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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf 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..ea15eb7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54796 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54796) diff --git a/old/54796-0.txt b/old/54796-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8674240..0000000 --- a/old/54796-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7594 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Christian Woman, by Emilia Pardo Bazán - -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/license - - -Title: A Christian Woman - -Author: Emilia Pardo Bazán - -Translator: Mary Springer - -Release Date: May 27, 2017 [EBook #54796] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHRISTIAN WOMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at Google Books) - - - - - - - - - - - A CHRISTIAN WOMAN - - [Illustration: DOÑA EMILIA PARDO BAZÁN.] - - - - - A CHRISTIAN WOMAN - - BY - - EMILIA PARDO BAZÁN - - TRANSLATED BY - - MARY SPRINGER - - NEW YORK - CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY - 104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE - - COPYRIGHT, 1891, BY - - CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. - - _All rights reserved._ - - THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, - RAHWAY, N. J. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -“I have heard it told of a great-grandmother of mine, of noble family -(grandees, in fact), that she was obliged to teach herself to write, -copying the letters from a printed book, with a pointed stick for pen -and mulberry-juice for ink.” The great-granddaughter who said this is -the first woman of letters in Spain to-day; indeed, she is perhaps as -widely known as any contemporary Spanish writer, man or woman. Though -her achievements do not yet entitle her to rank, as a novelist, with -Galdós and Pereda, she has conquered a place only second to theirs, and -with long years of work before her (she is not yet forty) may even come -to rival their great fame. From the Spain that looked with suspicion -upon a woman who could more than barely read and write, to the Spain -that counts the literary renown of Emilia Pardo Bazán among its modern -glories, is a long way; and the chapters recording the struggles and -successive triumphs of Spanish women in their efforts to get within -reaching-distance of the tree of knowledge, will be, when they come to -be written, among the most striking in the history of the emancipation -of woman. Señora Bazán must always be a great figure in the record of -that educational development, and happily we are able to trace her own -progress pretty fully, taking advantage principally of the charming -autobiographical sketch which she prefixed to her novel “Los Pazos de -Ulloa.” - -She was born in 1852, in Coruña, of a family which traced its descent on -both sides to the most distinguished among the ancient Galician -nobility. One of those children whose earliest memories are of -delightful hours passed in some safe retreat in company with a book, she -was fortunate in having a father with the good sense, rare in those -days, to let her follow her bent. She tells us of the happy days she had -when enjoying free swing at a library in the summer villa which the -family rented by the sea, and later when allowed to browse at her will -among her father’s books in Coruña. Plutarch and Homer (in translation, -of course,) thrilled her young fancy, and whole chapters of Cervantes -remain to this day photographed upon her memory, fixed there in those -early, sensitive days. Her first attempt to write came at the age of -eight, and was born of patriotic excitement. It was at the close of the -triumphant expedition of O’Donnell to Morocco, and the returned soldiers -were fairly apotheosized by their exuberant fellow-countrymen. The Pardo -Bazáns had two or three honest country louts among the volunteers to -entertain at their house, and to the little Emilia the good clodhoppers -embodied the idea of military glory as well as any Hector or Achilles. -The worthy fellows were up to their eyes in luck, given the best that -the mansion afforded, put to bed between lace-trimmed sheets in the best -room; but it all seemed too little to the enthusiastic child, and in a -passion of adoring homage she rushed off to her room to write a poem in -honor of the heroes! It could not have been long after this that she -addressed a sonnet to a deputy of her father’s party, and was exalted to -the seventh heaven by the great man’s extravagant praise of her -performance. However, it was not as a poet that she was to find -expression for her genius; and though she afterward published a volume -of verse for which she still professes a sneaking fondness, she admits -that she is not much more of a poet than can be met on every -street-corner in Spain. - -Her education, so far as she did not get it by herself, was principally -obtained in a fashionable French boarding-school in Madrid, where -“Télémaque” was served up three times a day, and where Emilia was given -the idea that she had exhausted the possibilities of astronomical -science when she had looked at an eclipse through a bit of smoked glass. -Later she was turned over to the tender mercies of tutors. Instead of -lessons on the piano, she begged her father to allow her to study Latin; -but this was quite too wild a thing to ask, even of him, and his refusal -only gave her a lasting hatred for the piano. By the time she was -fourteen, she was allowed to read pretty much everything, though still -forbidden to look into the works of Hugo, Dumas, and the French -Romanticists generally. Instead of these, an uncle put into her hands -the novels of Fernan Caballero--a most suggestive incident, the woman -who worked out the beginnings of the modern Spanish novel, read by the -girl who was to help carry it to its highest development! However, her -unformed taste thought nothing worthy to be called a novel unless a man -was fired out of a cannon or flung over a cliff in every chapter, and -her furtive reading of Hugo--of course, she tasted the forbidden -waters--confirmed her in a liking which she was long in outgrowing. - -In 1868, just after she had first put on long dresses, she was married. -To make short work with her domestic life, let it be added, that her -husband’s name is Don José Quiroga, and that three children have been -born to them. During the troublous times that came in with the -Revolution of 1868, and throughout the reign of Amadeus, her family was -in political eclipse, and with her father she traveled extensively in -France and southern Europe, learning English and Italian, and from her -industrious practice of keeping a diary acquiring the writing habit. On -her return to Spain, she found the German philosophical influence in the -ascendant, and to put herself abreast of the intellectual movement of -the time, read deeply in philosophy and history. By this time she had -come fully to perceive the defective nature of her education, and set -herself rigorously to correct it, for some years devoting herself to the -severest studies. At a literary contest in Orense, in 1876, she carried -off the first prize both in prose and verse, though for three years -after that she wrote nothing except occasional articles for a Madrid -periodical. Finally, as a relaxation from her strenuous historical -studies, she began reading novels again, beginning with contemporary -English, French, and Italian writers; for in her provincial home, and in -her absorption in philosophical and historical reading, she had never -heard of the splendid development of the novel in her own country. At -last a friend put her on the track, and then she read with deepening -delight. - -To her it was the chance magic touch that finally gave her genius its -full vent. If a novel was thus a description of real life, and not a -congeries of wild adventures, why could she not write one herself? That -was the question she put to herself, and the answer came in the shape -of her first novel, “Pascual López,” published in the _Revista de -España_, and afterward separately. She began her biography of Francis de -Assisi in 1880, but a temporary failure of health sent her off to Vichy. -Of this journey was born her “Un Viaje de Novios,” the first chapters of -which she wrote in Paris, and read to such distinguished auditors as -Balzac, Flaubert, Goncourt, and Daudet. Fully conscious now of the place -and method of the realistic novel, and of the high value of its -development in Spain, her course was clear. Since then her novels have -appeared with surprising rapidity. She has all along kept her feet on -the earth, writing of what she knows, and thus it happens that most of -her scenes are laid in Galicia. As a preparation for writing “La -Tribuna,” a study of working women, she went to a tobacco factory for -two months, morning and afternoon, to listen to the conversation and -observe the manners of the women employed there. Her work has been -steadily broadening, and “A Christian Woman,” with its sequel, is the -largest canvas she has filled. - -Though now definitely and mainly a novelist, her literary activity has -been highly varied. Her letters on criticism, published in _La Epoca_ in -1882, evoked the widest discussion, and her lectures on “The -Revolutionary Movement and the Novel in Russia,” delivered before the -most brilliant literary circle of Madrid, have already been given an -English dress. Articles from her pen are a frequent attraction in the -leading magazines, and her vivacious series of letters about the Paris -Exposition won much attention. As might be inferred from her unflagging -productiveness, she is possessed of as much physical as mental vigor. -She is of winning appearance and unaffected manners. Since the death of -her father, in 1888, she has been entitled as his sole heir to be called -a countess; but she does not use the title. “Who would know me as a -countess?” she asks. “I shall be simply Pardo Bazán as long as I live.” - -ROLLO OGDEN. - - - - -A CHRISTIAN WOMAN. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -You will see by the following list the course of studies that the State -obliged me to master in order to enter the School of Engineering: -arithmetic and algebra as a matter of course; geometry equally so; -besides, trigonometry and analytics, and, finally, descriptive geometry -and the differential calculus. In addition to these mathematical -studies, French, only held together with pins, if the truth must be -told, and English very hurriedly basted; and as for that dreadful -German, I would not put tooth to it even in jest--the Gothic letters -inspired me with such great respect. Then there was the everlasting -drawing--linear, topographic, and landscape even, the latter being -intended, I presume, to enable an engineer, while managing his -theodolite and sights, to divert himself innocently by scratching down -some picturesque scene in his album--after the manner of English misses -on their travels. - -After entrance came the “little course,” so called, in order that we -might not be afraid of it. It embraced only four studies--to wit, -integral calculus, theoretical mechanics, physics, and chemistry. During -the year of the “little course,” we had no more drawing to do; but in -the following, which is the first year of the course properly speaking, -we were obliged, besides going deep into materials of construction, -applied mechanics, geology, and cubic mensuration, to take up new kinds -of drawing--pen-drawing, shading and washing. - -I was not one of the most hard-working students, nor yet one of the most -stupid--I say it as shouldn’t. I could grind away when it was necessary, -and could exercise both patience and perseverance in those branches -where, the power of intellect not being sufficient, one must have -recourse to a parrot-like memory. I failed to pass several times, but -it is impossible to avoid such mishaps in taking a professional course -in which they deliberately tighten the screws on the students, in order -that only a limited number may graduate to fill the vacant posts. I was -sure of success, sooner or later; and my mother, who paid for the cost -of my tuition, with the assistance of her only brother, was as patient -as her disposition would allow her to be with my failures. I assured her -that they were not numerous and that, when I finally emerged a -full-fledged civil engineer, I should have in my pocket the four hundred -and fifty dollar salary, besides extras. - -Nor were all my failures avoidable, even if I had been as assiduous as -possible in my studies. I was all run down and sick for one year, -finally having an attack of varioloid; and this reason, with others not -necessary to enumerate, will explain why at the age of twenty-one I -found myself still in the second year of the course, although I enjoyed -the reputation of being a studious youth and quite well informed--that -is to say, I yet lacked three years. - -The year before, the first year of the course strictly speaking, I was -obliged to let some studies go over to the September examinations. I -attribute that disagreeable occurrence to the bad influence I was under, -in a certain boarding-house, where the evil one tempted me to take up my -abode. The time I passed there left undying recollections in my memory, -which bring a smile to my lips and indiscreet joy to my soul whenever I -evoke them. I will give some idea of the place, so that the reader may -judge whether Archimedes himself would have been capable of studying -hard in such a den. - -There are several houses in Madrid at the present date--for example, the -Corralillos, the Cuartelillos, the Tócame Roque--all very similar to the -one I am about to describe. Within that abode dwelt the population of a -small-sized village; it had three courts with balconies, on which opened -the doors of the small rooms,--or pigeon-holes one might call -them,--with their respective numbers on the lintels. There was no lack -of immodest and quarrelsome inmates; there were street musicians singing -couplets to the accompaniment of a tuneless guitar; cats in a state of -high nervous excitement scampering from garret to garret, or jumping -from balustrade to balustrade--now impelled by amorous feelings, now by -a brick thrown at them full force. Clothes and dish-cloths were hung out -to dry; ragged petticoats and patched underwear, all mixed up pell-mell. -There were pots of sweet basil and pinks in the windows; and in fact, -everything would be found there that abounds in such dens in Madrid--so -often described by novelists and shown forth by painters in their -sketches from real life. - -The third suite on the right had been hired by Josefa Urrutia, a -Biscayan, the ex-maid of the marchioness of Torres-Nobles. At first her -business was pretty poor, and she sank deeper and deeper in debt. At -last she got plenty of boarders, and when I took up my abode in the -“dining-room bed-room,” the place was in its glory; she had not a single -vacant apartment. All the boarders paid their dues honestly, if they -had the money, with certain exceptions, and the reason of these I will -reveal under the seal of profound secrecy. - -A certain Don Julián occupied the parlor, which was the best room on the -floor. He was a Valencian, jolly and gay; a great spendthrift, fond of -jokes and fun, and an inveterate gambler. They said that he had come to -Madrid in quest of an office, which he never succeeded in getting; -nevertheless the candidate lived like a prince, and instead of helping -with his board to keep up Pepa’s business, it was whispered about that -he lived there gratis, and even took from time to time small sums from -her, destined to go off in the dangerous coat-tails of the knave of -hearts. - -However, these little private weaknesses of Pepa Urrutia’s would never -have come to light, if it had not been for the green-eyed monster. The -Biscayan was furiously jealous of a handsome neighbor, who was fond of -flirting with all the boarders opposite, as I have indubitable evidence. -In a fit of desperation Pepa would sometimes shriek at the top of her -lungs, and would call out “swindler; rogue!” adding, “If you had any -decency, you would pay me at once what you have wheedled out of me, and -what you owe me.” - -On such occasions Don Julián would stick his hands in his pockets, -firmly shut his jaws, and, silent as the grave, pace up and down the -parlor. His silence would exasperate Pepa still more, and sometimes she -would go off into hysterics; and after showering injurious epithets on -the Valencian, she would rush out, slamming the door so as to shake the -whole building. - -Then a stout, florid, bald-headed man, about fifty years old, with a -nice pleasant face, would appear in the passage-way, and with a strongly -marked Portuguese accent, inquire of the irate landlady: - -“Pepiña, what ails you?” - -“Nothing at all,” she would reply, making a stampede into the kitchen, -and muttering dreadful oaths in her Basque dialect. We would hear her -knocking the kettles and frying pans about, and after a little while the -cheerful sputtering of oil would announce to us that anyhow potatoes -and eggs were frying, and that breakfast would soon be ready. - -The stout, bald-headed gentleman, who had the back parlor, was a -Portuguese physician who had come to Madrid to bring a lawsuit against -the Administration for some claim or other he had against it. He was an -ardent admirer of Spanish popular music, like most Portuguese, and he -would pass the whole blessed day in a chair, near the balcony,--dressed -as lightly as possible in jacket and linen pantaloons (it was in the -month of June, I must observe), a Scotch cap, with floating streamers -concealing his bald pate,--and strumming on a guitar, to the harsh and -discordant accompaniment of which he would sing the following words: - - Love me, girl of Seville, beauteous maid, spotless flower, - For with the sound of my guitar my heart beats for thee, - -Here he would break off his song to look toward the window of a young -washerwoman, ugly enough in appearance, but lively and sociable. She -would stand at the window laughing and making eyes at him. The -Portuguese would sigh, and exclaim in broken Spanish: “_Moy bunita!_” -and then, attacking his guitar with renewed zest, would finish his song: - - Oh, what grief, if she is false--no, fatal doubt flee far from me. - Ah, what joy is love when one finds a heavenly soul! - -When he was done, he would draw a straw cigar-case from his breast -pocket, with a package of cigarettes and some matches. Hardly would he -have finished lighting the first one, when a young man, twenty-four -years old,--one of Pepa’s boarders also, whom I looked upon for a long -time as the personification of an artist,--would burst into the room. -His surname was Botello, but I never thought to inquire his Christian -name. He was fine looking, of good height, wore his hair rumpled, not -too long, but thick and curly, and he looked something like a -mulatto--like Alexandre Dumas, with his great thick lips, mustache like -Van Dyke’s, bright black eyes, and a fine, dark complexion. We used to -tease him, calling him Little Dumas every hour of the day. - -Why had Pepa Urrutia’s boarders made up their minds that Botello was an -artist? Even now, when I think of it, I cannot understand why. Botello -had never drawn a line, nor murdered a sonata, nor scrawled an article, -nor written a poor drama, not even a simple farce in one act; yet we all -had the firm conviction that Botello was a finished artist. - -I think that this conviction sprang from his careless and slovenly -attire more than from his way of living, or his striking and genial -countenance. In all sorts of weather, he would wear a close-fitting blue -cloth overcoat, which he declared belonged to the Order of the Golden -Fleece, because the collar and cuffs displayed a broad band of grease, -and the front a lamb, figured in stains. This precious article of -apparel was such an inseparable companion that he wore it in the street, -washed and shaved in it, and even threw it over his bed, as a covering, -while he slept. His trousers were frayed around the bottom, his boots -were worn down at the heels, and the cracked leather allowed his -stockings to be seen, smeared with ink so that their incautious -whiteness might not appear. With all that, Botello’s handsome head and -graceful form did not lose all their attractiveness even in such a -guise; on the contrary, his very rags, when seen upon his elegant -figure, acquired a certain mysterious grace. - -Another distinctive phase of Botello’s character, which made him -resemble a Bohemian of the artistic type, was his happy-go-lucky -disposition, as well as his contempt for labor, and utter ignorance of -the realities of life. Botello was the son of a judge, and the nephew of -a nobleman’s steward. When Botello’s father died, he was left under his -uncle’s charge, who lodged and fed him, and gave him an allowance of two -hundred and fifty dollars, only demanding that Botello should be in bed -by twelve o’clock. He did not oblige him to study, nor take any pains to -give him an education; but when he discovered that his nephew passed -every evening at the Bohemian _café_ or at some low resort, and came -home at all hours of the night, letting himself in with a latch-key so -as not to be heard, he made the welkin ring. Instead of trying to -reform him, he ignominiously drove him out of his house. - -Without any occupation, with only twenty-one dollars a month to keep -him, Botello wandered from boarding-house to boarding-house, each one -worse than the last, until in a gaming-saloon he made the acquaintance -of Don Julián, the lord and master of Pepa’s heart. Thus he came to our -dwelling, drawn by this new bond of friendship. From that hour, Botello -found an exemplary guardian in the Valencian. Don Julián took it upon -himself to draw the young man’s monthly allowance, and then off he would -rush to the tavern or gaming-house to try his luck. If he got a windfall -of one or two hundred dollars, he could give Botello his twenty-one, and -even, occasionally, add a few more; but if fate were unpropitious, -Botello might take leave of his money forever. As he sorely needed -funds, the ward would then engage in a lively tussle with his guardian. - -“Well, now, _señor mio_, how shall I get along this month?” he would -ask. Just then a providential apparition would present itself in Pepa, -who would come to the rescue of her dear extortioner, while she screamed -loudly, threatening Botello: - -“Be quiet, be quiet! I will wait.” - -“What of that?” the unfortunate youth would reply; “he has not left me -even a dime to buy tobacco.” - -Pepa would then put her hand in her pocket, and, drawing out a grimy -quarter, would exclaim: - -“There now, buy yourself a package of cigarettes.” - -But when Pepa’s quarters were scarce, or even when they were not, -Botello would have recourse to the Portuguese. He would be in the -latter’s room as soon as he heard him strike a match to light a -cigarette, and half jokingly, half in earnest, would tease for some, -until the best part of the package would find its way into the -Bohemian’s pocket. As the Portuguese was accustomed to the ways and -disposition of little Dumas,--who was a genuine artist, as he solemnly -assured everybody he met,--he never took his jokes seriously, nor did he -get offended on account of the marauding inroads into his pockets. On -the contrary, one would say that the musical physician’s heart was -wonderfully drawn to Botello by his very pranks, even though he often -carried his practical jokes too far. I will mention one as an instance. - -As the Portuguese was obliged to make calls and to present his letters -of recommendation, in order to hasten the execution of his business, he -ordered a hundred very glossy visiting-cards with his name, “Miguel de -los Santos Pinto,” engraved in beautiful script. Botello happened to see -them, and showed them to everybody in the house; expressing his -amazement that a Portuguese should have so few surnames. He wanted to -add at least, “Teixeira de Vasconcellos Palmeirim Junior de Santarem do -Morgado das Ameixeiras,” so that it should be more in character. We got -that out of his head, but his next idea was even worse. He -surreptitiously laid hold of the pen and India ink, which I used for my -drawings and my plans, and wrote carefully under “Miguel de los Santos -Pinto” this appendage, “Corno de Boy” (Ox-horn). In order not to take -the trouble of adding it to all the cards, he did so to twenty-five -only, and hid the rest. - -The next day the Portuguese went out to make some calls, and left ten or -twelve of the cards at different places. The following Sunday he met an -acquaintance in Arenal Street, who, half-choked with laughter, stopped -him, saying, “Why, Don Miguel, is your name really Corno de Boy? Is -there any such name in your country?” - -“What do you mean?” said the embarrassed Portuguese. “Of course not; my -name is simply Santos Pinto; nothing more.” - -“Well, just look at this card.” - -“Let me see, let me see!” murmured the poor man. “It really does say -so!” he exclaimed in amazement, on reading the addition. - -“The engraver must have made a mistake,” added his friend, jocosely. - -But Don Miguel did not swallow that, and as soon as he reached the house -showed the card to Botello, and demanded an explanation of the sorry -jest. The big scamp so warmly protested that he was innocent, that he -succeeded in diverting Don Miguel’s suspicions toward me. - -“Don’t you see,” he said, “Salustio has the very pen and ink with which -that was written, in his room now? Don’t trust those quiet people. Oh, -these proper fellows!” - -In consequence of this Macchiavellian scheme, the good-natured -Portuguese singled me out for his jealous suspicion, although I had -never meddled with him in my life. But I firmly believe that his -blindness was voluntary, because he could not have had the slightest -doubt in regard to some other malicious pranks that Botello perpetrated. - -One day when he was playing dominoes with his victim, Botello managed to -put a paper crown, with donkey’s ears, on the latter’s head, so that the -nymph of the ironing-table might be convulsed with laughter, for she was -watching the whole performance. Then, one day, he pinned long strips of -paper upon his coat-tails, so that when he went out in the street all -the street Arabs hooted at him. Nevertheless, the fondness of the -Portuguese for Botello never failed. When Botello lacked money to pay -for a ball ticket, he would go to Don Miguel and ask for half a dollar, -and exhaust all his eloquence in trying to persuade him that he ought to -go on a frolic also. When the Portuguese would refuse, making the excuse -that he did not want to displease the washerwoman, Botello would retort, -calling him a booby. As the Portuguese did not understand that word, and -appeared somewhat offended, Botello would make a movement as if to -return the half-dollar. “Take it, take it, if you are angry with me,” -the sly youth would exclaim. “My personal dignity will not allow me to -accept favors from any one who looks at me in that way. You are angry, -aren’t you now?” - -“I can never be angry with you,” the Portuguese would reply, putting the -money into his hand by main force; then turning toward the rest of us -who were witnessing this scene, he would say with the most kindly smile -I have ever seen on any human countenance: “This rapacious rogue! But he -is a great artist.” - -Then he would go back to his place at the window, and strum on his -guitar. - -The reader must acknowledge that there was no opportunity for applying -one’s mind to methodical, engrossing, and difficult study in a house -where such scenes occurred every moment of the day. The bursts of -laughter, alternating with frequent squabbles; the racing up and down -the halls; the continual going in and out of lazy fellows who, not -knowing how to kill time, endeavor to make the studious ones lose it; -the irregularity of our meals; the confidential way we had of living in -each other’s rooms; the being up all night, and getting out of bed at -midday, did not greatly help a student to win distinction in the School -of Engineering. On the other hand, the contagion of joking and mirth -could not possibly be withstood at my age. - -Other students boarded there; some attending the University, others the -School of Mountain Engineering, and others the School of Architecture; -but none of them was a prodigy of learning. Perhaps I was ahead of them -all in diligent application to my studies; but as my subjects were very -difficult, it turned out that I found myself put over to the September -examinations that year. Consequently I was obliged to spend my vacation -in Madrid, and was unable to enjoy the cool breezes of my home in the -province. - -That summer would have been wearisome indeed, and unbearable, if I had -not been surrounded by such jolly and frolicsome people, and if the -good-natured Portuguese had not afforded us such fun by submitting to -the endless pranks of Botello. - -When there was no other way of killing an afternoon, little Dumas would -snap his fingers and say, throwing back his perspiring head so as to -brush away the thick black mane, which was suffocating him: - -“Let us play a trick on Corno de Boy. Who will help me catch some bugs?” - -“Catch bugs?” - -“Yes, just make a cornucopia and fill it with bugs to the top. The small -ones will not do; they must be big ones.” - -Then every one would go to his room to engage in the strange hunt. -Unfortunately, it was not difficult. As soon as we searched under our -beds, or our pillows, we would quickly collect a dozen or more fearful -fellows. We would carry our tributes to the inventor of the practical -joke, and he would put them all together. As soon as we knew that the -Portuguese was in bed, we would take off our shoes, and, repressing our -desire to laugh, would station ourselves at his door. As soon as Don -Miguel began to snore, Botello would softly raise the latch, and, as the -headboard was next the door, all that the imp of an artist had to do was -to open the cornucopia and scatter the contents over the head and face -of the sleeping man. After this was accomplished, Botello would close -the door very quietly, while we, convulsed with laughter, and pinching -one another in sheer excitement, would wait for the pitched battle to -begin. Hardly two minutes would elapse before we would hear the -Portuguese turn over in bed. Then we would hear broken and -unintelligible phrases; then strong ejaculations; then the scratching of -a match, and his astonished exclamation, “By Jove!” - -We would come forward with great hypocrisy, inquiring whether he was -sick or whether anything had happened. “By Jove!” the good man would -exclaim; “pests here, and pests everywhere. By Jove! Ugh!” - -The next day we would advise him to change his room; and he would do so, -hoping to find some relief; but we would repeat the same performance. - -So we managed to kill time during the dog-days, with these stupid -practical jokes. What most surprised me was that the Portuguese, who was -always the butt of them, never thought of changing his boarding-house -nor even gave his persecutor a drubbing. - -When I passed in my deficient subjects in September, I was obliged to -exert all my energy and resolution in order to do what I thought the -Portuguese should have done--that is, to change my boarding-house. The -attraction of a gay and idle life, my pleasant intercourse with Botello, -for whom it was impossible not to feel a compassionate regard, similar -to tenderness; the very defects and inconveniences of that abode, made -me much fonder of it than was expedient. But reason finally triumphed. -“Life is a treasure too precious to be squandered in boyish pranks and -stupid practical jokes,” I reflected, as I was packing up my effects -preparatory to taking myself off somewhere else. “If that unfortunate -Botello is an idle dreamer, and has made up his mind to fetch up in a -public hospital, I, for my part, am determined to acquire a profession, -take life seriously, and be my own lord and master. The people in this -house are poor deluded mortals, destined to end in nameless -wretchedness. I must go where one can work.” - -Notwithstanding all this, my heart felt heavy when I took leave of them -all. Pepa’s tears flowed freely at losing a good boarder who, she -declared, always paid punctually and never gave her the slightest -trouble. My eyes were not filled with tears, but I felt as much regret -as though I were parting with some of my dearest friends, while I -embraced Botello, and cordially pressed the hand of the good Portuguese. -As I walked behind the porter who carried my trunk, I explained my -emotion to myself in the following words: “This picturesque -irregularity, this predominance of feeling and jolly good humor and -contempt for serious life, which I observe in Pepa Urrutia’s house and -among her boarders, have a certain charm, inasmuch as they make up a -kind of romanticism innate in our countrymen,--a romanticism which I -also suffer from. That dwelling seems like a community founded not on a -basis of socialism but on a total lack of common sense and brains. I -have met several persons there who are so very good that they are -totally devoid of discretion or common sense. I suppose that I shall -miss them greatly at first, for that very reason, and shall feel -homesick; and as years roll on my imagination will invest everything -connected with them with a poetic glamor, even to the episode of the -bugs. Nevertheless, I am worth more than what I am leaving behind me, -because I am capable of tearing myself away from that place.” My pride -consoled me, by whispering to me, that I was better bred and more -energetic than Pepa’s boarders. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -My homesickness did not last as long as I feared. Everybody prefers his -natural element, and I did not find mine in the confusion and rollicking -ways of the Bohemian boarding-house. - -My new abode was in Clavel Street. It was in a suite on the fourth -floor, with plenty of sunshine; the rooms there were not so small as -those which are usually furnished for six shillings a day. Our landlady -was also a native of Biscay, for half of the boarding-house keepers in -Spain come from that province. But she was very unlike Pepa Urrutia. She -was as neat as wax, and could make most delicious stews of codfish and -tomatoes, as well as stewed tripe and vegetable soup, and other savory -messes of our national cuisine, and she had no wastefulness apparently; -consequently all the boarders had either to settle their bills in due -time, or to leave the house. In Doña Jesusa’s abode--we called her Doña -because she was middle-aged--the beds were scrupulously clean, though -hard and narrow. She kept the maid scrubbing and cleaning all the time. -A caged linnet sang merrily in the passageway in front of the kitchen. -On Christmas Eve she regaled us with almond pottage and sea-bream, and -there was some kind of humble comfort and domestic peace to be enjoyed -there. It is true that everything was scrimped and scanty; and, as our -rations were so meager, the five or six students of us who usually dined -there, ordinarily left the table unsatisfied. I don’t wish to complain -of the chocolate, which was pasty stuff of the color of a brick, nor of -the leathery corn-cakes, nor of our dessert of apples and pears, which -seemed like wax counterfeits to judge by the way we refrained from -touching them. - -“At least they ought to give us the dessert of raisins and almonds, -which they give to criminals condemned to death,” said Luis Portal, a -fellow from my province, who was of a humorous vein. - -I will not say much about the maccaroni soup, which Luis classified as -“alphabetical” or “astronomical,” according as the paste was cut in the -shape of letters or of stars; I will not dwell on the wretched pieces of -boiled meat, with a bit of bacon hidden behind a pea, and already served -out in portions, so that no boarder should take more than his share; nor -will I betray the flabbiness of the beef, nor the maggots we used to -find in the fish. At my age it is seldom that one bothers himself much -about the pleasures of the palate. Besides, on any boarder’s birthday, -or on any great holiday, Doña Jesusa would regale us with some rural -dish, upon which she had lavished all her skill, and we would then take -our revenge. Doña Jesusa always celebrated the principal holidays, and -observed them by having an extra dish on the table; so these -extraordinary occasions helped us to put up with her usual -parsimony--after the manner of the pleasing alternations between want -and plenty in our homes. - -Luis Portal was the son of a coffee-merchant in Orense, and as he was -very ingenious as well as fond of good living, he conceived the idea -that we might enjoy a cup of coffee, mornings and afternoons, without -great cost. So he purchased a second-hand coffee-pot in the _Rastro_, -which held enough for six cups; he also bought a second-hand -coffee-mill, got some of the best coffee, and two pounds of brown sugar; -and, when the cost was divided between us, we found that we had the most -delicious coffee at a very low price. If we could only afford half a -wineglass of champagne or of brandy! But we were brought to a -stand-still there. Our means would not reach thus far, for brandy was -ruinously expensive. Portal had a bottle in his trunk which he had -brought from home, so we made up our minds to make the most of that by -taking only one swallow at a time; and we kept to our resolution so well -that in two days we drank it all up. - -In fact, one could study in Doña Jesusa’s house. It was quiet and -orderly, and there were regular hours for everything. Sometimes the -landlady would fall to scolding the maid; but this familiar and expected -noise did not disturb us at all. So we all ground away to the best of -our powers, trying not to have to say “not prepared” when the professors -questioned us. The professor, who taught the principles of machinery, -used to frighten us a little by his habit of _going a-fishing_, that is, -asking questions out of the regular order. - -I have already said that I was not one of the most diligent in my -studies, nor was Luis Portal, either. We both used to fall back on -general knowledge, letting our wits float easily unburdened by a great -load in the memory, because we feared the particular exhaustion which -those arid and hard studies cause in weak brains, and which Luis called -“The mathematical topsy-turviness.” - -On the other hand, two lads who lived with us were so completely worn -out that we were afraid that by the time they finished their course--if -they ever did finish it--they would be ready for a lunatic asylum. One -of them, a Cuban, was gifted with a prodigious memory. With the aid of -this inferior but indispensable faculty, which can so deftly cover the -weakness of the intellect, he would fairly devour text-books, and as -long as it was not necessary to enlarge upon a subject, nor to add a -single word to the text, nor take one away, he would come off with -flying colors. But the slightest objection, or the gentlest -interruption, anything, in fact, which called for the exercise of mind, -would crush him; he would get completely addled, and could not give a -straight answer to the simplest question. - -Portal used to call him the little parrot, and make sport of his -serenity and his languid air; and laughed to see him always shivering, -even when close to the fire. When he put away his books, the West Indian -was like a bird released from his cage. At such times, in place of the -mental vigor to handle the heavy iron weights of science skillfully, the -poor exile would display the riches of a brilliant imagination, all -light and colors; or to be more exact, all spangles and phosphorescent -gleams. The commonest phrase, on issuing from his lips, took on a -poetic form; he could make rhymes as unconsciously as a mocking-bird -sings, and could talk in rhythmical and harmonious verse an hour at a -time. - -But the sarcastic Portal used to say that the Cuban’s poetry had -precisely the same artistic value as the tunes we compose and hum while -we are lathering our faces preparatory to shaving, and had as much -meaning read from the bottom up as from the top down. - -“We’ll call him the mocking-bird instead of parrot,” he would say every -time that the Cuban would display for us his poetical string of -glass-beads which usually occurred after he had filled himself with -coffee. - -The other assiduous student came from Zamora; he had a narrow forehead -and an obtuse mind. He had neither father nor mother, and the cost of -his education was met by his octogenarian and paralyzed grandmother, who -used to say: “I don’t want to die until you are a man, and have finished -your studies, and can see your future secure.” - -It was but a slight thread which bound the poor old woman to this world, -and the lad knew it; so he displayed a silent and savage determination. -As the Cuban studied with his memory, the Zamoran studied with his will, -always kept tense. His poor mental endowments obliged him to work -doubly. He neither took nights off on Saturdays nor had holidays on -Sundays, nor any excursions whatever. No correspondence with a -sweetheart for him; no--nothing but his books, his everlasting books, -from morning till night; an equation here and a problem there, without -relaxing his assiduity for a single moment, without being absent for a -single day, and never saying “not prepared.” - -“Have you ever seen such a fellow? He is always on the stretch,” my -friend Luis Portal would say; “why, he’ll be a civil engineer before we -are, if he does not burst his skin. How thin he is, and his hands are -very feverish at times. His breath is very bad; his digestion must -surely be out of order. No wonder it is, for he does not take any -exercise nor any recreation whatever. Salustiño, it is all right to get -ahead, but one must look out for his health!” - -I got along well with Luis Portal, and we became fast friends, although -our ideas and aspirations were so entirely different. Portal used to -like to show himself a sagacious, practical person, or, at least, gave -indications that he would be when he arrived at the age when a person’s -moral nature becomes well-defined and unified. - -We did not differ totally in our views; we had some opinions in common. -Portal, like me, was a champion of self-help, and despised restraint or -tutelage. He thought that a man should be self-sufficient, and should -take advantage of his earlier years, in order to secure freedom or -comfort for his manhood. - -“We don’t appear like Galicians,” he sometimes used to say, “for we are -so energetic in everything.” - -I did not agree with him on this point, and bade him remember the -adventurous and enterprising spirit the Galicians had displayed within a -short time past. - -“There’s no doubt about it,” he would say, obstinately, “we are more -like Catalans than Galicians, my dear fellow.” - -If we were much alike in our ideas of the way to order our lives, we -differed greatly in our estimate of the principal aim of life. - -Portal used to say: - -“Look here, sonny, I am not going to waste my time catching flies nor in -trifling pursuits. I’ll try to get money so as to set the world at -defiance. It is but a sorry joke to pass one’s life grubbing and in -want. My father is an awful miser; he will not shell out a cent, and as -yet I know nothing at all about many fine things there are going. I -don’t know whether by following my profession I shall ever succeed in -obtaining them; I believe that politicians and tradespeople know how to -make money better than professional men. It is true the two things are -not incompatible, and that Sagasta himself is a civil engineer. Anyway, -just let them give me free swing and I shall know how to fix things. If -I don’t get rich, put me down for a fool.” - -While I applauded his valiant resolution, yet I knew that my dreams of -the future differed from his. By “fine things” Portal meant to live -well, to drink good wines, to smoke good cigars, and perhaps marry some -beautiful, rich girl; while I, without despising all these good things -of the earth, did not long for any one of them in particular. I only -desired my freedom. I foresaw that with that I might obtain something -very noble, and worthy of being tasted and enjoyed; but not in a -material or prosaic sense; something like renown, celebrity, passion, -adventures, wealth, authority, home, children, travels, combats, even -misfortune. At any rate, it would be life--life rich, and worthy of a -rational being--who is not content simply to vegetate nor to gloat over -pleasures, but who must run over the whole scale of thought, of feeling, -and of action. I could not clearly define in what my hopes consisted, -but I thought that it would be degrading to lower them to Portal’s -material and sensuous level. - -Nor did I consider myself a visionary, or an enthusiast, or a dreamer. -On the contrary, I knew that if sometimes my head did lift itself toward -the clouds, my feet still remained firmly planted on the earth; and -that all my actions were those of a man fully determined to make his way -in the world, without being distracted by the siren of enthusiasm. - -If our creed for the individual had certain points in common, in our -creed for the nation, Portal and I utterly disagreed. We were both -Republicans; but he belonged to Castelar’s party, was a cautious -opportunist, and almost a monarchist by force of concessions; while I -was a radical, one of Pi’s followers, and firmly believed that we ought -not to carry out a conciliatory policy in Spain, nor accommodate -ourselves to old traditions in any respect whatever; but that, on the -contrary, we ought to press on resolutely and uncompromisingly in the -path of thorough and progressive change. - -“These concessions are ruinous and fatal to our country,” I would say, -“and by concessions in this case I mean something equivalent to -cheating. They say ‘concessions’ so as not to say capitulation or -defeat. If our forefathers, those upright men of 1812 to 1840, had -accepted a compromise and walked softly about absorbed in thought, a -pretty fix we should be in now! It hurts to cut out a cancer, and -causes disturbance in the system; but the cancer is destroyed. I can’t -understand this mania for compromising with the past, with absolute and -fanatic Spain. Your illustrious Chief--for thus we styled Castelar--is a -man of the world, fond of making himself agreeable to duchesses and to -crowned heads; and that’s what he calls holding to old traditions. Empty -words! Fortunately, the French in 1793 did not adopt that method, nor -did we in later times. Don’t talk to me. At the rate we are going, -within a few years Spain will be crowded with convents again. It is -absurd to tolerate such craftiness, and even protect it, as our most -liberal government does now. The Jesuits have again spread their net, -and every once in a while draw it in a little more. Some day they will -catch the whole of us. Of course, when such big bugs as they gain their -ends, they don’t care what comes after. ‘After me the deluge,’ as that -old scamp, Louis XV., used to say. No well-balanced mind can think that -in order to weaken and uproot an institution like Monarchy, you must -begin by strengthening and coddling it, and quietly implanting it in -the hearts of the people. I don’t swallow that ‘concession’ hook; don’t -let them try that business on me.” - -Portal would then get excited and answer me with equal energy: “Well, -you are simple, to say the least. Those who think as you do are in a -fool’s paradise. With your system, we would have an outbreak of the -Carlists in the twinkling of an eye, and Spain would be plunged in petty -civil war. I don’t like to think, either, what would happen on the -establishment of your famous federation. Within two months after the -establishment of the Galician canton, there wouldn’t be a rag left. All -would want to command, and none to obey. If you begin by wounding and -outraging the susceptibilities of a nation, it will surely result in -demoralization like that which followed the Revolution of September. -Rest assured, Castelar has a long head. It is the republic that is not -yet of age, not the king. Let the republic fall of its own weight, like -a ripe pear.” - -“Try some other dog with that bone. What they all want here is to be -chief. Sonny, there are no ideals; all that has collapsed and we must -bring them to life, believe me.” - -“Don’t spin me great yarns about your ideals,” Portal would reply, -getting angry. “Ideals are the cause of all our troubles. There is no -other ideal but peace, and to bring order into all this chaos, little by -little.” - -Another subject of dispute was local government. I was not at all modest -in my demands. I wanted the independence of Galicia. In regard to our -annexation to Portugal, we might discuss that later. We would see what -was most expedient. But it would be well for Portugal, also, to shake -off her ancient and fantastic monarchical yoke, and assent to the -Iberian Federation. - -“I don’t know what I’d give just to see your swinish ideal realized for -about twenty-four hours,” Luis would exclaim. “If Galicia should declare -itself a canton, not even the evil one would stay there. Make up your -mind to one thing: in Spain, the smaller the governing entities--is that -the right word?