +And again she laughed cruelly, at the contrast between his pious words +in Congress and his mad idea of forsaking everything to follow her +around the world. Oh, the hypocrite! She had felt, as she sat listening +to him, that his speech was a pack of lies, a mess of conventional +trumpery and platitudes! The only one there who had spoken with any real +sincerity, any real virtue, was that little old man, whom she had +listened to with veneration because he had been one of her father's +idols! + +Rafael was crushed with bitter shame. Leonora's flat refusal, her +pitiless mockery of his speech, had brought him to realize the enormity +of his baseness. She was avenging herself by bringing him face to face +with the abjectness of his mad, hopeless passion, which made him capable +of committing the lowest deeds! + +Dusk was gathering. Leonora ordered the driver to the Plaza de Oriente. +She was stopping in one of the houses near the Opera where many +theatrical people lodged. She was in a hurry! She had a dinner +engagement with that young man from the Embassy, and two musical critics +were to be introduced to her. + +"And I, Leonora? Are we not to see each other any longer?" + +"As far as my door, if you wish, and then ... till we meet again!" + +"Oh, please, Leonora, stay here a few days! Let me see you! Let me have +the consolation of talking to you, of feeling the bitter pleasure of +your ridicule, at least!" + +Stay a few days!... Her days did not belong to her. She traveled from +one end of the world to the other, with her life marked off to the tick +of the clock. From Madrid to Lisbon--an engagement at the San +Carlos--three performances of Wagner! Then, a jump to Stockholm! After +that she was not quite sure where she would go; to Odessa, or to Cairo. +She was the Wandering Jew, the Valkyrie galloping along on the clouds of +a musical tempest, from frontier to frontier, from pole to pole, +arrogant, victorious, suffering not the slightest harm to health or +beauty. + +"Oh, if you only would! If you would let me follow you! As your friend, +nothing more! As your servant, if necessary!" + +And he grasped her hand, passionately, thrusting his fingers up her +sleeve, fondling the delicate arm underneath her glove. She did not +resist. + +"There! Do you see, Rafael?" she said, smiling coldly. "You have touched +me, and it's useless; not the slightest thrill. You're as good as dead +to me. My flesh does not tingle at your fondling. In fact, I find it all +decidedly annoying!" + +Rafael realized that it was true. She had once trembled madly under his +caresses. Now she was quite insensible, quite cold! + +"Don't worry, Rafael. It's over, spelled with a capital _O_. It's not +worth wasting a moment's thought on. As I look at you now I feel the way +I do when I see one of my old dresses that, in its time, I went mad +over. I see nothing but the defects--the absurdities of the fashion that +is out of date. Our passion died as it should properly have died. +Perhaps your deserting me was for the best. It was better for you to +default in the full splendor of our honeymoon than to have broken with +me afterwards, when I should have moulded my nature forever to your +caresses. We were brought together ... oh, by the orange perfume, by +that cursed Springtime; but you were not meant for me, nor was I ever +meant for you. We are of different breeds. You were born a bourgeois. I +am an out-and-out bohemian! Love and the novelty of my kind quite, +dazzled you. You struggled hard, you beat your wings, to follow me, but +you fell to earth from the very weight of your inherited traits. You +have the appetites and the ambitions of people like you! Now you imagine +you are unhappy! But you'll find you're not when you see yourself become +a personage,' when you count the acreage of your orchards over, when you +see your children growing up to inherit papa's power and fortune. This +business of love for love's sake, mocking at law and morality, scorning +life and peacefulness, that is our privilege, the privilege of us +bohemians--the sole blessing left to us mad creatures whom society looks +upon--quite properly, I suppose--with disdainful mistrust. Each to his +own! The poultry to their quiet roost, where they can fatten in the sun; +the birds of passage to their wandering life of song, sometimes in a +flowering garden, sometimes in the cold and storm!" + +And smiling again, as if those words, uttered with such gravity and +conviction, had been too cruel in their effective summary of the whole +story of their love, she added in a jesting tone: + +"That was a fine little paragraph, wasn't it? What a pity you didn't +hear it in time to tack it on at the end of your speech!" + +The carriage had entered the _Plaza de Oriente_; and was drawing up in +front of Leonora's house. + +"May I go in with you?" the deputy asked anxiously, much as a child +might beg for a toy. + +"Why? You'll only be bored. It will be the same as here. Upstairs there +is no moon, and there are no orange-trees in bloom. You can't expect two +nights like that in a life like yours. Besides, I don't want Beppa to +see you. She has a vivid recollection of that afternoon in the Hotel de +Roma when I got your note. I'd lose prestige with her if she saw me in +your company." + +With a commanding gesture she motioned him to the sidewalk. When the +carriage had gone they stood there together for a moment looking at each +other for the last time. + +"Farewell, Rafael. Take good care of yourself, and try not to grow old +so rapidly. I believe it's been a real pleasure, though, to see you +again. I needed just this to convince myself it was really all over!" + +"But are you going like this!... Is this the way you let a passion end +that still fills my life!... When shall we see each other again?" + +"I don't know: never ... perhaps when you least expect it. The world is +large, but when a person gads about it the way I do, you never can tell +whom you are going to meet." + +Rafael pointed to the Opera nearby. + +"And if you should come to sing ... here?... If I were actually to see +you again?...." + +Leonora smiled haughtily, guessing what he meant. + +"In that case, you will be one of my countless friends, I suppose, but +nothing more. Don't imagine that I'm a saint even now. I'm just as I was +before you knew me. The property of everybody--understand--and of +nobody! But of the janitor of the opera, if necessary, sooner than of +you. You are a corpse, in my eyes, Rafael.... Farewell!" + +He saw her vanish through the doorway; and he stood for a long time +there on the sidewalk, completely crushed, staring vacantly into the +last glow of twilight that was growing pale beyond the gables of the +Royal Palace. + +Some birds were twittering on the trees of the garden, shaking the +leaves with their mischievous playfulness, as if the fires of Springtime +were coursing in their veins. For Spring had come again, faithful and +punctual, as every year. + +He staggered off toward the center of the city, slowly, dejectedly, with +the thought of death in his mind, bidding farewell to all his dreams, +which that woman seemed to have destroyed forever in turning her back +implacably upon him. Yes! A corpse, indeed! He was a dead man dragging a +soulless body along under the sad glimmering of the first street-lamps. +Farewell! Farewell to Love! Farewell to Youth! For him Springtime would +never return again. Joyous Folly repelled him as an unworthy deserter. +His future was to grow a fatter and fatter paunch under the frock coat +of a "personage"! + +At the corner of the Calle del Arenal he heard his name called. It was +a deputy, a comrade of "the Party" who had just come from the session. + +"Let me congratulate you, Brull; you were simply monumental! The Chief +spoke enthusiastically of your speech to the Prime Minister! It's a +foregone conclusion. At the first new deal you'll be made +director-general or undersecretary at least! Again, my congratulations, +old fellow!" + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Torrent, by Vicente Blasco Ibanez + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORRENT *** + +***** This file should be named 11674.txt or 11674.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/6/7/11674/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Sjaani and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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