--the worse they are. The central government, as you call -it, makes a thousand blunders; but the provincial legislature would -make two thousand, the county justices three thousand, and the village -authorities a million. Fortunately, to talk about Galician independence -is as idle as to ask the fish and the sands what they know about the -sea.” - -“So you think that the provinces have no right to say, like individuals, -‘each one for himself.’” - -“Look here, don’t say anything about their rights. To talk about their -rights, is running off on a tangent. By rights and technicalities, I can -prove to you that Isabella the Second is to-day the rightful Queen of -Spain, and that her grandson is only a usurper. In rational politics no -rights nor mummeries exist. There is only what is advantageous or -otherwise, what is successful or unsuccessful. There is a sense of smell -and of touch, and although I can’t explain to you in what it consists, -yet it shows itself in the result. Radical ideas lead on to logical -absurdities. You can’t apply algebra to politics. And say no more about -independence. Our Spanish nation is an indisputable reality, even if -you do not believe it.” - -Irritated by his opposition, I would exclaim: “What a musty idea that -love of country is! The great thinkers laugh at the idea of patriotism; -you can’t deny that.” - -“Tell your great thinkers to go think in a stable. If they suppress the -springs of action, little by little, because humanity has always -progressed, we’ll no longer have any pretext for so much as living. You -know that I am not at all sentimental, but our country is like our -family, and there’s no need of poetry or sentimentalism to make us love -it and defend it with our lives. You think you settle everything by -dragging out that about old-fashioned notions. Well, old-fashioned -notions are inevitable and necessary and proper. We live on them. And -that old idea about our love of country is not the only one bred in our -bones. There are a great many others, my dear fellow, which we’ll not -give up for twenty centuries. I believe that in this country, in order -to foster the ideas which are to replace the old-fashioned ones, what we -must do is to be crossed with other races. All of us who are a bit -enlightened--why, let us marry foreign wives!” - -Sometimes we got to quarreling over these profundities, and would roar -at each other while loitering at the table or even while eating. These -disputes usually gave us the greatest eagerness in the play of mind on -mind; and even in the midst of our hottest arguments we felt drawn -toward each other by the conviction that though our opinions were so -antagonistic, we were able to understand each other and to spur each -other on. - -We had come to be inseparable. We helped each other in our studies; we -used to go to walk together, even when Luis was going to promenade -before the house of a certain outlandish sweetheart he had discovered; -we used to sit at the same table in the Levante Café; when we had a -little spare cash we would go together to our favorite resort--the -gallery in the Teatro Real. All of us students at Doña Jesusa’s were -musical; we were all ready to die for “L’Africaine,” and “Les -Huguenots,” especially the Cuban, who had a musical craze. His retentive -memory would store up not only the music but the words as well, and we -used to amuse ourselves on getting home by making him sing over the -whole opera. - -“Trinidad,” we would say, for that was his name, “Come now, sing the -love duet between _Vasco_ and _Selika_.” “Trinidad, there now, the -poniard scene.” “Come, Triny, sing that about _O paradiso_. Now about -_Copre fuoco_.” “Triny, sing the Protestant psalm. Now, the violins -start in--now come the oboe’s notes, when _Marcelo_ appears.” The -mocking-bird would sing all we called for, reproducing with astonishing -exactness the slightest details of the instrumentation, until at length -fairly worn out, he would exclaim, beseechingly: - -“Let me go to bed. I see you are making a fool of me.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -One morning, or, rather, afternoon, almost at the end of the term, we -rushed out of school, almost running from Turco Street to Clavel Street. -You must remember that from eight o’clock, when we took our muddy -chocolate, until half-past one, the hour when our drawing-class closed, -our recitations came along one after the other; and we had nothing to -sustain our strength, but now and then a sausage which we would -surreptitiously purchase from the janitor, or some scrap which we would -filch at the boarding-house and carry along. Smelling our lunch from -afar, we mounted two steps at a time, and on entering the dining-room, I -came face to face with my Uncle Felipe, who said to me, abruptly, “You -must lunch with me to-day at Fornos’s. I imagine that eatables are -scarce here.” - -“I should be glad to go, but I have so much studying to do just now,” I -answered, affecting reluctance. - -“Bah, you’ll not lose a year’s time if you don’t study to-day. Come -along, for we must have a talk--a talk about a great many things,” he -added, with an air of mystery. - -The truth is--and it would do no good to conceal it, because it will be -made very evident in the course of this story--that I had not merely no -affection or respect for my Uncle Felipe, but not even any sort of -attachment or as much as gratitude for the favors he was conferring upon -me. Quite the contrary. I know it does me no credit to say so, and that -ingratitude is the ugliest of faults; but I know, also, that I am not -naturally ungrateful, and in order to justify, or at least explain -myself, I will sketch in silhouette my Uncle Felipe’s physical and moral -characteristics, to do which I must allude to some matters that are of -the nature of family secrets. - -My baptismal name is Salustio, my paternal surnames are Meléndez Ramos, -my maternal, Unceta Cardoso. That name Unceta indicates plainly that my -mother’s father was a Basque, and came from Guipuzcoa, to be more exact; -and Cardoso--that’s where the mischief comes in. It seems that the -Cardosos of Marín--I was born in Pontevedra, and my mother’s family came -from the little seaport of Marín--were a broken branch of the Portuguese -trunk of Cardoso Pereira, a Jewish trunk, if there is such a thing. How -did the fact come to my knowledge that my mother’s ancestors were Jews? -Just find out if you can who tells these things to children. One day -when I was nine or ten, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, I -asked my mother: - -“Mamma, is it true that we belong to the Jewish race?” - -With fire flashing from her eyes, she lifted her hand and cuffed my ears -soundly, crying: - -“If you say that again, I’ll break all the bones in your body!” - -That chastisement left the impression in my mind that to be a Jew was a -sore disgrace; and two or three years later, when one of my -school-mates at Pontevedra threw it in my face, calling out, - - Cardoso’s a Jew, - And a tricky one, too! - -I seized my slate and broke it over his skull. - -I cannot be sure when I reached the religious crisis, or that period in -which boys scrutinize their beliefs, sift them and finally discard them, -feeling a pain from the loss of their faith like that caused by the -pulling of a double-tooth. I do not think I ever experienced such a -change, or felt such agonizing doubts, or such remorse and longing when -looking upon a Gothic church. I was naturally skeptical and took up, if -not with atheism, at least with religious indifference, as if it were -something perfectly congenial to me. - -I had never been “perverted” by reading any particular book, nor by -hearing a person of “dangerous ideas” discourse upon religion; nobody -“opened my eyes,” for I believe that I came into the world with them -wide open. As many young men cannot say exactly how and when they lost -the innocence of childhood in matters relating to the sexes, so I -cannot fix the precise time when my faith began to waver, for, indeed, I -do not recall that it was ever very steadfast. I believe that I was born -a rationalist. - -But it is singular that in spite of that, the insult, “tricky Jew,” -always clung to my mind like a poisoned dart. My fellow-students never -dared repeat it before me, but notwithstanding, I never could forget it -for a single day. When I was about to graduate, quite a tall, shapely -fellow by that time, I became acquainted with Don Wenceslao Viñal, a -queer individual, but a good deal of a scholar, mousing around in -libraries, filled with all sorts of strange learned trifles, and very -well informed in regard to Galician archæology and history. He used to -lend me old books, and sometimes carry me off to walk in the vicinity of -Pontevedra in search of beautiful views and ruined buildings. I used to -torment him with questions, to keep up my reputation as a studious -youngster. - -One day I got it into my head that Viñal might clear up my doubts in -regard to the Jewish question, so I boldly said: - -“See here, Don Wenceslao, is it true that there are families living in -Marín, who are of Jewish descent, and that the Cardoso family is one?” - -“Yes, indeed,” answered the bibliomaniac quietly, without noticing the -great eagerness of my question. “They are of Portuguese origin; that is -so certain that there is much antipathy shown them in Marín. It is said -that they have not abjured their faith, and that they still keep up -their Jewish rites; that they change their linen on Saturdays instead of -Sundays, and that they will not eat a bit of pork for love or money.” - -“And do you believe all that?” - -“For my part, I think it is all tittle-tattle and old woman’s gossip--I -mean in regard to their observing the Jewish rites; but that they are of -Jewish origin, cannot be denied. Furthermore, if I have time, I’ll -rummage through some old papers I know of, and we’ll disinter a certain -Juan Manuel Cardoso Muiño, a native of Marín, whom the Inquisition of -Santiago tortured and flogged, on the ground that he was a Judaizer. He -was besides an incurable leper. So you see I know all about it, you -curious fellow. I’ll look up the papers.” - -“No, no, it’s not necessary. I only wanted to find out--mere idle -curiosity. Don’t trouble yourself about it, Don Wenceslao.” - -For a month I was sorely afraid that the fellow actually would look the -matter up, or perhaps even send an absurd communication to some wretched -sheet in Pontevedra, as he used to do every two years, whenever he -imagined that he had discovered some important and unpublished data -which might serve as an historical key to the ancient kingdom of -Galicia. I therefore carefully avoided recurring to the conversation -about the Judaizers of Marín. This very precaution indicated that I was -not quite reconciled to the drubbing which had been inflicted upon Juan -Manuel Cardoso Muiño. - -Later on, when I left Pontevedra for Madrid to begin my studies -preparatory to the School of Engineering, I often recalled that stigma, -and tried to view it in a sensible light. It seemed to me absurd to -place so much importance upon a thing that, in our present social -state, has none whatever in the light of good judgment and the -philosophy of history. The Jews are, in fact, a people of noble origin, -who have given us “the religious conception”--a conception to which, -viewed either as a sublime product of the mind or as a lofty flight of -the imagination, I attributed great importance. - -In another point of view, also, that of social standing, it no longer -seemed right to me to despise Hebrews. The stigma of the Middle Ages has -been so far obliterated that wealthy Jewish capitalists intermarry with -the most aristocratic families in France, and give splendid receptions -and banquets at which the Spanish aristocracy deigns to appear. Aside -from these outward considerations, I used to fix my thought on others, -higher and deeper, and remembered that great thinker Baruch Spinosa, who -was of Jewish race; as were also Meyerbeer and Heine. - -In fact, as I assured myself again and again, there was not the -slightest reason for feeling so sore at having descended from the Jews, -except the unreason of an instinctive aversion, born of sentimental -hereditary prejudice. There was no doubt about it; the blood of the old -Christians which flowed in my veins, shrank with horror from -intermingling with that of the Jewish race. It is very singular, I -thought, that the inmost part of our being thus resists our will and -reason, and that, in spite of ourselves, there exists within us a -rebellious and self-governed something, over which our own convictions -have no control whatever, but which is only affected by those of past -generations. - -And here my Uncle Felipe again appears on the scene. I do not know -whether I remarked before that he was my mother’s brother, somewhat -younger than she was. He was about forty-two or forty-three at the time -our story commences, and was considered “quite good-looking;” perhaps -because he was tall, well-formed, and somewhat stout, with thick hair -and whiskers. But at the first glance my uncle showed all the -unmistakable traces of a Jewish origin. He certainly did not look like -the images of Christ, but resembled, rather, another Semitic type, that -of the sensual Jews, such as the scribes, Pharisees and doctors of the -law, as they appear in pictures and sculptures representing scenes in -the Crucifixion. - -The first time I ever visited the Prado Museum I was struck by the great -number of faces resembling my Uncle Felipe’s. Above all was this the -case in Rubens’s paintings, in those big, fat, florid Jews, with their -hooked noses and gluttonous, sensual lips, hard, suspicious gaze, and -with profiles like a bird of prey. Some of them, exaggerated by the -Flemish master’s heavy strokes, were caricatures of my uncle, but most -faithful ones. His red beard and curly hair made my uncle look precisely -like the figure of one of the executioners carried in the processions of -Holy Week. And to me it was very plain, it was my uncle’s deicide face -which from childhood inspired me with that stolid, sullen, insuperable -aversion, like that we feel for a reptile though it does us no harm. Not -even my rationalistic ideas, nor my scientific positivism, nor the -knowledge that I was supported and protected by that hated being, could -rid me of this aversion. - -“These are the tricks of art,” I reflected. “For five hundred years past -the painters have endeavored to bring together in half a dozen faces the -expression of avarice, of gluttony, cruelty, selfishness, and hypocrisy, -and so have succeeded in making the Jewish type so repugnant. Luis is -right. Tradition, that binding cement, that mold which gathers in our -very souls, is stronger than culture or progress. Instead of reflecting, -we feel; and not even that, because it is the dead who feel for us.” - -Sometimes, in order not to acknowledge myself guilty of fear or -childishness, I sought other reasons for the antipathy I felt toward my -uncle. I make a great point of personal neatness, while my uncle, -without being careless in his dress, was not very cleanly in his person; -his nails were sometimes not immaculate, and his teeth betrayed a tinge -of green. My dislike for my uncle was also stimulated by my seeing that -he, without any desert whatever, as the result of no moral or -intellectual qualities, had yet been able to secure a good position. I -do not mean to say that he was wicked or stupid, but that he was one of -those intermediate hybrid creatures, of whom we can never quite -discover, whether they are bright or stupid, good or knavish, although -they are strongly inclined to be the latter. A mushroom springing up in -the corruption of our politics, and growing rank in the deadly shade of -electoral intrigue, he was condemned by my puritanical and radical -ideas, with all the rigid inflexibility of youth, to the punishment of -general contempt. Although he was not as high in power as some of his -fellow-bosses, his unjustifiable prosperity sufficed to stir all my -youthful indignation against him. - -When my uncle was licensed to practice law, he owned some land and a -house or two in Pontevedra, which he had inherited from his father. This -property would not yield him an income of $1000 annually, at five per -cent. How it happened that this meager fortune was more than doubled in -bank stocks and four per cent. government bonds a few years later, let -any one explain who understands how such miracles are worked; so common -nowadays that they no longer surprise anybody. My uncle did not -practice his profession; the law was for him, what it usually is for -Spaniards in political life--an avocation, a passport. He went into -politics cautiously, swimming, but keeping an eye on his clothes. He was -elected provincial deputy several times, and picked away at his pleasure -in the fig-basket of offices. In order not to waste his money in -electoral campaigns, he contented himself with going to the Cortes only -once, standing for one of those vacancies which occur on the eve of a -general election, and which usually go to the benefit of journalists. My -uncle, by the favor of Don Vicente Sotopeña, the all-powerful “boss” of -Galicia, carried off the prize without spending a single penny; and took -the oath the very day before the House was dissolved, leaving the way -open to become a Governor, and later on--who can tell?--a Councilor of -State or Minister of Public Instruction. Governor he was very quickly, -sometimes as acting head of the province, sometimes as executive in his -own right. - -From time to time some good thing fell mysteriously into his lap; and -they had a great deal to say in Pontevedra about the expropriation of -some of my uncle’s property, which the city council bought at a fabulous -price. But it is neither pleasant nor profitable to recount these -transactions. My uncle was one of the petty third-rate politicians who -never dip into the dish without bringing out a fat slice. His method -consisted in cutting down expenses and adding up profits, without -despising the most insignificant. - -They used to say in his praise that he was long-headed. Now such a trait -appeared to me only another symptom of Judaism, though, perhaps I was -unjust in this, because many bosses in my part of the country, though of -the purest Aryan extraction, are not behind Uncle Felipe in that -respect. - -Sometimes I felt conscience-stricken on account of my dislike toward my -nearest relative. I accused myself of being without proper feeling, -because I was returning only hatred for favors. If my uncle were mean -and stingy, he deserved all the more credit for meeting a good part of -the expenses of my education. And I could not deny that my uncle showed -a liking for me, in his own fashion. When he was in Madrid, he used to -give me an occasional quarter to go to the theater; and two or three -times during his stay he would invite me to breakfast or dine with him -at Fornos’s; and he was never strict with me. He used to treat me like a -pleasure-loving young lad of not much consequence, questioning me about -my tricks and frolics, about my fellow-boarders’ pranks, and about the -girls over the way, who were amusing. - -Sometimes he even dropped into worse talk, boasting that he was an -expert in all matters relating to licentious amours. After dinner, when -the wine, the coffee and the liquors had flushed his cheeks, he would -display his expertness, treating of dubious subjects which sometimes -nauseated me. I did not dare to protest, for we men are ashamed to -appear innocent; but the truth is, my youthful palate refused that -spicy, too-highly-seasoned dish. Sometimes it happened, also, that at -night the indecent images called up by his conversation would assault -and excite me, until I would freely bathe the back of my head and neck -with cold water out of the pitcher. In winter as well as in summer this -proceeding would refresh my brain and enable me to forget myself in my -books again. - -Aversion, or rather antipathy, is as powerful a motive force as love, -and I was looking forward to the end of my studies as the close of a -patronage which I felt to be unbearable. To be my own master, to earn -enough money to live on, to pay back to my uncle what he had given -me--that was my dream; and I clung to its wings in order to reach the -top of the dry hill of machinery, construction and topography. - -Now that I have drawn my Uncle Felipe’s portrait, I will add, that when -we found ourselves in the little, dark, low room in Fornos’s, seated at -the table where the waiter was placing a dish of radishes, Vienna rolls, -butter, and the rest of the lunch; after making several remarks on -various unimportant subjects, he said, clapping me on the shoulder, but -without looking me in the face, “Guess what I have to tell you.” - -“How can I?” - -“Well, what use is it for you to study so hard, if you cannot?”--said -he, making an effort to appear jocose. - -I shrugged my shoulders, and my uncle added: - -“I am going to get married.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -It was doubtless in order to lead up to this piece of news that he had -ordered a caraffe of iced champagne, a luxury always to be enjoyed, and -the more so that the heat was beginning to grow intense and the air to -be parched in Madrid. I held the delicate glass, filled to the brim with -that cool, golden liquid, and could not repress a start of surprise, -when I heard his announcement, so that I dashed a little cascade of it -on the table-cloth. - -My uncle avoided meeting my gaze, though I stared at him with my eyes -wide open in amazement. He pretended to be picking up the bread crumbs, -and to be fastening his napkin to his button-hole, but he was looking at -me out of the corner of his eye. As he observed that I did not say a -word, he went on, with a forced voice: “I shall be very glad if you and -your mother approve of my marriage.” - -I, in the mean time, was absorbed in thought. Now I understand it. There -is some mystery hidden here. His next neighbor must have lost her -husband, or else they desire to legitimize their offspring. That’s the -way it always works with old bachelors. - -Finally, as I thought I ought to say something, I asked in a faltering -tone: “Does my mother know about it?” - -“Yes, I wrote to her yesterday.” - -“I presume that you informed her of the name of your bride-elect?” - -“Yes, it so happens that I first met her at Ullosa, at your mother’s, -and became acquainted with her there.” - -When the ice was once broken, my uncle kept on chattering very fast, -like one wanting to free his mind in a hurry. - -“It seems impossible that you should not know about it,” he said. “Last -summer your mother and she became very intimate. She is Carmiña Aldao, -don’t you know? Carmiña Aldao of Pontevedra.” - -“I don’t know her; however, the name sounds familiar. Perhaps my mother -may have written to me about her. I don’t know. You know I had no -vacation last summer.” - -“That’s true. Well, she is the young Aldao girl, the daughter of the -owner of that fine property called the Tejo.” - -“Is she an only child?” I inquired, somewhat sharply, thinking perhaps -self-interest was the motive for the marriage. - -“Oh, no! she has a brother who also lives in Pontevedra.” - -“Well, I don’t know her,” I repeated. “But anyhow, if she is going to -marry you, I’ll have plenty of time to become acquainted with her.” - -“Of course you will, as I am going to take you to the wedding, my boy. -As soon as you pass your examination, you must go there with me. The -thing will not take place before Carmen’s birth-day, and between now and -then I have yet to find a house, and to furnish it,--so you see!” - -“Ah, so you are going to live in Madrid?” - -“Yes, the bride wants to do so. I’ll take you to the wedding, you may be -sure of that. We shall be married at Tejo! Look here, I don’t know what -your mother will think of it. She has a temper somewhat peculiar. So if -you write to her, tell her that I shall not give you the cold shoulder, -when I get married. Until you finish your studies----” - -“I believe I didn’t say anything about that,” I exclaimed, while for the -second time the glass of champagne trembled in my hand. - -“Well, I do. Don’t get excited, for there is no cause for it. I suppose -that I am master of my own actions, and do not hurt anybody by getting -married.” - -“Who talks about its hurting?” I cried, feeling myself turn pale under a -rush of sudden hatred which tempted me to throw myself upon that man. - -“Well, if you take it in that way----” - -“I don’t take it in any way whatever! You are entirely free to do what -you like; and if you do anything for me, it is not because I have asked -you for it. I’ll pay back to you the money you are spending on my -education, if I live.” - -In spite of the fact that he always got very red, when animated by -eating and drinking, my uncle also turned pale. His lips were -compressed, and his eyes gleamed with anger. - -“If you were not a whipper-snapper, I’d be tempted to answer you -roughly. What is bred in the bone will come out in the flesh. You are -just like your father, the most ungrateful and ill-behaved man in the -world.” - -“Be kind enough not to mix up my father’s name in this matter, with -which it has nothing whatever to do,” I replied, feeling that if I did -not exert my self-control, I was liable to seize the bottle and smash it -over his head. - -“I only mentioned your father to say that though one always tries to -help you, you are always growling and scratching. However, I was not -going to get married without telling you about it. It is easy to see -that you don’t like it at all. Come, my boy, have patience. It was not a -thing to consult you about beforehand. The bill, waiter,” he added, -knocking his spoon against the glass. - -We had raised our voices pretty high and some of the loiterers at the -adjoining tables turned their heads and looked at us. I felt ashamed, -and frowning, though trembling inwardly, shook the crumbs off my coat -and made a movement to rise. My humiliation had a real and immediate -foundation, seeing my uncle put a bank-note on the plate on which the -waiter had presented the bill. That note I desperately wished I could -have taken out of my own pocket. I breathed more freely (boy-like) when -a good deal of change in silver was brought back--more than five -dollars. With the tip of his forefinger, my uncle pushed a couple of -nickels toward the waiter, and getting up, took down his hat from the -rack, saying dryly: - -“Let’s go.” But on emerging from the dark restaurant into the sunshine, -he immediately controlled himself, and, with the adaptability which -characterized him in his business relations and political schemes, -extended his hand to me, saying, half in joke: - -“When you feel better, come to see me. I want to show you your -prospective aunt’s photograph.” - -I returned to my boarding-house in a very bad humor, feeling -dissatisfied with myself, but without knowing very well the cause of my -mental disturbance. All the animosity I felt toward my uncle was not -sufficient to prevent me from recognizing the fact that, on this -occasion, I was the one who had conducted himself badly. Luis agreed -with me on this subject, when, on questioning me in the evening as to -the cause of my ill-humor, I told him what had occurred. - -“Well, my dear fellow, you were altogether in the wrong, and your uncle -was perfectly right. You must have known that he would get married some -day.” - -“I don't care a rap whether he marries or not,” I exclaimed, hotly. -“What does it matter to me, anyhow?” - -“It matters a great deal,” replied the sensible fellow. “It makes a -great deal of difference to any nephew when his uncle, his mother's only -brother, gets married. It matters so much to you that you are much -worried over the match. But all that you can do is to make the best of -it. Make concessions, you eager fellow, for that's the way government is -carried on.” - -“Don't talk to me about matrimonial opportunism!” - -“There isn't a subject with which opportunism will better square than -this very marriage. Your uncle is going to get married? Well, then all -you have to do is to make the best of the situation; try to get into the -good graces of your dear little aunt--all the more so as she is really a -charming girl.” - -“Have you seen her?” - -“No, I have not seen her; but when I was in Villagarcia last year, -taking sea baths, I met some girls from Cambados who told me all about -her. I recall it perfectly.” - -“What did they say?” - -“Oh, girl's talk. That she is handsome, and plays the piano very well; -that they were going to make her father a marquis, and so forth and so -on. It seems that the girl is not a beggar. I understand that her father -has a fat income.” - -“And how is it that my uncle can carry off such a prize, rich, -beautiful, and young? He must have nerve!” - -“Are you crazy? What is there to despise in your uncle? Because he did -not care to study much, that does not prove that he is not quick-witted -and a great manager. He has almost as much political influence as Don -Vicente himself, and is certain of a political future. Come now, don’t -be stupid. Go to the wedding and try to ingratiate yourself with your -dear little auntie. Don’t be glum, for it will be all the worse for you -if you are.” - -“Well, now, you surprise me. If any one should hear you run on, who does -not know me, he would think that I am deluding myself with false hopes -in regard to inheriting my uncle’s money, and that I am disappointed at -seeing it escape from my grasp.” - -“That’s not the question,” argued my friend, resenting my words a -little; “I don’t assert that you are capable of any meanness for the -sake of a bit of cash, or of running after it. But what I do say is -that, until you finish your education, you cannot get along without your -uncle--and I fancy that you don’t want to be left in the lurch.” - -Before many hours passed, I began to see that my friend was right, and -had talked common sense. And as our own errors seem plainer, when we -see them committed by other people, whom we consider inferior to -ourselves in mental capacity and culture, I more clearly perceived the -necessity of making the best of the situation, after reading a letter -which the postman brought me the next day. - -I recognized its handwriting at once, and saw by its thickness that it -was stuffed with furious complaints and outpourings, such as spring to -the lips or flow from the pen under the shock of unexpected events. In -order to be able to read it quietly, I repaired to a little coffee-house -near by, which was entirely deserted at that hour. - -The waiter, after the regular “what’ll it be?” brought me some beer, and -left me in peace. I took a swallow, and while enjoying the bitter flavor -of the fermented hops, broke the seal, and pored over the thin sheets -written in a clear, small, Spanish hand-writing, with several slight -errors in spelling, particularly in the use of double _r’s_ which -indicated great vehemence of temper; without a suspicion of punctuation, -or division into paragraphs, or capital letters. Although it may seem -strange, all these things lend a certain forcible iteration and rapidity -of movement to this kind of angry, feminine letters, really doubling -their effect. - -It was just what I had imagined it to be, a furious tirade against Uncle -Felipe’s marriage, alternating with the narration of events, some of -which were entirely new to me. I will copy a few paragraphs without -adding so much as a period or comma, or disentangling the grammar, or -suppressing the repetitions: - -“You see now Salustio how much a poor mother suffers without any hope -but that of seeing you well established and being somebody to-morrow or -next day and her greatest hope that your old prig of an uncle might -leave you something whose duty it was to do so if he had a conscience -and the worst of all is that he will have children and you will be left -with your mouth wide open without what belongs to you for although I -call it yours I am not talking nonsense for you must know that your -uncle in the division of my father’s property for my mother did not have -so much as a bed to die on but father left a handsome property and your -uncle grabbed it almost all up and left me almost in the street though I -don’t know how he worked it and set the trap so that I only had three or -four crusts while he ate up all the soft part of the loaf himself I know -not how he consented to give me Ullosa that was a wonder for he took all -the houses and lots in Pontevedra and afterwards fixed up a fine bargain -with the city council and frightened the brave schemers as soon as your -father died whom Felipe bothered dreadfully because he was empowered by -the clergy and compromised him frightfully you can’t recollect about it -for you were but a child when your father died who is now in heaven well -at that time I said to him with great dignity of manner Felipe it is one -thing to be a good sister and another to be obliged to beg and I have a -son and no bread to give him so I speak freely I shall have the -partition looked into for there was cheating there and in this way I -cannot live for I am going to educate my son and he goes on to reply -very patronizingly don’t feel anxious I will not abandon you but will -give your son the best profession to be found don’t go to law for law -suits are the ruination of a property and only fatten the lawyers be -quiet silly creature for whose shall be what I have I am not going to -carry it to the other world and as for marrying I shall not marry any -sooner than the devil does a loose ox is hard to catch I can swear to -you that your uncle said this and I haven’t changed a single word.” - -Without doubt, on reaching this point, the moral necessity of attending -to her punctuation must have suddenly taken possession of my mother’s -mind with great force, and in order not to do things by halves, she -added a whole string of periods and two exclamation points side by side...!! - -“Oh my son any one who trusts the word of a man without religion or -conscience and now he comes out with his nonsense that the idea of -getting married came to him suddenly I don’t know what he saw in the -Aldao girl she is quite plain and in delicate health and in sober -earnest I don’t know how it will turn out for in her own house she has -the bad example her father sets by being mixed up with her mother’s maid -who has been there for years and two other little girls in the house -who knows if they are daughters or nieces of the gadabout anyhow the -girl takes up with your uncle so they say solely in order to get away -from that infernal place where they abuse her and don’t give her enough -to eat but I don’t know how your uncle will treat her for he comes of a -bad race and is the very image of the Jews who come out in the -procession of Holy Thursday I feel ashamed of being his sister for God -had reason in singling him out for punishment mark my words for I know -that God is very just and they want you to visit them on your vacation -to see their beautiful place I am a silly if the Evil One didn’t tempt -me to bring Carmen Aldao home next summer it will be different I’ll -shine by my absence and we’ll see how they get on if they leave you out -in the cold we will have the partition papers looked into and there will -be an awful time for your uncle cannot make a fool of me and I am ready -to go to law as long as I have any clothes to my back.” - -I went on reading the letter, between swallows of the beer. It affected -me differently from what my mother had intended. My uncle’s schemes to -get hold of my inheritance, all that about the partition, instead of -arousing in me justifiable indignation, soothed my mind. I was delighted -to have reason for complaining of my uncle instead of being grateful to -him, and now that I knew his wicked conduct, it seemed to me that the -throbbing of my deadly hatred for him was diminishing. At least I no -longer need feel conscience-stricken for hating him; and that somewhat -consoled me. - -I at once wrote my mother a very discreet letter, the very quintessence -of good sense. I advised her to restrain herself, insisting that it was -very unlikely that my uncle who had helped us so far, should leave us to -our own resources at the last, and saying how useless and futile -litigation and lawsuits seemed to me. What had been done, should be left -as it was; for it was of no use to kick against the pricks. It was -absurd to think that a man in the prime of life, strong and -well-preserved, should keep single in order to please us. A few idle -words could not possibly bind him to remain unmarried. As for attending -the wedding or not, we would discuss that matter later. Meanwhile, -calmness and patience. - -I read the letter to Portal, who applauded it greatly, saying: - -“That is the right way; make concessions, compromise, and avoid the -breakers. That’s what I like. Follow my plan, and at least conform -outwardly, for nobody can see what your inner feelings are.” - -“Outside or inside, what in thunder does it matter to me that my uncle -is going to marry? How you do talk!” I exclaimed, feeling hurt. Portal -wagged his head, and I added, “My mother asserts that my uncle’s -betrothed is homely.” - -“Who knows? Perhaps she is, and it would be all the better if she were. -Anyhow, she has a pretty name, Carmiña Aldao, don’t you like it?” - -“The name--oh, well, that’s good enough.” - -“You should try to captivate your uncle’s betrothed,” resumed Portal, -after a short silence. “Yes, captivate her, that’s a good idea. Make her -love you, my boy--I mean no harm--like a brother, or a son, or however -you wish. Anyway, try to make her like you. But do it slyly, skillfully; -be polite; no outbreaks or scandal. Your uncle is an old rooster, and -she is nearer your own age. But be careful, youngster, for you are a bit -like the youthful Werther. Take care, don’t let us have any family -dramas.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -I will pass over all the events of the end of the term and examinations, -for all that the reader most interested in my future will care to know -is that I passed that year; I had my books at my tongue’s end. - -The boy from Zamora was likewise successful, but Portal and Trinito did -not come off so well; they had not worked hard enough. The Cuban bore -his disappointment with his usual indolent composure; but Portal tore -out his hair, and laid the blame on the professor’s spite, and on the -influence artfully brought to bear in favor of other students, the -practical result of which had been to put all the strain on him. - -“They have cut me square in two, they have fairly smashed me!” cried the -unhappy fellow, forgetting all about that pleasant theory of his in -regard to adjusting one’s self, making concessions, conforming and -waiting. His calmness in the field of theory turned into furious -impatience in actual practice. But he had felt so sure of success that -year! - -I left him fuming with rage, and went to tell my uncle the good news of -my success. I felt greatly pleased, because it seemed to me that every -step forward was another victory over my hateful protector, and was like -breaking one of the links of the golden chain which bound me. My uncle -lived at the Embassador’s hotel, but the _concierge_ told me, with a -knowing air: “He is usually at his new house, at this time of day. He -does not stay here much of the time. Don’t you know, sir? He has rented -a house--but he does not sleep there yet. Where is it, do you ask? Why, -Claudio Coello Street, No.----” - -I took a car and got off almost at the door of the new dwelling, going -up to the second floor. I did not have to ring the bell, for the door -was wide open, and in the reception-room there was a man seated -Turk-fashion, and sewing strips of fine matting together, with a big -needle. - -My uncle was pacing up and down in a good-sized parlor, bare of -furniture, and was agreeably surprised to see me. - -“Halloo, Paul Pry! You here! Come in and take a look at everything.” - -“They gave me your address at the hotel, so I came to tell you----” - -“Why, come in at once! I want you to look around. What do you think of -the house, eh? It is very good for the price. But then, the street is -not very central. The parlor is not fixed yet; they have not brought the -_tête-à-tête_, nor the large mirror, nor the hangings. One loses all -patience with these upholsterers! The boudoir and the bed-room are -farther along. Come in, come in!” - -I entered and looked abstractedly at the boudoir, which was the extreme -of commonplace, with its white marble mantle-piece, its arm-chairs -upholstered in raw silk with a plush border of a darker shade, its tiny -writing-desk, and its theatrical-looking toilet-table, dressed with -imitation lace and adorned with bows of ribbon of the same color as the -curtains. The narrow looking-glass over the mantle-piece did not have a -gilt frame, but one of plush like that on the arm-chairs and sofa. My -uncle wanted me to observe all this style, for he was like all niggardly -people, when they make up their minds to spend anything extra, in -wanting people to know about it. - -“Do you see the little mirror?” he said. “That is the way they frame -them now--a fashionable freak. And don’t think that they are any -cheaper. Whew! they cost three times as much, my dear fellow. That empty -space there, in front of the window, is for the piano. My _fiancée_ -plays beautifully.” - -From the boudoir we passed into the _sanctum sanctorum_, the nest, or -bedroom, which was a roomy apartment with stuccoed walls. The wooden -bridal-couch, which was very broad and quite low, and had a carved -head-board, was standing in the center of the room. - -“The two mattresses are still wanting,” murmured my uncle, with a -complacent smile. “Just fancy, the upholsterer has got it into his head -to make them of rich, costly satin. I told him that cotton damask was -good enough. If I had not been careful to furnish the house, your -prospective aunt, who does not know what people are in Madrid, would -have been swindled right and left. Look at those commodes; would you -believe that the two cost me twenty-five dollars? People are so -extravagant nowadays. Come now, and take a look at my study.” - -We went through the hall and into his study, already completely -furnished with its large desk, like a cabinet officer’s, and a big -book-case which seemed ashamed to contain nothing but heavy government -reports and half a dozen foolish and indecent novels, paper-covered, and -very dirty. My uncle opened the glass doors, and taking a handful of -books by Paul de Kock, Amancio Peratoner, and the Chinese Da-gar-li-kao, -gave them to me, saying, with a suggestive smile: “I make you a present -of them, my boy. Don’t get corrupted by reading them, do you understand? -Just amuse yourself for a moment, and that’s all. Married men cannot -keep such contraband goods in their homes. Send after them, or do you -prefer to take them with you?” - -I answered, that I had no time to delve in such serious writings, nor -did they, in fact, amuse me. - -From the study we proceeded to visit the dining-room, which was already -furnished with sideboards and chandeliers, and then inspected even the -humbler regions of kitchen and storeroom. - -Back of the dining-room there was a cheerful little room, with a window -overlooking some vacant lots. - -“This is our spare room,” said my uncle; “so we shall be able to -entertain a guest.” - -After thus examining the entire house, we went back to the study, and my -uncle took out a cigar, and offered me another one, praising the brand; -but, as I did not smoke, I gave it back, so that he might be able, in -his own words, “to pay off his debts with somebody else.” While he was -taking the first puff, I told him the good news about my having passed -my examination. His face lighted up with sincere joy. Two or three times -I saw him carry his hand to his pocket, instinctively, while he murmured -in a smothered tone, as he still held his cigar between his teeth: - -“Well done, man; well done! So another year has passed, and you only -have two to go. Bravo! At that rate you’ll soon be building bridges -over the Lerez. I vow, I’ll push you forward on the works ordered by the -legislature. One must know how to pull out the stops. You may understand -all about problems in algebra, and be able to fling equations and -logarithms about; but I know all about the key-board.” - -When I rose to leave, my uncle got up his resolution, put his hand, not -into his vest pocket, but into his inside coat pocket, brought out his -pocket-book without saying a word, and took out a greasy bank-note. - -How often have I observed that brief struggle in my uncle’s mind between -his parsimony and the quick instinct which notified him when and why it -was necessary, advantageous, or extremely agreeable to spend his money. -I never saw him spend a cent without perceiving that effort and inward -struggle in his soul--the painful and longing good-by which he gave to -his money. It was evident that reason advised him to make the -expenditure, but always had to fight with his temperament. To -superficial observers, even if my uncle did not seem lavish, he was far -from appearing avaricious; but to me, who studied him closely, with the -cruel sharp-sightedness of hatred, his owl’s beak revealed avarice, -though checked, kept latent, and in that larva-form to which -civilization reduces so many passions or frenzies that, in other days, -when the impulses of the individual had greater power, used to reach a -tragic development. - -My uncle was a frustrated miser; reflection, the power of surrounding -circumstances, as well as the desire for enjoyment and comfort which -modern society fosters, all counteracted his disposition--for nowadays -an old-fashioned miser would appear absurd, and nobody would have -anything to do with him. But under the cover of the successful man of -the present, who knew how to acquire riches in order to enjoy them, I -could see the Hebrew of the Middle Ages, with his greedy and rapacious -claws. Whenever my uncle let any money go, he would turn slightly pale, -his jaw would drop, and his eyes would be cast down as though to conceal -their expression. - -Well, he handed me the bank-note, saying: “This is to enable you to -attend my wedding. They are selling cheap excursion tickets now, -round-trip, do you understand? Yes, they are good for two months, or I -don’t know how long, so that will be very convenient for you. Of course, -you’ll travel second-class, for third-class is too uncomfortable. You -can write at once to your mother what day you expect to start. The -sooner the better, because you’ll not only get more pure country air, -but you’ll save your board at the same time. Your mother is at Ullosa, -and from there to Pontevedra and Tejo is only a step. Come a few days -before the wedding. I don’t know as I told you; it will take place on -the day of Our Lady of Carmen. There is room enough for everybody at -Tejo. It is an old castle, which has been rebuilt and fixed up recently. -You’ll not be in the way. Try to make your mother go also; I am afraid -she is so queer that she’ll not do so.” - -It was getting late in the afternoon, and the man at work at the matting -had finished his task; so my uncle put the key in his pocket, and went -out with me. We turned down the street, and got on a horse-car. When we -came to the Puerta del Sol, instead of going toward the hotel, we took -another car and proceeded toward Ancha de San Bernardo Street. - -“Come with me,” said the Hebrew. “As it is now vacation time, a little -recreation will not harm you. You’ll see some fine people.” Although I -suspected what his “fine people” might be, I could not help feeling -surprised when a very fine-looking girl opened the door for us. This -handsome damsel had on a red calico wrapper, with pink flowers, low -slippers, and wore her hair in that style of large bands pasted down -over the ears which the women of the lower classes in Madrid have -discarded at present for cork-screw curls. - -I warmly admired her raven black hair, her beautiful form, her cheeks, -where the fresh color struggled to show itself through a thick coating -of rice-powder, which she had daubed on hurriedly. Her velvety eyes, -bold, but sweet by reason of their fine lashes, fastened themselves upon -mine, and said something to me, to which I immediately responded in the -same mute language. - -Behind this lovely specimen of the Madrid type appeared the head of a -younger girl; not so good-looking, thin, mocking, and combed and -powdered like her elder sister. - -My uncle entered with the air of a lord and master. - -“Come here at once, all of you. I have brought you a young man, and you -must be careful how you treat him.” - -Saying this, he led on over the loosened tiles of the passage-way to a -small parlor, without any furniture excepting a sofa and two arm-chairs -with calico coverings, an old mahogony shelf, several cheap and gaudy -chromos, a little table on which stood several bottles of mucilage, -broken plates, brushes, and scissors; scattered all around, on the -table, chairs, sofa, floor, shelf, and I believe even on the walls and -the ceiling, were endless remnants of silk, satin, and plush; blue, -yellow, green, pink, and of all the colors of the rainbow, mixed up with -strips of paste-board, circular pieces of the same, gilt and silver -tinsel, ribbons and galloons, chromos and paints, flowers, and the -thousand other accessories belonging to the pleasing trade of covering -and decorating boxes of sweetmeats “for weddings and christenings,”--for -this was the official occupation of those buxom girls. A woman, about -fifty years old, shriveled, untidy, with very weak eyes, was busy in -decorating a lilac-silk bag by pasting on each side a bunch of lilies -and an angel’s face that she had cut from a chromo containing at least -ten legions of angels. She saluted my uncle, saying, “Good afternoon,” -in a dry manner, and went on pasting lilies and angels. Then my uncle, -turning toward the girls who were following us, tapped each one under -the chin in succession, and introduced them to me as “Señorita -Belén--Señorita Cinta.” - -After that, drawing near to the table, he exclaimed, jestingly: - -“What a barricade! Come, girls, clear things away! I must treat my -nephew.” - -The old woman then interfered, exclaiming harshly: - -“That’s it! waste the afternoon for us, so that when the time comes to -deliver the work at the shop, we’ll just tell them that there was too -much chattering, isn’t that so? As for things to eat, there’s nothing -here but a miserable dish of rice and mussels.” - -My uncle’s lips contracted, as they always did previous to his -disbursing any money, but that movement was only momentary, and drawing -forth a coin from his vest pocket he gave it to the smaller girl, -saying: - -“Cintita, just get some sherry wine, and biscuits, and a few oranges -also.” - -This argument was convincing to the old woman. - -“Gents, I’ll go into the next room to finish my work of sticking on -these angels so as to leave the table free; make yourselves at home.” - -They brought the wine and biscuits, and got some cracked, dirty glasses -from the depths of the kitchen, and the scene became quite animated. -Belén took down her guitar, and sang something or other in that low, -hoarse voice, which reminds one of the cooing of a dove, displaying all -the grace of her southern beauty, and showing her pretty, arched foot, -which rested on the round of the chair. - -Cinta brought out a tambourine, and put it on her head like a hat, -laughing merrily all the while, and amusing herself by throwing -orange-peels at us. Then she got a little old India crape shawl out of a -drawer, and put it on, while she made all sorts of contortions, saying -that she wanted to have a regular spree. - -Then ensued bravos, sky-larking, pushing, racing round the room, chairs -upset, and pieces of silk flying through the air. Afterward they made us -strum on the guitar, and sing, while the girls danced. The wine flowed -freely; my uncle breaking the bottle against the edge of the marble -table, for we had no corkscrew. As we soon dispatched the contents of -that bottle, he told Cinta to bring up another one. - -“I have spent all the cash,” answered the girl. My uncle scowled a -little, and said: - -“But I gave you four dollars.” - -Belén came to her rescue, exclaiming, “Come now, old fellow, you must -not be mean. We need a lot of things and they will not trust us at the -grocery for our pretty faces. Keep quiet skin-flint, you stingy thing -you!” - -What with scolding and joking, they got two dollars more out of the -Hebrew, so we had something “to wet our whistles.” - -My uncle’s face was flaming red, and it seemed as though the blood would -burst from his veins; if his tongue was thick, his eyes, on the other -hand, gleamed more than ordinarily, and a beatific expression of -material enjoyment was clearly marked upon his face. - -I also felt the effects of the wine, for as it was adulterated, it kept -rising to my nose; and this, together with the natural excitement of -youth in the society of two girls--one a proud, and the other a saucy -beauty;--but either capable of turning the head of an anchorite, and -much more so of a student,--made me beside myself. - -Nevertheless, it would not be fair to say that I was tipsy. I had made -up my mind never to fall into the ignoble condition of a drunken man. I -had often seen Botello completely fuddled, stumbling around, or falling -on the floor like a block, or wild and beside himself; and I could never -forget the shock it gave me, to see that handsome creature converted -into a beast, talking nonsense, or bellowing like a calf. Luis Portal, -the man of the golden mean in self-indulgence, used to say: - -“In jolly company, when there is some advantage in it, one may get a -trifle elevated, but never drunk. On the contrary, you should keep cool, -and try to enjoy yourself at the expense of the tipsy fellows.” - -I followed this maxim, and was thus able to keep within bounds, not -losing my head. I did foolish things, but knew that I was doing them, -and rather enjoyed it. - -The frolic was getting more obstreperous every moment. My uncle took out -three dollars more; Cinta went down several times, now to get wine, now -a shrimp salad, now fruit and preserves. Finally, he bled again in order -to have some coffee and liqueurs brought up. In short, there was got -together at last an appetizing mixture of dinner and supper. The old -woman must have feasted herself on the platter of rice and mussels, all -alone out there in the kitchen, for that commonplace dish did not make -its appearance. - -We did not leave that diabolical den until after one o’clock. The mamma -lighted us down the narrow, crooked stairs, with a kerosene lamp which -gave out a ray of sickly light. When we reached the street, the first -breath of fresh air aroused me as if from a dream. While we walked down -Ancha Street, my uncle smacked his lips over the jolly time we had had. - -“What do you think of the girls, eh? There are none of that kind in our -part of the country. Which do you like the best? Belén, of course. She’s -just splendid. How lovely she is! I presume, of course, you are -discreet, so mum’s the word. There is no need of talking yonder about -these fair ones we run across here; they are innocent creatures, and -harm nobody. We must have a good time, my boy, for the very reason that -I am about to become a sober, married man. It is well enough to go on a -lark once in a while. And then, Belén and Cinta are not so exacting as -many others; although, if they could, they would make me scatter money -like dust all day long.” - -“Why didn’t you give them one or two bank-notes at first? It would have -been better than to keep haggling over one dollar after another.” - -“Pshaw! Are you perchance some Russian prince? Such creatures, if one is -free-handed with them, get so high and mighty you can’t stand them. If I -had shown them my pocket-book! I am even sorry that I carried it with -me, because in such rollickings, one never can tell----” - -He suddenly stopped, entirely recovered from the effects of the sherry, -and pale and frightened, hastily thrust his hand into his pocket, -crying: - -“Why! my pocket-book! It is not here! Daggers and knives, it isn’t, it -isn’t! Those thieves have stolen it. Three bills of a hundred each, at -least. Thunder and Mars! It is not here, I tell you. Let’s go and make -them give it up.” - -“Search for it carefully,” I murmured, with difficulty concealing my -annoyance and disgust. “Search your pocket, they have not taken it, -that’s nonsense! I think your overcoat bulges out at the side, there.” - -He took a deep breath; the pocket-book was found. He felt of it -joyfully, stopping under the light of a lamp-post to make sure that all -the money was there. After he had searched the depths of his -pocket-book, he recovered his good humor and said: “And, besides, it -contained my Carmen’s photograph. A nice fix I’d have been in, if they -had stolen it. Belén would have been capable of digging out the eyes -with a big pin.” - -He handed me the photograph, which was a small one, such a we give to -those we love. I saw a youthful face, with a high, broad forehead, the -hair dressed in a simple style, a pair of bright eyes with a gleam of -passion and strength of will which surprised me--for I had pictured my -uncle’s sweetheart as mild and yielding, passively submitting to -everything put upon her. Nor did I find her as plain as my mother had -led me to expect. She had one of those faces, which, without being -beautiful, attract your gaze the second time. - -I left my uncle at the door of his hotel, and went to bed not far from -daybreak. - -I should never end if I were to tell how Portal teased me the next day. -He smelled of my clothes, and then smacked his lips, exclaiming: - -“Aha! You’re a sly bird, you rogue! _Odor di femina!_” Suddenly he burst -out laughing: - -“Ho, ho! What’s all this!” - -On the left leg of my trousers were stuck two little heads of angels, a -rose, a bunch of lilies, and I know not what other properties. I had to -make a clean breast of it, and give him a faithful and detailed -description of the sweetmeat-box artists. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -How glad I felt to start for Galicia! In Madrid the heat had become -stifling, while at home one could enjoy the pure, fresh air, filled with -the sweet fragrance of the country. It seemed as if I had never breathed -before, and that my exhausted lungs required that moist, balmy, and pure -air in order to perform their functions properly. - -I am not one of those Galicians who feel homesickness very intensely, -but, nevertheless, the first group of chestnuts which I recognized in -the distance, appeared to me like a friend bidding me welcome home. - -My mother was at Ullosa, so I went there at once, partly by stage and -partly on foot, for one has to make use of all sorts of locomotion to -get there. I arrived at sunset, and my mother came out into the road to -meet me. With joined hands, and arm in arm, we walked over the space -which separates Ullosa from the highway. - -After she had wiped away the tears which invariably gather in a mother’s -eyes when she sees her son after a long absence, her first volley of -questions was as follows: “So your uncle has hired a house, eh? Is it -true that he has furnished it very handsomely? That’s what a man does if -he has money. They say that the bridal-bed is sumptuous. What rent does -he pay? Something frightful, I presume, because everything is up to the -sky in Madrid. And do you know whether he has yet secured a servant? It -will be a wonder if he does not hire some horrid jade. That’s the way -the city council’s funds fly off. That’s why they do such mean things. -Don’t say that they don’t, or you’ll drive me wild, Salustio.” - -“But, my dear mother, what difference does it make to us?” I exclaimed, -when I could get in a word edgewise. “How am I to blame because my uncle -gets married?” - -“Because you said it was all right,” she replied, stopping to take -breath, while her lips quivered like children’s when their little -troubles come upon them. - -“You seem to think my uncle would be guided by what I say. You must -make the best of it, dear mother, and try to bear patiently what you -can’t help. I am sure that is the best way to act, on all accounts, even -for our own advantage.” - -My mother fixed her eyes on me. She was two years older than Uncle -Felipe, and had kept her good looks remarkably, thanks to her robust -health, to the simple and healthful life she led, and perhaps also to -her lack of serious thought and resulting intellectual weariness. She -was as brisk as a bird, and her excitable and changeable disposition -kept her from getting bilious, and whipped her blood into a more rapid -circulation. Her moral fickleness, her inability to rise to the region -of general and abstract ideas, allowed my mother to keep all her energy -and ability for action. It was her strong will which guided her -thoughts; and the predominance of the emotive and practical elements was -revealed in her smooth, narrow brow, in the capricious play of her lips, -and in the questioning, restless gaze of her ever-watchful eyes. - -My mother never went to Pontevedra except in cold weather, or in Holy -Week, or at Easter to take communion. The Ullosa place was kept up the -year round. With all her reviling of the Cardoso stock, my mother had -much of the acquisitiveness, the sordid economy, and the mercantile -spirit which characterize the Hebrew race. How much affection can do, -and how it tangles up logic! Those traits which disgusted me in my uncle -appeared like virtues in my mother, and really were so, if it is a -virtue to make the best of circumstances. With a miserable four or five -hundred, which was the most that could be got out of our property with -the utmost squeezing, it was little short of a miracle to be able to -live as she did with comparative comfort, pay no small part of the -expenses of my education, and even hide away inside of a mattress five -or six _onzas_ for a rainy day. She who could succeed in doing this, was -not an ordinary woman. - -My mother always wore the Carmelite habit, to save expense for dresses, -of course. She had linen woven from the flax raised on her land,--that -strong, coarse, brown, Galician linen, which never wears out,--and made -shirts and sheets out of that. Out of a vineyard of sour grapes she made -a little claret with which she would regale me during my vacations; from -the rye raised in her fields, she made the bread she ate; a couple of -pigs, fattened at home, kept her pot full all the year round; she raised -chickens, to furnish her with eggs; she got her wood from a bit of a -grove; she kept a cow, and sold it at the fair at a good profit when it -no longer gave milk; other cattle she used to have in partnership with -her tenants, making some small gains in that way; she distilled brandy -from the grape-skins, and preserved plums in it,--in fact, she did -everything possible to get the juice out of her money and her property, -thus accomplishing those prodigies of good management and frugality, -which a woman is only able to perform when she lives alone. Forced by -her sex to confine her business undertakings within narrow limits, she -made up for it by looking carefully after the smallest details, and not -wasting the value of a pin. Healthy, high-spirited, indefatigable, she -passed every moment of the day in some useful occupation; and I even -suspect that she sometimes did sewing or embroidery, in a secret way, -for other people. - -“I shall be as proud as a queen the day you finish learning your -profession, and begin to earn money,” she would say, when I used to -express my amazement at seeing her so eager and so busy. - -So I studied with greater zest, desiring to be able to make the last -years of my mother’s life easy and tranquil. But that was a mistaken -idea; for, even if my mother were to have heaps of money, she would be -just as active, given her temperament and disposition. She was so -overflowing with life, and was so energetic and determined to get what -she could out of the world, that far from inspiring compassion, she -should have excited envy in those of us who dwell much within ourselves, -and finally make of our imagination a prison cell. - -My mother’s disposition was of the kind that makes people happy and -strong, and arms them against the friction and disappointments of life. - -It was singular, but when I did not see my mother, I idealized her, and -gave her credit for certain traits and weaknesses associated with her -sex, which she was far from possessing. For example, I was strongly -persuaded that she had passionate religious convictions, and sometimes I -would respond to the profane jokes of my companions, or exclaim when I -gave utterance to some audacious assertion: “Heaven grant that my mother -may never know it.” If I ate meat in Holy Week, or remembered how long a -time had passed without my going to church, I would say to myself: “I -hope my mother wont find it out.” But the fact is that my mother, in -spite of her Carmelite habit, attended to her church duties only -perfunctorily, and never displayed any great concern for the welfare of -my soul. - -That is not to say that the high-spirited Galician woman had no positive -beliefs. Doubtless my mother inherited from her Jewish ancestors the -most deeply-rooted of her religious convictions, namely, that God was an -angry, vindictive and implacable being--the God of the Old Testament -who “visits the sins of the fathers upon the children, to the third and -fourth generation.” She believed naïvely that God does all this -punishing unmercifully, right on the spot; and she also imagined that he -was particularly disposed to pour out all the vials of his wrath upon -those who troubled her, Benigna Unceta, for any cause or in any way. -Thanks to her incapacity for general ideas, she concluded that the Deity -was greatly interested in her personal wrongs and resentments. So much -so, that when she stopped on the slope between us and Ullosa, quite out -of breath with climbing and the vehemence of her anger, she exclaimed, -in a prophetic tone: - -“You’ll see how God will punish your Uncle Felipe in His own way. You’ll -see. Just wait; he’ll not get off scot-free.” - -I protested against this singular supposition, and, as though a heavenly -voice from above joined with me in proclaiming mercy and charity, just -then the _Angelus_ sounded from the little church near by, with subdued -melancholy and great poetic effect. - -My mother turned abruptly and inquired: - -“Are you going to the wedding?” - -“Yes, indeed, and you ought to go also. It is scandalous that you should -not go.” - -“Don’t say anything to me, for I have no desire to be present at such a -frightful scene. There never was, and never will be, such an absurd -thing. Heaven grant that your uncle may not get an unfaithful wife! I -wouldn’t wager a copper that he will not, though, marrying at his age! A -nice thing it would be if I got married now!” - -I battled against her invincible obstinacy asserting that my uncle was -at a very good age to marry, and that we should appear ridiculous if we -were to get angry at such a natural and proper procedure. - -“That’s all bosh!” cried my mother, furiously. “A fine old mummy you are -defending! I know what I say, and I also know what people tell me. God -will square his accounts, though. Don’t imagine that I am crazy. Oh, no; -but he’ll take a tumble, you’ll see! And the girl who marries him, I -tell you, has no decency. I would not have your uncle if he were -covered with gold, and if he were not my brother, I’d----” - -My mother gave me for my supper a country dish, which she knew I was -very fond of--corn-meal fritters with new milk. She would take out the -fritters sizzling hot, and let them get cool, and form a crust; then she -would make a hole in the middle, and pour in there the richest of milk -out of an earthenware pitcher. While I was dispatching this delicacy of -Homeric simplicity, she talked and questioned me incessantly, and would -always come back to the starting-point--my uncle. “He is now mixed up -here in an affair, and I don’t know how it will end. They are having a -terrible row, and it seems to me that they’ll settle him this time. It -is another scrape, but much worse than that one about the lots and -houses, though that was bad enough. The trouble now is in regard to the -contract for the provision market; they say that your uncle goes shares -in the profits with the contractor, and that they have allowed him -fearful opportunities for extortion; but that, nevertheless, the man has -not fulfilled a single part of his contract, absolutely not one, so the -municipal authorities are going to sue him. And they are not what they -were last year, your uncle has no hold there. He’ll have to go on a -pilgrimage to the boss----if Don Vicente does not help him out of this -scrape it’ll be all up with him. But he’ll help him; one is as bad as -the other. By the power of Don Vicente’s protection, they can do what -they please in this province. As your uncle is to go to live -in Madrid, they are going to hire his house in Pontevedra for the -post-office--another fat thing for him! Nowadays, everybody has to be -wide awake. A pretty state of things! I am not a man, but if I were, I’d -go on a pilgrimage to the boss’s house, like everybody else. I am saying -this to you confidentially; but be careful what you say anywhere in -public. Don Vicente has a crowd of dependents and powerful friends, and -it would not do for him to take a dislike to you, because he may be -useful to you some day.” - -On seeing her so demonstrative, I caught her by the waist and kissed her -on the neck and cheeks, and took the occasion to say, laughingly, “My -dear mother, in order to present myself at Tejo with some show of -propriety, I ought to take a wedding gift to the bride. My uncle may be -as bad as you choose, and may have served us a thousand scurvy tricks, -but anyway, he is now paying a good part of the cost of my education.” - -“He doesn’t do it for nothing. Look here, my boy, if we were to claim -what rightly belongs to us,--and who knows if he’ll keep on paying your -expenses?” - -“Why, that makes no difference, dear mother; that makes no difference. -Even if he should not, I must have the present.” - -“But I haven’t a single cent! Do you think I coin money here? Yes, much -we are coining! It would cost me a pretty penny to do what you want.” - -“Well,” said I, resolutely, “then there’s no need of talking any more -about it. I’ll go to Pontevedra to-morrow, and pawn my watch or my -boots, for a present there must be. I have made up my mind to that.” - -The next morning my mother came into my room to awaken me. She had a -basket of ripe cherries which she left on my bed for me to eat; and in -her hand were two little gleaming disks, which she held up to the height -of my eyes. They were five dollar gold pieces. - -“What do you think of that? I have had trouble enough to scrape this -together. Now go and squander it; throw it away, since you are bound to. -I don’t want you to say that your mother treats you badly, when she -doesn’t need to, in any way whatever.” - -I threw my arms around her neck, and gave her three or four hearty -smacks, while she pretended to ward me off, exclaiming: “You clown, you -schemer, go out to walk, little boy!” - -With the ten dollars, I bought in the city a brooch with two crossed -anchors and a little Cupid in the center, with a small ruby and two -pearls. It was one of those senseless trinkets which fashion invents, -but which good taste casts aside. But at least, now I was not going to -the wedding empty-handed. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -From Pontevedra to San Andrés de Louza, and thence to the country seat -of Tejo, was a pleasant excursion rather than a journey. I crossed at -the mouth of the river in a launch, which I hired in Pontevedra. Landing -on the opposite bank, I resolved to go on foot for about a quarter of a -league, through the most beautiful country one can imagine. From the -beach, showing the footprints so clearly marked in the fine, silvery -sand, and lined by great clumps of flowering aloes, to the foot paths -overrun with honeysuckle, and the cornfields rustling in the breeze, it -all seemed like an oasis; and my soul was filled with that vague joy -which, when one is young, is born of the excitement of the senses, and -with a sort of inexplicable presentiment, a messenger of the future--a -presentiment, which without necessarily being a forerunner of happy -days, yet excites us as though they really would follow. - -As the country-seat of my uncle’s prospective father-in-law was situated -on high ground, I could see it from the very cove where I landed. To be -more exact, all that I could see clearly was the square, turreted tower -and the windows, stained red and gold by the setting sun. The rest of -the building was hidden by a mass of verdure, probably a group of trees. -Anyhow, I could see enough to guide me on my way. I left my valise in -the village, saying that I would send after it on the following day, and -went on. - -I was ascending the sloping path, whipping with my cane the rustling -corn and bushes, whence the startled butterflies flew; when, at a turn -of the road, I was greatly surprised to see a man sitting on a rock. My -surprise may seem strange at first, but the fact is the man was a friar. -For the first time in my life I was looking at a friar in flesh and -blood. I was astonished, as if I had thought that friars were no longer -to be met with, except in the canvases of Zurbarán or Murillo. - -All the knowledge I had of a friar’s dress was derived from pictures I -had seen in the museum, or from having seen Rafael Calvo, once, in the -Duke of Rivas’s drama, _Don Alvaro_, or _The Force of Destiny_. I -perceived that the friar seated on the rock was a Franciscan. His coarse -gown fell in statuesque folds over his limbs, his hood had fallen on his -shoulders, and in his hand was one of those coarse felt hats, with the -brim looped up like a French abbé’s, with which he was fanning his brow, -wet with perspiration, breathing heavily all the time. Soon, putting his -hat on the ground, turning his elbows out, and resting his open hands on -his knees, he remained plunged in thought. - -I observed him with eager curiosity, imagining that by the simple fact -of his being a friar, his mind must be filled with strange or sublime -thoughts. - -He lifted his right hand, and thrusting it into his left sleeve, took -out an enormous blue-and-white checked handkerchief from a kind of -pocket formed in the folds of the sleeve, and blew his nose vigorously. -Then he arose, took up his hat, and began to go on, just as I came up to -him. - -I did not know whether to come close to his side, or to fall back, or to -pass on simply wishing him good afternoon. Without any known cause, that -man attracted, interested and fascinated me. I had two antagonistic -ideas about friars: on one side was the friar of the cheap chromos after -Ortego--a gluttonous, drunken, dissolute creature, a man without any -sense of decency looking out from under his cowl; on the other, was the -friar of novels and poems,--gloomy, mystical, visionary, with his mind -enfeebled by fasting, and his nerves shaken by abstinence; fleeing from -womankind, avoiding men; dyspeptic, assaulted by temptations and -scruples. And I was eager to know to which of the two classes my friar -belonged. - -As though he had read my thoughts, he stopped on hearing my footsteps, -and faced me, while he said in a resolute and commanding tone: - -“Good afternoon, sir. You’ll excuse me for asking you a question. Do you -come from San Andrés de Louza, and are you going to the Aldao’s Tower?” - -“Yes, sir, I am going there,” I answered, somewhat surprised. - -“Well, if you have no objection, we’ll go along together. I know the -way, because I have been there before. I take the liberty of making this -proposition, as I imagine that whenever one finds himself traveling -alone in the country, he is not offended--” - -“Offense! Quite the contrary,” I replied, pleased with the friar’s -martial air. - -We went on side by side, because the path was widening and allowed us -this privilege of sociability. I then noticed that he wore no shoes, but -had on sandals which were fastened over the instep, thus leaving free -his toes, which were fleshy and well-shaped like those of the statues of -San Antonio of Padua. He at once began to question me. - -“You must pardon me, for I am very frank, and like to have people know -each other. Are you, perchance, a relative of Carmiña Aldao?” - -“No, sir, but of her betrothed. I am his nephew.” - -“Ah, I know now; the one who was studying in Madrid to become a civil -engineer; Benigna’s son.” - -“Just so. How is it you know so much about me?” - -“I’ll tell you. The Aldao family honor me with many confidences, and -that’s the way I come to know so much about those details. And how do -you get on with your studies? I know also that you are very assiduous, -and have a brilliant future before you. And I am very glad to make your -acquaintance. I say so sincerely, for I am not in the habit of paying -compliments. But you don’t know my name yet. I didn’t tell you, because -a poor friar does not need to introduce himself, as his habit is a -sufficient introduction. My name is Silvestre Moreno, your humble -servant.” - -“And my name is Salustio----” - -“Yes, I know, I know. Salustio Meléndez Unceta.” - -“I see that you know everything.” - -“I wish I did,” replied the friar, with a good-natured laugh; and then -stopping suddenly, he said to me imploringly: - -“Couldn’t you do me the favor to give me a cigarette?” - -“I don’t smoke,” I answered, with a certain hauteur, which afterward -seemed absurd to me. - -“You are quite right; one need the less. But I, oh, dear, I am so -corrupted that--well, never mind, I must have patience till we get to -Tejo.” - -“How long is it since you have smoked?” - -“Heigh, ho, since yesterday afternoon. I have been staying at the house -of an old lady in Pontevedra, who is a very respectable widow and lives -there all alone. And you can well understand that neither she nor her -maid smoke. I cut myself, when I was shaving in the morning, as I had a -saw instead of a razor, and that lady was so kind, that she bought me a -little English razor, fine enough to cut a thought; here it is,” he -added, pointing up his sleeve. “I haven’t used it yet. So you see, after -that present, which must have cost her considerable, I couldn’t be mean -enough to ask her for money for tobacco.” - -“But,” cried I, infected by the friar’s frankness, “don’t you carry a -copper of your own?” - -“Why, to be sure I do not, most of the time, nor half of one.” - -“How is that possible?” - -“Why, good gracious, my vow of poverty--is that only a joke?” - -“I am very sorry I don’t smoke,” I exclaimed, “if only for this once.” - -“Don’t distress yourself, friend, for we friars don’t mind it when we -cannot indulge a bad habit. Besides, when I get to Tejo I’ll have more -good things than I want. You’ll see how Señor Aldao will rush forward to -offer me a cigar.” - -He said this with a cheerful and philosophical air, and proceeded on his -way in good spirits, walking faster than I could. A question kept -springing to my lips, and I finally ventured to put it, “Doesn’t it -mortify you to go without shoes?” - -“No, sir,” he replied, slowly, as though trying to recollect whether it -really did annoy him. “I did miss my shoes at first, or rather, not -them, but my stockings, because I never wore any but those which my -mother used to knit for me, and they were very heavy. Oh, I am mistaken; -I have worn stockings, and that of the finest silk, not so very long -ago. I say this, that you may not fancy, because I am a friar, that I -have never enjoyed such luxuries. However, that is foreign to our -subject. But in regard to your question, which I wish to answer -categorically, you must know that since I have been going around without -shoes, I have never suffered with corns, chilblains, bunions, or -anything of the kind.” - -As he spoke, he thrust out his foot, which was really well-shaped, and -had none of the deformities caused by wearing shoes. - -“And just observe, sir, what habit will do. It seems to me now that I am -cleaner this way. I have come to think that shoes and stockings serve -only to hide nastiness. No one who goes without shoes has really dirty -feet, no matter how much he may walk or how hot it may be; especially if -he has the habit I have”--suiting the action to the word, he drew aside -a few steps, and approaching the little brook which flowed by the side -of the pathway, between reeds and briers, took off his sandals, tucked -up his gown a little, and thrust first one foot and then the other into -the flowing stream. After he had dried them on the grass, he put on his -sandals, and looked at me with a triumphant air. I smiled under the -impulse of an idea, or, rather, a very warm feeling, which might be -expressed in these words: - -“What a queer friar, and how nice he is!” - -“Come now, I can guess what you are thinking about,” said he. - -“Perhaps you can. Go on, and I’ll tell you if you are right.” - -“Well, then, you are thinking under your coat, there, that we friars pay -little attention to our manners, that we are very democratic, and don’t -understand the ways of society; and, besides, that we are very crafty in -our dealings with people.” - -“No, indeed, sir, by no means! I was thinking----” - -“Call me Father Moreno, or simply, Moreno, if it is the same to you. -That ‘sir’ sounds too formal for a poor friar.” - -“Well, Father Moreno, what I was puzzling over--but there, I am afraid -if I tell you I shall offend you.” - -“By no means, by no means. I like frankness.” - -“Well, I was thinking that friars do not generally have the reputation -of being so--so much devoted to bodily cleanliness as you are.” - -While saying this, I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye, -examining his hands, his ears, his neck; all which outwardly betray a -person’s habits of cleanliness. - -“I even thought you considered it sinful to care for the person. They -say that the chief merit of some ascetic saints consisted in their -carrying a thousand inhabitants on their persons; and having their hair -and beards--colonized!” - -Instead of getting angry at my impertinence, the friar burst into the -heartiest laugh I ever heard in a man’s mouth. - -“So that’s what you thought,” he said, when his mirth would allow him to -speak. “And you, who appear to be so well informed a young fellow, -don’t you know what the glorious St. Teresa used to say? Why, she would -bathe herself thoroughly, and then exclaim, ‘Lord, make my soul like my -body!’ So you thought that all we friars were stupid pigs! No wonder you -felt startled when you met me! Have you ever met any friars except your -humble servant?” - -“To tell the truth, you are the first I ever met in my life. -Furthermore, I thought you no longer existed. Of course, it was -nonsense; for I know that they are re-peopling the convents of various -orders in Spain. But, honestly, I had the fancy that friars were only to -be found in paintings, in the figures in churches, and, -consequently--but it was all a mistake, of course.” - -“Well, here you see a live one. It is the same with friars as with the -rest of the world, and you will readily understand that there are many -different tastes and dispositions, though all are governed by the same -rule. Some are careless, while others pay more attention to dress. But, -as you are aware, our sacred garb does not allow us to carry about many -perfumery bottles, or an array of essences and pomades. How nice a -friar would look using Fay’s wash, or _Kananga_--or what the deuce do -they call that perfume which is so much the rage just now?” - -“I see that you know all about it, Father,” I exclaimed, laughing in my -turn. - -“It is because I am often with some very stylish and elegant ladies. -Don’t feel surprised that I desire to clear myself, and all poor little -friars, of the bad reputation you give us. Just fancy, our Holy Founder -was so fond of water that he even composed some fine verses proclaiming -it pure and clean! I speak to you with entire frankness; I do like neat -people, but I don’t like excessive care of the person. That seems to me -sickening and disgusting. Goodness! This wasting a half hour by a young -fellow in trimming and polishing his nails--that may pass in a -woman,--but for a man who wears a beard--bah!” - -As he said this, the friar folded his arms, and turned toward me, as if -tired and wanting to rest. - -In the reddish light of the setting sun which so clearly defines the -form, I could see that his was in perfect harmony with that profession -of manly faith. He was robust, without being stout, and of good height, -without being very tall. His dark, olive complexion indicated a bilious -temperament, and his skin was bronzed by journeying exposed to the -blazing sun. His very black eyes were quick, lively, and well-shaped; -with a piercing look which seemed to search the very depths of your -soul. His neck, left uncovered by his tonsure, indicated strength; and -so did his hands, large, strong, and flexible--hands which might serve -alike gently to elevate the Host, or to use the spade, the cudgel, or -the musket, in case of need. His features did not belie his hands, and -were drawn as though by a skilled sculptor; uniting that calmness and -firmness to be seen in certain statues. On his upper lip and in the -middle of his chin he had two dimples, which almost always indicate a -kindly heart, destined to modify a naturally severe disposition. I even -noticed his ears, which were wide and almost flexible, like a -confessor’s--ears with a great deal of character, such as ecclesiastics -usually have. - -“What a friar he is! What a vigorous nature he seems to have!” I kept -thinking in surprise. - -We held on our way. We must now have been quite near to the Aldao place, -but we could not reach it until nightfall, which was rapidly -approaching. The fragrance of the honeysuckle was more penetrating; the -dogs thrust their noses through the fences, and barked at us with the -greatest fury; far away you could hear the owls hooting; and the new -moon, like a fine line traced in the sky, showed itself over the river. -The friar uttered a slight exclamation, thus proving that he appreciated -the beauty of the scene. - -“What a lovely afternoon! Ah! but this is a beautiful country! The more -you see it, the more you admire it. And how cool it is! Too much so for -me. For my part, I prefer the climate of Africa.” - -“Have you been much in Africa?” - -“I should say so! Why, I am half Moor.” - -“And have you journeyed over the desert?” - -“Certainly; and without any tents, or store of provisions, or escort, or -any other traps, such as explorers usually carry. I traveled around -mounted on a mule, with a couple of hens tied to the pommel of my -saddle; drinking water from the pools; and sleeping under the wide -canopy of the stars. Thus I have wandered far over those sandy wastes, -and had many an adventure.” - -I should have liked to question him about his African travels, but just -then I was pricked on by a greater curiosity, as we drew near to Tejo -and could see its white walls and a great black blotch of trees, as it -seemed to me. I wanted to test the exactness of my mother’s information -by finding the opinion of a person whom I already believed to be -extremely impartial and straightforward. - -“Tell me, Father Moreno, are you acquainted with the family into which -my uncle is to marry? What sort of a person is his betrothed? What kind -of a man is her father?” - -“Of course, I know them,” replied the friar, putting, as it were, a mask -of discreet reserve over his frank face. “They are a very nice family, -and your uncle’s betrothed is--a very good young lady, indeed.” - -“And--is she pretty?” - -The friar was not shocked by my question, but answered freely: - -“I am but a poor judge of that. Perhaps I may be mistaken, but I will -confess that she does not appear to me to be ravishingly beautiful. I -would not call her ugly, but neither--Although I say I’m a poor judge, -yet it is not because I have not had an opportunity of seeing women; -for, over there in Tangiers, Tetuán, and Melilla, there are Jewish and -Moorish women who are considered very beautiful. You’ll be surprised, -but I have some Moorish friends who thought so much of me that one of -them showed me his harem. Among those people it was a great mark of -esteem, I tell you.” - -“Ah,” I murmured, unable to keep back a mischievous remark. “So the door -of the harem was opened to you?” - -“Yes,” replied the friar, with great simplicity; “and do you want to -hear a description of my friend’s favorite, the chosen one, I say, of -this Moorish friend of mine, who was a very wealthy man in that place?” - -“How did she look? Very enticing?” - -“I have already told you that I am but a poor judge, and can only -describe her outward appearance; and you may decide for yourself. She -wore a rich silk dress, cut low in the neck, which was covered with -diamond necklaces and strings of big pearls. She had on at least two or -three. She wore large gold bands on her arms, like those described by -Cervantes in his novel _El Cautivo_. Haven’t you read it? Well, that was -the kind. Then there were cushions and cushions and more cushions; some -under her arms, others under her hips, and others behind her head. Their -purpose was to prevent her chafing herself, for she was almost bursting -with fat, which is the secret of beauty among Moorish women. This one -could not stir. Do you know how they used to fatten her? Why, with -little bread balls, and in such numbers that it could no longer be -called fattening a woman, but cramming her. She was smoking through a -tube as long as this, and in front of her she had a little table inlaid -with mother-of-pearl, which was covered with sweetmeats and various -drinks.” - -“Ah, you old rogue of a friar!” I thought. “You pretend to be very -simple and innocent, though you are really the greatest and most crafty -rogue in the world. You are boring me with all this gossip about the -Moors so as not to drop anything about my prospective aunt. But I’ll -catch you yet! Just wait!” So I said aloud: - -“Father Moreno, as you can describe a Moorish woman so well, you can -surely draw the likeness of a Christian woman. At least, you might -inform me whether my uncle’s betrothed is stuffed with bread balls, or -if she has a slender and graceful figure, like the palm-tree of the -desert. Come, Father!” - -We were ascending the stony path which runs along the inclosure of Tejo, -and there we could not walk side by side. So the friar turned around and -faced me, in order to reply. The last rays of the sun had disappeared, -but in the twilight I could see his eyes gleam, while he answered me -with a strange mixture of sportive grace and earnestness: - -“Sir, pardon, I pray you, a poor friar for expressing himself in a -manner conformable to the habit he wears, and to the rule he obeys. I -may describe the person of a Moorish woman, a heathen, because, if God -has made it beautiful, it is the only thing we can praise about her; -since her soul is wrapped in the darkness of error. But you, yourself, -have called your uncle’s betrothed a Christian woman; and I, for my -part, am fully persuaded that she is worthy of that name; so--pardon me, -if I express myself with too much warmth--I was going to say, that name -so sublime. A Christian woman’s soul is the first, and perhaps the only -thing about her worthy of praise, and any other eulogies would not sound -well, coming from my lips. A body which incloses a soul, redeemed by the -blood of Christ! Ah! I am not going to praise her to you with pretty -words, or flowers of rhetoric. If I assure you that your future aunt is -indeed a Christian woman, I have said all that I have to say.” - -“Is she so very good, Father Moreno?” - -“Excellent, excellent, excellent!” - -The tone in which the friar repeated this adjective, left no room for -further urging. Besides, we had reached the gate. Nevertheless, when -the father seized the knocker, I could not refrain from asking, in an -insinuating tone: - -“And do you come to the wedding out of pure friendship, Father Moreno?” - -“Oranges!” he exclaimed, in the harsh tone which usually emphasizes the -most innocent expletives; “Why, I have come to perform the ceremony!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -The ponderous gate swung open, and we found ourselves in a court filled -with shrubs and creepers, which climbed all over the front of the villa, -almost concealing its architecture. The vines and shrubs were covered -with blossoms, and gave out a delightful fragrance--that divine perfume, -beyond the reach of the chemist’s art, which can be distilled nowhere -but in the mysterious laboratory of Nature. - -Seated on stone benches and rustic iron chairs, enjoying the moonlight, -were several persons who rose as we entered and came forward to welcome -Father Moreno with joyful exclamations. They noticed no one but him at -first, and that gave me time to study them attentively. My uncle was -foremost, dressed in a white duck suit, and by his side was a young lady -of medium height, of light and elegant figure, who uttered a cry of joy -on seeing the father. On the left was a man pretty well advanced in -years, bald and with a mustache--the father-in-law. Behind him stood a -very young, little priest, almost a boy; and near him a tall girl of -about sixteen years, and a little girl who could not have been more than -twelve. - -They all gathered around the father, bidding him welcome with a -confusion of voices. At last they remembered that I was in existence, -and my uncle introduced me: - -“Señor de Aldao, this is Benigna’s son, my nephew,--Carmiña, this is -Salustio.” - -My future auntie looked at me abstractedly. All her attention was -absorbed by the father. Nevertheless, after a little while she turned -toward me, and asked whether my mother would come, for she much desired -to see her. I made excuses for my mother’s absence as well as I could, -and Señorita Aldao returned to her attentions to the friar. “Wouldn’t -you like some water, orangeade, ale, sherry wine? A glass of milk? A sip -of chocolate?” - -“My child!” cried the father, pushing her back familiarly, as one would -brush away a fly, “If you want to give me something I would wish,--good -gracious, give me half a cigarette, although it were of straw!” - -In the twinkling of an eye two cigar-cases flew open, and Señor Aldao -and my uncle offered him their cigars, and several matches were -immediately lighted. My uncle’s Havana cigar was given the preference. - -“You may well enjoy smoking it,” said he, for he was fond of praising -what he gave away. “It came from no one less than Don Vicente Sotopeña.” - -“Ah, of course he wouldn’t have any but the very best--plague on him!” - -“Sit down, sit down and smoke,” they all besought him. - -Seated at last, with the cigar between his lips, he proceeded to answer -the questions of each and every individual. They wanted to know when he -had left Compostela, and how were the other friars, and what was going -on there. - -I sat a little apart from the rest, overcome by a singular feeling of -abstraction, a sort of mental intoxication. Reclining on a bench, I -perceived that at my back the branches of a magnificent creeper were -spread like green silk tapestry. It was the Datura, or “Trumpet of the -Day of Judgment”; and it did not require a very vivid imagination to -compare its gigantic white blossoms to cups full of exquisite perfume. A -double jasmine, entwined with the Datura, stretched itself along the -wall. Those pleasant odors, set astir by the light breeze, mounted to my -brain and quickened my young blood, inspiring me with an eager longing -for love,--an ethereal, pure, and deep love--an absorbing passion, ready -to defy all laws, both human and divine. When we make a change of -abode,--even though our fortune may not be altered,--when we enter a -circle of unknown people, our imagination and self-love become excited, -and those to whom we were totally indifferent yesterday, suddenly become -of interest to us, and we feel anxious in regard to the opinion they may -form of us, and to the feelings with which we inspire them. - -The government official, the army officer, who is sent to a distant -post, has a vague idea of the place where he is going to reside. But -scarcely has he set foot in it, when the past is blotted out, and the -present rules over him with the great power of the actual, and the -stimulus of the novel and unknown. - -In that way, excited by my new horizon, though somewhat mortified in the -bottom of my heart because they paid no attention whatever to me, I -imagined that those people, barely seen for the first time, strangers to -me a few moments before, would yet have some decisive influence on my -heart or fortune. I began by imagining that in the bosom of that family, -so peacefully gathered together enjoying the moonlight, a very strange -moral drama was being unfolded, of which the friar undoubtedly knew the -mystery. - -There are everywhere dramas behind the scenes, and secret histories, I -reflected, with my brain intoxicated by the delightful fragrance of the -jasmine. At Josefa Urrutia’s house there in Madrid the drama has a -grotesque form, but is none the less real. A famous farce might be made -of Botello’s life and fortunes. If there is anything going on here, -Father Moreno must know all about it. Why does this young lady, -remarkable as she seems, marry my disagreeable uncle? Is it true that -they treat her badly? No, for my mother herself, when I pressed her, -confessed that that was a rumor without the slightest foundation. And -these little girls I see here, what rôles do they take? And Señor -Aldao’s mistress, where is she? And that engaged couple, sitting in a -spot so fitted to stir the senses and the imagination, are they in love -with each other? And if they are not, why do they get married? - -I was suddenly aroused from these reveries by the young priest, who -approaching me said in a boyish voice and an unpleasant Galician accent: - -“Pardon my curiosity, but are you Doña Benigna’s son?” - -“Yes, I am.” - -“The one who is studying to be an electric, magnetic scientist?” - -At first I did not understand his poor attempt at wit, so he added: - -“Who is studying to be an ingenious,--I mean, an engineer.” - -“Ah, yes.” - -“Well, I am glad to meet you. Do you want anything? Do you feel tired? -Do you smoke?” - -“And are you the parish priest at San Andrés de Louza?” I inquired, just -to say something. - -With the most unwarrantable familiarity the little priest put his hand -on my head, and, forcing me to bow it till it touched my knees, he -shrilled: - -“Come down, come down, your Excellency, for I am not up so high as that. -Parish priest! Oh, if you had called me one of the clergy, -_contentaverit mihi_. I am still an apprentice, or, in other words, a -raw recruit in the sacred militia.” - -He sat down by me, and began to talk to me in the most nonsensical -fashion, though I scarcely paid him any attention, because, in truth, my -thoughts were quite otherwise engaged. Meanwhile the hour was -approaching when the heavy dew, and the dampness which impregnates the -air, makes it unpleasant in Galicia to remain out of doors. Our host -arose and had us enter and go up to a little parlor, adorned with -cretonne hangings; thence we passed into the spacious dining-room, where -the supper was served by two attendants; one with the appearance of a -rough country lout, the other somewhat more polished, both being under -the direction of a fat old woman, who shuffled her feet as she walked, -and who, in spite of the decay into which her attractions had fallen, I -fancied must be Señor Aldao’s ex-mistress. The two girls that I had met -in the court had vanished, and did not make their appearance either at -the table or in the parlor. - -I was seated opposite my uncle’s betrothed, and the lamp shone full on -her face, so that I could satisfy my curiosity by gazing at her--fairly -devouring her face, in fact. I at once acknowledged to myself that -Father Moreno was right; she was neither beautiful nor plain. Her lithe, -graceful figure was finer than her face; the latter having a somewhat -sharp profile, and lacking the clear complexion and regular features -which are the primary elements of beauty. But after a brief study, I -came to the conclusion that if she was not handsome, she was at least -very fascinating. - -When she opened her black eyes, with their animated expression; when she -smiled; when she turned in answer to some question, her mobile face -became expressive, life flashed through all those features which I had -imagined to be always cold and in repose, in spite of my having already -seen in her photograph, by the light of the street lamp in Madrid, some -indefinable revelation of spirit. - -Carmiña Aldao laughed but seldom, and yet she did not appear to be -melancholy. Her animation was that of the will. She even seemed -demonstrative in the extreme when I gave her my little offering after -supper, and praised the poor trinket in the most enthusiastic manner. - -“What good taste! Look here, papa, Felipe! How cunning it is! And did -you choose it yourself? Just think of it, a student! Ah, it is clear -that you can be intrusted with commissions. Why, it is beautiful!” - -Father Moreno also put in his oar, saying: “I declare it is beautiful, -indeed. That’s what rich people can do, but we poor friars do not dare -to be so extravagant. Our gifts are more simple--” - -As he spoke, he went off in search of his traveling bag, his only -luggage, which a boy had brought from San Andrés de Louza; and produced -from its depths a pearl crucifix of the kind they bring from Jerusalem, -which, though of modern make, shows the body of the Lord carved with a -certain Byzantine stiffness. It was half a yard long. - -“It is all that I can give you, my daughter,” he said. “This crucifix -has touched the Stone of Golgotha, where our Lord’s cross was erected.” - -The young girl did not reply, but with a rapid movement she bent over -and kissed either the crucifix or the hand which offered it to her, I do -not know which. - -The friar went on bringing out from his bag a variety of rosaries, some -of pearl, others of black olive-pits strung on a cord and not yet -clasped into a circle. “These come from the olive-trees on the Mount of -Olives,” he explained, while he separated and distributed them among -those who were present. When it came to my turn, I must have made a -movement of surprise, for the friar said, with stately courtesy: - -“Don’t you want it? You must take things, remembering from whom they -come; we are poor by vocation, so we cannot offer gifts of more material -value, Sir Salustio.” - -I took the rosary, somewhat embarrassed by the lesson he gave me. -Meanwhile some people had arrived from San Andrés to help pass the -evening pleasantly, and make up a game at cards: the parish priest, the -druggist, and an adjutant of the Marines. They offered me the fourth -seat at the table, but I refused, as I feared I might lose, and find -myself without money in a stranger’s house. My uncle sat down by his -sweetheart and began to talk to her. Father Moreno went off to read his -breviary, and I was again left to the tender mercies of the clerical -apprentice. - -“Where is my room?” I inquired. “Do you know? I should like to go to -bed.” - -“I don’t know,” he said; “but he who has a tongue--goes to Rome. Come -on, take hold of my little finger.” - -We went through the dining-room. The lamp was still lit, and the old -woman was overlooking the operation of taking off the table-cloth, -gathering up the glasses and plates, and putting away the dessert. I -again fixed my attention on the retired sultana. She certainly must have -been good-looking in former times, but now her scanty gray locks, her -skin blotched with erysipelas, together with her great obesity, rendered -her abominable. She appeared to be industrious, fond of scolding, but at -the same time quite humble, and resigned to her life below stairs. - -The little priest, preparatory to asking her a question, squeezed her -right arm. - -“Oh, Serafín, be quiet. What impudent tricks you do play! My, what a -fellow!” - -“_Mulier_, one can pinch you without danger; for you are at least proof -against all temptation. Where is the _cubiculo_, or, in other words, -bed-room of this young gentleman?” - -“Right next to yours. May the Lord give the unlucky man patience to -stand you so near! Candidiña, Candidiña, bring a light, and show these -gentlemen their way.” - -The tall maid before-mentioned appeared, candle in hand. She had a fair -light complexion, innocent, and even slightly stupid features,--which -somewhat resembled a wooden cherub’s; but her little eyes were speaking -and mischievous, and she lowered them so that they should not betray -her. She went on ahead, and we followed her up a steep staircase. She -led us to our rooms up in the tower, which were separated from each -other by a narrow hall. These rooms had not been made over, when Señor -Aldao had the tower reconstructed, and were very old. Probably they were -ordinarily used for storing chestnuts or squashes. The furniture -consisted only of a bed, two chairs, a small table, and a wash-stand. - -The girl left the candle on the table and said: - -“That’s Serafín’s room, and this is yours. They are plenty large -enough.” - -“Even enough for you, too,” said the clerical apprentice, in a most -impudent manner. - -The girl winked and laughed aloud, while she waved her hand -threateningly at Serafín; but immediately afterward she turned toward me -and, assuming a most modest demeanor, asked, in a humble tone, whether I -had any orders to give her. I said I should like to have some writing -materials, and she replied that she would run and get them at once. As -she carried off the candle, I was left almost in the dark, and could -only see by the reflection of the moon. I went up to the window, and -beheld, close by, a vast, dark mass stretching itself out; a sort of -vegetable lake, which resembled a single tree--although I doubted it -could be, on account of its size. Afar off, the river gleamed like a -gray satin robe, dotted with silver spangles; the crescent moon was -multiplied in its bosom, and the imperceptible sound of the lapping of -the waves against the beach mingled with the soft night breeze, which -shook the branches near by. - -A cool, moist breeze caressed my cheeks. Candidiña interrupted my -meditation, stealing in without knocking at the door. She brought in -one hand an inkstand, almost running over; and in the other, besides the -candle, paper, envelopes, a stub of a pen, and a cornucopia filled with -sand. - -“Aunt Andrea says that you must excuse us for having everything so -topsy-turvy. She says that to-morrow, without fail, she will give you -the sand-box. She says that in the country one must overlook a great -deal.” - -I began to gather things together preparatory to writing to Luis Portal, -but the girl, instead of going off, remained standing there, gazing at -me as if my person and my actions were matters of great curiosity. When -she peeped over my shoulders to see how I arranged my paper, she said, -with almost childish surprise, and with the sweet accent peculiar to the -people who live on the seashore of Galicia: - -“Oh, are you going to write to-night, when it is so late?” - -A capricious fancy flashed through my imagination, a thrill ran along my -veins, which I repressed with the comparative effort needed to subject -purely physical impulses. - -“Be a little careful, Salustio. You are excited to-day. Go very slowly.” - -Then, in order to say something to the girl, I asked: - -“Is that a single tree I see from the window?” - -“Why, don’t you know it is the Tejo (the yew-tree)?” - -“A single yew cover that immense space! Santa Bárbara! It must be at -least half a league in circumference.” - -“Half a league! How absurd! Don’t exaggerate so. It is not half a league -from this place to San Andrés. But I tell you it is three stories high.” - -“Three stories in a tree!” - -“Oh, it’s so, you’ll see! One is the ball-room, the other is where they -take coffee, and from the third you can see a great deal of land--and -the river, and everything.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Fac-simile of my letter to Luis Portal: - -MY DEAR BOY: - - Here I am at your orders at Tejo, the country-seat of the father of - my uncle’s lady-love--confound him! called so, not my uncle, but - the country-seat, on account of a colossal yew-tree, which, - according to what they say, is three stories high, as high as the - finest house in Orense. - - I have just arrived here, so I can’t tell you yet what I think - about the bride and the people here, to wit: her father, an old - woman who had some connection with the father in former times, and - two daughters or nieces of the old woman; one well grown, and - although she is called Cándida--well, the least said about that the - better. My future auntie is a young lady of graceful bearing, with - a pleasant face, if you examine it attentively. She has pretty - eyes, very pretty, indeed. I know not whether she is in love, but - she displays considerable affection for my uncle,--well, old chap, - I come back to my old subject. Can you believe that a decent and - high-minded woman--and they say that my auntie is such--can marry - such a man just for the sake of marrying? Does not her little - heart conceal some secret experience? Or can it be that, by reason - of her own innocence, she imagines that to marry a man is only like - taking his arm for a promenade? - - The thing fills my mind, because in a very short time I have formed - a private opinion in regard to Carmiñia Aldao, due to the - information I have received from a friar. Don’t you know, my boy? I - have journeyed with a veritable friar, a Franciscan, barefooted and - all that. And he praised my auntie up to the sky, saying that she - is a model of a Christian woman. This is singular, indeed, coming - from a friar. If you could see what a curious type this Father - Moreno is! He is one of the most unaffected, simple, frank, and - fascinating beings the Lord ever created! He amazes me. Nothing - startles him nor is he bigoted; he does not avoid talking upon any - subject which may be alluded to in good society, nor does he treat - one disdainfully, or fall into any pious foolishness; nor does he - do anything that does not seem cordial, discreet, and fitting. You - must not think, by what I am saying, that the friar is taking me - in; that’s not so easily done. On the contrary, I am dreadfully - stirred up by his gift of fascinating everybody around him, - including myself. I will watch him; and I am of little use, if I - don’t unmask him yet. What does the rogue mean? To make himself - able to win more proselytes? There’s no doubt about it, with his - charming disposition and manners he secures and exerts great - influence. Is it possible that he is concealing other schemes not - in accordance with his garb? For he is either a saint or a - hypocrite, although quite different from any ordinary hypocrite. Do - you believe, my boy, that a man can live that way, surrounded by - breakers and quicksands, without running upon them? One must admit - that his vow of perpetual poverty is no pretense, for I have found - out that he does not even carry enough money to buy a pipe; - likewise his vow of obedience, though soldiers also obey their - superior officers; but as for his vow of chastity--well, if he - keeps that--don’t you think that’s rather fishy, my boy? - - As you can fancy, my uncle is as deeply in love as is possible for - him. To tell the truth, his sweetheart seems to be a great catch - for him. Perhaps Señor Aldao has not much money, because they say - he likes display and that his country-seat eats up his cash; also, - that his married son bleeds him freely. But with all that, I think - that my uncle has more than he could have hoped for. - - The wedding will take place soon, on the day of Our Lady of Carmen. - My uncle sleeps at the druggist’s in San Andrés; but I, not being - the lover, am entertained at Tejo, I will tell you what goes on - here. - - Write to me, old chap, you lazy fellow. I presume you go on chewing - your old cud of opportunism and compromise with everybody, even the - devil himself. - - You are a great rogue!--I forgot, tear this up at once,--but you - are so prudent you were sure to have done so without my asking it. - -I had finished, and, luckily, had just sealed up my letter, when the -little clerical apprentice entered my room unceremoniously. If it were -not for circumstances which will appear in due time, I would not -describe so minutely the appearance of that priest in embryo; but it -will be a help to say that he had a sort of rat’s snout, a small mouth -without lips, which displayed his decayed and irregular teeth when he -smiled; that he had a small hooked nose, eyes drawn up toward his brain, -which could hardly have been larger than a sparrow’s; a white face -spotted with large freckles; and that he was beardless, while his hair, -eyelashes, and eyebrows were red. I was in doubt whether he was a -simpleton or a puppy. At the same time he was something like a forward -child, which prevented any one from taking his words or actions -seriously. - -“Bathe?” he asked, addressing me impersonally as he was wont to do. - -“Do I bathe?” - -“Do you bathe in the ocean, sir,--in San Andrés? I ask because I go down -to the beach every day, and might accompany you.” - -“Very well; we’ll take a dip.” - -“I thought it would please you, that about the sea-baths. Your uncle -also takes a dip every morning. He does it like a cod-fish: but he does -not seem to get any cleaner for all that. He, he!” - -“The worst of it is, I have no bathing-suit.” - -“Nor I, neither. But if you are so squeamish--all you have to do is to -go to some corner behind a rock.” - -“What?” - -“Or put on an extra pair of drawers.” - -“Well, that might do.” - -Meanwhile, the little priest, or acolyte as he might better be called, -leaned back in his chair as though he were going to stay all night. I -saw that it was necessary to use no ceremony with him, so I undressed -rapidly and got into bed. - -“Are you sleepy?” asked Serafín, approaching the bed, and with the -greatest familiarity pinching my shoulder and patting my cheeks. I -screamed, and instinctively struck him a hard blow, which made him burst -out laughing convulsively. Then he tried to find out, by experiment, -whether I was ticklish; or if I was in love--for that purpose cruelly -squeezing my little finger. - -That strange familiarity, more suitable to a child of six years than to -a man, and especially a man who aspired to the priesthood, inspired me -with a ludicrous contempt for him; though, at the same time, with a -certain tolerance for his faults; and I threatened to throw my boot at -him, if he did not keep quiet. That threat took effect; Serafín sobered -down, and, throwing himself like a lap-dog across the foot of my bed, he -said that he was not sleepy and that he wanted to talk to me. - -I told him that he might go on, and never was a programme more -faithfully carried out to the very letter. A flood of ridiculous -nonsense rushed from that mouth; laughable simplicities mixed with bits -of theological learning, and fragments of coarse wit, so pointed at -times, that I was amazed, and quite unable to solve the problem whether -that individual were a born idiot or a tremendous rogue. - -“So you come from Madrid. Ah, how delightful Madrid must be! I have -never been there. Have no cash for the railroad. Cash! I wish I might -see some! Well, Serafín, my boy, when it rains dollars you’ll get some. -And are the streets in Madrid like--those--of Pontevedra? I suppose the -pavements are of marble. Well, the people there go off to the other -world, either raging or singing, don’t they? Well, then I do not envy -the people in Madrid a bit. All are equal in the presence of death, sir. -And you, what are you studying for? To be one of those who make -viaducts, railroads, and tunnels? Ah, then we’ll have to call you Your -Excellency! You’ll be a Minister, and you’ll make me an electoral -canon,--I mean lectoral. Still, I would make a better penitentiary -canon, because I am awfully penitent. And you, even if you come to be -more of an engineer than the very one who invented engineering, you’ll -not get ahead like your uncle. Get on! Ah, your uncle knows how; he is a -crafty one. Nobody can get the cream out of Don Vicente Sotopeña as he -does. That business of the lots was a good slice, and now they are going -to hire his house for the post-office, and pay him a million dollars -rent. Afterward, when they have elections, they’ll come to soft-soap us -priests. But as a friend of mine, a priest, said to me: Gee-up, there, -_vade retro, exorciso te_, for liberalism is sin, and if anybody doubts -it I will thrust under his nose the fundamental doctrine of _de fide_, -expounded by the Holy Vatican Council. Our palates here are not spoiled -by mongrel sauces. Ha, ha, ha!” - -“And what do you think about politics?” I inquired. - -“About politics? Noble breasts can hold but one opinion.” - -“Let’s hear what opinions noble breasts hold.” - -“Well, I will tell you through the lips of one who knew what he was -talking about: _Nequit idem simul esse et non esse_. Do you want it any -clearer? I am not an advocate of _Iglesia liebre en el Estado galgo_ (a -church like a hare in a state like a grey-hound). _Quod semper, quod -ubique, quod ab omnibus._” - -“Do speak Christian; or, at least, Galician. Are you a good-for-nothing -Carlist?” - -“_Ego sum qui sum_; that is to say: Look out for mixtures, -discriminations, and jobs. I told your Uncle Felipe so very plainly, and -Don Román Aldao, also, who is a great braggart, and who is sighing for -the title of Marquis of Tejo, or at least for the grand cross. They say -that his son-in-law will bring it to him as a wedding present. _Vanitas -vanitatis!_ Ha! ha! Carmen’s brother also wants some pap; he wants a fat -post in the administration of the hospital--I believe that poultices -fatten one like everything.” - -“Hush, you turn my stomach!” - -“He’ll not get it, for his brother-in-law dislikes him. He’ll not be -able to make porridge with linseed flour, nor to put wooden chickens, -just for show, in the stews made for the poor sick people. Uncle Felipe -is a good one! He’ll do. He has no delicacy, not a bit! Although he is -going to get married, he still runs after Candidiña out in the garden. -Don’t you believe it? She is no fool, either! She already knows more -than many old women. _Ne attendas fallaciæ mulieris._” - -“Don’t slander my uncle, you prurient little creature,” I exclaimed, -with my curiosity excited, because I fancied that the simpleton -sometimes hit the nail on the head. “Do you think he would run after -girls in the very sight of his lady-love?” - -“Yes, yes, you may be sure of it. If you could see some other old men, -who can hardly get around any longer, run after the little monkey! -_Vinum et mulieris apostatare faciunt sapientes_, as has been said. -Cándida leads them on; and don’t imagine she does it just to pass the -time. She knows when to throw the hook. Carmiña will find a stepmother -starting out from behind a cabbage.” - -I started up in surprise. - -“But, that Candidiña, is she not,--is she not a daughter of--” - -The little acolyte gave a shriek. - -“Ha, ha, ha! he thought that--” (he made the gesture of joining the tips -of his forefingers). “No, man, no! Neither Cándida nor the other girl -are figs from Doña Andrea’s fig-tree. They are her nieces--I knew their -father, who was a general, I mean a corporal of the coast guard. The old -woman took charge of them because their parents died. And, by my faith, -remember that Serafín Espiña assures you of it, the witch does not run -after love affairs out of _concupiscentia carnis_. She wants to drag a -silk train after her. If we live, we are bound to see miracles.” - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -We took a sea-bath the following morning; we walked about in San Andrés, -feeling our importance, for our presence was an event in the little -village; we visited the parochial church; we gathered shells on the -beach; and yet were back at Tejo at nine o’clock, ready for our -chocolate. Father Moreno did not accompany us; he preferred to take his -bath in the afternoon, because he did not like to omit his mass. My -uncle had not yet made his appearance, nor would he come until one -o’clock in the afternoon, our dinner hour; so Carmen was free from the -duty of entertaining her lover, and had time to devote to me, even -showing herself affectionate and unreserved. - -“You retired early last night because you felt bored. Really we do not -know how to entertain you, and it will be hard for you if you do not try -to find some amusement for yourself in the country.” - -“Don’t worry yourself on that account. I like the country very much, and -I never feel bored there. This place is beautiful; this morning I had a -splendid bath.” - -“And how is my ungrateful friend Benigna? How sorry I am that she will -not come! Your mother is very agreeable, and I always liked her--now -with all the more reason.” - -“You see it is not easy to make my mother stir. She always has so much -to do.” - -After these commonplace remarks my prospective aunt and I sat like -ninnies, without knowing what to say. At last she said courteously and -very amiably: - -“As you brought me such a beautiful present, would you not like to see -some of the others I have received? I keep them in a room by themselves, -because the girls are so curious and so fond of meddling. Come this -way.” - -I followed after her. She carried several keys in her pocket, which -rattled prettily, with a familiar sound, as she walked along. She took -out the bunch of keys, opened the mysterious door, and pulled back the -curtains, displaying the splendors of the wedding gifts. When I say -splendors, it should not be taken too literally, because there were -plenty of articles of provincial make; and others, though they came from -Madrid, were not of the finest taste--at least so far as I am able to -judge of those things. The bride-elect went on telling me about them -all. That black satin dress, trimmed with jet, was a present from the -bridegroom, as were also the pearl ear-rings set with diamonds. Papa had -squandered his money on a rich blue silk brocade; and there, too, were -the little hats to correspond. Another dress seemed very beautiful to my -uninitiated eyes: it was a dull white silk, with a delicate net-work of -imitation pearls in front, a beautiful train, and two clusters of leaves -and flowers, placed with exquisite taste. - -This, Carmen said, was a thing without utility, a caprice of Señora -Sotopeña’s, who had been commissioned with the selection of finery in -Madrid, and who had insisted that the bride must have an evening dress. -The jewels given by the father were some old family jewels reset; there -was a splendid brooch, and several other things. The Sotopeña family -had sent her an elegant fan, representing Fortuny’s “Vicarage,” and with -shell sticks. Her brother had given her an ordinary-looking bracelet. -Then followed a collection of jewel-cases, albums, useless -articles,--the thousand and one trifles, as ordinary as they are -worthless, which are only bought and sold on the pretext of giving a -present on the occasion of a wedding or birthday. Behind them all, in -one corner, as though ashamed of itself, was a most singular object--an -enormous rat-trap. - -“Why, who gave you that?” I asked, without being able to restrain my -laughter. - -“Who else could it be but Serafín,” she replied, joining in my mirth. - -“Is it possible!” - -“Yes; and he felt so proud of it. I wish you could have seen him holding -his rat-trap on high, exclaiming: - -“‘This, at least, will be useful!’” - -“But about that Serafín,--is he crazy, foolish, or what is he?” - -“In my opinion, he has not got over being a child. He has not a bad -heart, and sometimes makes bright remarks. But a moment afterward he’ll -fly off on a tangent, and say all sorts of silly things. Sometimes, for -example, he will make a sound observation regarding some point of -theology or morality,--I know it is so because Father Moreno says -so,--and again he is exceedingly stupid about the simplest facts. Once -we gave him some candle snuffers, telling him to snuff a candle, and he -took them, looked at them attentively, wet his fingers in his mouth, -snuffed the candle with his fingers, and then, opening the snuffers, put -the bit of wick inside, saying proudly: ‘I can see very well how you -work, little box!’” - -We were still laughing at this anecdote when we went out into the -garden. My prospective aunt showed me the outbuildings, the hen house, -the stables, and the orchard, inviting me to taste the fruit of the -sweet cherry, to pick some flowers, and to try the swing and the -trapeze. - -Father Moreno made his appearance in the garden, calm, communicative, -and even jocose. He questioned me about certain people who preferred to -take a dip rather than attend mass celebrated by a friar; about Serafín, -who could not be found to do service as acolyte; about our triumphal -excursion through San Andrés. Señor Aldao also was not long in -presenting himself. He was brushed and waxed, his mustaches dyed, and -his cranium glistening like a billiard-ball; but he looked to me like a -wreck, under the green shade of his opened umbrella. He asked me if I -“had seen it all,” with the air of a Medici inquiring whether a -foreigner has visited his palaces and galleries. Then he added: - -“What do you think of the yew--the famous yew-tree?” - -“Ah, it is magnificent, wonderful!” - -“An English naval officer was here last year who admired it -enthusiastically and wanted to photograph it. He carried away more than -ten different views. Don Vicente Sotopeña assures me that Castelar, in -his speech at the Literary Contest, praised the yew very highly when -speaking of the marvelous beauties of Galicia. Castelar is a great -orator, hey? Flowery,--above all things flowery.” - -Señor Aldao appeared to me like one of those men who carry their vanity -(somewhat concealed in other men) outside and entirely visible to -everybody. I afterward found out that he had always been vain, and -founded his vanity on the most hollow and superficial things. When a -young man he prided himself on his dandyfied appearance, his waxed -mustaches, and eyebrows drawn out straight. Afterward he was seized with -the nobility fever, and on all occasions wore his uniform as an officer -in the militia, dreaming about the marquisate of Tejo. He made a sort of -platonic love to the said marquisate, attaching himself closely to the -civil governors when he desired a title from Castile, and to the bishops -when he wanted it to be palatine. However, his desire for vulgar display -was never gratified. An old man now, the extraordinary power Don Vicente -wielded, and his absolute control over the province and a great part of -Galicia, had made Señor Aldao comprehend that social rank, in our times, -is not founded on parchments, more or less musty. “Nowadays politics -absorb everything,” he used to say. “The man who can give away -sugar-plums with one hand, while he wields the lash with the other, is -the real celebrity.” That was one reason why he had received my uncle’s -matrimonial proposals with so much favor. He saw in them the handle -whereby he might fasten on to the great Galician boss’s coat-tails, and -thus gratify a multitude of miserable ambitions he had preserved for -years, and which were getting sour, viz., that about the cross; the -rousing up of a bill for a carriage-road, which was sleeping the sleep -of the just; and I don’t know what other trifles in connection with the -Provincial Legislature and contracts. - -No matter how much we may search the depths of the human heart, we never -succeed in disentangling the cause of certain hidden feelings. Envy, -competition, and emulation demand, it would seem, something like -equality, and one cannot understand how those bad passions are developed -when not the slightest equality exists between the envious one and the -man he envies. Can a soprano who sings in comic opera envy Patti, or a -simple lady of the middle class, the queen? Well, they do, without any -doubt, and from the obscurity wherein they dwell they try to cast a -feeble ray of light which will compete with that of the star. - -In the same way, Don Román Aldao, a small, provincial gentleman, who -enjoyed only a moderate income, indulged himself at times in impulses to -compete with Don Vicente Sotopeña, the renowned politician, the shining -light of the law, the famous chief, the great boss of Galicia, the -lawyer overrun with succulent cases, the millionaire, the man of great -and universal influence. - -And in what particular did he want to eclipse Sotopeña? Why, in the -matter of their respective country seats. Don Vicente owned a sort of -royal estate near Pontevedra, where he could rest from his labors and -enjoy his leisure hours; and whenever Señor Aldao heard any one speak of -his magnificent villa, of his orange orchard, of his grove of eucalyptus -trees, of his marble statues, and of the other beauties which were -displayed at _Naranjal_, his face would wear a scowl, his lips would be -compressed in mortified pride, and he would ask the people with whom he -was speaking: - -“What do you think of the tree, my yew? An English naval officer praised -it most enthusiastically and wanted to take views of it,” etc. - -It was a fancy of Don Román’s, never to be realized, that he could -beautify his estate in imitation of _Naranjal_. Nature was an accomplice -in his dream, however, for, besides the gigantic yew-tree which she had -created, she spread around it all the charms which she is accustomed to -display in that corner of paradise which is called _Rías_ _Bajas_. The -sun, the ocean, the sky, the climate, the beach, the vegetation of a -district so luxuriant, formed an oasis of Tejo, though it could not -compete with _Naranjal_ in what depended on the work of man. Art may -make a great show in the country, but the highest charm of a country -seat depends on Nature. But our Don Román did not understand this. He -did not appreciate the ineffable sweetness and repose of the country, -which causes a man to forget the pleasures of social life. On the -contrary, he longed for the bustle, the style, the glories and pomps of -a proprietor and local magnate, and felt, above all, the urgings of his -vanity, which was so absurd, because so impotent. Of course, Aldao did -not attempt to copy splendors like those of the famous chapel of -stalactites, so highly praised by newspaper writers and tourists. But -if, for example, they set up at _Naranjal_ a spacious breakfast room, in -an arbor covered with jasmine-vines, immediately Don Román would fall to -planning a rickety place, covered with honeysuckle, wherein they might -take their chocolate. Was there fine statuary at _Naranjal_? Out Don -Román Aldao would come with his plaster busts, his “Four Seasons,” or -his group of “Cupids,” and would place them in the middle of a meadow or -an espalier. If they introduced a conservatory at _Naranjal_, with a -fine collection of ferns and orchids, immediately after Don Román would -repair to Pontevedra, and purchase all the worn-out window-frames he -could find, in order to fit up a cheap hot-house, filled with stiff and -insufferable begonias. Did they have rustic tables and seats brought -from Switzerland at _Naranjal_? Señor Aldao would show the village -carpenter how to saw pine cones in two, and with the trunks of the pine -trees would make rustic seats and all kinds of furniture. And, to crown -all, there was the yew-tree! - -On the first day of my stay at Tejo some people came from Pontevedra to -dine: Señor Aldao’s oldest son, Luciano, with his child, a boy about -four years old, and a provincial deputy named Castro Mera, who was my -uncle’s greatest friend at that time, and head of the clique which -represented his political views in the bosom of the Pontevedra Assembly. -Everything is relative, and in Pontevedra there were not only my uncle’s -henchmen but his own public policy, directed by the strict principles -which the reader will imagine. - -The editor of _El Teucrense_ was also there. That petty sheet was a -devoted supporter of my uncle at that time, although it used to abuse -him soundly six months before; but there are magical sops to throw to -such Cerberuses. They talked a great deal about local politics, which -were so small that they were fairly microscopic. - -We took our coffee in the Tejo and I gazed attentively at that -respectable patriarch of the vegetable world which was destined to play -a certain part in my life. The enormous, rugged trunk fantastically -covered with moss, with its bark alive and sound in spite of age, easily -supported the majestic branches of the giant of the _Ria_, as it was -styled in poetic parlance by the writers and correspondents of the -Madrid journals when they came to pass the summer there. The manner in -which it grew and spread its foliage of an intensely dark green had -something of biblical impressiveness. It was impossible to look at the -yew tree without profound veneration, as a symbol of exuberant and -maternal nature which had brought forth such a sovereign organism. - -The ocean, enamored of the beauty of Galicia, embraces her lovingly with -its waves, kisses and fondles her with its spray, surrounds her, -caresses her, and extends toward her a blue hand eager to press the soft -roundness of the coast. The spreading fingers of this hand are the -_Rías_. There the air is purer, softer, and more fragrant, while the -vegetation is more southern and luxuriant. That Tejo, king of all other -trees, only on the border of a _Ria_, and on land enriched by its -waters, could spread itself with such lordly pride. It was the real -monument of that region. It gave a name to the country seat; it served -as a landmark to the boatmen and fishermen when in doubt how to find -their way back to San Andrés. From its lofty summit one could overlook -the surrounding country, and see not only the hamlets on the seashore, -but also the group of islands, the famous _Casitérides_ of the ancient -geographers, and the boundless extent of a sea almost Grecian in its -quiet beauty. - -In order to build the three balconies, one above another, which adorned -it, neither great architectural science nor unusual skill were needed. -All they had to do was to take advantage of the splendid horizontal -position of its branches, and build on that strong foundation some -circular platforms, guarded by a light balustrade, running around them. - -The winding staircase found a natural support in the very trunk of the -giant. Its foliage was so dense that no one, from the ground, could see -those who were taking coffee or refreshments in the second story, nor -those who were dancing in the first, while the person who climbed to the -third had to come to the front of the balcony in order to be seen. - -Each story had its name. The first was the ball-room, the second the -supper-room, and the third, “Bellavista.” - -At Aldao’s you would often hear some one say: “Did you go up to -Bellavista this morning?” “No, I went no further than the ball-room.” - -To tell the truth, even if Señor Aldao should be displeased by it, the -ball-room was not very spacious. However, it was large enough to enable -them to dance a contra-dance there very comfortably, to the sound of the -piano, which was brought out into the garden on such festive occasions. -And it was quite charming to dance under its green awning, between its -green walls, which hardly allowed the sunlight to flicker through. The -platform used to shake a great deal, and so the exercise was dancing and -swinging at the same time. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -That day, when we climbed up in the supper-room to take our coffee, -where they had already placed a number of chairs, benches, and rustic -tables, the yew was more attractive than ever. A fresh breeze coming up -from the estuary made the branches gently sway; the sun, striking full -on the tree’s top, gilded it, and drew out that penetrating, somewhat -resinous odor, which increases in our hearts the rapture of life. The -height at which we found ourselves suspended might indeed make us fancy -that we were birds; to me, it seemed that the birds would have a -pleasant abode in the bosom of that colossus; and suddenly, as if nature -took pleasure in inspiring me with one of those desires, impossible to -gratify, with which she makes sport of mortals, I felt a desire, or, -rather, an eager longing to fly, to lose myself in those blue spaces, -pure and unfathomable, which we could see through the openings in the -branches. When I perceived that I was envying the sea-gulls, which, far -off, were swooping down upon the cliffs of San Andrés, I took myself to -task for my folly, and, making an effort, I gave my attention to the -conversation. - -As usual, Father Moreno had the lead, and was once more assuring his -hearers that he always felt better in Morocco than in Spain, better -among the Moors than among the Christians, “of the kind they had there.” - -“Don’t think,” he hastened to add, “that we friars have an easy time in -Africa. If I did feel more contented there, it was because those poor -people do their best to serve one, and treat him with great -consideration. I learned the Arabic, if not as well as my brother, -Father Lerchundi, at least enough to make myself understood. If you only -knew how useful it was to me! Our garb recommends us to those poor -creatures. They call us in their language saints and wise men--precisely -as is done here!” - -“You could not say more clearly that you would like to become a Moor,” -observed Don Román. - -“I was a Moor,” said the friar, vivaciously. “That is,” he added, -modifying his assertion, “as you will understand, I did not become a -Mohammedan; and I didn’t say Mohammedan or a follower of Mohammed, but -Moor, which means a son of Africa, an inhabitant of Morocco.” - -“Of course, we know that you did not renounce your faith,” exclaimed my -prospective aunt, in the tone of gentle and affectionate jesting which -she always adopted in addressing the father. - -“No, my child, I did not renounce my religion; thanks to divine -compassion, I did not go so far.” - -“But tell us in what way you were a Moor.” - -“Oh, goodness! Why, it scarcely needs to be told,--and it’s a very long -story. It went the rounds of the papers; the _Revista Popular_ of -Barcelona had an article about it.” - -“Oh, do tell us!” - -The friar was well pleased to do so, to judge by the complacency with -which he commenced his tale. He first took out his handkerchief from -his sleeve, and wiped from his lips the liquor he had just been -drinking. - -“Well, you see it was a little while before the Restoration, when -politics were in a bad way here, and Spain was all stirred up by the -Republic. I was then in Tangiers, feeling very happy, because, as I have -told you, I am very fond of Africa. But we have taken a vow of -obedience, and suddenly I received the disagreeable order to leave for -Spain, to go to Madrid itself, and it was not possible for me to wear my -habit; fine times for habits those were! ‘Listen, Moreno,’ said I to -myself, ‘it is time to cast off your friar’s garb and become a fine -little gentleman.’ You know that they allow us to let our beards grow -while we are in Africa, and that is a great aid in disguising a friar, -because one of the things which betrays a priest dressed as a layman is -his smooth face. The tonsure we were not very careful to shave, so all I -had to do was to let my hair grow for a few days before the journey, and -get it even with the rest, and there I was. I ordered my clothes from -the best tailor there. And the accessories,--because a gentleman’s -attire has a thousand accessories,--of those the ladies of my circle of -acquaintance insisted on taking charge, particularly the ladies in the -English Consul’s family. These ladies liked me very much, and understood -all about the elegancies of the toilette and how a gentleman fixes -himself up. They got me silk embroidered stockings, neckties, ruffled -shirts, and even handkerchiefs marked with my initials. But they -especially wanted to see me with all my finery on. ‘Father Moreno, after -you are dressed you must come and show us.’ ‘Father Moreno, we must give -you the last touch, or you’ll go away looking like a scarecrow.’ ‘Father -Moreno, don’t deprive us of that pleasure.’ But I was obstinate. ‘Am I a -monkey to show off my tricks? No, indeed, nobody shall laugh at me. You -shall not see me dressed up. If you like that, well and good; but if you -don’t, we’ll no longer be friends.’ The day arrived, and I decked myself -out, head to foot; not the slightest detail was lacking--not even -sleeve-buttons, for they had made me a present of some. I dressed at -the convent, and went through the most retired streets to take a boat -which was to put me on board. Well, will you believe it? In spite of all -that, those ladies made out to see me! When they heard that the steamer -was going to weigh anchor, they stationed themselves on their balconies, -well provided with spy-glasses, and while I was taking my ease on the -bridge, they all looked at me as much as they chose. They say that I -seemed like another man to them. I should say so! I carried a cloak, had -my traveling-bag, wore my hat on one side, and had two-buttoned gloves -on my hands.” - -There was a burst of laughter among his hearers, as they imagined how -Father Moreno must have looked in such elegant attire. - -“And afterward, what happened then?” asked Carmen, greatly interested. - -“I landed in Gibraltar--what a fury I was in to see the English flag -floating there! From that place I took ship again for Malaga. Nothing of -much account happened except that I met two English Catholic priests, -and conversed with them in Latin--because I knew no English--about the -great strides Catholicism was making in England. From Malaga I went to -Granada. To tell the truth, I was very anxious to see that beautiful -city, so celebrated all over the world, and to visit the Alhambra and -the Generalife. As soon as I went out in the street, what did I do but -meet a friend of mine, a judge whom I had known in the Canary Isles! He -looked at me in amazement, doubting the evidence of his senses. I -addressed him, and he finally recognized me. I explained matters to him, -he invited me to take coffee, and we agreed to meet the following day to -go to see the Alhambra in company with some friends of his at the hotel. -I begged him not to tell them that I was a friar. He promised that he -would not, and was better than his word, as you shall see. In fact, when -we met the next day he brought with him two army officers, two medical -students, and a priest; and as soon as he saw me, he began to shout, -feigning great surprise, ‘Hello, Aben Jusuf, you here! By Jove, who -could think of meeting you at such a place and at such an hour!’ I -replied, comprehending his object, ‘By Allah, when I left Morocco I did -not expect to enjoy the pleasure of seeing you.’ His companions, already -excited, whispered to my friend: ‘Why, is this gentleman really a Moor?’ -My friend, in order not to tell a barefaced falsehood, replied: ‘You -might know that by his name. I called him Aben Jusuf.’ ‘And is he a -friend of yours?’ ‘Yes, I met him in the Canary Isles, when I went to -take sea-baths.’ ‘I say, just invite him to come with us to visit the -Alhambra, to see what he’ll say.’ ‘Agreed.’ I accepted the invitation, -of course, seeing I had already done so the night before. My friend, -drawing near me, held out his hand, and said: ‘Aben Jusuf, I would ask -you to come with us to visit the Alhambra, but I am afraid of arousing -your unpleasant feelings.’ I replied that it must be, indeed, unpleasant -for a son of the desert to visit the monuments erected by his -forefathers, which they no longer possess, but that, in order not to -incommode him and those gentlemen, I would willingly accompany them.” - -“Did they keep on thinking that you were a Moor?” inquired Señor Aldao. - -“Of course. And such a Moor; a Moor of the Moors! I played my part with -all seriousness. I overheard one of them say to the others, ‘He looks -like all of his race.’ At every door, every window, and every court, I -would stop as though sad and depressed, uttering broken phrases, like -groans of pain; in short, just as I imagined a Moor might express his -feelings there. Once I stroked my beard----” - -“Oh, Father Moreno, how I would have liked to see you with a beard!” -cried Carmen. - -“_Naranjas!_ It is true, you have not seen me!” exclaimed the friar, -breaking off the thread of his discourse. “Wait, my girl, I think I must -have it here.” Reaching up his sleeve, he brought out an old -pocket-book, and took from it a card-photograph, which in a moment went -the rounds of the crowded gathering in the second story of the tree. The -women uttered exclamations of admiration and Candidiña cried -mischievously, “How handsome you were, Father Moreno!” - -I could not help thinking to myself that he really was handsome. His -long hair and heavy beard brought out more forcibly the friar’s manly -appearance. - -“Well, I stroked that big beard that you see there, and exclaimed -seriously, ‘If Spain goes on in the road she has been traveling for a -few years past, Allah will again lead Arabian horsemen to these plains, -which they still recall in their homes in the desert.’ Then turning to -those present, without looking at my friend, who was desperately -striving not to laugh, I resumed: ‘Pardon, gentlemen, a son of the -desert; these opinions have escaped me without my being able to prevent -it.’ You should have seen these men, charmed with my outburst. ‘No, no, -it is all very well. Hurrah for the agreeable Moors!’ they cried, with -other sayings of the same nature. But my trouble began when they -commenced to question me about what they supposed was my religion, and -the customs of my alleged country. One inquired whether it was true that -the laws of Mohammed authorized having many wives. Then another, a -cavalry officer, burst out, ‘By Jove, that is the best thing in the -laws of Mohammed.’” - -This part of the story caused a great sensation. My uncle frowned. Señor -Aldao compressed his waist; Serafín hiccoughed; Carmen laughed heartily, -and I joined in. - -“How did you get out of the scrape, Father Moreno? Let us hear it, for -that must be entertaining.” - -“Listen,” said the friar, when the merriment had a little subsided. “I -became serious, without any appearance of having taken offense, and said -in a natural tone: ‘Gentlemen, although they call us barbarians and -fanatics, we know how to acknowledge the defects of our legislation. I -have traveled a great deal, and have studied the inner constitution of -many different forms of society, and I assure you that nothing charms me -more than a family consisting of one man and one woman, who have vowed -to love each other and to protect the fruit of their love. Neither the -heart of man, nor the quiet and security of the family, nor the dignity -of woman, can be exalted and strengthened by polygamy. Not even sensual -passions are satisfied, for, as you know, sensuality is a sort of moral -dropsy, which finally engenders tedium and disgust.’” - -“Bravo, Father Moreno!” - -“Excellent, and what did they reply?” - -“They remained dumbfounded and abashed to hear me express myself in that -way. The officer looked at me, his mouth stretched from ear to ear, and -what do you think he burst forth with, the rogue, as soon as he -recovered his equanimity? He faced me, and said very politely: ‘And you, -Aben Jusuf, how many wives have you?’” - -His hearers again gave free rein to their laughter. - -“What a joke!” - -“Ah, he hit the mark.” - -“And what did you reply?” - -“The truth is, I was slightly confused at first, but an idea came to me -like a flash, and you’ll see how I parried his thrust. ‘That gentleman -knows my tastes,’ I said, pointing to my friend; ‘I am a man who does -not care to sacrifice his fondness for travel and his independence, to -the duty of sustaining a wife and family. I want to be free as a bird, -and for that reason I long ago resolved never to marry.’” - -“Were they satisfied with your reply? Didn’t they ask more questions?” - -“Not on that subject,” said the friar. - -“The conversation no longer turned upon women. They talked about -politics, and there my road was still more unobstructed. The medical -students and the two officers, who were more liberal than Riego himself, -began to praise the beneficial results of the revolution. Then I -answered that perhaps I, being a Moor, had a different conception of -liberty from theirs. ‘Pardon me, for I am a stranger here, and explain -to me how it happens that although you have so much liberty for all the -world, here, you will not allow some men, whom we esteem greatly over -yonder--a kind of Christian saints, who wear gray tunics and have no -shoes on their feet, and are called--are called--’ ‘Friars!’ the officer -shouted. ‘Nice scamps they are! If they are among the Moors, let them -stay there!’ Without paying any attention to him, I went on: ‘They are -greatly respected in Morocco, and they help to inspire us with love for -this land, which we regard as our other country. I am amazed that here -(according to your history, which I have read because I am fond of -reading) they barbarously massacred a number of them in the year 1834 in -Madrid, and in 1835 in Vich, Zaragoza, Barcelona, and Valencia, burning -their convents. Am I mistaken, or was it so? We don’t do so in Morocco -to inoffensive people devoted to praying and fasting.’ They kept as -still as the grave. One nudged the other, and I heard him say, ‘See how -well-informed he is.’ ‘He has squelched us!’ replied the other. That was -what he said, ‘squelched.’” - -“Well, what was the final result of your Moorish escapade?” - -“Bah! You can fancy how it ended. On our return to Granada, while going -through the winding streets, near my hotel, I suddenly turned toward -them, and said with great seriousness: ‘Gentlemen, all that about my -being a Moor was a joke. I am only a poor Franciscan friar, who, thanks -to the liberty which reigns in Spain, has been obliged to disguise -himself in order to revisit his native land. I now salute you in my true -character.’ I then turned and went off, leaving them more astonished -than ever.” - -The friar’s adventures, told with spirit and grace, made us wish to -learn the outcome of his journey. Father Moreno then went on to tell -about his stay at the baths of Lanjarón; his discussion with an -impudent, saucy-tongued young gentleman, whom he silenced at the _table -d’hôte_, leaving him as quiet as a mouse; of his trip to Madrid in a -second-class car, always playing the part of a Moor, and availing -himself of his foreign dress to censure the abuses of the time in Spain. -“As those were remarks made by a Moor,” observed the father, “they did -not take offense, but were even impressed by my assertions. If they had -discovered that I was a friar, they would have sent me off flying. In -fact, I felt immensely dissatisfied not to be able to cry out, ‘Friar I -am, friar I shall be, and friar I shall die, God willing!’ But as I was -not going to Madrid to enjoy myself, but because I had been sent there, -I had to champ the bit and play the Moor. So well did I do it, that I -never once betrayed myself by making any movement peculiar to a friar. I -never searched for my handkerchief in my sleeve, but in the left pocket -of my cloak. It even seems to me that my Moorish appearance and my great -beard gave those gentlemen a bit of apprehension, so that they didn’t -like the idea of getting into a quarrel with Aben Jusuf.” - -It was already getting dark when we left the supper-room. Carmen was -full of animation, commenting so gayly on the father’s story that a -suspicion flashed through my mind regarding the Abencerrage with a -friar’s gown. I tried to dismiss it from my thoughts, but, finally, -giving form to the fancies which stirred in my brain, I came to the -conclusion, “It can’t be with the father that she is in love--but as for -my uncle, she isn’t with him either.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -That conviction took possession of me, and I do not know whether it was -pleasant or painful. I know that it caused a kind of revolution in me, -renewing the feeling of unconquerable aversion with which my uncle -inspired me, and strengthening it by all the lack of affection I thought -I perceived in his future wife. At the same time I would ask myself with -eager curiosity, “Why does she marry him?” - -Three or four days sufficed to convince me that only my mother’s -passionate hatred could insinuate that Carmen was not well treated at -home. Doña Andrea scarcely had any part there, if it were not as an old -family housekeeper, versed in domestic management, and a slave to her -work. I believe that the only privilege Doña Andrea enjoyed, in her -capacity as retired mistress, was to hold intercourse oftener than was -seemly with the wine bottle or the demijohn of brandy. As for the rest, -she always used to address Señorita Aldao with great affection, and the -latter, in her turn, used to treat the old servant with indulgence and -consideration. Doña Andrea never emerged from her own sphere of -housekeeper, and did not make her appearance in the parlor, or make any -pretensions incompatible with her position. The only person out of her -place there was Candidiña. She was neither a young lady fit to associate -with the daughter of Don Román Aldao, nor a scullion devoted to her pots -and kettles; she was a little of each, and her presence and ambiguous -position, admitted to the drawing-room but excluded from the table, were -not easily to be explained. Her younger sister, more humble, occupied a -very different position, though no reason appeared for the distinction. -Anyhow, it was evident that my uncle’s sweetheart did not live like a -Cinderella, and that in getting married she was not simply obeying the -desire to emancipate herself, to rule over her own household, which so -often influences single women to accept the first man who offers -himself. - -What was the reason then? It was most probably due to the comfortable -circumstances and well-assured prospects for the future which my uncle -enjoyed. It could not be for any other cause. She had doubtless decided -to marry him, if not purely for self-interest, at least because it was -not advisable to disdain such an advantageous match. In that case, -although Señorita Aldao’s conduct did not appear to be delicate or -high-minded, nevertheless it was not rightly open to censure. - -On the other hand, though I was convinced that this was the real motive -of Carmen’s action, I noticed in her, while I observed her daily in the -intimacy and familiarity produced by the country life, our near -relationship, and the similarity of our ages, something which was -contradictory to the practical and reasonable procedure I was -attributing to her. Carmen displayed touches of vehemence and feeling -which proved that she was naturally passionate. Sometimes her eyes would -flash fire, her nostrils dilate, and a singular strength of will show -itself in that dreamy face, with its ascetic lines. I fancied that under -the surface there must be hidden fire, and a good deal of it. - -As I am not a novelist, I am not compelled to make skillful transitions; -and as I am not a hypocrite either, I shall mention one fact which I do -not know whether any observer or moralist has ever spoken of so frankly. -It is that the first glance a man gives a woman, when he is young and -prone to love, as I was, is almost always an inquiring look, somewhat -loving also,--a look which asks, “Could that woman love me? What would -happen if she did?” This is not an affectation of cynicism, nor do I -make out human nature worse than God created it; but it only indicates -that the sexual instinct, like all other instincts, never rests, -although reason may repress it. If I had felt affection and respect for -my uncle, I would have silenced that confused murmur of instinct at -once. But I did not; my uncle irritated me, and roused my whole soul -secretly against him; and so, when I fancied that I perceived in his -lady-love the germs of a similar feeling, I felt drawn toward her by a -fellowship of mind which was right on the road to love. - -Without a moment’s doubt, without feeling surprised at the thing in the -least, and without hesitating for a moment in confessing it to -myself,--always an easier confession than an auricular one,--I desired -and determined to ingratiate myself with my future aunt, if possible. -The temptation took hold of me with the greater ease because, as the -wedding had not yet taken place, I was spared that brief inward struggle -and that misgiving, which are aroused when it is a case of another man’s -wife. - -To tell the exact truth, I did not purpose to win her for myself or even -to displace her lover. I was not capable of plotting in cold blood what -Luis Portal called a family drama. All that I aspired to do was to -discover whether my surmises in regard to Carmen’s inward shrinking from -him were true, and whether she could treat me with indulgent kindness. I -sincerely believed that if I were to succeed in that, my uneasiness -would be soothed and would vanish. - -Our manner of life at Tejo was conducive to intimacy. When we returned -from bathing, we would take our breakfast whenever and wherever we -desired; a liberty highly favorable to meetings with Carmen in agreeable -isolation, in the orchard or in the garden. It cost me a great effort to -get rid of the acolyte in order to carry out my plans, for he was fond -of me, and stuck to me like a burr. While he was reading the papers, or -playing checkers with Don Román, or picking cherries and strawberries -with Candidiña, I would steal off in search of Carmen. I would generally -meet her coming out from the chapel, where she had been to hear Father -Moreno say mass. - -As soon as I approached I would offer her some flowers, and begin to -chat. We talked on the subjects usually chosen for conversation with an -unmarried girl; whether Pontevedra was lively, about the Virgin’s -festival, about the balls at the Casino, about walks, about how they -passed the winter there, about her friends, love affairs and -engagements, and other such insipid subjects, fitted, in my opinion, to -lead up to some gallant speech. - -I found occasion to compliment her slyly, telling her how becoming her -dress was, praising her hair, asking her to lean on my arm, while we -walked around, assuring her that such a grateful pressure would not tire -me. - -She never put on a face of indignant virtue at my endeavors to -ingratiate myself with her. She received my compliments with a careless, -mischievous smile, as much as to say: “Very well; we understand each -other; my future nephew is very agreeable.” - -She would lean on my arm in accordance with my request, without the -slightest hesitation and with decorous cordiality. One day, when I -affected a slightly melancholy air, in order to change my tune, she -thought I was ill and proposed to take care of me, offering me all sorts -of remedies for the body, while I pretended to desire a moral cure. In -fact, I could not find an open breach, whereby to attack that little -heart. - -I observed her conduct toward my uncle. While she treated me, after we -were once acquainted, with gay cordiality, her deportment toward her -lover was polite and correct, at the same time that it was submissive -and attentive. It might be considered the result of bashfulness or -modesty by the uninitiated, but to me, viewed in the sinister light -which was in my mind, it seemed the unmistakable symptom of absolute -coldness. - -When I fancied that I had made this discovery, I experienced a -mysterious feeling of sympathy with the poor girl. If she really felt -the same aversion toward my uncle that I did, what stronger mental tie -could bind us than that? “The bridegroom is repugnant to the bride. -Perhaps she is unaware of it, but it is so. It is evident; and that -proves her good taste and moral delicacy. I said so all along.” Then the -same old question would arise, “Why, then, does she marry him?” - -While I was propounding this enigma to myself, I did not neglect to -ingratiate myself with Carmen. I fancied that all I needed to carry out -my plan was time. It lacked but a few days of the date set for the -wedding, and evidently, in order to obtain if not the affection, at -least the friendship and entire confidence of that young lady, it was -necessary to see her frequently, so that every hour might bring forth -its fruit little by little; as the dried and withered leaves of the -Jericho rose unfold when the stalk is moistened with water. “Of course,” -I would say to myself, when I saw her so amiable but so reserved in all -matters of the heart, “this girl is not going to intrust me with the key -to the treasure all at once. It will not be an easy matter to find out -from her own lips why she has accepted my uncle.” - -Meanwhile, I was very attentive to her, joked with her, and tried to -gain a few inches of ground. My first attempt at a joke was to call her -_auntie_. At first she did not relish my conceit, but finally she made -up her mind to join in the joke and to call me _nephew_. As soon as I -heard her pronounce that name, which implied a certain familiarity, I -returned to the charge, and asked her permission to call her _Auntie -Carmen_. These two names, the first rather childish, and still more the -second, with its aroma of youth and beauty, appeared charming to me, and -henceforth I fastened them upon Señorita Aldao, whom I never called by -any other name during the rest of my life. - -There was a time when I imagined that Auntie Carmen had entered on that -stage in which, deliberately or unconsciously, we reflect some of the -feelings of others, and through sympathy share the pangs they suffer. - -It was one afternoon when my uncle was in Pontevedra, managing and -playing the scale of small politics, which he declared that he -understood so well. In order to amuse us, Don Román proposed to go -fishing for sunfish in the tranquil waters of the estuary. This was -usually done on pleasant days, letting the boat float along very slowly, -and throwing out the hooks baited with bits of meat or earth-worms. It -is really a pleasant excursion on the water, at the most enjoyable hour -of the day, for the country. We all went in one launch. Auntie, who was -seated at my side, kept joking me because my line never felt the sharp -nibble of the fish, while hers was incessantly on the stretch, catching -sunfish and some other kinds of small fry. I proposed to change rods, -and she consented, but the fish were not to be deceived, and still -slighted me. I took advantage of the fact that Candidiña was quarreling -with Serafín, and that Father Moreno, of whose acuteness I was afraid, -was amusing himself with the fishing like a boy and seemed unobservant, -and ventured to say something very sweet to my auntie. She replied, -smiling at me with a look I cannot define, except by saying that it -seemed a mingling of brightness and innocent archness. If that was -mocking, it was mocking coated with honey, adorned with roses, and -seasoned with affectionate mirth. - -Suddenly it seemed to me that her glorious eyes were overshadowed by -deep sadness, and that a sigh came from that breast--a deep sigh that -could only mean: “This is all very well, my dear nephew, but -unfortunately I am already bound to your disagreeable uncle, and -consequently we cannot come to a good understanding. Don’t be foolish, -or I shall have to say to you, ‘Much too late.’” - -Nightfall put an end to our fishing. We returned to Tejo on foot by the -path already described. There was a moon--that kind of a moon which -always seems more silvery in the country, more melancholy and even -larger than when it lights up a city. Auntie went on ahead, leaning on -Candidiña, and would turn occasionally to speak to Father Moreno or to -me. In order to go by a shorter route, we went through some plowed -fields, and even through an inclosure, rousing the fury of a mastiff, -who desired to take a nip at our legs. - -On arriving at Tejo and entering the parlor, where a multitude of moths -and tiny butterflies were fluttering around the lamp, coming in through -the open windows, auntie gave an exclamation, saying: - -“Oh, in passing through the inclosure I have covered myself with -_loves_!” - -I understood what she meant; some of those little flowers, or stiff, -hooked plants, had stuck to her so closely that she could not get them -off. Immediately I knelt down, and commenced to take off the _loves_, -right and left. The pests stuck to my clothes also. Without changing my -position, I raised my eyes toward her and murmured softly: - -“They cling to me, too.” - -Just at that moment an ugly bat came in, with its heavy and stupid -flight, and made the circuit of the room several times; making its -appearance where we least expected it, and beating its wings against the -wall or brushing against our heads, when we were most unprepared. We -laughed and shouted, and armed ourselves with whatever we could lay our -hands on--handkerchiefs, tidies--and pursued the hideous monster. -Serafín was the first to lay hand upon it. In spite of the sharp cries -it uttered on being caught, the acolyte held it tightly, asked for two -pins, and, stretching out its membranous wings, fastened it against the -window frame. Afterward he stuck a cigarette into its mouth, and lit it -with a match; and while the bat struggled in its death agony, its -persecutor made a thousand gestures and grimaces at it. - -It was a grotesque scene which caused us to shout with laughter, and I -was giving myself up to the enjoyment of it when I heard Carmen, ask -impatiently: - -“Candidiña,--where is Candidiña?” - -The girl did not appear. Then Carmen went to the window, and cried: - -“Papa, papa, come up here. Come and see the bat we have caught.” - -Don Román answered from the garden, “I am coming;” and presently the old -man came in with flashing eyes. - -The torment of the bat amused him very much; but Carmen interceded for -the victim. - -“Serafín, leave that poor thing alone. It is all right to kill it, but -not to torture it. Don’t be a Jew!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - - -After the fishing excursion, my uncle came every afternoon to make love -to his _fiancée_, and all that dawning intimacy between her and me -disappeared; perhaps it was imaginary all along. The wedding-day was -fast approaching, and one could notice in the house that excitement -which always precedes any great domestic event. - -One morning my uncle went to _Naranjal_ to invite Sotopeña to honor him -by attending his wedding. But the great man was suffering with -biliousness, and was just about to start for the Mondáriz Springs, and -his many urgent matters of business and important engagements would not -permit him to put off his journey even for twenty-four hours. This -refusal was a severe blow to my uncle, whose influence in the province -would increase on receiving a public testimony of esteem from the -tutelary divinity of the region; from the man who was so popular, even -among the men from his province, resident in the West Indies and South -America. - -Señor Aldao, on the contrary, felt more at his ease when he found out -that Don Vicente would not visit them. What opinion would the owner of -_Naranjal_ form about the ornamental improvements effected at Tejo? Don -Román’s instinctive regard for his own vanity was very great, and made -him fearful that Sotopeña might laugh in his sleeve at the little -variegated balls which reflected the landscape, at the plaster busts, at -the stained glass windows in the chapel, at the great shield carved in -wood, displaying the armorial bearings of the Aldao family, and at the -hothouse made out of old window frames, and lastly, at all the -arrangements for the wedding. - -As the wedding-day drew near, and the friends and relatives sent in -their wedding gifts, my uncle took full advantage of his right to -monopolize Carmen’s conversation, so that I found fewer opportunities to -approach her, though my desire to do so increased more and more. I saw -more clearly every day her glacial coldness toward her future husband, -though it was disguised and covered up by her gracious manners. - -I was sure that I was correct in these surmises; it was impossible that -I could make a mistake, as a more disinterested person might. Once or -twice I perceived a start of repulsion, a gesture of nervous impatience -at times when a woman, seated by the man she loves, ought to show a face -lighted up with joy. I also observed--and this lent importance to the -first observation--that Carmen did not display any greater happiness or -tenderness in talking to her father or her brother. She was respectful, -cordial, and affable, but nothing more; never effusive. - -On the other hand, I noticed that whenever she spoke to Father Moreno, -she did reveal a warmth of feeling impossible to disguise, because it -shows itself in the gleaming of the eyes and in the inflection of the -voice. Seeing this, I fell into disrespectful soliloquies: - -“The little friar cannot cheat me! With those black eyes, that resolute -air, that open character, and the picture with the great beard--oh, oh, -what an Aben Jusuf he is!” - -These suspicions were confirmed when I became convinced that the Moorish -father and my aunt used to exchange those glances which everywhere -bespeak a secret understanding; sometimes rapid, though expressive, -sometimes deliberate and full of meaning. One would have said that -Carmiña and the friar were plotting together to effect some mysterious -and important purpose. I even heard them whisper something to each other -in the orchard one day. “Can they meet at night?” I ventured to ask -myself. But when I studied the arrangement of the house, I saw that it -was quite impossible. Father Moreno had the best room in the house, -except the one reserved for the bridal chamber, and it communicated with -Don Román’s room, so that the friar could not stir without being heard -by him. Candidiña and her sister slept in the same room with Carmiña, so -that it was impossible for her to attempt to go out at night without -being detected. Thus I could find no foundation, on that side either, -for my evil surmises. - -But nevertheless, I had not the slightest doubt that the friar and -Señorita Aldao understood each other, and were seeking for an -opportunity to meet clandestinely. - -I observed this on several occasions. I noticed the guilty ones, after -taking their coffee, attempt to steal into the garden; in the morning -they would try to go secretly away to some nook or corner of the -gallery. They were always interrupted either by Candidiña’s willful -pranks, or by my mischievous intervention, or by Serafín’s jests, or Don -Román’s officious attentions. And Carmen’s annoyance was always apparent -at such times. The father was able to disguise his feelings much better. - -As I tried to think what I would do in their place, I began to perceive -that there was one hour left them for a secret meeting, and that was the -very early morning. By arising at daybreak they could solve the problem. -In fact, while the father was saying early mass, the greater number of -the inmates of the country house were cosily lying in bed, as a general -rule. - -As I expected that this plan would occur to them, I began myself to get -up at unearthly hours. I would go to bed very early, not without having -a lively skirmish with the clerical apprentice, who was determined to -chat with me till the late hours of the night. Daybreak would scarcely -have come when I would leave my downy couch, and, barely awake, I would -rush off to the orchard, which was delightfully cool, still moist with -the night dews, full of the mysterious quivering of the foliage on being -awakened by the sunrise, and fragrant with the delicious perfumes wafted -in from the flowers in the garden. The murmur of the fountain was more -melodious, sweet, and changeful than ever, as if it fell from heaven -into a vase of glass. All these attractions predisposed me to indulge in -a reverie, and even made me forget that I was lying in ambush. - -By the second morning it came easier; and afterward I rose early for my -own pleasure, as I was then persuaded that my ambuscade would not bring -me anything more than the enjoyment of seeing the orchard when so -charming. But I persevered, and on the fourth morning, while drinking in -the pure air with delight, it suddenly occurred to me that it would be -very pleasant to go up into the yew, and from that height watch the sun -rise over the ocean. No sooner said than done. I ascended the stairs, -passed through the ball-room, went up to the supper-room, and thence on -to Bellavista. - -I stopped, surprised and enchanted by the panorama spread out at my -feet. Near by was the gentle slope where San Andrés is situated; groves -of chestnut-trees, corn-fields, meadows, and several mills, dotting the -shores of the winding brook like pearl clasps on a diamond necklace, -though they were not yet made brilliant by the rays of the sun. That was -scarcely visible, showing itself, like the betraying reflection of a -great fire, in that part of the horizon where sea and sky flow together, -and where the dark mass of the Casitérides was outlined. - -It was a diffused light, like the first uncertain gaze of beautiful, -half-opened eyes. The fog still veiled it. When the first rays of the -red globe began to light up the sea, so marvelously calm, a strange -quivering stirred upon the surface of the waves, which were tinged with -rich colors, as if the hand of some magician had scattered ever them -gold, sapphires, and rubies. At the same time the landscape became -animated, the river glittered in the sun, and the beach at San Andrés -and Portomouro stood out pure and white, as though cleansed by the -waves, with the silvery whiteness of their sands and the green festoons -of their seaweeds. The great aloes, in blossom, displayed their yellow -plumes against the background of the pure sky. The red tiles on the -roofs appeared like coral. Suddenly, like a bird spreading its wings to -fly, the lateen sail of a fisherman’s launch shot forth from the -infinite blue of the estuary, in front of San Andrés, and behind it came -many others pressing together like a flock of doves. I sat there -fascinated. - -Some hidden prompting made me look in another direction, and I turned my -gaze toward the orchard and the house,--the latter closed and quiet at -that hour. The coat-of-arms carved on the wooden shield, the baskets -and borders of roses, pansies, and petunias, the little grove of fruit -trees, the watering trough, all appeared, from Bellavista, like sketches -of a geometrical garden traced upon tapestry. The windows of the silent -house gleamed in the sunlight just then. - -An event which our imagination has foreseen, though it seems very -unlikely to our reason, excites vivid feelings, even if it does not -really concern us. My heart began to beat rapidly and my hands turned -cold, when I saw both Father Moreno and Carmen emerging from different -doors almost at the same time. They were evidently vying with each other -in punctuality; they had agreed on a fixed hour; and Carmen’s small gold -watch and the father’s bull’s-eye chronometer, given to him by the -English Consul’s wife, agreed to a minute. - -When the young lady and the friar caught sight of each other, they -approached each other eagerly, as though they were anxious to meet by -themselves, and had something very important to talk about. - -Carmen quickly bent down and kissed the father’s hand. Then, for a -moment, they seemed to be discussing some question in an animated and -serious manner, until the father suddenly extended his arm, pointing -toward the yew tree. I knew that they could not see me, for -instinctively I had hidden behind the thick foliage. I understood their -gestures, which seemed to say: - -“Up there in the tree we shall be better situated and can talk at our -ease.” - -As soon as I perceived this, I had a sudden idea. I was burning with -eagerness to hear that conversation, whether guilty or innocent, for it -could not fail to be of the greatest interest to me. I felt that the -first thing they would do, before talking unreservedly, would be to -search the tree, although it was not likely that anybody would be there -at such an hour. So I looked around for a hiding place. - -The foliage of the yew tree was not merely thick, but almost solid, so -close that any one could easily hide behind it; but it grew thinner -toward the top. I saw no way of concealing myself except by going down -to the supper-room. There I could see and hear them, wherever they -might place themselves. So I descended and, getting over the railing, -hid myself among the shadowy branches, bestriding the strongest one I -saw. Some branches cracked, and two or three smaller ones broke; the -leaves rustled, and several startled birds flew off with a great -fluttering of wings, to escape my pursuit, as they thought it. -Fortunately, the friar and my uncle’s _fiancée_ were passing under the -covered walk of the arbor just then, and it was not possible for them to -glance toward the tree, or to see anything if they did. Otherwise they -would have noticed the agitation of the branches, comparable to that of -the water in a tank when a nutshell falls into it. They were still -rustling and quivering when I heard the tapping of Carmen’s feet, and -the father’s ponderous tread, coming up the stairway. - -They sat down close to each other, placing themselves so that I could -see their faces by looking a little up; and as they were in full light, -while I was in comparative darkness, I could all the better study their -expression and even hear their quick breathing, caused by their climb, -and the creaking of the chair when the friar dropped his heavy weight on -it. - -He spoke first, praising their selection of a spot where they might have -a confidential chat without being overheard. - -“Yes, it is true,” said the young lady, well satisfied. “I agree with -you, there is no other place where we can talk with entire freedom. -Either Serafín or Salustio would make their appearance in the orchard, -and would stick to us, and there it would be impossible. Even if they -should take a fancy to get up early, they would never think of coming to -the yew tree. And have you noticed how persistent they are, how they -will scarcely let one breathe?” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - - -“Particularly your prospective nephew,” replied the friar. “I don’t -really know what is the matter with that young gentleman, but it seems -as though he were watching us. Sometimes I feel tempted to send him to -the deuce. Because if he and all the rest did not keep close to our -heels, we should not be obliged to make use of this secrecy, which does -not please me, my child, because it might give occasion to malicious -interpretations; and it is not enough to be good, one must appear so -also.” - -“That’s true; but if I did not unbosom myself to you, I believe that I -should die. There are certain things one cannot explain clearly in the -confessional.” - -“To be sure; well, now that we are here, let us hope that the Lord will -bring us some good out of this bad business. My child, open your heart, -and say all you wish. Here is Father Moreno to listen to you and advise -you, not now as a confessor but as a friend. I am really your -friend--you know that very well, so further words are useless. - -“Well, Father, I have no better friend than you. I am so unfortunate -that it is impossible for me to confide either in my father or my -brother; we do not understand each other; there is a barrier--I do not -know what. I believe that you already guess what I want to consult you -about.” - -The father smoothed his chin with his hand, as though in deep -meditation. - -“According to what you said to me, you marry in order to prevent greater -evils. I believe that I have understood.” - -“No, no, Father, it is not that. The evils that may occur here, I cannot -now prevent. I have done all that I could; I have turned myself into a -watchman, a police agent, a spy,--everything that one can turn one’s -self into,--certainly a repugnant and sorrowful part to play. But I am -convinced that it is impossible to protect a woman who will not protect -herself, and that the whims of old men are harder to combat than those -of children.” - -My aunt hesitated a little. - -“My papa,” she said, resolutely, at last, “is like a boy of fifteen. He -is wild after that girl; blindly following her around, putting up with -her mockery, and acting perfectly moon-struck if she makes a silly -grimace at him. I should not mind it, if--at least--” - -“You mean you would like to have him marry her?” - -“Certainly. If the man who gave me being does not lose his soul, I shall -feel resigned to all the rest. You know the trouble I had on Doña -Andrea’s account. While she and my father lived--in that way--all I -wanted was that they should get married. I should have my mother’s maid -for a stepmother, but on the other hand papa would be living at peace -with God. Doña Andrea is an unhappy being--believe me, she has a good -heart. She has never shown the least disrespect for me, and has taken -care of me with a real affection that I cannot describe to you. Only, -she has no--what shall I say?--has no--” - -“No moral sense.” - -“That is it. She is naturally good, but she cannot discriminate between -good and evil.” - -“That is what I call being idiotic in respect of conscience,” said the -father. - -“Just so. So when she found that she was old and ugly, she considered it -the most natural thing in the world to bring this girl to our house, -without doubt, in order to regain her ascendency over my father, or in -order that some member of her family might inherit that honorable post!” - -“My child, as you are going to get married, it is better to speak -plainly--so that we may understand each other. Formerly your father -lived maritally with Doña Andrea, and now--he does not?” - -“You are right; he does not now.” - -“Well, then, it does not make much difference now whether your father -marries her or not, if he has abandoned that sin. Still, so long as she -remains here the scandal continues.” - -“Oh, no, sir; there is no scandal at all! Doña Andrea is in such a -condition that it seems to me she cannot scandalize any one,” replied -my aunt, with a jocose and somewhat mischievous smile. - -“So much the better, so much the better; though when people are bound to -be scandalized, my daughter, they do not look to see whether a face is -pretty or ugly.” - -“Father, unhappily, there will soon be here another cause for scandal, -and that is what they look at. Don’t believe that people do not notice -it. Not a bit of it. I blush with shame whenever I perceive that anybody -notices certain things.” - -“You surely have no cause to be ashamed, my daughter. Shame was not made -for you,” murmured the friar in so endearing and affectionate a tone -that Carmen blushed slightly, though I believe it was with pleasure. - -“I can’t help it,” she stammered. “A father is so sacred that you do not -know how much a daughter suffers when she finds that she can no longer -respect him, as she ought to do, according to God’s holy commandments. -Outwardly I treat him with respect, but inwardly--no, I can’t live this -way. There are times when I think I shall go mad!” - -“Hoity, toity!” exclaimed the friar, gayly. “Mad; nothing less! I have -already told you that your head is like a volcano. I suppose you refer -to what you have already told me--Candidiña!” - -“Yes, sir; he runs after her like a cadet. And I don’t know what to do, -nor on whom to call. He has controlled himself during the last few days -in the presence of his guests and of strangers; but when we were alone, -all I can tell you about the way he pursues her does not do justice to -it. I will not enter into details which are unseemly; suffice it to say -that one morning I witnessed such a scene that I fell down on my knees -at papa’s feet that night, and begged him, in the name of God and the -Virgin, to marry that girl at once, or to send her away into service -somewhere else.” - -“Do you think that the girl gives him any encouragement?” - -“Yes, Father, encouragement; yet at the same time, when things go too -far she defends herself, and leaves me puzzled. Well, I am not obliged -to look out for her. I have tried to persuade her; I have scolded her -and given her good advice; I have her in my own room. Her own mother -could not do more for her. What horrifies me is that my father,--believe -me,--papa does not know what he is doing; he is crazy,--perfectly crazy. -He is passionately in love with the girl; I counted upon that when I -begged him to marry her; but he replied that the world--the people--and -his social standing--oh, Father, I can bear it no longer! I cannot!” - -“God bless me!” sighed the friar. “What folly! and, allow me to add, -what stupidity! At his age--at his age!” - -“Fancy it; he has even gone so far as to say, ‘I will not marry her, -because that would be nonsense; but, if Candidiña leaves by one door, -you shall leave by the other and go to your brother’s house.’ And he -said it with such a tone and air that--why, I shed more tears that day, -Father, than I should if my father had died! If he had died! Oh, I wish -that he had died, if he were at peace with his Maker! I would rather -see him dead a thousand times than this way--his gray hairs dishonored!” - -As she said this, Señorita Aldao seemed to me very handsome. Her eyes -flashed, and her nostrils dilated with enthusiasm and indignation. Her -bosom rose and fell convulsively. The friar looked at her in amazement. - -“You are more than right!” he exclaimed at last. “How much better it -would be to die than to wallow in disgusting sins! Death is nature’s -law; we all have to pay that tribute sooner or later; but, my child, at -least let us refrain from paying another to the devil so that he may -laugh at the way he cheats us. How slight a thing man is, my child, and -for what vile toys he will go to destruction! Lucifer’s sin consisted in -pride, an ugly sin, but it is not so vile, so indecent as--faugh!” and -here the friar gave a start like a man seeing some disgusting animal. - -“Unfortunately,” said the young girl, trying to calm herself, “there is -a little of everything here, and pride plays an active part in this -affair. If it were not for pride, papa would marry that girl who has -turned his head so completely. People would laugh at him a little,--that -is, a good deal,--but there would be no disgrace, no crime. I should not -be obliged to submit to what has caused me such bitter sorrow ever since -I reached the years of discretion. Furthermore, I should not have -to----” - -She hesitated, but finally added: - -“I should not be obliged to get married.” Her revelation was of such -serious import that the friar sat amazed, shaking his head and -tightening his lips, as though saying to himself, “Bad, very bad.” - -“So you----” he added, “Carmiña, let us speak without reserve, for we -are here, in a sense, as though in the confessional. You are not -marrying willingly?” - -“Yes, Father, I marry willingly because I have made up my mind to do it, -and when I make up my mind to do a thing---- I formed that resolution -the day that my father told me that if Candidiña left the house, I -should leave, too. Anything rather than hear and see what I have to. I -have no other way of protesting. My filial respect ties my hands and -even my tongue. But to sanction it by my presence; no, never!” - -“And your brother?” asked the friar, eagerly. - -“My brother--my brother has a child every year, and they need money, and -my father gives it to them. That closes his eyes to everything; and he -has even scolded me many times for urging papa to get married. He says -that if he gets married he may have more children, and injure our -prospects. I once thought of taking refuge with my brother, but his wife -does not want me there, nor he neither. I shall not force my presence -where it is not wanted.” - -The friar remained silent for a few moments, his brow knit, and his -hands pulling at the tassels of the cord which bound his waist. His face -revealed the greatest anxiety, and he coughed and breathed heavily -before venturing to speak, as though he were about to make some decisive -and weighty remark. - -“Well, my child,” he said, at last, “my advice is only what any person -of ordinary judgment would give you. It is not a joke to get married, -nor does it last only for a day. No, my child, it is the most decisive -step of the whole life, for an honorable woman as you are, by the mercy -of God. Tell me the truth, do you dislike that man?” - -“Dislike him?” - -Another long period of silence ensued. I held my breath. The rough -branches of the yew tree cut into my flesh and the hand with which I was -clinging to the tree began to get numb. - -At length Carmen spoke in a changed tone: - -“Dislike him? I do not know. What I do know is that I do not feel any -great affection toward him, nor any of that enthusiastic--don’t get -frightened, Father. I do not mean enthusiastic love. Let’s see if I can -make my meaning clearer. I should like, when I get married, to be able -to look on the husband whom I am to take, in the sight of God, as a -person worthy of the respect of all the world. Father, do you think that -Felipe is--that?” - -“Daughter, I speak with entire candor. I have never heard that he has -committed any crime, but his reputation is not very high in regard to -political machinations, and he is not much liked. As you have asked me, -I must tell you this.” - -“That he is not much liked,” said Carmen, with remarkable sagacity, -“cannot be due to political machinations, for in that respect let him -who can win. So I think it is for some other reason. Have you noticed -his face?” - -“Yes, I have. It is--goodness, I do not know how to tell you, daughter!” - -“It is the face of a Jew,” said Carmen, resolutely. “It may seem -singular to you that I should say so,--I should dare say so only to you. -It is a Jewish face, indeed; so marked that it cannot be mistaken. For -that reason, when you asked me whether I disliked him, I was undecided. -That face,--it has cost me a great deal to get accustomed to it. I don’t -know whether he is ugly or good-looking, but that face----” - -I was listening with all my might when, owing to a circumstance foreign -to the conversation, I was seized with sudden anguish. The fact is, I -felt the branch of which I was astride begin to creak with an ominous -slowness as though notifying me that it was not made to hold birds of my -size. Nevertheless, I kept on listening: - -“Well, my child,” said the friar, resolutely, “if you feel such an -antipathy or dislike toward him as you really seem to, you should not -marry him. At least, consider whether you are able to go through with -it. Reflect well on what a married woman’s condition is. Remember that -the husband you take, whether he pleases you or not, is your life-long -companion; the only man whom it is lawful for you to love, who will be -with you one flesh,--that is what the Church says,--one flesh. He will -be the father of your children, and you owe him not only fidelity but -love; do you understand? I’ll repeat it to you,--_love_. Child, reflect, -now that there is still time; don’t be obstinate. I know it would make a -stir and trouble to break off the engagement, but so long as the -indissoluble tie does not exist--pshaw! These things furnish food for -foolish tongues for a couple of days and then are forgotten. While as -for the other, my child, death alone,--only the death of one of the -two,--can dissolve it. Do you understand what the sacrament of marriage -signifies? Do you know what a husband is to a Christian woman? I want -you to study that question well, my child. Don’t say afterward that your -friend Moreno did not warn you in time!” - -Just then I broke into a cold sweat. It was not fear; no, though the -branch was breaking. The danger of falling from so great a height was -not enough to frighten me at that moment; but I dreaded the -mortification of being caught in such unworthy eavesdropping. For then I -could see clearly that my eavesdropping was unworthy, my curiosity an -affront, and my lying in ambush an outrage. - -The cracking of the dry wood, that dull and agonizing cra-a-a-ck! -cra-a-a-ck! seemed to say, in its thick and broken tones: “Impertinent -meddler, gossip, Paul Pry!” I seemed to hear the Father’s disdainful -voice lashing me with these scornful words: “I had already spotted you. -I knew before that you were watching us. Fool, you thought that we were -all complacent slaves of passion, and that this young lady and I--well, -now you have seen that we are two decent people.” - -Making up my mind to renounce hearing the rest of their dialogue, I -tried to slide down the branch, mount astride the next, and, branch by -branch, descend to the ball-room, and thence to the ground. The -operation as a gymnastic exercise was not difficult; but it was -impossible to carry it out without making any noise--noise which would -surely attract the attention of the two speakers and immediately betray -my hiding place. The attempts I made to measure the distance were -causing a prolonged rustling of the leaves. My only choice was to keep -calm, to hold out, not to breathe, to commend my soul to God, and to -hope everything of the strength and good nature of that branch. -Consequently, I tried not to bear my whole weight on it, and remained -half suspended in the air, in a very painful position. What exasperated -me most was not to be able to pay due attention to their conversation, -which was then more animated than ever. I do not know whether I heard -the last part very well; but I believe that the following is more or -less what Carmen said: - -“It is evident that we cannot do anything without God’s assistance, but -I do not consider it vanity on my part to assure you that I shall -fulfill the duties I assume. If you knew, Father, how that word duty -sounds to me! I assure you with all the truthfulness of my soul, if I -imagined that I should fail in my duty toward him, as time goes on, I -would a thousand times rather die first. No; neither my husband, nor my -father, nor God, shall ever have any cause of complaint against me. In -that way I shall live--or shall die happy. If it were to be otherwise, I -would kill myself! I am marrying with my eyes open. Circumstances have -placed me in this peculiar position--well, then, with my eyes open, I -will be good. I don’t want to make excuses beforehand; I will be good, -even if the earth should sink!” - -Let the reader smile; but these words made me wild with enthusiasm; so -much so that I even forgot my dangerous situation. I arose, as though -to applaud her, reaching out my hands toward my angel of an aunt, when, -by an involuntary movement, I fell heavily upon the branch; a terrible -noise was heard, which seemed to me like the blast of an unchained -tempest, and I instantly became aware that I was falling, slowly -falling, the heavy, thick foliage seeming to retard my fall, though I -scratched and bruised myself fearfully on the sharp points of the -smaller branches and the knobs on the larger ones. It seemed as though I -was a century falling; and in the midst of my bewilderment I thought I -heard overhead, up in the tree, exclamations, cries, and a confused -clamor. - -Finally, my descent grew faster and faster. I tore some of my clothing, -and at last fell flat on my face on the turf. I bounced up like a ball, -and went off, running like a hunted deer. What I wanted was to hide -myself--to disappear--to cover up, if possible, my wrong-doing and its -ludicrous result. - -This thought spurred me on, and gave me wings, and even sharpened my -wits, leading me to plunge into the covered walk through the fruit -trees, where they could not see me from the yew. From that to the little -grove was but a step, and from the grove to the arbor covered with -honeysuckle, no distance at all. Into that I rushed, and without paying -any attention to my scratched and bloody hands or my bruised condition, -excited, beside myself, I lowered myself over the wall, and, once out of -the orchard, did not consider myself safe till, pushing on through short -cuts and cross-paths, I reached the beach. “A perfect _alibi_!--I was -bathing!” - -I undressed myself in a twinkling. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - - -The wedding took place two days after this episode. I awoke that day -with a violent pain in my chest. By dint of applying cloths soaked with -arnica, which I slyly procured of the druggist in San Andrés, I had -succeeded in partly disguising the scratches and bruises I had on my -face. As for my clothing, I had only torn the lining of my coat; that -was lucky. The only two witnesses of my fall had doubtless agreed to -keep silent; but they would look at me from time to time, and I felt a -disagreeable sensation on meeting Carmen’s surprised and severe gaze, or -the Franciscan’s eyes, in which I thought I observed a humiliating -mixture of anger and contempt. For that cause I deeply regretted my -bruised condition, thinking to myself, “I’ll bet I have sprained or -broken something, and that will necessarily let the cat out of the bag.” -To my physical depression there was joined a mental state of -considerable excitement, as the following paragraphs from my latest -letter to Luis will demonstrate: - -“My dear boy: I don’t know how to tell you what has happened to me. By -chance I have discovered Carmen’s secret, and I am convinced that she is -an angel, a seraph in the shape of a woman. The friar was right when he -declared that Carmiña is the type of a perfect Christian woman. -Undoubtedly there is something in such a woman which calls for -reverence; something heavenly. I did wrong to doubt it or even to -imagine that she might not be a saint. If you knew how unhappy she is, -what self-sacrifice she is making! I will tell you what is going on--and -then you say whether there can be greater heroism or dignity of -character. I have been lost in amazement ever since I have learned the -motives for her conduct.” - -I then proceeded to explain affairs at length, praising Carmen’s -wonderful strength of character; and added, to finish making a clean -breast of it: “I think that the friar is good, also. Although it may -seem very strange, yet I am inclined to think that he does fulfill his -vows. There is no doubt of it, my boy, he will fulfill them. Virtue does -exist, of course it does! There is even such a thing as country! I don’t -know really what my feelings are; whether, since I have seen clearly -what my auntie is I love her more, in a highly refined way, or whether I -no longer care for her as a woman. What I am sure of is that my uncle -does not deserve the treasure which has fallen to him from heaven. I -know I shall never find such a woman, if ever I get married myself some -day.” - -I wrote this letter on the eve of the fatal day. At daybreak next -morning I felt sore, as I was saying, and all my bones ached; I had a -great desire to stay flat on my back without moving, thinking, or -breathing scarcely. But the cursed acolyte came into my room with his -customary jokes and boyish pranks, and at once fell to pulling off the -sheets. - -“What is the matter?” he asked; “is your breast-bone broken? You are -like the cats that smash themselves jumping off the roof. What pains our -young gentleman? Shall I rub you?” - -I arose painfully, and, threatening him with my clenched fist, -exclaimed: - -“If you talk about falls--” - -“Well, we’ll talk about whatever your Excellency desires. _Ne in furore -tuo arguas me!_” - -“I will argue with you with a shoe, if you don’t keep quiet.” - -“Oh, it’s not worth while to put yourself out! Get up, for they are -already putting all the frippery on the bride. Don’t you hear the -orchestra from the Royal Imperial and Botanical Theater? Mighty good -music!” - -I could, in fact, hear, coming up from the court, the light, rapid notes -of a country measure, which seemed to dance along with pastoral joy. It -was the pipers tuning up and playing their prelude. That lively, merry, -jubilant music depressed my heart. - -Making an effort I set my bones in motion. I felt a depressing -uncomfortableness in my chest, as though it held a heavy stone, giving -me unendurable distress. Pulling myself together, I washed, dressed -myself as well as I could, and went down to breakfast. Nearly all the -guests were there. I noticed that Señor Aldao was uneasy, and learned -that his disturbance arose from a letter he had just received from -_Naranjal_. Don Vicente Sotopeña’s godson and protegé, Lupercio -Pimentel, wrote it in the former’s name, and after many courteous -congratulations and great professions of friendship for my uncle, he -went on to say that Don Vicente had commissioned him to be present, in -the great man’s name, at the wedding feast, if not the ceremony itself. - -Hence came Don Román’s anxiety, for he was afraid that something might -be lacking of the elegance which the presence of such an important -personage demanded. He would almost have preferred to deal with the -great chief himself. The latter, at least, was very unassuming and -frank, and if one gave him country dishes and jokes in Galician dialect, -he would not observe any omission. On the other hand, the godson--Heaven -only knows! He was young, very elegant, and accustomed to the splendid -festivities in the Capital. - -After dispatching our chocolate without much ceremony, we proceeded to -the parlor. We could hear merry feminine voices outside in the hall, -and soon afterward the bride made her appearance, surrounded by several -of her young friends from Pontevedra, invited to the ceremony, and by -Candidiña, Doña Andrea, and the little girl, who were all stumbling over -each other in their eagerness to get a good view of her. - -Carmen Aldao was pale and feverish, with deep circles under her eyes. -Her eyelids had a heavy, purplish look, as though she had passed a -sleepless night. She wore the white dress with the net-work of imitation -pearls, a black lace mantilla, fastened with jeweled pins, a spray of -natural orange blossoms on her breast, long gloves, and carried a lace -handkerchief and a prayer-book and rosary inlaid with pearl. - -After bowing to her lover, who said “good-morning” to her in a somewhat -constrained voice, and then smiling at the rest of the company, she -remained standing in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do -next. But when Señor Aldao, at a signal from Uncle Felipe, said, “Let us -proceed to the chapel,” Carmen advanced, and went up to her father with -a frank and eager air. - -“Forgive me if I have ever offended you,” she said, in a vibrating, -though restrained voice, “and I pray you give me your blessing.” - -As she spoke, she fastened on her father an eloquent, profound, and -almost dreadful look, so intense was it. Her father turned away, -murmuring, “May God bless you!” - -I believe that I saw something glistening in his eyes. There are some -things which grate on the nerves. - -Her friends devoted themselves to arranging the bride’s dress, pulling -out her flounces and picking up the pearl beads, some of which were -already rolling around the floor. Not walking arm in arm, and in -considerable disorder, we set out for the chapel. - -It was fragrant with flowers, and entirely carpeted with ferns and -anise, while the altar was lighted up with countless tapers. The -ceremony was rather long, as they were married and took the communion at -the same time. I heard the clearly pronounced “yes” of the bride, and -the indistinct one of the bridegroom. I heard read what everybody calls -St. Paul’s Epistle, though it may not be so. There the husband is -compared to Christ, the wife to the Church; and, in confirmation of the -man’s superiority, the embroidered stole fell over the head of the bride -at the same time that it fell on her husband’s shoulder. Carmen Aldao, -crossing her hands on her breast, bowed her head and submitted to the -yoke. - -A number of peasants were among the spectators, attracted by curiosity, -and were crowding each other with a respectful murmur in their efforts -to see over the heads of the gentry. When the mass was over, the -fire-crackers went off, the country pipes gave forth their -characteristic harsh sounds, and the people all rushed out in a body, -while the bride was surrounded by her friends, who filched the orange -leaves and buds from her dress, and gave her hearty smacks. - -That was an awkward moment. Where should we go? What should we do? How -should we entertain the company? - -Castro Mera, who was young and lively, proposed that we should go over -to the yew, have the piano brought out into the garden, and get up a -dance, while the married couple and Father Moreno were breakfasting, as -they had not been able to do so before on account of the mass and -communion service. They all consented to this arrangement, but the -dancing had scarcely begun when the bride reappeared without her -mantilla. She had only taken a sip of chocolate, and came to fulfill her -social duties. She herself played the first country dance down in the -garden. The second was played by a young lady from Pontevedra, and -Castro Mera then danced it with her, whom I may now with propriety call -my aunt. Afterward a young lady from San Andrés proposed to have a -waltz. I had dragged myself through the country dance only so that -people should not discover how much I was suffering with my bruises; but -when I heard them say “waltz,” a Wertherian thought flashed through my -mind: “I will embrace the bride before the arms of her lover have -touched her.” Rising quickly, and forgetting all about my sprains, I -invited her to take a turn. She refused, smilingly, but her friends -pushed her on, and then, making a grimace as though to say, “Well, it -will be for the last time,” she rested her left arm on mine and allowed -my right arm to encircle her waist. - -As I clasped her form, I forgot all about my fatigue and bruises, and -felt intuitively that I was more in love than ever with that woman who -was now indissolubly bound to another. Thus to hold her--in that room -walled in by vegetation, gilded by the sun, which at times, stealing -through the branches, cast a playful ray upon the bride’s hair or -brow--made me beside myself. I observed the delicate outlines of her -lithe figure; I felt her warm breath on my cheek; and the wild fancy -which agitated me became a longing so vehement that I was obliged to -exert all my self-control in order not to press her so closely to my -heart as to hurt her. - -Nevertheless, my transport was the purest and most sublimated of all -such loving raptures. I felt a heavenly illusion, if I may so call it; a -divine illusion, noble in its origin and development. What thrilled me -most was the thought that I held in my arms the purest and holiest woman -on earth, and that, although she belonged to another, she was still a -virgin, pure, unsoiled as the calyx of a lily, as the orange blossoms -which she still wore on her bosom, and which, as they faded, gave out an -intoxicating and delicious perfume. - -We waltzed on very smoothly, and between the turns, I believe I said to -her: - -“As we are relatives now, may I address you with the _tu_?” - -“Of course; it would be absurd for you to be so terribly formal as to -say _usted_ to me.” - -“Will you get vexed?” - -“No, why should I?” - -I remained silent. The silken folds of her dress brushed caressingly -across my knees, and I felt my heart, agitated by the movement of the -waltz, beating violently. Then, with an irresistible impulse, the truth -burst from my lips: - -“Auntie,” I murmured, “forgive me. I have behaved very badly toward you, -don’t you know? I was indiscreet. But then, I am so glad, so glad! -Because I now know all that you are worth; and listen--I know it to be -so much, that I am like one crazy. Don’t you see it?” - -“Be quiet, you silly boy!” she replied, somewhat short-breathed from -dancing. “If you were really indiscreet, what shall I say to you? You -did very wrong.” - -“I know it,” I said, remorsefully. “For that very reason I want you to -pardon me. Pardon me, come now, pardon me. Will you forgive me?” - -“Oh, yes,” she replied, as though acceding to a childish whim. - -“How good you are!” I exclaimed, impulsively, in a low, deep tone. - -We took several turns more, and felt our heads grow dizzy from waltzing -in such close quarters. She stopped for a moment, and I then inquired: - -“Auntie, do you expect ever to dance again?” - -“No, this is my last waltz. Married women do not dance.” - -“The last!” - -“Certainly.” - -“Then give me, I beg you, that spray of orange-blossoms. Do give it to -me!” - -“What do you want it for?” - -“Give it to me, or I shall do something desperate.” - -“Take it, nephew,” she replied, stopping; “and don’t ever hide in the -trees again.” - -I grasped the spray as a robber would grasp a stolen treasure, and -looked at my aunt, searching her eyes to their depths. I did not -perceive either resentment or severity in her while she thus frankly -avowed that she had discovered my outrageous performance. But a slight -sense of startled modesty was discernible in her eyes, though this -severe bearing was tempered by a half-smile and the animation of her -countenance, flushed by the dance. - -I would gladly have had that waltz last forever. I remained silent, for -the force of my feelings tied my tongue; while I felt that I was raised -to the fifth heaven. Unable to restrain myself, I must have clasped her -slender waist too closely, for suddenly aunt stopped, and with an -agitated countenance, but a firm voice, said: “That is enough.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - - -We did not sit down to dinner until three o’clock in the afternoon. We -were somewhat crowded because the dining-room was almost entirely taken -up by a huge table in the shape of a horseshoe, adorned with vases of -flowers placed at regular intervals, and pyramids of confectionery. -There were more than thirty guests present; many of the gentry from San -Andrés, several priests, a number of physicians, the adjutant of -Marines, three or four landed proprietors, judges, district politicians, -young ladies, some of my uncle’s political adherents, and even the good -Don Wenceslao Viñal, who placed himself at my side so that he might have -some one with whom to talk about his archæologico-historical whimseys. - -Lupercio Pimentel, Don Vicente’s godson, had the place of honor at the -bride’s right hand. He was good looking, well mannered, an easy talker, -cordial and full of fun, after the fashion of politicians of the -present time, who, instead of relying on the force which ideas and -principles carry with them, trust to their own personal magnetism. From -the commencement of the banquet, I observed that he left no stone -unturned in order to ingratiate himself with the company; “those -elements,” as he would say. He looked around, and I heard him say, -bending toward my uncle over the bride’s shoulder: - -“How is it that the Mayor of San Andrés is not here?” - -“Because he is so opposed to us,” replied my uncle. - -“For that very reason he ought to be here. Our friend Calvete must -afterward put his name in the list of guests,” he added, pointing to the -editor of _El Teucrense_, who bowed, greatly flattered. - -After a moment’s reflection, Pimentel resumed: - -“Let two go after him. If necessary, have them bring him by force, so -long as he gets here in time to hear the toasts.” - -Castro Mera and the officer of Marines rose with docility, and under a -blazing sun wended their way to San Andrés, in order to bring back the -refractory and obstinate “element.” - -While they were serving the soup, the great leader’s godson said to my -uncle in a low tone, yet so that his words should make due impression on -the public: - -“Cánovas has made himself out of the question. He has got the opinion of -all sensible people against him. The Regency is not feasible with him. A -conservative Administration would not be feasible.” - -It appeared to me--I do not know why--that many of those present did not -comprehend the meaning of the word _feasible_, but somehow took it for -granted that it all meant something very bad, and highly prejudicial to -Cánovas; but they fully understood when Pimentel observed that Pi’s -party was Utopian, and they murmured their approbation. - -I scarcely listened. I was in the yew, waltzing, feeling the floor sway, -and seeing the green foliage tremble with a prolonged rustle. At the -second course I was obliged to emerge from my reverie, because the -clerical apprentice, seated at my left, took it upon himself to pinch -me, nudge my elbow, and step on my foot at every word that Pimentel -uttered. - -I do not know what had come over Serafín; perhaps the two glasses of -Burgundy which he had imbibed with his soup, had stimulated his -impoverished blood and drew him out of his childish foolishness, causing -him to utter satirical and biting jests. All I affirm is, that he -accompanied his nudges and kicks with some terrible remarks worthy of a -Juvenal in a cassock. - -“Behold,” he said, in a low tone, “the greatest miracle of the -miraculous boss. He has made a great man out of that creature. What do -you think of it, Salustio? And what is your opinion of the indecency of -us Galicians? We leave the temple of the Lord deserted, and worship the -golden calf--_feceruntque sibi deos aureos_. They will not make a -pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Nieves, and yet they repair to -the saint of the orange grove, to feed on offices and pap. They all do -it--not one is lacking. He who cannot get there alive will be carried -there dead. And you’ll not escape the contagion, either. You’ll worship -the miraculous saint; for if you don’t, invent all the magnetic bridges -and electric carriage-roads you please, and your countrymen will pay no -attention to you whatever. Why don’t you become a saint also, you -goose?” - -Fortunately, the length of the table, the number of guests, and the hum -of conversation prevented them from hearing the string of nonsense the -ecclesiastical monkey uttered; but I could not restrain my laughter on -seeing the amazement depicted on Don Wenceslao’s face, who was seated at -my right hand. - -The saint had just performed one of his miracles, in the person of the -lucky archæologist, by getting up for him a nice little salary as -librarian to the Legislature; and his face expressed the most profound -terror. If Pimentel should hear that wild talk and attribute it to him! -In spite of the customary somnambulistic condition of library mice, -Viñal sharpened his ears, perceiving the terrible risk his blessed three -hundred a year were exposed to. - -“Salustio,” he said to me, in anguish, “make that silly fellow stop -talking. He is drawing attention to us. Stop him, for pity’s sake.” - -The highly excited state of my nerves induced me to go contrary to the -wishes of the peace-loving scholar. I also felt inclined to sour and -pessimistic censure. What irritated me was my uncle’s aspect, -overflowing with satisfaction, while he paid more attention to Pimentel -than to his bride, and even gave a toast dedicating the banquet to the -protector of his disgraceful schemes. - -“Cringing people,” I thought, “if you want to worship any one, bow down -all you like before Father Moreno, who represents the sacrifice of a -life on the altar of an idea; bow down before that bride who is the -personification of virtue and duty; but as for doing it before him whose -only merit consists in distributing pap!--I also am disposed to give -vent to my feelings. Serafín is not far out of the way.” - -Not knowing how to relieve my impatience, and without paying the -slightest attention to Viñal, who was pulling at my sleeve, I improved -the first opportunity to contradict Pimentel. I think it was about Pi -and his Utopias--and the things that were feasible or not feasible. It -caused a great sensation when they heard me dare to raise my voice in -such an inconsiderate manner, and my uncle looked at me with an -expression which redoubled my ardor. - -“You say the Republic is not feasible here? And why not, I want to know? -We cannot possibly prolong the abject state of anarchy in which we now -live. We are suffering from the drawbacks of a monarchy, and, -nevertheless, do not enjoy its advantages. There is no cohesion, no -unity, while political customs have deteriorated so greatly that -nowadays the public man who aspires to set an example of morality -appears ridiculous, and he who holds any opinions of his own likewise.” - -Pimentel turned toward me, replying with calm courtesy: - -“What you desire and what we all desire, in fact, might answer for other -races--oh, yes, for northern races; but here, with the Arab blood in our -veins, and our everlasting rebelliousness--oh, it would be impossible, -utterly impossible!” - -Nobody was a more ardent defender of civil rights than he; his -sacrifices were well known to all (they bowed assent), “but let us not -confound, gentlemen, let us not confound anarchy and license with a -just, reasonable, and feasible liberty. The northern countries produce -statesmen because the masses are already educated for political freedom; -it comes to them through hereditary transmission, if one may so say--it -is hereditary. If you don’t believe it, just look at the theories of -Thiers--English public opinion----” - -I, not knowing how to extricate myself, caught hold of Thiers like a -drowning man catching at a straw. - -“It must be the French opinion you mean, sir; for you cannot be ignorant -that Thiers was a----” - -I purposely made a pause, during which my adversary looked at me with -some anxiety. - -“Thiers was a Frenchman.” - -The priest from San Andrés timidly ventured to say, from his corner: - -“Of course he was a Frenchman, for it was he who restored peace to -France after the Commune.” - -As I looked around to observe the impression my words had made, I -noticed that Don Román’s face expressed disapprobation and surprise, -while my uncle’s was flushed with anger, and Father Moreno’s lighted up -by a roguish smile. - -Pimentel replied, somewhat confused: “Of course he was a Frenchman; we -were not speaking of that, I believe. We were discussing English public -opinion,--for, there is no doubt about it, England is the land of -self-government, as the renowned Azcarate proved so conclusively,--while -we--our idiosyncrasy--it will not do to implant here what in other -nations more--it will not be feasible; because every ruler has to -consider the inherent tendencies of the race.” - -“That is all talk,” I argued; “generalities, which prove nothing. Let us -come closer to the point, if you please. We have nothing to do with -races. We are talking about the Spanish Republic, to which all those who -are in authority to-day, big and little, had committed themselves, but -which they betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, like Judas. Would they -do the same by the Restoration, if it had not given them full swing with -the Government’s salary-list?” - -I did not perceive the insolence of my attack, until I heard Serafín -exclaim in his harsh voice, clapping his hands: - -“That’s it! Go on, that’s where the shoe pinches.” - -Pimentel wiped his mustache with his napkin, turned his head toward me, -and instead of answering me in an angry manner, smilingly agreed with -me, saying: - -“That is very true, Señor Meléndez. The tact of the Restoration in -compromising with the revolutionary elements has rendered feasible that -which under other circumstances--” - -His speech was interrupted just then by the arrival of the Mayor of San -Andrés, who was almost dragged in by the committee that had gone in -quest of him at their young chief’s command. They must all have run up -the hill, for they were dreadfully out of breath. - -The Mayor was in a dripping sweat, and kept mopping his face with an -enormous handkerchief. He stammered out that he did not consider that he -was called upon to sit down at such a fine banquet; but Pimentel, as -sweet as honey, seized his hand, found a place for him at his own side, -and endeavored by every means in his power to gain the good will of his -political opponent. - -I should not be able to give the _menu_ of that tiresome dinner. It -seemed as though all the dishes enumerated in cook-books kept coming on -the table, while the stupidity of the servants, and their inexperience -in serving, prolonged the dinner indefinitely. The most difficult task -of all would be to give a detailed account of the wines, the sweets, the -liqueurs, the endless pastry, the coarse Pontevedra preserves, and the -cakes sent by this or that neighbor, which, as the donors themselves -were present, could not possibly be slighted. - -I drank five or six glasses of champagne, but the only effect they had -on me was to revive the belligerent spirit which had induced me to -attack Pimentel. I felt quarrelsome, aggressive, quixotic, and desirous -of pitching into everybody, right and left. And beneath that singular -effervescence I felt the throbbing of a dumb ache in the depths of my -heart, a sort of longing for something I seemed to have lost. I cannot -define it for it was one of those subtle, vivid feelings which sometimes -do not correspond to any deep mental need, but to certain fantastical -whims thwarted by stern reality. - -The bride, at whom I glanced furtively from time to time, had a dejected -and weary appearance. This was very likely nothing more than the fatigue -caused by the long time they were at the table, but I fancied that it -was melancholy, the bitterness of the chalice she had put to her lips, -the foretaste of the bitter draught. - -And why not? Had I not overheard the conversation in the yew tree? Was I -not positive that my uncle inspired her with an inexplicable feeling of -aversion, and that only in order to perform a moral duty, the -“categorical imperative” of her faith, had she drawn near to the altar, -a veritable sacrificial altar for her? I wanted, at all hazards, to -penetrate into the depths of her inmost soul, and read that gentle and -suffering spirit. What could she be thinking about? What can she hope -for? What can the fair bride be afraid of? - -Meanwhile, the champagne, which had only quickened my imagination, began -to affect the others more strongly, as was shown by their flushed faces, -flashing eyes, somewhat obstreperous voices, unwarrantable and vehement -loquacity, loud laughter, and silly effusiveness. Pimentel, although -more decorous and self-possessed than the rest, became animated also, -discussing with my uncle a grand project which would assuredly be an -epoch-making event in the annals of the Sotopeña party; nothing less -than to convert the procession in honor of the Virgin into an imposing -political manifestation, Don Vicente himself to carry the standard, -while all the people of Pontevedra and its vicinity, for seven leagues -around, would turn out to furnish an escort of honor to their provincial -divinities, the Virgin and their wonder-working saint. Some of the -priests were listening to this project, and highly applauded it, -exclaiming: “Excellent--give Catholic sentiment the first place; that’s -the way!” Castro Mera was vehemently insisting on the excellency of law, -a young man from San Andrés was challenging another from Pontevedra to -see which could drink the greatest quantity of Curaçoa; the officer of -Marines was disputing with the Mayor about the fishing tackle prohibited -by law; Serafín was laughing convulsively because Viñal was maintaining -with great energy that he had documents which proved that Tenero had -founded Hellenes, and was even boasting that he knew the spot where -Tenero was probably buried. - -Don Román Aldao at last determined to make a move, telling the rest of -the guests not to disturb themselves, for he was only going to show -Pimentel the grounds and to take a little fresh air. The bride went off -leaning on Pimentel’s arm, while her father and the bridegroom followed -them arm in arm. As soon as they left, the rest became more animated, -and the hullabaloo grew so loud that nobody could make himself -understood. Some were disputing, others laughing loudly, others were -arguing and pounding the table, already stained with wine and dotted -with bits of cake and sweetmeats. Nobody was eating any more; they only -kept on drinking, consuming an extraordinary amount of wines and -liqueurs. The young gentleman from San Andrés, the one who had made the -wager, had been obliged to go to the window to cool his heated brow, -while the other one, from Pontevedra, was still unmoved in spite of the -prodigious quantity of wine he had guzzled down, and was entertaining -himself by teasing Serafín. He had already made him drink a quart of -spirits, and now was amusing himself by pouring out sherry and Pajarete -for him through a cylindrical bit of pastry, used as a funnel. - -The acolyte would sometimes protest, sometimes swallow it down, while -his pale and distorted face revealed the effects of the alcohol. Finally -he asserted himself, and shouted in a bellowing tone: - -“No more; I don’t want any more! Get out, I am not a sponge!” - -He pushed away the other’s hand, and the sherry was spilt over his shirt -front, soaking it completely. Suddenly his paleness turned into an -apoplectic flush, and mounting his chair he began to harangue the -company: - -“Gentlemen, I know I am not doing right to stay here. It would only -serve me right if you were to drown me in Pa-Pa-jarete--or some other -Liberal poison. You are all Liberals--the first is proved _per se_--_per -se_.” - -“Per _so_!” shrieked Castro Mera, and the officer of Marines. - -“To be a Liberal constitutes a greater sin than to be a homicide, an -adulterer, or a blasphemer. This second proposition I can prove by Sardá -and the fathers of the church at my tongue’s end. Therefore I, who drink -Pajarete with you, am liable to the major excommunication--_Catæ -sententiæ!_ Don’t you know what a big-bug of the ecclesiastical -hierarchy once said? Don’t you know, you blockheads? He! he! he! Well, -he said: ‘_Cum ejus modi nec cibum sumere_’--Hey? It seems that he made -it clear enough. _Cum ejus modi nec Pajaritum su--sum--_” - -I looked at him with curiosity. There was no doubt that sometimes that -toad was sincere in his ravings, and that his true feelings bubbled -forth from his lips. The acolyte considered himself nothing less than an -apostle, and talked away, threatening us with his fists. His cries -became hoarser, his throat contracted, and his eyes, which looked like -two big white balls, seemed to start from their sockets. Suddenly he -passed from words to deeds, and seizing the bottle near him threatened -to throw it at our heads. What most excited his fury was Pimentel’s -project for the civico-political procession. That drove him wild. -Strange effect of drunkenness! When in his normal state, and free from -vinous influences, the clerical apprentice was very meek and humble; but -as soon as he was under the influence of alcohol he became belligerent -and aggressive. He abused us all soundly, and freed his mind especially -regarding Sotopeña. I clearly perceived that trouble would ensue, for -Castro Mera, somewhat elevated also, rushed to the fray, defending right -and left the political principles which the little priest was berating; -and as the latter was replying with fearful invectives,--or, rather, -insulting epithets,--I suddenly saw him froth at the mouth, heard his -maudlin laugh, saw him double his fists, and noticed that his wandering -hands were seeking among the plates and glasses for a weapon--a knife. I -restrained Castro Mera, saying, in a low tone, “He has a terrific -epileptic fit.” - -In fact Serafín was already struggling in the arms of several, who -rushed forward to hold him, with herculean strength, or rather a -formidable nervous force, a momentary effect of the seizure; he fought -like a wild animal, biting, scratching, and kicking so that at times we -thought that he would overpower us all. - -Finally we succeeded in tying his hands with a handkerchief. We deluged -him with cologne, cold water and vinegar; we picked him up by his feet -and shoulders, and with great difficulty succeeded in taking him up to -the tower, and throwing him upon his bed, where he lay in a heavy -stupor, broken at intervals by short, sudden spasms. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - - -We went down into the garden, and the cool evening air served to refresh -our heated brains. I thought that I was not even on the verge of what is -meant by intoxication, but nevertheless I attributed the strange weight -on my heart, the profound melancholy which took possession of me, to the -effects of wine, which sometimes produces that painful tedium. Those -happy, jesting, merry people, who considered the wedding a joyous event, -inspired me both with disgust and an inexplicable aversion. They roamed -over the grounds, enjoying themselves and laughing, but I tried to be -alone with my own dark thoughts and lugubrious fancies. My imagination -took on blacker hues every moment, as though some dire misfortune was -weighing me down. I wandered off instinctively to the most retired nook -in the orchard, and, opening the worm-eaten gate which lead into the -grove, rushed through impetuously, eager for quiet and solitude. A -clear, energetic voice exclaimed: - -“Where are you going, Señor Salustio?” - -In voice and words I recognized Father Moreno. He was seated on a stone -bench, leaning against the wall, and reading a book, which he closed as -he saw me. - -“I came here,” he said, “looking for a fit place to read my prayers. I -was just finishing. And you, may I ask whether you also have come out -from the orchard to pray?” - -“No,” I replied, with the impetuous frankness which is the usual result -of several glasses of strong wine inside one. “I came because all those -people bored me with their noise, their jollity, and silliness, and -because their stupidity made my head ache.” - -“Bravo, dear sir, you are right, more than right! I also was satiated -with both the food and the company. It was a veritable hullabaloo, and -it is not singular that it should scare away a friar--but you----” - -“Father Moreno, believe me, there are days when, taking no account of -one’s belief, he feels like becoming a friar, and renouncing the follies -of the world.” - -The friar fastened his calm, powerful, and piercing eyes on mine, -saying: - -“Do you really feel so? Well, then, you’ll not be surprised if a poor -friar should reply to you that in my opinion you are already at the -beginning of the road to knowledge, and even happiness, as far as it is -possible for man to obtain it in this world. To seek for peace and to -renounce our worldly affections is not virtue; it is simply calculation -and selfishness. Believe me, sir, I do not envy anybody in the world, -but on the other hand, I pity a great many people.” - -My pride as a layman did not rebel at his words. I was surprised at this -afterward, when I reflected that the friar’s compassion, ironical though -it probably was, ought to have given me offense; because, taking into -consideration my ideas, my ways of thinking and feeling about religious -questions, and the ridiculous significance in my mind of monastic vows, -it was I that should have pitied the friar, and pitied him as one does -victims of an absurdity and of a useless immolation on the altars of a -mistaken idea. My strange acquiescence in Father Moreno’s words can -only be explained on the supposition that there exists in the inmost -depths of our soul a perpetual tendency to self-sacrifice, to -renunciation; a tendency, so to speak, derived from the Christian -subsoil upon which the crust of our rationalism rests. At that moment of -moral depression the thought occurred to me: “Which is better, Salustio, -to go on studying, to learn your profession, practice it, get married, -assume the care of children, endure the trials and tribulations of life, -bear everything which it must bring in its train, sorrow, -disappointments, struggles, and combats, or pass your days like that -good Father, who, at a wedding festival, takes his book and comes out -into the grove to pray so peacefully?” - -“Yes, indeed, I pity a great many,” proceeded the friar, taking my arm -familiarly, and leading me through the grove to a little meadow beyond, -which ended in a fence over which _Parietariæ_ and wild flowers grew. -“To people who judge by appearances only, it may seem that I ought to be -envious in the midst of a wedding-feast, or at least consider my -condition so different from that of married people, eh? Well, see here, -I assure you (and you will not suppose me to be juggling with words, for -you know now that I am very frank) that it seems rather as if the -newly-married couple inspired me with a feeling of compassion--yes, -compassion--when I realize the hardships which await them on their way -through life, however happy they may be, even though God should shower -upon them all that is understood by the word happiness.” - -The friar’s sentiments tallied so well with mine just then, that I would -gladly have embraced him. But yielding the second time to the desire to -unbosom myself, I sat down on the fence and said: - -“Father Moreno, the marriage appears perfectly absurd to me. Either I am -much mistaken, or it will lead to most lamentable results. Carmiña is an -angel, a saint, an exceptional being; and my uncle--well, I have reason -to know him.” - -The appearance of the Father’s face suddenly changed. His eyes became -severe, he knit his brow, and his smiling lips contracted into a -serious, almost austere expression. His face revealed, what was seldom -visible there, the stamp of his vocation; the friar and confessor was -reappearing from under the semblance of the affable, courteous, human, -and communicative man. - -“You speak thoughtlessly,” he said, without circumlocution, “and you -must pardon me for bringing you up with a round turn. Perhaps you think -that you have something to found your opinion upon, though I really -regret that you oblige me to recall _that_--because I desire to forget -that you were more indiscreet and inquisitive than is fitting in a -person who, by his training and the scientific nature of his profession, -ought to set everybody an example of seriousness. You know we have never -alluded to that subject, but now that you yourself afford me an -opportunity, I shall not let it pass by. I believe that you acted as you -did out of the natural thoughtlessness of youth; if otherwise, my -goodness!” - -“To what do you refer?” I asked, feeling my personal dignity begin to -assert itself, and looking him squarely in the face. - -“Bah! as if you did not know! But I am not one who measures his words. I -refer to the tree--to the yew. Do you want it still clearer? To the fall -you got for listening to what did not concern you in the least.” - -“See here, Father, your garb does not give you a right to -everything,--I----” - -“You were listening to us? Yes or no. No rhetoric, now.” - -“Yes, if you want to know. Yes, but with the desire to----” - -“To hear what we were talking about.” - -“No, sir; wait; let me explain myself. You may be superior to me in -discretion, Father Moreno, and on that occasion I acknowledge it; but as -for pure intentions and high-minded purposes,--Father, in spite of all -your vows and your belief, you do not surpass me in that regard; I give -you my word of honor.” - -“I admit that you are right, and it is a good deal to admit,” said the -friar, calmly; “and I do so because I have liked you from the first -moment I saw you; because I think I can read and understand your -disposition, and I do not at all perceive in you fiendish malice, or a -corrupt heart, or wicked purposes. Come, now, you must acknowledge that -I am doing you ample justice. But in the case we speak of, I fancy that -you are laboring under a foolish, romantic spirit, which leads you to go -about righting the wrongs of the oppressed, as Don Quixote did; and that -you suffer from a morbid curiosity which sometimes tempts us to meddle -in affairs that do not concern us, and that the Lord has given us no -commission to regulate.” - -“But my uncle’s marriage----” - -“May possibly affect you, inasmuch as it concerns your personal -interests; but as for whether Carmen will be happy or unhappy, whether -she is good or bad,--with that you have nothing whatever to do any more -than I have with the affairs of the emperor of China, not a bit more, -Señor Don Salustio; and still less to endeavor by means of an -indiscretion to penetrate into the sanctuary of a spirit and the -intricacies of a conscience.” - -“Father,” I answered, proudly, for I was urged on by my anger at his -reprimand, and by my singular and unpleasant predicament, “you may say -what you please about my conduct, and I will pay due respect to your -words, not on account of the garb you wear--which does not mean much in -my estimation--but on account of the dignity with which you wear it. Let -it be conceded that I was indiscreet, a meddler, a veritable Paul Pry, -or whatever you like to call me; but that does not prevent me from being -right in predicting evil of a marriage made under certain conditions and -circumstances. Now that you are aware that I have cause to know all -about it, and now that I acknowledge myself guilty of playing the spy, -do not deny that what you did to-day in the chapel was to give your -sanction to a fatal and horrible mistake.” - -The friar kept looking at me, his frown growing all the while darker and -more displeased. In other circumstances his manifest displeasure would -have restrained me; but at that time no one could have silenced me. I -caught him by the arm, and said, resolutely: - -“Listen, Father,--marriages which have not been consummated are very -easy to annul, according to canon law. You must know that better than -I. Speak to me frankly; I appeal to your honor, Father. We may avert a -terrible misfortune. Do you think I had better go to Señorita Aldao, and -say to her, ‘Poor child, you do not understand what you have rushed -into, but you still have time; your marriage is not valid; protest, and -break it all off. Don’t let the wrong become complete. Free yourself -from that fearful thing. In your innocency, you cannot imagine, unhappy -girl, what it is to be my uncle’s wife. It is a horrible thing, I assure -you. I hope I may never live to see it. First, let me become blind! -Father Moreno is an honorable man, and his advice to you is the same as -mine. Come, now, be brave, break the chain--I will help you, and the -Father and all of us will help you. Courage!’” - -“What I can swear to,” said the friar, “is that you are crazy, or are in -the straight road to become so. Or else--see here!” He clapped his hand -to his forehead, and added, “How many glasses of sherry have gone down -you to-day?” - -“Do you think that I am drunk?” I shouted, drawing myself up fiercely. - -“I give you my word,” he said, readily, “that I do not believe you are -in that shameful condition. I only wish to say that the wine has -somewhat excited your brain, producing a disturbance which is more moral -than physical, and which shows itself in talking fair-sounding nonsense, -in meddling in other people’s affairs and in regulating the world to -suit ourselves--goodness, when the one who should regulate it is God!” - -“Very well; but if I should say to Carmiña that she must annul her -marriage, what would be your reply?” - -“I should advise you to take care of yourself, and probably should say -to you, ‘Soak your head, my son, for it is red hot!’” - -“So you think there is no remedy!” I cried, with painful vehemence. -“That we should allow the iniquity to be consummated and the catastrophe -to be brought on with our arms folded! But is it possible that you do -not know my uncle? Don’t you see the meanness and vileness of his -nature--above all, when compared with the goodness of that incomparable -woman, whom you ought to venerate as much as the Virgin Mary, because -she is as good----” - -I could not go on. Exasperated and flushed with anger, with all the -energy of his nature and the spirit of his calling, the friar stopped my -mouth by laying his broad hand on it. - -“By my faith! by all the saints! I feel like sending you I know very -well where, and I would send you there if I did not see that you are in -an abnormal state of mind. Serafín drank the Pajarete, but you have the -fumes of it in your head. I did not believe it before, but now,--I did -not imagine that too much drink was what ailed you; but if you go off in -such wild sayings, the greatest favor I can do you is to suppose that -you are tipsy.” - -I stepped back, protesting and offended. - -“Take care, Father, be careful what you say! Nobody has a right to -hurt----” - -The friar, quickly passing from anger to cordiality, clapped me on the -shoulder, saying: - -“Don’t get offended. Good gracious! Listen to me quietly if you can. -Your potations have inclined you to take a high and sublime stand, which -proves that you have a fund of good feeling stored away in your heart, -that springs to the surface when you are least in control of yourself; -precisely when you speak with perfect freedom, _ex abundantia cordis_. -This is what I have observed, and I tell you so sincerely, with the -sincerity becoming a member of a religious order, who neither disguises -his thoughts nor concerns himself over trifles. I will even grant you -more. Possibly, in the midst of your--ahem--excitement, you may clearly -perceive the future, and be a prophet in maintaining that this marriage -has been, humanly speaking, a blunder. But you make no account of the -aid of grace and of Providence, which never fails the good, the -simple-hearted, or those who do their duty, and trust in the word of -Christ. Peace in the soul is a real treasure, among the many false ones -the world offers. Don’t pity your aunt, or me, or any one who walks in -the straight path and knows how to defy man’s physical nature.” - -The friar’s arguments pierced my brain like a sword. Rather it was not -his arguments, but the tone of conviction and veracity with which he -uttered them, aided by my state of mind, and the silly admiration of the -“high and sublime,” as the Father put it, induced by my tipsiness. At -any rate, my pessimistic opinions sprang up afresh, and so did my desire -to make an end of my wretched existence, or at least of its hurtful -illusions. Repressing a longing to throw myself into the friar’s arms, I -exclaimed: - -“Alas, Father, how correct you are in that! Oh, if one might only enjoy -your belief and wear your garb! Tell me whether a rationalist may enter -a convent. I believe he can. Oh, I feel so sad, so sad. It seems as -though my life were at an end.” - -The friar looked at me with singular penetration. His eyes seemed like -two lancets probing my heart, and dissecting its fibers. His tone became -more severe as he said: - -“Take care that you do not lose your self-respect, or forget your -purpose to behave yourself like a man of honor. However, looking -closely at the matter, provided you do not make an end of the lives of -the others--do what you please with your own.” - -I did not turn my head, or droop my eyes, or blush. If the friar’s eyes -accused, mine made an open confession; they almost challenged him, as -though I said: “Agreed, you can read my thoughts, I make no attempt to -conceal them. Judged by my views of morality, what I feel is no crime. -The only crime is to have performed that marriage ceremony.” - -I turned my back on him, and, jumping over the fence, passed on into the -fields. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - - -I do not know whether the desire to get away from Tejo or to seek -greater solitude, induced me to stroll toward the beach. Night had -fallen. The moon had risen red and angry, but was resuming her serene -appearance as she mounted into the sky. The murmuring waves broke -against the rocks, when I seated myself with a dull sense of pain and an -inclination to give myself up to all the dreams and chimeras of an -imagination heated by the after effects of the champagne. The soft -ripple of the placid estuary, the tremulous glimmer of the moon on the -water, and the mysterious effusiveness inspired by nature, predisposed -me to the following monologue: “If she and I had been married to-day, I -would get rid of these troublesome people, and would lead her here on my -arm; I would sit close to her on this very rock, which seems made on -purpose for an experience like that, which one never could forget. -Encircling her waist with my arm, resting her head against my breast, -without startling her, without offending her delicacy, I would gently -prepare her to share with me the full rapture of passion, to yield -herself joyfully to the fated unfolding of human love. And these would -be the most joyous, most delicious moments in our whole life. We would -be wrapt in silent and profound bliss. How sweet our silence would be! -Perhaps such joy would be too great for our hearts to bear. It might be -so intense that we could not endure it. For that reason it lasts but a -short time, and is rarely found. And,” I went on in my soliloquy, “the -fact is, such happiness will never be yours, my boy. Auntie Carmen is -like all women, and only possesses one innocency. She will lose it -to-day. To-day another man will pluck the lily. To-day, what you respect -more than anything else in the world, is given over to profanation. No -matter how many years may pass, or how many favors you may obtain from -that woman, you will never be able to bring her to this beach in the -moonlight, through paths overgrown by honeysuckle, to taste emotions -never felt before, to enter into life through the gateway of illusion.” - -This was the substance of the wild fancies which floated through my -brain during the paroxysm of my grief, while I struggled against the -depression caused by my partial intoxication. A vague idea floated -through my mind dominating all the rest: “If Carmen’s lord were not my -uncle, I should not be so given over to misery and rage. My romantic -fancy for _her_ is only my everlasting prejudice against _him_, taking -on another form.” - -I went up to Tejo feeling more desperate than if I were suffering under -some real and terrible affliction. I believe that on my way there I -threw down and trampled on the spray of orange blossoms I had so eagerly -begged her to give me that morning. I endeavored to control myself so as -not to commit greater acts of folly, and when I entered the house I -avoided meeting anybody and went directly to my room, longing to throw -myself on my bed, to fall to cursing, or to toss around until I should -fall asleep, overcome by fatigue. - -As I ascended the stairs leading to the tower, I recollected that I had -the key of Serafín’s room in my pocket, and that I ought to find out how -he was getting on. He must be snoring by this time, I thought, as I -opened the door. I shaded the candle with my hand, and peered in to see -what the poor drunken creature was doing. As I looked at his bed, where -I thought he was lying, the acolyte arose from the floor at my feet, -where he was crouched, laughing and showing his ugly teeth like an ape. - -“You little beast, what are you doing there?” I said. “A nice mess -you’ve made of it to-day. You ought to be whipped. Were you praying on -account of your sins? Come, get into bed at once, or I’ll--give you a -good one!” - -He rose up. His small eyes gleamed with a cat-like phosphorescence; his -face was still distorted, and his stiff red hair put the finishing touch -to his wild and impish appearance. - -“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he cried, grating his teeth. “I am -enjoying a free performance, and I have a private box to myself.” - -“What do you mean, you toad?” - -“It’s true. Look for yourself.” - -His meaning flashed through my mind, and I kneeled down quickly to look -in the direction in which the acolyte was pointing. The bridal chamber -was directly underneath the tower. I knew it, and quickly recalled that -fact before I looked. The ceiling was not plastered, but the beams were -left bare, and through a crack in the floor of our story, as the room -underneath was lighted, we could see perfectly all that was going on. - -I shuddered as I became convinced that I was actually looking into the -bridal chamber. It was true! I could see it! I could see it! What a -dreadful discovery! I restrained myself so as not to cry out, and so -that I might remain there motionless, instead of scraping the floor and -rattling its boarding in my insane fury. Fortunately, by chance, by the -will of God, there was nothing going on in the room. It was entirely -empty. At either side of the toilet table a pink-colored candle was -burning in a brass candlestick. There was another one, in a porcelain -candlestick, on a stand behind the large bronze bed. Flowers, roses -especially, were scattered around everywhere; on the tables, on the -desk, on the toilet table, even in hanging-baskets. What a profanation -of nature! Roses for such a nuptial night! The very solitude of the -place, the strange silence, worked on my imagination to such an extent -that I even fancied I could smell the roses which impregnated the -atmosphere of the room below. I seemed to hear through the open window -the notes of the nightingale, which usually sang in the orange tree at -that hour of the night, and also its fluttering about in the climbing -plants in the court. The whiteness of the half-opened bed, the quiet of -the room, the graceful toilet table with its vaporous lace folds falling -to the floor, all excited me, rendered me wild, and increased the tumult -which raged in my heart. My temples throbbed, and I seemed to feel -something like the singing of the sea in my ears, for as I stooped down -the blood rushed to my head, and I felt like roaring. - -The acolyte touched me on the shoulder. - -“Look here, monsieur comrade, that is not fair,” he growled. “I also -have eyes to see with.” - -“If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll smash you to atoms,” I answered, -fiercely. - -“Well, at least tell me what you see.” - -“I can’t see anything, you owl,” I replied. “Nothing at all, nothing!” - -“Haven’t the actors arrived yet? Hasn’t the curtain risen? Isn’t the -orchestra playing yet?” he inquired. - -“I told you to keep still!” I shouted, angrily. - -From that moment the persistent fellow kept quiet, although afterward I -discovered that his silence was neither due to his discretion nor -goodness. - -I still kept on watching, without paying further attention to him. The -bridal chamber remained deserted, suggestive, alluring. - -I could see the smallest details with exasperating clearness. There were -several hair-pins on a small glass tray, and pins stuck into a cushion; -the pillow cases had a shield embroidered in the center, and a branch -of southern wood was placed in the small font of holy water. I counted -the moths which flew in through the window, singeing themselves in the -lights; I counted the crystal prisms on the candlesticks. - -I thought that my heart would burst when I heard voices in the doorway, -a confused murmur of farewells; the latch was raised, and a person -entered with a light and somewhat timid step, and alone. It was Carmen. - -Oh, Heavens! I prayed for strength not to scream, not to faint. In her -white bridal robe, somewhat crumpled by having been worn all day, she -was bewitching. The first thing she did was to go up to the window, as -though she felt the need of fresh air. She remained there a few moments, -and I could perceive the beautiful curve of her neck, and fancied I -could read her thoughts. Then she came away from the window and looked -at herself an instant in the glass, as it seemed to me with more -curiosity than vanity. Her object in consulting the mirror seemed to be: -“Let me see how I look since the great event which took place this -morning.” - -Then, with a quickness which showed that she was accustomed to doing -without a maid, she began to take off her ear-rings, bracelets, pins, -and clasps, carefully placing them on the glass tray, with the deftness -which always characterized her purely mechanical movements. Then, -raising her arms, she began to take out her hair-pins, one by one. I -gazed upon that splendid ornament of a woman, her loosened hair, in all -its beauty. Uncoiled, it fell in heavy, black waves down to her knees. A -painful restlessness took possession of me. That loosening of the hair -seemed to me a prelude to other freedoms of the toilet, which I was -about to witness; and the mere thought made my blood boil in distressing -fury. Fortunately--and I could have given thanks on my bended knees for -that--I perceived that she had loosened her hair only to make herself -more comfortable, for she simply combed it out and gathered up the whole -mass in a loose knot. After this, she leaned her elbow on the table, -rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, compressing her lips and -slightly moving her head up and down, like one struggling with -perplexing thoughts. I noticed a painful contraction in her face; she -had the appearance of one who when she finds herself alone, abandons -herself to meditation, and allows the countenance to express the -feelings of the heart. Her eyes partly closed; she bowed her head on her -breast, let her hands fall into her lap, and--I clearly heard it--she -sighed, a deep sigh, drawn from the depths of her heart. Then she raised -her head, and remained for some moments with her eyes fixed on empty -space. Suddenly she breathed heavily, and rose like one who adopts a -firm and decided resolution. And just at that moment-- - -Oh, I will not look, I do not want to see! A man entered the room, -stealthily, with a beaming face, but yet with somewhat irresolute and -constrained bearing. If my eyes had had the power of a basilisk’s, the -bridegroom would have dropped down dead, annihilated by my look. The -silhouette of the deicide stood out against the window frame, and I saw -the gleam of his white shirt-front. The light fell full on his face, -more repulsive than ever; on his copper-colored beard; his hard eyes, -which I could have torn from their sockets. - -I heard a silly and mocking laugh behind me. I turned, arose, and saw -the acolyte crouched down, looking through another crack in the floor. -He still held in his hand the razor with which he had widened it. - -A murderous impulse ran through my veins, and, trembling with rage, I -clutched Serafín by the throat, choking him while I cried: - -“I will cut you in bits, I will strangle you this minute, if you dare to -look again. Do you hear, you toad? It will be the worse for you if you -dare to peep through that crack again. I’ll kill you without a shadow of -remorse!” - -“But, you were peeping, too--nuts and old Nick!” squeaked the poor -youth, still hiccoughing, after he had somewhat recovered his breath. -“What a way you have! The old Nick! You have driven your fingers through -my throat!” - -“I shall not look any more--nor you, either. We were both brutes. If we -had any decency, we should not have thought of looking. Serafín, we are -not beasts--we are men! No, you shall not look again.” - -“Now you are crying--you are half crazy, I declare!” exclaimed the -theological apprentice. - -“You are the one who is crazy and possessed with the devil,” I answered, -making a heroic attempt to repress the senseless tears which were -burning between my eye-lids. “I am not crying; but if I did, it would be -out of shame for having kneeled down there. I am going to bed; but as I -am not sure that you will not get down again on all fours, I shall tie -you to the bed-post.” - -“Don’t do it, Salustio, don’t,” cried the terrified rebel. “Don’t tie -me! I give you my word of honor not to look.” - -I fastened his hands with a handkerchief, and his body with a towel. He -might have released himself by the slightest movement, but he was so -terrified and subdued that he did not even stir. He only groaned from -time to time. - -I stretched myself on the bed. Who could have slept in such -circumstances? The endless night passed on, and I kept twisting and -turning, hiding my face in the pillows, covering my eyes and ears with -my hands, as though to shut out the images and sounds which jealousy -presented to my mind. - -At daybreak I arose from my bed of torture, washed and dressed myself, -and without releasing Serafín, or taking leave of anybody, or seeing a -single soul, went off to San Andrés, and thence to Pontevedra and -Ullosa, like one who flees from the spot where a terrible crime has been -committed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - - -My mother, with her usual sagacity, saw at once that I was preoccupied -and morose, but she made a mistake as to the cause. - -“They must have slighted you at Tejo,” she said. “Don’t say it is not -so, for I am sure that they treated you in a shameful manner. If not, -why did you rush off like a frightened hare, without taking leave of -anybody? Come, now, tell your mother all about it.” - -Although I vowed and protested that I had been treated with the greatest -kindness, she would not believe it. - -“Well, well, keep it to yourself, make a mystery of it; but I’ll find it -out, for everything leaks out. Some of the others will tell me all about -it.” - -I had to tell her all the particulars of the wedding; or, rather, she -went ahead of my story, and showed herself acquainted with details in a -way that amazed me. She was posted on points where I was ignorant. It -was characteristic of her quick and sharp wit to master the minor -matters of life, but to remain in ignorance of its deep, eternal laws, -which can be perceived only by superior minds, and which will control -life until its last breath is drawn, and the universe grows cold through -the absence of love. - -During the first days of my stay in the village I felt much better. The -singular frenzy of the day of the wedding had subsided through lack of -external stimuli to revive it; so much so that I came to fancy that my -enthusiasm over Carmen, my furious jealousy, the poetic reveries on the -beach, were only tricks of the imagination, which is apt to feign the -existence of profound feelings where there is really only caprice, vague -longings and delusions. - -Luis Portal came from Orense to pass a week at my house, and his society -helped to quiet me down. We took such long walks and ate such quantities -of bread and milk that healthy fatigue and country life did their work, -preparing me to listen calmly and even assent to arguments like the -following: - -“What is taking place in you,” Luis used to say when we were stretched -out at the foot of a chestnut, where we had divided our lunch, “is a -phenomenon very common among us Spaniards. While we honestly believe -that we are preparing for the future and longing for it, we live -infatuated with the past, and are really the bitterest kind of -traditionalists at bottom, although we call ourselves Republicans. What -charms and attracts you in your Uncle Felipe’s wife is precisely that in -which she is most in opposition to your ideas, your convictions, and -your manner of life as a man of the nineteenth century. - -“You say that Señorita Aldao realizes the ideal of a Christian woman. -Nonsense, my boy! Will you kindly tell me what attractiveness we can -find in that ideal if we examine it carefully? The ideal for us ought to -be the woman of the present, or, better, of the future; a woman who -could understand us and share our aspirations. You will say that she -does not exist. Then let us try to manufacture her. She will never exist -if we condemn her before she is born. - -“What are the virtues which you attribute to your aunt, and which you -admire so much? In what do they consist? They appear to me negative, -irrational, brutal. Don’t start up in that way,--I said brutal. She has -married a man who is repulsive to her, given herself up to him like an -automaton, and all for what? In order not to sanction by her presence -another person’s sins. Who can be held responsible for anybody’s actions -but his own? That young lady is either demented or a stark fool; and the -friar who countenances her and seconds her,--well, I don’t care to say -what I think of him, because my tongue would run away with me. He -understands better than she does what she is binding herself to, and he -ought to have prevented such a barbarous affair. I tell you that the -little friar,--oh, well, a friar will be a friar; but we, who undertake -to bring about social changes, must differentiate ourselves from him to -some extent. - -“A woman such as our modern society needs would go out to service, would -take in sewing, or scrub floors, if she was not happy in her father’s -house, if her self-respect was wounded, but she would never give up her -liberty, her heart, and her person, to such a husband. You have caught -the infection of Christianity. You must get rid of it. A perfect -Christian woman! And why is it that you are charmed by a perfect -Christian woman? Are you, perchance, a perfect Christian man? Do you -aspire to be one? Or do you believe that the destined progress of -society depends upon the wife being a Christian and the husband a -rationalist? - -“Salustio, wake up, for you are dreaming. Are you really going to fall -in love with a woman, because her ideas are contrary to yours in almost -every respect? Well, suppose she were single, and you should marry her, -and that she should keep burning the torch of faith,--and--well--I would -not give a fig for it all. Leave her to your uncle, she is just the -thing for him. They’ll make a fine couple. But for you! My boy, cure -yourself of romanticism and Christianity. That does not mean that you -should not make love to your auntie; but do it in a human way, without -any high tragedy business. If you like her, go on! That is, so long as -you are careful to avoid family dramas. Leave the dramas for the Teatro -Real; even there the greater part of them are senseless. Well, you -understand me, no dramas. But if you dare to tell me any more tales -about Christian women and Jewish men, I’ll give you a dose of bromide. -And, above all things, grind away at your studies. I shall not waste any -time next year, even if Venus herself should come and be sweet on me.” - -Portal’s sensible remarks did not fail to influence me greatly. At least -they made me ponder on the problem of my wild enthusiasm. It was true -that my aunt’s ideas and feelings were radically opposed to mine; I did -not believe at all in what she venerated as dogma; her ideas of morality -differed from mine; the word duty had a meaning for her different from -the one I put upon it; but, nevertheless, that very difference of ideals -attracted me toward her, in the same manner that a white man is -sometimes charmed by the olive hue of a mulatto, or a passionate gypsy -woman by the golden hair of an Englishman. - -Was Portal right in saying that we knew no woman suited to us, and that -we ought to search for one, to fashion her in our own image, so that she -might comprehend us, and her brain work in unison with ours? Or, on the -contrary, was a piquant unlikeness of souls a greater attraction, and -the having in one’s own soul hidden chambers, like Blue Beard’s, where a -wife would never be able to enter? Why did I exalt that woman, seeing in -her a perfect type of womanhood? Why did her self-sacrifice, which would -have appeared so absurd in me, seem so sublime in her? - -“Luis is right on one subject,” I definitely decided; “we must devote -our minds to our books; a drama in one’s own life is an enemy of study.” - -In fact, I took up my books in order to take advantage of the leisure of -vacation time to do a little reviewing, and when I tried to concentrate -my mind on inflexible mathematics, a fearful battle raged in my brain, -which I used to call, in my private dialect, the war between straight -lines and curved. The straight lines were the equations, the -polynomials, the theorems, the problems connected with the cutting of -angles, and other such demoniacal puzzles; while the curved lines stood -for amorous reveries, hatred of Jews, and all the troublesome -ebullitions of my youthful fancy. At first the curved lines had the best -of it, but the superior tactics and precision of the straight lines -finally routed that undisciplined army, which, in the utmost confusion, -retreated toward the heart, its last refuge. - -The vacation was drawing to a close, when we had an unexpected visitor. -The irrepressible Serafín made his appearance without any signs of -bitterness or ill-will, lazy and good-natured as a little dog, and took -up his abode at Ullosa. I could not recollect that I had ever given him -any invitation, and my mother was sure that she had not. We made the -best of the situation, and from the first day my mother devoted him to -trimming out the vines on the arbors, picking fruit, and feeding the -chickens--tasks which he performed with the greatest pleasure. When we -talked by ourselves, instead of displaying the slightest resentment, he -embraced me warmly. - -“Don’t you know?” he asked, affectionately; “as soon as you left, I -untied myself. If they had caught me in such a fix, tied up, a nice time -we should have had! What a joke! It was not right to watch them; but it -was jolly fun. The wine was to blame for it all. The married couple went -off to Pontevedra that very afternoon. Now they are showing themselves -off there. The Saint complimented them by a grand dinner at _Naranjal_; -they served up fried brains of taxpayers and pickled client’s leg. They -had nougat for desert--as your uncle’s house is already rented for the -post-office. Hey? He, he, he! Señor Aldao has obtained some cross or -other, and is now called ‘Your Excellency.’ And you don’t know the best -of it. Haven’t you heard about the irrision,--I mean procession,--in -honor of the Virgin? I was amazed that fire from heaven did not fall -upon it, as was said--_Pluit super Sodomam et Gomorrham sulphur et ignem -a domino de cœlo_. If you could have seen that masquerade! There was -Don Vicente carrying the standard; Pimentel, very stuck up, with his -white cravat; your uncle carrying a lighted taper, with a face which -looked like mortal sin; behind him all the political hangers-on, -grasping tapers--they who never thought they would do such a thing! Then -came the fellows with leggins, the secretaries to the Common Council, -with white ruffles round their knees; all the mayors, and all the -judges, and all the registrars, and all the supernumeraries. Oh, why -didn’t you go to Pontevedra that day? We wont have another such in -twenty years to come. Even the newspaper men and the masons carried -tapers. I assure you it is true. And afterward _El Teucrense_ called the -procession a festival. What is a festival? Like a saturnalia, I -presume.” - -Afterward, lowering his voice, he added: - -“There was a bishop there also, gaping away, and not out of devotion to -the Virgin, either, but for the sake of the great saint with the fat -offices. But don’t feel shocked at that. Nestorius was bishop of -Constantinople. And who promoted the schism of that big hog of a king of -England but another pig of a heretical bishop, who was called _Crémor or -Cremer_! Don’t talk to me about bishops. The Church will have to be -reformed by the Pope and us clergy alone--no, I mean the clergy’s -apprentices and a few laymen with grievances--no matter what the -Encyclical, _cum multa_, says.” - -I assured him that I did not know what that Encyclical said, and then -asked him, as though by chance, after Candidiña. - -“A nice girl she is! He, he, he! She is there all alone with the old -man, now. She’ll drive him distracted.” - -He also spoke of Father Moreno, and I learned that the Moorish friar -intended to spend a few days at Ullosa as soon as he had finished taking -his sea-baths. - -In fact, the Father arrived a few days later, covered with dust from his -long ride in the diligence. My mother, who was very fond of him, -received him quite coldly at first; she could not forgive him for having -officiated at the marriage. But I overwhelmed him with polite -attentions. I should have liked to be able to say to Aben Jusuf: - -“My delirium has passed away. The sentimental fever has abated. If you -only knew, Father, how well I feel now. Just like a person who uses an -anæsthetic to cure his neuralgia, and does cure it. My neuralgia, or -lover’s toothache, no longer exists. It seems impossible that I am the -same one who almost broke his neck falling off a tree, lowered his -dignity by playing the spy on a certain wedding night, wanted to throw -himself into the sea, and begged a novitiate’s habit of you. Here you -see a well-behaved young man, a student of engineering, and the son of -Benigna Unceta, who, as you know, is a very practical lady. I am now -sound and whole.” - -If not exactly this, it was something very similar that I said to him in -the course of a ramble over the mountains. I recollect that he seemed -well pleased, and answered as follows: - -“I am indeed glad to hear it, but don’t be too sure. These heart fevers -do not go on as they begin; but the Lord help us, if you get a relapse. -And it’s our fault if we have a relapse, because we go near the fire. In -that lottery, they give prizes to the nearest numbers. Don’t you get -near. Keep at a respectful distance. Establish a sanitary cordon. If -you do not do so, I shall not consider you a man of honor.” - -_Mutatis mutandis_, so Father Moreno expressed his opinions. After her -momentary annoyance, my mother, whose heart is as good as gold and who -is very hospitable, showered attentions on the Father, and insisted on -feeding him at all hours of the day, until finally the friar, with a -comical air, rose in revolt: - -“No more chicken, not even if you cut me in pieces! Not a morsel more! -What a woman! Hard-hearted creature, do you want me to burst on the -spot? You may wear as big a bustle as you choose, madam, but I must -control the bulging of my own stomach.” - -But her exaggerated gastronomical entertainment of the friar did not -last long, for he went off to his monastery after the two days, leaving -a great void behind him. His vacation was over, and the leave of absence -granted by his Superior in order that he might take sea-baths and -recruit his health; so the Moor in a friar’s garb meekly wended his way -back to his gloomy retreat in Compostela, where the walls were covered -with dampness, and a green moisture was visible on the window-sills and -the cracks of the masonry. In spite of the hearty manner in which he -assured me that he was willing to fulfill his obligations, I could see -that that Spaniard, who was half Saracen, so fond of the warmth of -Africa, must suffer keenly both in mind and body on being banished to -such a damp and dreary region. - -I saw him march away to his exile, recalling with amazement that I had -envied him his garb, and even the vows which bound him. - -I surely must have been sick with a sort of _psycalgia_, or moral -neurosis, this summer, and now that I am convalescent I perceive it. - -During the few days before my return to Madrid, as we had no guests or -particular amusements, I buried myself in the reading of two or three -interesting books, works on philosophy, among them Kant’s “Critique of -Pure Reason.” Exempt as it is, in my judgment, from all flow of mere -sentiment and misleading hallucinations, I read it with the purest -delight; my mind, already disciplined by the study of mathematics, -fairly absorbing the teaching of the philosopher. I felt the remotest -cells of my brain penetrated, in gentle firmness, by those truths of -criticism, which, far from leading us to skeptical negations, fill us -with a serene conviction of the uselessness of our endeavors to become -acquainted with the external world, and shut us up in the beneficent -selfishness of the study of our own faculties. - -When, after reading Kant, I would roam through the meadows, the groves, -the modest belongings of our patrimonial estate, and the peace of -twilight would sink into my spirit, I would find myself feeling happy; -completely cured of my folly; shut up to the straight line. “Understand, -and you will be free,” I repeated to myself, with youthful pride. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - - -As I left the train at the northern station in Madrid, the first thing I -saw was the red beard and strongly marked features of my Uncle Felipe, -who shook hands with me and called a porter to take my trunk. Then he -got into a carriage with me and gave the driver the number of his house. - -“Are we not going to my boarding-house?” I inquired with surprise. - -“You’ll see,” replied the Hebrew, with that hesitation in speaking, and -that peculiar contraction of his features, which always accompanied in -him a manifestation of avarice. “It is all nonsense that you should stay -at a boarding-house, when you have relatives here. I have a spare room -in my house, which nobody uses now. We used to keep some old things -there. It is a cheerful room, and large enough. You will be better off -than in the boarding-house, my boy. And for your studies, as quiet as -you could wish.” - -I understood his meanness at once. It would cost him more to pay for my -board, however cheap it might be, than to lodge me in his own house. But -I _there_! I cannot explain the singular effect the idea produced upon -me at first. However, I exclaimed: - -“I am quite sure that my aunt will not approve of my taking up my abode -at your house.” - -“I’ll tell you,” answered the husband. “At first she had an idea that -for your purposes the boarding-house would be better. She was quite -strenuous about it. But I have convinced her, and now she does not -object at all.” - -I kept silent. I was feeling the disagreeable impression one experiences -on leaving a warm atmosphere for a current of cold air which whips one’s -face. My life at Ullosa had been a parenthesis, a pleasant rest, a sort -of agreeable sleepiness, and that rude summons to the outside world, to -its agitations and changes, just as I was about to take up my studies -again, and when I needed all my power of mind and will for my difficult -tasks, fairly bewildered me. Nevertheless, youth is so fond of peril, -the surf, and the tempest, that I felt a thrill of pleasure when my -uncle rang the electric bell, and the door opened behind which was -Carmen Aldao. - -With what agitation I greeted her! All my blood rushed to my heart, and -I perceived the symptoms of “the ancient flame,” as Dante says in -speaking of his encounter with Beatrice. My uncle’s wife received me -with propriety, displaying neither coldness nor excessive cordiality. -Fulfilling her duties as mistress of the house, she led me to my room, -found out what I needed, showed me where I could keep my clothing and -books, and gave me some practical advice about making the most of the -four walls. - -“Here you can put your ruffled shirts. You can hang your cloak on this -hook. The table you will have here, near the window, where you can study -better. Look, here is your wash-stand. Always keep the towels here. I -got this lamp with a green shade for you, so that you might not spoil -your eyes.” - -While she went on explaining all about those details, I looked at her -with such eagerness that I fairly drank in her features and fed upon her -beloved face. What I was trying to discover, when I scrutinized her, was -that revelation which, to a close observer, is stamped on every married -woman’s face, and which might be called the running account of -happiness. No, no, she was not happy. The dark circles under her eyes -did not betray feverish love, but hidden sorrow. Her mouth had a set -expression, like that of all who wrestle in secret to mortify the flesh -or the mind. Her temples were slightly faded. Her waist was flatter; it -had not acquired the graceful and impressive roundness which is -perceptible in women after a few months of married life, even if they do -not become mothers. No, she was not happy! How my fancy took this -supposition for a foundation, and built upon it! It was not long, -however, before I became habituated to living at Carmen’s, and my stay -there appeared less dangerous to me than at first. Proximity is always -an incentive, but dwelling under the same roof does away with all -dramatic interest and novelty, with its commonplace meetings, and this -perhaps diminishes the danger. - -Although the last years of the course in engineering are not nearly so -absorbing as the first, and the difficulties lessen as one ascends the -steep hill of knowledge, I had to study enough to occupy all my -available time. Carmen’s life ran on so far removed from mine that -although we were under the same roof we scarcely ever met, except at the -customary hours. In the morning we both went out, I to my classes and -she to do her marketing and to spend a long time in church. At luncheon -I would notice in Carmen a certain animation and strange satisfaction. -She had found comfort in the Church; that was evident. My uncle also, -contented and talkative, in slippers and without a cravat, would chat -with me, would question me, and comment on the events of the night -before, his dialogues in the house and in the lobbies with Don Vicente -Sotopeña on the political prospect, the insinuations of the newspapers, -the last confidential conversation of the Queen Regent with the Austrian -Minister, which had been reported in the Casino by a person who knew -all about it. - -I seemed to excite the loquacity of the newly-married couple, as Carmen, -in her turn, would tell me all the gossip of Pontevedra; the simple -tales her friends would write to her; as well as a thousand details -regarding the neighbors on the first floor and on the floor above, whom -she used to visit evenings, according to the prevalent fashion in Madrid -among the middle classes, who improvise every evening a neighborhood -party. - -In the afternoon my uncle would go out, sometimes alone, and sometimes -with his wife. I employed my time in studying or in roaming around with -Luis, and so we would not see each other until dinner time. This was a -more melancholy affair than luncheon; my aunt would be nervous or -excited, or depressed or absent-minded, without being able to disguise -it. In the evening she would go up to visit her neighbors, or would do -some fancy-work by the fireside, and my uncle would take me out, -sometimes to some small theater. So there was no danger there. My close -confinement to my studies saved me from the suggestions of idleness. -The devil did not know when to tempt me. - -You may easily surmise to whom I used to unbosom myself. What are -sensible and discreet people like Portal put into the world for, except -to listen to the confidential disclosures of lunatics? I believe that my -greatest inducement to make a full confession to him was the very fact -of the irritation with which Portal would listen to me. His harsh -censures were like strokes of the lash or sword thrusts which stimulated -me, making me reflect on my situation, and scratch deeper down there in -the corners of my spirit. - -“My boy,” said my sedate friend one day, “I have discovered now what -ails you. I know the medicine for your disease. Take my advice, and you -will be well in a quarter of an hour. Your trouble has this technical -name: _repressed ardor of youth_. And the remedy,--guess what the name -of that is? It is named Belén.” - -“Belén?” - -“What? Have you forgotten her already? Belén, that houri with radiant -black eyes, who used to paste little angels on cardboard boxes? So you -had forgotten all about her? Degenerate one! Well, I have followed the -trail. Old fellow, a magic transformation has occurred. You shall behold -that creature now at her apogee. She does not drive in her own carriage -yet, but she will do so in time.” - -“Is that so? Has she found a _gran Paganini_?” I asked, without the -slightest interest. - -“I wont tell you anything, so that you may judge for yourself. You will -be amazed.” - -A few days later my friend conducted me to a fine dwelling in a street -both central and retired at the same time. The porch was respectable, -the staircase broad and light, and the door of the second story, at -which we knocked, had a remarkably serious and discreet air, with its -hinges and knobs all shining. - -A middle-aged woman, half servant, half housekeeper, dressed in black, -opened the door, and, as soon as Luis spoke, invited us into the parlor, -saying that she would tell “the Señora.” - -“Well, what do you think of this?” exclaimed my friend. “‘The Señora’ -up-stairs, and ‘the Señora’ down-stairs. Chairs upholstered in wool, -color yellow,--mirror with a rosewood frame,--a good moquette -carpet,--fine jute curtains,--two bronze and porcelain vases,--a lamp -with an umbrella shade. It appears the stock-broker is not -close-fisted.” - -“Why, my dear fellow, what a change!” - -“You shall see. The times are changed; still, this transformation was to -be expected. The girl got tired of decorating cornucopias with orange -blossoms; but at that time she had nothing better than your skinflint of -an uncle, who made her account for every penny she spent when he gave -her money for sweetmeats. Consequently, when the worthy Don Telesforo -Armiñón made his appearance, ready to relieve her distress, you may -imagine what followed. The girl thought the heavens had opened. The -first thing that the poor creature asked for was a pair of shoes; those -your uncle kept her in were all burst out. You know that in Madrid their -footgear is what drives them crazy. Now she wears such beautiful shoes!” -Here Portal launched a kiss into the air. “There she comes. Stop -laughing!” - -We heard a rustling of skirts. Belén made a dignified entrance. It was -true; no one could have recognized her in that disguise. Her hair was -dressed in the classic modest fashion of a lady. She had on a -straw-colored velvet wrapper, and in her ears gleamed diamond ear-rings. -She also wore rings on her hands, now well-cared for; and as she walked -along, we caught a glimpse of the famous little shoes, high-heeled, -narrow, of dark satin, her apple of perdition. - -She seemed stouter, her movements quieter and more languid, her -complexion even fairer and fresher than before, comparable only to the -satin luster of a magnolia leaf. - -“Have we come at an unsuitable hour?” asked Portal. - -Before answering, Belén fixed her eyes upon me; she almost screamed with -joy. - -“Ah, so the prodigal is found! Is it really you, you scamp? I only had -the pleasure of meeting you once, and then you vanished like smoke. So -you have been away for the summer? Well, the rest of us have stayed here -and put up with the heat and scorching. But how long have you been -here?” she added, assuming a still more familiar tone. - -“He arrived two days ago,” broke in Portal, “and has been sighing ever -since to see such a nice girl as you. He would hardly let me live with -his, ‘Come, let’s go and call on Belén. Although, as she is now such a -fine lady, perhaps she’ll not pay any attention to us poor students. But -I shall get sick if I don’t see her. I shall have an attack of -something--’” - -“Get out, you fraud!” said the beauty, fixing on me her proud and -penetrating eyes with an ardent, yet humble look. “He did not remember -me at all, nor want to--not a bit. Since the day of our frolic, if I -have met you, I don’t remember about it. And I--well what can a girl do? -Your uncle never wasted much on me. What a skin-flint he is! They say -that he is married. A nice time his wife will have! Well, I am -comfortable now; what they call comfortable. This one is of a different -breed. Look,” she added, without giving us time to sit down. “Come and -see my little house, it is so nice. It has a boudoir with a grate, and -all that. We have no fire to-day because it is not cold yet, do you -see? But I am going to tell them to light one now. See? You pass through -this way to the dining-room; it is small, but very comfortable; and, -besides, we have a beautiful kitchen and a room for trunks. Go back this -way. Here I have a nice bedroom.” - -“My child,” said Portal, to tease her, “you can’t convince me. You have -only changed an open skin-flint for a hypocritical one. Armiñón has more -dollars than the sands of the sea, and yet he has not bought you a coach -nor given you furniture upholstered in silk. Don’t tell me how generous -he is! He owes you a satin divan and a carriage drawn by an English -mare, as much as I owe my life to my father. The Sevillana and Concha -Rios go about in their carriages dressed like two queens. What good do -your beautiful dresses and diamond ear-rings do you if you can’t go to -the Retiro to display them?” - -“Stop! stop! don’t talk to me about coaches, it makes me sick!” answered -the fair sinner, greatly annoyed, in spite of herself, by that about the -carriage. “Do you believe if I were to ask him for a coach he would -refuse me? But I shall not ask for it. I have too much self-respect, do -you know? When I see decent people so different from your Judas Iscariot -uncle--my dear fellow, what a creature he is! He cannot be your real -uncle. Perhaps your grandmother----” - -Afterward she drew us the likeness of her stockbroker. - -“The best thing about him is that he comes very seldom to see me. And -never until after the stock exchange is closed. And some days he doesn’t -appear at all. To-day, for example. He sent me word, and that’s the -reason I am taking things so easy.” - -“But if he should take it into his head to make his appearance here -suddenly?” - -“What a difficulty! I would not open the door. He has no latch-key. I -assure you there is nobody like him, he is so good. If I were to say ‘a -carriage,’ he would answer ‘with six horses.’ Well, if he comes, I’ll -tell him in the morning that I went out with Fausta to see my mother and -Cinta, and he’ll believe it implicitly.” - -“And how are they?” inquired Portal. - -“Who, my mother and the other one? Well, my boy, they are unbearable. If -you should give them a silver mine they would ask for a gold one. I try -all the time to shake them off, for they are like leeches; and how they -bleed me! And will you believe it, Cinta has taken it upon herself to -preach to me and to say that before she would subject herself to any man -for money she would work and make an honest living. She wants to become -a singer in comic opera. The trouble is, she will have to learn how -first. But I have persuaded my gentleman to rent a piano and pay for a -teacher for me, and the girl may come here to take her lessons. One must -squeeze the lemon. What is a rich man good for, say I, if not for that? -Well, my boy, you must stay here to-day, and do penance in this house. -You’ll see what an elegant dinner service and what beautiful silver I -have; that is to say, plated, for there is no use in exposing one’s self -to being robbed. I’ll put on my nice silk dress, which he gave me a -short time ago on his birthday. Nonsense! I want you to see me in my -finery. I’ll wear my watch. It does not go well, but it is gold. -Luisillo may go off if he wants to, but you must stay here!” - -A few days after the call on Belén, as Luis and I were walking through -Recoletos, my friend said, half in earnest, half in jest: - -“All rogues are fortunate. That Belén is crazy over you; I never saw so -capricious a woman. I had to give her some good advice yesterday, lest -she should send off her stockbroker and go back to live in a garret in -order to be able to receive you whenever she pleases and with perfect -freedom. I have told her to hold on to him until she finds another who -is more generous and can give her a carriage and solid silver instead of -plated ware. How I did preach to her! Never a mission preacher did -better. But you are such a lucky dog! What a fancy that girl has taken -to you. And yet you don’t feel contented. You are still wool gathering. -If I cut you off a chicken’s wing----” - -“Cut me off what you please, my dear fellow,” I answered, frankly, -revealing my disenchantment in a heavy sigh. “There are higher -pleasures in the world than mere physical gratification. If you push me -hard, I will tell you that matter does not exist--that it is a myth; -only an idea, and nothing more. Two moments after taking leave of Belén, -I forget even that there is such a woman in the world. I leave her house -feeling penitent and more of a spiritualist than the devil.” - -“I can’t bear to hear you say such stupidities,” cried Portal, -furiously. “What do I care for your ideas, or your spiritualism, or your -pumpkins! Why, where will you find another treasure like Belén? For you, -Belén is the first prize. The trouble is that they have bewitched you at -that cursed house of your uncle’s. The atmosphere of dullness and -hypocrisy which surrounds you there is wasting away your spirit little -by little. Why don’t you come to live at my boarding-house, I’d like to -know? You would be like a fish in deep water there. We would drive the -blues out of you in short order. Trinito is more amusing than ever, this -year. Will you believe it, he not only sings us all the operas but all -that he hears at the concerts in the Romero Salon as well. He fills our -ears with “Lohengrin,” “Tannhäuser,” and “Parsifal,” till we can hardly -stand it any longer. And the best of it is that he intends to become a -musical critic. We came near throwing the coffee-pot at him yesterday, -for he nearly split our ears with the “Rhinegold.” Come, my dear fellow, -come with us.” - -“I may be as simple as you choose, Luis, but I can’t bear that girl. I -know that she is handsome, that she likes me, and all that; but it makes -no difference to me. Let us see whether you, who did up this package, -can undo it quickly. First you know, I’ll be telling her to her face -that I hate her, which would be needless cruelty. No, no, I shall have -nothing to do with it. Vice and folly may amuse us for a while, but they -finally fill us with loathing.” - -“You simpleton, how do you make out your vice and folly? Why, Belén is a -treasure for you. She sincerely likes you. She would give up her satin -boots and plated ware for your sake. Belén has a heart, while your aunt -has none; at least, none for you. A fig for your virtuous women! I hate -them. A plaster cast is more virtuous than they are, for it neither -feels nor suffers.” - -“What do you know about it,” I murmured, allowing my hopes to run wild -in spite of myself. “How can you be sure that her heart may not be for -me? You are too positive. Suppose it should turn out to be for me?” - -Portal suddenly became preoccupied and serious. He knit his brow, and -said to me in a slightly agitated voice: - -“Heaven grant that it may not! I have pondered on that subject, and I -swear to you that the best thing that can befall you is that such an -event may never occur. Do you hear me? You are a lunatic, fit for the -straight-jacket, and you’ll fetch up in Don Ezquerdo’s hands. Suppose -that your aunt should really care for you, that the heart you prate -about should be manifested as you think it may be. Well, after it had -done so, and you had got to loving each other deeply, oh, immensely, -like Francesca and Paolo, what would you do then, you hopeless stupid? -Let us hear it. Unfold your loving programme. Would you elope with her? -Would you hire an apartment for her? Would you desecrate your uncle’s -home without any scruple? Answer, you gawk!” - -His friendly interest in me blinded and irritated him. His protruding -eyes stared at me angrily, as though gazing at a naughty boy who was -about to cut his fingers playing with a knife. - -“I don’t know what to answer, old chap,” I answered, meekly. “What I do -know is that I should be happy, do you hear me? completely happy, if -that angelic being should love me. Oh, if she would love me! I would ask -no more. I would leave her, I would go off to the North Pole, if only I -could be sure of her love. That is what I hope for and what I live for. -I respect her like a saint,--but I want her to love me, to love me.” - -“To love me, to love me!” chanted Portal, mimicking my voice and manner. -“Why, it is the most senseless folly, by Jupiter, and I can’t stand your -talking so. It is needless to add that I don’t speak in this manner out -of any fantastic regard for morality or inflated consideration for home. -Pshaw! As for morality, let everybody settle that question for himself. -Home! that is a worn-out institution nowadays, and the one who does most -to scuttle it is most deserving of reward from his countrymen. It is not -that, by Jove! But it is a question of advantage,--your own advantage. -You are losing your mind, and will waste a year’s time in your studies, -and all for what? For a figment of your imagination! At our age we all -dream about women, and it is natural enough that we should; but we ought -to dream about a woman of our own make and not about the very one who -would make us unhappy if we were to be united to her. Grant that your -aunt is very good, very pure and saintly! Her goodness is only -passive--submission to her destiny, a moral routine, my boy--and that’s -the end of it, that’s the end. If you were married to Carmen, you would -act just as your uncle does; you would not talk to her at table, and -would leave her alone as much as possible, because you would not -understand her, neither would she understand you, and you would not be -able to endure each other. A more complete divorce of soul would never -have been seen before. Believe me, and don’t indulge in stupid -illusions. Could you become an intimate friend of a neo-Catholic, -without culture and full of prejudice? Well, neither could you be a -friend to your wife. And what you consider a virtue in her, would surely -appear to you like affectation in the neo-Catholic.” - -“But,” I exclaimed, “how dare you deny the heroism of a woman, who, in -order not to countenance her father’s indecencies, sacrifices her youth, -and marries a man whom she cannot love? We have already discussed this -subject, and I feel indignant that you do not appreciate the merit of -her sacrifice.” - -“Why, that’s just it! that’s just it!” vociferated Portal, beside -himself. “I will twist the argument around: how dare you characterize as -virtuous the action of a woman who accepts a repulsive husband, and does -not prefer to sing in a theater, like Cinta, or scrub floors like the -scullion who waits on us at Doña Jesusa’s? Why, what difference is there -between your ideal angel and Belén, for instance? Belén puts up with her -hateful protector, because it is for her interest to do so, in that she -eats and spends and has a fine time. And that fine lady, your aunt----” - -“Keep still, keep still!” I cried, getting excited in my turn. “If you -say another word about that I shall believe that you are a worthless -scamp, and will give you a beating, as sure as my name is Salustio. -Don’t you dare to mention Carmiña in the same breath with Belén. Don’t -you enrage me!” - -“You are the one seeking a quarrel, you fag-end of----” - -“Take care what you say!” - -“Oh, well, you leave me alone--” - -“You leave me alone, that’s all I want--” - -And so forth. I do not add another detail, for the discreet reader will -easily imagine what two good friends in a passion would say to each -other. For two weeks I did not see Luis. The truth is, it seemed as -though I had lost something, the practical reason of my life, the Sancho -who used to moderate my quixotic flights. I did not know myself without -his observations, his jests, his anger, and his preachings. At the hour -when I used to go to his boarding-house in search of him, I would feel -discontented and uneasy, and even homesick. I missed the habit which had -become second nature--the pleasant, friendly intercourse, the -intellectual friction, the disputes even. There were days when I -actually thought that his old friendship was more to me than my lover’s -dream. “Confound it,” I said to myself, “I did not know that he was so -necessary to me. But the fact is I am not myself without him. No, -indeed, I am not. But I will not give in. Let him come to me, if he -wants to.” - -Finally he did come, proving once more that he represented, in our -friendship, good common sense, or whatever you may like to call that -modest and pleasant quality which does not allow us to go beyond bounds, -and teaches us not to make life bitter by foolish obstinacy or dramatic -fastidiousness. Our reconciliation was effected in the most natural -manner. One morning, as we were coming out of recitation, Portal nudged -my elbow, and asked with a smile: - -“Has the trouble gone away? Shall we make a treaty of peace?” - -I confess that I embraced him with all my heart, stammering: - -“Luisiño, my dear fellow!” - -But he laughed, and said: - -“Oh, stop it, you foolish boy; you act as though you had just returned -from America after twenty years of exile.” - -We went off arm-in-arm, and chatted more than ever that afternoon. - -“I will no longer oppose you,” said my friend with a comic air of -resignation. “You may fall as deeply in love as an African dromedary or -as Marsilla did with the fellow from Teruel, and I will not try to stop -the current. You will have to convince yourself of the folly of your -illusions. In order to be happy we need well-informed women, who think -as we do and can understand us. Well, I believe that it is so; but you -have got it into your skull that we ought to have wives like the ladies -of the thirteenth century, or the Gothic saints painted on a golden -background. All right, go ahead! You will find out your mistake. Aside -from the fact that your aunt--well, my boy, don’t depend on that. The -struggle against fate will wear you out. There, now, don’t begin to -fume. Tell me how your love affair progresses; unburden that dear little -heart.” - -“Luis,” I murmured, mysteriously, “I don’t know whether she loves me or -not; but I am certain of one thing--mark my words! Her husband is -hateful to her.” - -“That proves her good taste.” - -“I am not mistaken; no, indeed! I observe her closely, Luisiño. The poor -girl has lost her color and her appetite. In the morning, when she goes -to church, and, above all, on the days when she communes, she appears to -be somewhat tranquil; but at night! Oh dear, I believe she has the -intermittent repugnance!” - -“But her husband? Does he amuse himself elsewhere?” - -“I don’t think so. He goes to bed at a reasonable hour, even though he -may go out to hold a conference with Sotopeña or to the club. He does -not attempt to see Belén; she says so. My uncle is close-fisted, as you -know very well, and on the score of economy is capable of being -contented at home. Luis, I don’t say much, but it consoles me to see -that she is sad and is suffering.” - -“A nice consolation that is! Perhaps you are wrong, and that woman gets -on with her husband perfectly.” - -“If I were to see her cooing like a turtle-dove with him, I don’t know -what would happen to me.” - -“Why, that maggot would quit your brain. May the Old Nick get you!” - -This conversation took place as we were leaving Mayor Street and were -entering the famous Viaduct, or place for suicides. The quiet beauty of -the afternoon tempted us to go up to the high iron grating and enjoy the -view, perhaps the finest in Madrid. - -Without stopping to look over the old books, text-books mostly, the -greater part of them greasy and falling to pieces, which an old man who -looked like a maniac had for sale in the open air and right on the -ground, we put our faces close to the grating and delighted our eyes -first with the glorious panorama on the left, the red palace of Uceda, -with its white shields tenanted by fierce lions,--the thousand cupolas -and domes of churches and houses, above which rose, elegant as a -palm-tree, the Moorish tower of San Pedro. Then we turned to the right, -enchanted with the fresh verdure of the garden, which stretched out far -below us like a rug of pine trees and flowery shrubs. Far in the -distance, the Manzanares traced a silver S upon the green meadows, and -the Guadárrama reared its shining white line behind the hard, sharp -outlines of the nearest ridges. But what fascinated us, the sublimest -note of all, was Segovia Street at a fearful depth below us; down, down, -down! Luis clutched my wrist, saying: - -“My boy, this viaduct explains clearly the numerous suicides which have -occurred on it.” - -“It does, indeed, tempt one to throw himself over,” I replied, without -ceasing to look down into that paved abyss, and already feeling in the -soles of my feet the tingling that goes with dizziness. - -“Look at that suicide, my dear boy,” suddenly exclaimed Portal, pointing -to a man of squalid appearance, who was also leaning over the railing. -“A man like that is liable to fling himself over at any moment.” - -I approached the man out of curiosity. The supposititious suicide turned -around. How long it was since I had seen his noble and expressive face, -his dirty and tattered clothes, his black eyes and graceful bearing! -Poor Botello! I felt a singular and extraordinary joy at meeting that -ineffectual being, that social residuum, so inoffensive and useless. - -“Were you going to commit suicide?” I asked, smilingly, after we had -exchanged warm greetings and embraced each other. - -“No, indeed,” replied Pepita’s boarder; “I was only thinking, to pass -away the time, how wise a thing I should do if I did throw myself over -headlong. That street with its hard stones was calling me loudly. There -I might put an end to all trickery and poverty--don’t you know? Pepa has -almost put me into the street. I scarcely ever smoke now. I still have a -room where I can sleep, but that matter of eating is a luxury I am not -acquainted with. The landlady is furious because Don Julián has vanished -like smoke, and will no longer maintain me. They have stopped my -allowance. Will you treat to a beefsteak?” - -We went out to Bailen Street, and were not long in settling ourselves in -an eating-house before some very appetizing broiled chops. The prodigal, -in a melancholy tone, said to us: - -“Some days I feel so desperate that I even think of going to work at -something. But at what? Besides, that is a foolish idea, produced by -weakness or brandy. No, when I have a quarter in my pocket I wager it -and win a hundred. I am not meant for the ignominy of working. Keep that -for negroes. Besides, one can always find good friends, who wont refuse -a fellow a dollar when he asks for it. Don’t think I live by cheating, -boys; cheating comes in when one promises to pay, and I never do -anything so foolish as that. The man who loans me anything, makes me a -present. - -“Do you know what a trick Mauricio Parra and Pepe Vidal played on me -during Carnival? Do you know them? One is in the School of -Architecture, the other in the School of Mines. They board at Pepe -Urrutia’s. Well, we had a boarder there, a fine-looking lady, a widow -from Córdova, and a most attractive woman. I was making up to her a -little. One night I heard that she was going to a masked ball at the -Royal----, and I without a cent! - -“But Mauricio and Pepe encouraged me, bought tickets, and went with me -to the ball. Well, the masked lady came up to us. I recognized her at -once. - -“‘I am thirsty,’ she said; ‘will you treat me? Let us go to the -supper-room.’ - -“I saw the heavens opened before me, and the infernal regions at the -same time, because I did not have a single penny. I put my hand behind -me, and made signs to Mauricio and Pepe. I felt them put a coin in my -hand. Heavens! What could it be? A dollar, without doubt, although it -seemed somewhat smaller. I slipped it into my pocket without looking at -it, and up I went as brave as a lion. She began to eat cakes and drink -sherry, while I was trembling for fear the bill would amount to more -than a dollar. It seemed as if the good lady would never stop gorging -herself. At last she concluded to stop, and I took out the money from my -pocket and gave it to the waiter with a lordly air, saying: - -“‘Take out what I owe.’ - -“‘Why, sir, you have given me a copper!’ - -“Well, you may imagine what a row there was. I thought they would march -me straight off to the station-house. What a joke! Well, that is the way -I live, and always shall; more dead broke to-day than yesterday, and -to-morrow more so than to-day. Of course, you must know that my -Portuguese friend went home; but I have found a provincial deputy in -exchange, who has taken it into his head to be a dramatist; and I go -with him behind the scenes, because he fancies that I know the actresses -and actors intimately. And in fact I do know them. Who does not get -acquainted with the whole human race in Madrid? But I don’t know what -part I play at the Lara, or Eslava, or Apolo. Anyhow, at the box-office -they take me for an actor. The actors think that I am a played-out -actor; and meanwhile, there I am, at my ease with my provincial deputy, -determined that they shall put his farce, or review, or whatever you may -call it, on the stage.” - -“Don’t you really know what it is?” - -“No. He has tried to read it to me more than a hundred times, but up to -the present I have parried the blow. We’ll see if I can continue to do -so. Farewell, my saviors; my idea of committing suicide has now -evaporated. Thanks! - - “‘To-day the heavens and earth on me do smile, - To-day the sun reaches to my inmost heart. - To-day you gave me chops, two chops! - So, to-day, I in Providence do trust.’” - -As he declaimed this, little Dumas held out to us his dirty, greasy -hands, and went away. - -“There you have romanticism,” murmured Luis, disdainfully, shrugging his -shoulders. “What a pity that he and all the rest like him couldn’t have -a course of lectures on _common-senseology_!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - - -In spite of what Portal had said, I continued to study Carmen’s face and -actions, and with the second sight of passion plainly perceived an -aversion and dislike, growing all the while more marked and deep. - -Ye dramatists, who strew daggers and poison throughout your terrifying -creations; ye poets, who sing of horrible tragedies; ye novelists, who -have as many murders as chapters,--tell me if there is any struggle more -tremendous than that which goes on in a woman’s heart when she is -united, subjected, fastened to the man whose presence is enough to make -every fiber of her being quiver with aversion! And let those who believe -that psychology is merely a science of facts like the positive and exact -physical and natural sciences, tell us why that husband should so -greatly disgust his wife. There is no sufficient cause for it. He had -not wronged her by any grave fault. She is queen and mistress of her -home; her husband is not unfaithful to her but, on the contrary, is very -attentive to her and is devoted to his home, and the young wife waiting -for him there. - -Ah, it is evident that Carmen’s antipathy was irrational, and for that -very reason all the stronger, deeper, and more impossible to attack and -eradicate. One can fight against an adversary when he has a body, but -not when he is an intangible shadow, real only in the dark recesses of -our soul. There are some husbands who ill-treat their wives, who betray -them, who drag them to ruin, and, notwithstanding, are still loved, or, -at least, not shrunk from. Who can say precisely whence blows that -breath of air called repulsion? It is not hatred. Hatred has its -reasons, is based upon motives, can explain and justify itself; and if I -have sometimes allowed myself to say that I hated my uncle, it is -because I did not express myself with precision. It was not hatred which -his wife and I felt for him, but something more invincible--a profound -aversion. Hatred may turn into friendship, even into love, because, as -it springs from some definite causes, other definite causes may -obliterate it, but a mysterious repulsion, that antipathy which is born -in the depths of our psychical being, that does not die nor become -extirpated or transformed. No reasoning can conquer unreason, nor is -there any logic which will avail against instinct, which acts on us like -nature, directly and intuitively, by virtue of laws whose essence is, -and forever will be for us, an impenetrable secret. - -Grant that Carmen did not hate my uncle Felipe. She was incapable of -feeling hatred toward anybody. My uncle had given her his name, a good -position, such as it was; he did not treat her ill, nor did I even -notice that he scrimped her in money-matters, although I clearly saw -that if the wife were free to do as she desired she would enlarge her -list of charities. - -The married life of my uncle and aunt, thus, was only like that of so -many husbands and wives we see nowadays; in appearance tranquil and even -happy, upheld by that decorous and middle-class spirit of concord, so -fashionable in our modern society, where customs as well as streets are -drawn in a straight line, more precise and symmetrical every day. But as -within the houses in those straight streets tragic events occur, and -love, vice, and crime come and go just as they did in the crookedest -alleys known to the Middle Ages, so under that couple’s cloak of harmony -and mutual esteem I could perceive their incompatibility of temper; the -husband’s inclination to be mean and tyrannical, and the wife’s cold, -hard, and unconscious feeling of repulsion. - -Sometimes I would say to myself: “Take care, for Luis is right and I am -a fool! I ought not to pay the slightest attention to Carmen’s dislike -to her husband, which I constantly observe. What should preoccupy me is -the sentiment which I inspire in her. If she loved me as I love her, -what would I care if she acted like some dramatic heroine we read of, -and, without ceasing to love me madly, should still display toward her -husband a most tender affection,--filial, or sisterly, or conjugal -respect? Only let her return my love, and the rest, as far as I am -concerned, shall be allowed to take place on the stage of the -soul--where no one ought to venture. What inference can I draw from the -fact that even if she does not care for her rightful lord, she never -even looks at me?” - -Well, I would not draw any inference, yet I kept on watching the signs -of that antipathy with intense joy. Just as, when we begin to surmise -that the woman we love will return our affection, we eagerly watch for a -glance, a smile, a furtive blush, the trace of a passing emotion, that, -tearing asunder the delicate veil which infolds a woman’s heart, betrays -and lays bare the hidden flame, so I used to study the inflections of -her voice, the ill-concealed flashing of her eyes, the scarcely -perceptible tremor of her lips which revealed to me the wife’s moral -state. - -At the dinner hour I would watch her closely, though pretending to be -absent-minded, playing with my fork or discussing politics with my -uncle. I am sure that everything can be feigned, everything subjected to -the will,--even the expression of the countenance,--but not the voice. -Carmen was able to control the muscles of her face, to subdue her eyes, -to prevent her delicate nostrils from dilating, but never could succeed -in making her voice, usually even, soft and clear when she was -addressing others, anything but harsh and muffled when she spoke to her -husband. And, aside from that fact, there were a thousand plain -indications. The plainest was her anxiety to prolong the evenings in the -parlor. Of her own motion, that woman would never have gone to bed. What -a delightful impression it made on me the few times that I succeeded in -spending the evening with her, to see her retard the hour of retiring -with a thousand pretexts; burying herself in her work, saying that she -had a certain stint to finish, that she would not go to bed until she -finished it; that she had to write to her father, or to some friends in -Pontevedra; until, finally, my uncle would unceremoniously command her -to retire. I was only able to make such observations on Saturday nights; -the rest of the week I had to go to my room early on account of my -lessons. I used to sit by the chimney in the boudoir next to her -bedroom, which had moss-green plush portières. They were drawn back, so -that I could look into the hateful chamber, where was daily enacted the -iniquitous mystery of absolute intimacy between two beings who did not -love each other or perhaps feel any esteem for each other, who had no -mutual understanding or any points of contact beyond the fact that the -Moorish friar had thrown the stole over them at the same time. - -One morning I received a letter from my mother, written in her usual -precipitate and incoherent style, without punctuation, it is unnecessary -to add, and wholly devoted to giving me some strange news. - -“You don’t know the greatest joke of all that the old man Aldao fell -into the trap set by that horrid girl Candidiña who turned his head -bewitched and made him raving mad until finally he consented to marry -her secretly not publicly and the priest denies it and the old man as -well but I know it by one who saw it with his own eyes and some very -indecent couplets are going the rounds in Pontevedra about this -phenomenon and it seems that the editor of _El Teucrense_ wrote them -and they would make one die laughing an impudent girl can succeed in -anything they say he gave her a mantilla and a black silk dress may the -Lord grant that we may not lose our wits and get in our dotage I don’t -know whether his daughter knows it but keep quiet and let somebody else -tell her for they will surely write to Felipe about this scrape a nice -mess it is and now he has a step-mother and I am glad of it as he took -advantage of us.” - -It is needless to say that as soon as I could find Carmen alone I -hastened to tell her the great news, not without great preambles and -much circumlocution. Far from being startled or sorrowful, Señor Aldao’s -daughter displayed great satisfaction. - -“God has heard my prayers,” she exclaimed, impetuously. “God has -rewarded me, Salustio. At my father’s age he had better be married -than--otherwise. I am glad for his own sake. You may be sure that I -rejoice, though I should have liked him to make a different choice. But -now that it is over, I hope it may turn out well.” - -“I don’t want to spoil your joy,” I said; “but Carmiña, a man of your -father’s age runs a great risk and loses something of his dignity by -marrying a girl of sixteen.” - -“That matter rests between her and her conscience,” argued my aunt. -“Probably she will be very careful in the discharge of her new duties, -now that she is married. She never had any before; some improprieties -can be pardoned her.” - -“But she is a regular weather-vane and will continue to be so, for it is -innate in her. A nice one she is, to lead on that poor old gentleman to -such an extreme! I assure you, your step-mother is a rare bird. No one -knows what the future will bring forth.” - -“Well, God is over all. Let us hope that the grace of the sacrament may -do its office.” - -“Do you believe in the grace of the sacrament?” I asked, remembering -what Luis had said, and smiling, in spite of myself, at her words, which -were in such marked contrast to my own ideas and convictions, though, -coming from her lips, they seemed to me the very formula of propriety -and moral beauty. - -“What a question! Why shouldn’t I believe in it? Fine I’d look if I -didn’t! When God instituted that sacrament he pledged Himself to help -with His grace all who avail themselves of it. Without such aid marriage -would not be possible.” - -“Grace consists in loving each other, Carmen,” I murmured, drawing near -to her and fixing my eyes on hers. I did not desire to convince her, or -to lead her astray, God knows, but, on the contrary, I wanted her to -display all the absurdities of her theological learning and brandish -before me, like a warlike Amazon, the well-tempered weapons with which -she guarded her virtue. But I reckoned without my host, because Carmen -would not engage in controversy. She only replied, pleasantly: - -“It is only natural that you should think that way, being only a boy, -and having such ideas as you do. I am very sorry that you are not more -religious. With years you will gain experience and will be able to judge -better. Your head will get settled at last!” - -“Well, Carmiña, suppose I only need a word from you to settle it? Do you -say that that about loving each other is all nonsense? Well, I’ll -believe it if you say so. But at least you cannot deny that in order to -be happy, no matter how holy the married pair may be, they must have -some affection for each other; must at least not hate each other or be -mutually repugnant. Am I not right?” - -Carmiña turned pale, and her eyelashes quivered slightly. She suddenly -looked at me with a pained expression as though saying: “That is a -forbidden subject and I am surprised that you should allude to it.” - -I carried away from that brief dialogue, broken off by the coming in of -my uncle, a greater supply of hope. My uncle entered hastily, with a -very abrupt and surprised air. As soon as he saw his wife he drew a -letter from his pocket. - -“Carmen, what is the meaning of this? Did you know anything about it? -Why, Castro Mera writes to me saying that everybody declares that your -father is secretly married to his maid-servant’s niece!” - -My aunt tried to control her voice as she answered bravely: - -“It must be true, for Benigna also has written about it to Salustio.” - -“And you say so in that quiet way?” cried her husband. - -There are moments in which the curtain is drawn back, and you surprise -the soul in all its nakedness and perceive its mysterious shapes, -however quickly the surprised one may try to cover them up. That cry -fully revealed my uncle’s soul, hard, dry, and vilely mercenary--like a -great many others which roam around the world inclosed in bodies less -Jewish in appearance. - -“It is a great joke--your taking it so coolly,” he continued, excited -and beside himself. “According to that you don’t care if your father is -crazy! Because that is what it is--senile imbecility, dotage! But your -brother and I will take steps to annul the marriage, and have that old -man put under a guardian. Getting married! What a farce! That is what is -called laughing in the face of all the world and making fools of stupid -sons-in-law!” - -His eyes flashed fire, his hooked nose gave emphasis to the expression -of avarice and rapacity on his coarse lips, his face was flushed and -almost as red as his beard, while his trembling hand mechanically took -up and laid down again on the table already set for lunch, knife, fork, -and napkin. - -“What do you expect,” replied his wife, firmly, taking her place at the -table as though nothing had occurred. “My father is master of his own -actions for the very reason that he is so old. It is not true that he is -in his dotage, and the respect we owe him ought to prohibit us from -opposing his will. Let us be patient. It would be worse if he were to -live in a scandalous manner.” - -“You are a fool!” exclaimed her husband, losing all restraint for the -first time, and determined to free his mind. “At your father’s age there -is no scandal possible, or any such nonsense; all that there is, is -folly and imbecility and ridiculousness--that most absurd of all things, -marrying a young girl of low birth, a servant! Within a month’s time he -will find that his head is too big for his hat. You women don’t know -about such matters, or know what you are talking about. It is your lack -of experience and ignorance of the world, which you do not know, nor -have you any reason to know it. So you would do better to keep quiet -most of the time. And, by Jove! if you will hear it, your father ought -to have told me, before marrying off his daughter: ‘Felipe, don’t be too -sure of me; although I am so old that my pantaloons fall off me, I feel -lively and wont be long in getting married again. And as at my age a man -always has children I shall have two or three boys who will leave my -daughter out in the cold.’ How nice, hey? How nice!” - -My aunt kept quiet. The pallor of her cheeks, her quick breathing and -her flashing eyes indicated the indignation and protest which raged in -her soul. But instead of opening the valve, she repressed her feelings -and took a glass of water which was on the table. I heard the glass -click against her teeth while she drank, showing how rapidly her pulse -was beating. My uncle, without paying the slightest regard to her -agitation and her brave silence, went on, growing more and more excited -with his own words: - -“I shall write him a scorching letter at once and tell him what I think. -He shall hear from me, I swear it. That deviltry will be thrown in his -face, or my name is not Felipe. I’ll give him so much trouble that he’ll -have cause to remember the saint of my name. And he, of course, will -think that I shall allow you to associate with your precious -step-mother!” - -“In the first place,” replied my aunt slowly, with an effort, “I believe -that their marriage is still a secret; and in the second place, I used -to associate with her when I was at home and when she was exposed to -worse things. Why shouldn’t I associate with her now that she is my -father’s wife, if she behaves herself properly?” - -“Behaves herself; no trouble about behavior!” exclaimed my uncle, -ironically. “Behaves herself well! The young fellows at Pontevedra and -San Andrés can tell you all about that. However, as far as that is -concerned I don’t care anything about it--” - -“Well, as for me, that’s the only thing I do care about,” answered my -aunt, vehemently, unable to restrain herself any longer. “I hope that -my father may not have cause to feel ashamed of his choice, and let the -rest be as God wills,--as it will be, after all.” - -Oh, obdurate hardness of heart of the Hebrew race, with how much justice -did Christ reprove you! Those words, prompted by a sublime impulse of -faith, would have moved a stone; but my uncle was harder than a stone, -and, throwing away his napkin, he arose from the table, muttering -between his teeth: - -“As if that was not enough to come upon one, I must listen to -stupidities and twaddle. He must have nerve. Just think of that -scarecrow getting married now; and then to hear him defended here,--here -in my own house!” - -He rushed out of the dining-room. I followed him, for I wanted to know -where he was going, and I had an object in leaving Carmen alone. I heard -my uncle shut himself up in his study, doubtless in order to write the -“scorching” letter to his father-in-law. Then I went back, and entering -the dining-room, suddenly, drew near to Carmen and seated myself beside -her, murmuring tenderly: “Don’t cry, my aunt; come, now, don’t cry. -Foolish one, don’t trouble yourself about that.” - -I had not deceived myself in my surmises. - -Startled, she turned around, and I saw her eyes swimming in tears, -though her energy of will instantly dried them. In a voice which was -almost steady she answered me, drawing away a little: - -“Thanks, Salustio. It is all over. One can’t help it sometimes, one is -so foolish.” - -“That man talks to you in a way which arouses my indignation. I had a -hard time to keep still. How can you bear it?” - -“No, no, not that; don’t even say it! He is my husband, and can’t stop -to choose his words.” - -“Indeed, he ought to choose them. To a woman like you, who are goodness -and holiness in person, one ought to speak in this posture--so--do you -see?” I murmured, kneeling before her. - -“If you don’t get up I shall be angry, and so I shall if you ever say -that again,” answered she, standing up resolutely. “I don’t thank you -for this attempt to comfort me, Salustio; it seems more like flattery, -and flattering me is lost time. Do you want me to tell you the truth? -Well, then, I am to blame, entirely to blame, for that unpleasant scene. -I ought not to have gone contrary to Felipe, but to have waited till the -first outburst was over, and then have reasoned with him. It is only -natural that he should feel annoyed at papa’s marriage. Let us be fair. -No husband ever gets angry with his wife if she does not contradict him. -The tongue causes all matrimonial dissensions. It is a wife’s duty to -keep quiet.” - -“No, you foolish girl, your duty is to speak when you are right; the -same as we do, although we often talk a great deal when we are wrong. So -you think that even if your husband were to break forth with some -barbarous remark,--such as to say there is no God,--you ought not to -answer him?” - -“Not while he is irritated--no, what good would it do! It would be like -throwing wood into the fire, and would never persuade him. But as soon -as he gets calm, then I ought to tell him my objections, affectionately -and mildly, as well as I know how, and then he would listen to me and -would be persuaded.” - -I did not know what to reply, since, even though a thousand reflections -occurred to me, my aunt’s way of reasoning conquered me completely, and -seemed the only one worthy of her. - -It was a very cloudy day. The dining-room opened into the court, and the -thick curtains cut off the light and made it more gloomy. The folds of -those dark, thick woolen curtains seemed to me, by a sudden freak of the -imagination, to look like a friar’s garb, the heavy cord that looped -them up helping to make the resemblance all the more striking. The -arabesque patterns on the curtain, at a certain height, looked to me -like a man’s face. It was a strange bit of self-suggestion that evoked -there the shadow of Father Moreno, listening to our conversation, and -ridiculing me with a mocking air. “Cursed friar!” I ejaculated mentally, -addressing the curtain. “You are going to be disappointed, I promise -you. Because nothing that outrages human nature and is contrary to its -laws will last, and this heroic abnegation of my aunt and the violence -she does to her own deepest feelings cannot go on indefinitely; the time -will come when the spring will break, and I shall watch for that hour to -come. I swear to you, you stupid friar, you have never tasted the only -real happiness in life.” - -By chance my aunt fixed her eyes on the curtain with the intensity of -those who gaze into vacancy and are distracted by their sad reflections. -I fancied that she also saw what I did in the folds of the curtains, and -that to her eyes also the shadow of the friar stood forth, silent but -eloquent in its attitude. - -What would I not have given then to penetrate into the hidden recesses -of that woman’s mind, and read the revolutionary proclamation which was -undoubtedly written there by an invisible hand! But the wife allowed -nothing to come to the surface. She arose and went into the kitchen to -ask whether lunch was ready. “For you must be hungry by this time, -Salustio,” she said when she came back, calm and self-possessed. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - - -How did it happen that a ray of divine joy, of unreasoning but delicious -hope, fell upon my soul--a light, in short, like that which according to -popular tradition, penetrates the darkness of the limbo on Candlemas -Day? Let me see whether I can recollect it, with all its most -insignificant and even ludicrous details; with its intermingling of -dreams and realities, so inseparable that I do not know where the first -end or the second begin; indeed, I cannot affirm that the latter ever -existed except within the soul that perceived them, in my own -representative faculty, though that is for me the supreme reality. - -It happened that Trinito, our philharmonic Cuban, on receiving quite a -large sum of money from his island home, set about spending it right and -left in the most reckless manner. One of his extravagances was to take -orchestra chairs at the Real and invite us all to go to the opening -night of a Spanish opera, which had been greatly discussed and commented -upon in the newspapers beforehand. In vain did we object that this -lavishness was unnecessary, since we would feel much more at our ease in -the gallery, between girls both plain and good-looking, and skilled -devotees of the “divine art.” - -But what he really aspired to was to put on airs and give a certain -dress-coat its opening night, and he would not listen to us, but dragged -Portal and me off to the theater; but as for the poor boy from Zamora, -he would not budge, even if they were to cut him in pieces. - -Neither Portal nor I owned dress-coats, but we did justice to the -festive occasion and put on our long frock-coats, which we dragged out -from the bottom of our trunks, hoping that no one would notice us, and -that all eyes would be fixed on the Cuban, who was resplendent in his -finery. His new dress-coat and trousers glistened with the peculiar -luster of broadcloth, and the narrow satin lappel, reaching down to his -waist, set off the snowy whiteness of his shirt-front. The fellow, in -order not to omit any accessory, had spent his quarter for a fragrant -gardenia, which rested proudly in his button-hole in irreproachable -style. He did not buy a crush hat for lack of time, but entered the -theater concealing his slouch hat under his cloak, so as not to -disarrange his curls and the beautiful parting of his hair. - -We took our seats, feeling somewhat bashful, hoping that nobody would -see us; but Trinito stood up with his back to the orchestra, and, -thrusting out his chest where the fine shirt-front bulged out, passed -his gloveless hand over his carefully dressed hair, and looked just like -a dandy of the loftiest and most overpowering sort. Although his sight -was as keen as his hearing, he had hired an enormous pair of -opera-glasses, and leveled them alternately at the boxes and orchestra -seats, scanning the society belles, their low-cut dresses, their -ornaments and jewels. Portal, very quiet and somewhat abashed, amused -himself by saying _sotto voce_ that Queen Christina was gazing at him -through her lorgnette, and that the Infanta Isabel was making signs to -the Infanta Eulalia to call her attention to the unknown and fascinating -dandy. - -As soon as the curtain went up, Trinito experienced his musical seizure, -and closely followed the construction of the opera, which for five hours -gave us siftings of Wagner and Meyerbeer, Donizetti and Rossini, as it -had a little of everything in it except what was new and Spanish. - -Trinito, carried away by excitement, and with his unfailing, retentive -memory, would not let us rest. - -“Boys,” he said, “this is simply an _olla podrida_. Here the fellow has -put in the _largo assai_ of Mendelssohn’s thirty-second _opus_. Well, -well! If he hasn’t taken the entire _allegretto_ of the overture of ‘Don -Juan.’ I declare, that’s from ‘The Magic Flute;’ fifteen measures, at -least, are exactly like it, stolen bodily! This _maestoso_ is from ‘The -Flying Dutchman’ or ‘Parsifal.’” - -“Or from ‘Green Beans,’” added Portal, phlegmatically. - -“Don’t you laugh, for there is something from ‘Green Beans,’ also, or -very much like it, because I have heard that sort of a clatter in comic -opera. Now he skips to the Symphony in A minor of the _sordo -sublime_--fellows, I am infuriated! I shall protest! This is simply -highway robbery!” - -In the second act Trinito’s indignation went on in a _crescendo_ no less -noisy than that of the closing duet. In the third, he completely bored -us with his exposures of reminiscences and plagiarisms, shouting so -loudly as to attract the attention of the audience, pointing out the -fragments of a hand of Mozart’s or a shin of Beethoven’s, which were -scattered through the opera; and at the fourth act, his rage grew so -overwhelming that he would not allow us to stay till the end of the -opera. - -“Let us go before they call out that counterfeiter! I would hiss him if -I remained, and one must not raise a rumpus here. Come on, then; let us -be discreet. I am so enraged I scarcely know what I am doing. Hold me, -carry me to the street!” - -We were amazed at this outburst, as surprising in the usually calm and -equable Cuban as it would have been in a canary or a lamb, and -consented to leave before anybody else, making off through the lobby -toward the door. - -Without transition, we passed from the heated, vibrating, and echoing -air of the orchestra circle, out to the chilly lobby, which was all the -colder for being deserted, since only two ushers were walking up and -down there. A current of air, sharp as a stiletto, entered my -half-opened mouth, while I was laughing, and my dilated nostrils, and -went as by instinct to my chest, where I felt a singular compression. - -“Cover your mouths, gentlemen,” said the practical Luis, “or we shall -catch the greatest pneumonia of the Christian era. Cover your mouth, -Salustio; don’t be childish.” - -I searched for my handkerchief in order to protect myself with it, but I -already felt that strange warning, that dull, numb pain of the disease -which so insidiously enters our bodies, taking advantage of our -imprudence or carelessness, as a thief who sees the key in the door and -improves the opportunity to investigate the chest. - -“I believe that I have already caught it,” I murmured, with some -anxiety. - -“Don’t worry; let us go to Fornos’s and take some punch. Come on, you’ll -see how nice and hot it will be,” said my companions, as we emerged into -the bleak Plaza de Oriente. We proceeded to Fornos’s and took our punch. -Trinito treated us, and gave us a fresh monograph on the plagiarisms and -rhapsodies in the opera; while he sang his indignation for us, and even -played it for us on the table. That time he was determined to write a -musical criticism; of course he would! He was going to pulverize the -composer, or the rat, to be more explicit, which he had caught in the -act of visiting Wagner’s pocket. - -I went to bed late and did not sleep well. The next day I awoke feeling -inexplicably tired and depressed, with that species of despondency or -dejection which precedes any great physical disorder. Carmen noticed -that I did not look well and begged me to lie down, scolding me gently -for having gone to bed the night before at such an unearthly hour. - -I consented because I felt so worn out, and every bone in my body ached, -as we say in the country. As I withdrew I said to Carmiña, in a -supplicating tone: - -“Will you come to see me?” - -“Of course I will. I shall take you a cup of tea made of boiled -mallow-flowers to give you a sweat. You have taken cold; probably -through some crazy imprudence.” - -As soon as I lay down, in a flash, the fever broke out triumphantly, as -did my exhaustion and the congestion of my lungs. I began to wander in -my mind and grow delirious. It could not have been delirium so much as a -capricious and fanciful flight of the imagination through those regions -of which I was most fond when in my normal state. - -In my lucid intervals, and between the paroxysms of my struggle for -breath, I seemed to see the yew tree once more, with its dark green -foliage, standing out against the heavenly blue sky and the pale verdure -of the river-lands. I heard the songs of working-women, pipes announcing -the dawn, the whizz of rockets, the sound of a piano, and there were -moments when I was positive that an ugly black bat came fluttering -through the window, and, with a pin run through it, expired before me. -Of course, Father Moreno was there, and sometimes his presence consoled -me, while at other times it would so irritate me, that I would have -gladly flung something at his head. - -During my delirium, it seems that I sang loudly and gave formulas and -propounded problems, in mathematics. What I am sure of is that, over and -above my delirium and the fever and terrible discomfort, and the -strictures in my bronchial tubes and lungs, an enchanting sensation used -to hover. Carmen did not leave my room; she gave me my medicines, -smoothed my sheets, and waited on me and attended to me all through. At -one time, when, by an involuntary impulse produced by the fever, I threw -my arms around her neck, I fancied--was I really out of my head?--that -Carmen, so strong, so invincible, far from making the slightest movement -to draw away from me, was returning my embrace. I would swear that her -eyes gazed at me with a sweet and tender look; that her hands caressed -and petted me as one pets and caresses a child; that her lips murmured -sweet words which sounded like music of the heart. Allowing myself to be -carried away by my fancy, I thought, as I sank to sleep under the -influence of a powerful narcotic: - -“Carmen loves me; she loves me, without doubt. How happy I shall be if I -do not die!” - -I sighed, half turned over in bed, and, if I could have put into words -the feeling which filled my heart, I would have added, “And how happy I -shall be, even if I do die.” - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Christian Woman, by Emilia Pardo Bazán - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHRISTIAN WOMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 54796-0.txt or 54796-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/9/54796/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at Google Books) - - -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/license - - -Title: A Christian Woman - -Author: Emilia Pardo Bazán - -Translator: Mary Springer - -Release Date: May 27, 2017 [EBook #54796] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHRISTIAN WOMAN *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at Google Books) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="cb">A CHRISTIAN WOMAN</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="315" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/ill_portrait.jpg" alt="DOÑA EMILIA PARDO BAZÁN." /> -<br /> -<span class="caption">DOÑA EMILIA PARDO BAZÁN.</span> -</div> - -<h1> -A CHRISTIAN WOMAN</h1> - -<p class="cb"> -BY<br /> - -EMILIA PARDO BAZÁN<br /> -<br /><br /> -<small>TRANSLATED BY</small><br /> - -MARY SPRINGER<br /> -<br /><br /> -NEW YORK<br /> -CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smcap">104 & 106 Fourth Avenue</span><br /> -<br /><small> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1891, by</span><br /> -<br /> -CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY.<br /> -<br /> -<i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> -<br /> -THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,<br /> -RAHWAY, N. J.</small></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border:2px solid gray;padding:.5em; -margin:1em auto auto auto;max-width:20em;text-align:center;"> - -<tr><td class="c"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Chapter I., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II">II., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III">III., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V">V., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_X">X., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI., </a> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION.</h2> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">I have</span> heard it told of a great-grandmother of mine, of noble family -(grandees, in fact), that she was obliged to teach herself to write, -copying the letters from a printed book, with a pointed stick for pen -and mulberry-juice for ink.” The great-granddaughter who said this is -the first woman of letters in Spain to-day; indeed, she is perhaps as -widely known as any contemporary Spanish writer, man or woman. Though -her achievements do not yet entitle her to rank, as a novelist, with -Galdós and Pereda, she has conquered a place only second to theirs, and -with long years of work before her (she is not yet forty) may even come -to rival their great fame. From the Spain that looked with suspicion -upon a woman who could more than barely read and write, to the Spain -that counts the literary renown of Emilia Pardo Bazán among its modern -glories, is a long way; and the chapters recording the struggles and -successive triumphs of Spanish women in their efforts to get within -reaching-distance of the tree of knowledge, will be, when they come to -be written, among the most striking in the history of the emancipation -of woman. Señora Bazán must always be a great figure in the record of -that educational development, and happily we are able to trace her own -progress pretty fully, taking advantage principally of the charming -autobiographical sketch which she prefixed to her novel “Los Pazos de -Ulloa.”</p> - -<p>She was born in 1852, in Coruña, of a family which traced its descent on -both sides to the most distinguished among the ancient Galician -nobility. One of those children whose earliest memories are of -delightful hours passed in some safe retreat in company with a book, she -was fortunate in having a father with the good sense, rare in those -days, to let her follow her bent. She tells us of the happy days she had -when enjoying free swing at a library in the summer villa which the -family rented by the sea, and later when allowed to browse at her will -among her father’s books in Coruña. Plutarch and Homer (in translation, -of course,) thrilled her young fancy, and whole chapters of Cervantes -remain to this day photographed upon her memory, fixed there in those -early, sensitive days. Her first attempt to write came at the age of -eight, and was born of patriotic excitement. It was at the close of the -triumphant expedition of O’Donnell to Morocco, and the returned soldiers -were fairly apotheosized by their exuberant fellow-countrymen. The Pardo -Bazáns had two or three honest country louts among the volunteers to -entertain at their house, and to the little Emilia the good clodhoppers -embodied the idea of military glory as well as any Hector or Achilles. -The worthy fellows were up to their eyes in luck, given the best that -the mansion afforded, put to bed between lace-trimmed sheets in the best -room; but it all seemed too little to the enthusiastic child, and in a -passion of adoring homage she rushed off to her room to write a poem in -honor of the heroes! It could not have been long after this that she -addressed a sonnet to a deputy of her father’s party, and was exalted to -the seventh heaven by the great man’s extravagant praise of her -performance. However, it was not as a poet that she was to find -expression for her genius; and though she afterward published a volume -of verse for which she still professes a sneaking fondness, she admits -that she is not much more of a poet than can be met on every -street-corner in Spain.</p> - -<p>Her education, so far as she did not get it by herself, was principally -obtained in a fashionable French boarding-school in Madrid, where -“Télémaque” was served up three times a day, and where Emilia was given -the idea that she had exhausted the possibilities of astronomical -science when she had looked at an eclipse through a bit of smoked glass. -Later she was turned over to the tender mercies of tutors. Instead of -lessons on the piano, she begged her father to allow her to study Latin; -but this was quite too wild a thing to ask, even of him, and his refusal -only gave her a lasting hatred for the piano. By the time she was -fourteen, she was allowed to read pretty much everything, though still -forbidden to look into the works of Hugo, Dumas, and the French -Romanticists generally. Instead of these, an uncle put into her hands -the novels of Fernan Caballero—a most suggestive incident, the woman -who worked out the beginnings of the modern Spanish novel, read by the -girl who was to help carry it to its highest development! However, her -unformed taste thought nothing worthy to be called a novel unless a man -was fired out of a cannon or flung over a cliff in every chapter, and -her furtive reading of Hugo—of course, she tasted the forbidden -waters—confirmed her in a liking which she was long in outgrowing.</p> - -<p>In 1868, just after she had first put on long dresses, she was married. -To make short work with her domestic life, let it be added, that her -husband’s name is Don José Quiroga, and that three children have been -born to them. During the troublous times that came in with the -Revolution of 1868, and throughout the reign of Amadeus, her family was -in political eclipse, and with her father she traveled extensively in -France and southern Europe, learning English and Italian, and from her -industrious practice of keeping a diary acquiring the writing habit. On -her return to Spain, she found the German philosophical influence in the -ascendant, and to put herself abreast of the intellectual movement of -the time, read deeply in philosophy and history. By this time she had -come fully to perceive the defective nature of her education, and set -herself rigorously to correct it, for some years devoting herself to the -severest studies. At a literary contest in Orense, in 1876, she carried -off the first prize both in prose and verse, though for three years -after that she wrote nothing except occasional articles for a Madrid -periodical. Finally, as a relaxation from her strenuous historical -studies, she began reading novels again, beginning with contemporary -English, French, and Italian writers; for in her provincial home, and in -her absorption in philosophical and historical reading, she had never -heard of the splendid development of the novel in her own country. At -last a friend put her on the track, and then she read with deepening -delight.</p> - -<p>To her it was the chance magic touch that finally gave her genius its -full vent. If a novel was thus a description of real life, and not a -congeries of wild adventures, why could she not write one herself? That -was the question she put to herself, and the answer came in the shape -of her first novel, “Pascual López,” published in the <i>Revista de -España</i>, and afterward separately. She began her biography of Francis de -Assisi in 1880, but a temporary failure of health sent her off to Vichy. -Of this journey was born her “Un Viaje de Novios,” the first chapters of -which she wrote in Paris, and read to such distinguished auditors as -Balzac, Flaubert, Goncourt, and Daudet. Fully conscious now of the place -and method of the realistic novel, and of the high value of its -development in Spain, her course was clear. Since then her novels have -appeared with surprising rapidity. She has all along kept her feet on -the earth, writing of what she knows, and thus it happens that most of -her scenes are laid in Galicia. As a preparation for writing “La -Tribuna,” a study of working women, she went to a tobacco factory for -two months, morning and afternoon, to listen to the conversation and -observe the manners of the women employed there. Her work has been -steadily broadening, and “A Christian Woman,” with its sequel, is the -largest canvas she has filled.</p> - -<p>Though now definitely and mainly a novelist, her literary activity has -been highly varied. Her letters on criticism, published in <i>La Epoca</i> in -1882, evoked the widest discussion, and her lectures on “The -Revolutionary Movement and the Novel in Russia,” delivered before the -most brilliant literary circle of Madrid, have already been given an -English dress. Articles from her pen are a frequent attraction in the -leading magazines, and her vivacious series of letters about the Paris -Exposition won much attention. As might be inferred from her unflagging -productiveness, she is possessed of as much physical as mental vigor. -She is of winning appearance and unaffected manners. Since the death of -her father, in 1888, she has been entitled as his sole heir to be called -a countess; but she does not use the title. “Who would know me as a -countess?” she asks. “I shall be simply Pardo Bazán as long as I live.”</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Rollo Ogden.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h1>A CHRISTIAN WOMAN.</h1> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">You</span> will see by the following list the course of studies that the State -obliged me to master in order to enter the School of Engineering: -arithmetic and algebra as a matter of course; geometry equally so; -besides, trigonometry and analytics, and, finally, descriptive geometry -and the differential calculus. In addition to these mathematical -studies, French, only held together with pins, if the truth must be -told, and English very hurriedly basted; and as for that dreadful -German, I would not put tooth to it even in jest—the Gothic letters -inspired me with such great respect. Then there was the everlasting -drawing—linear, topographic, and landscape even, the latter being -intended, I presume, to enable an<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> engineer, while managing his -theodolite and sights, to divert himself innocently by scratching down -some picturesque scene in his album—after the manner of English misses -on their travels.</p> - -<p>After entrance came the “little course,” so called, in order that we -might not be afraid of it. It embraced only four studies—to wit, -integral calculus, theoretical mechanics, physics, and chemistry. During -the year of the “little course,” we had no more drawing to do; but in -the following, which is the first year of the course properly speaking, -we were obliged, besides going deep into materials of construction, -applied mechanics, geology, and cubic mensuration, to take up new kinds -of drawing—pen-drawing, shading and washing.</p> - -<p>I was not one of the most hard-working students, nor yet one of the most -stupid—I say it as shouldn’t. I could grind away when it was necessary, -and could exercise both patience and perseverance in those branches -where, the power of intellect not being sufficient, one must have -recourse to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> a parrot-like memory. I failed to pass several times, but -it is impossible to avoid such mishaps in taking a professional course -in which they deliberately tighten the screws on the students, in order -that only a limited number may graduate to fill the vacant posts. I was -sure of success, sooner or later; and my mother, who paid for the cost -of my tuition, with the assistance of her only brother, was as patient -as her disposition would allow her to be with my failures. I assured her -that they were not numerous and that, when I finally emerged a -full-fledged civil engineer, I should have in my pocket the four hundred -and fifty dollar salary, besides extras.</p> - -<p>Nor were all my failures avoidable, even if I had been as assiduous as -possible in my studies. I was all run down and sick for one year, -finally having an attack of varioloid; and this reason, with others not -necessary to enumerate, will explain why at the age of twenty-one I -found myself still in the second year of the course, although I enjoyed -the reputation of being a studious youth and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span> quite well informed—that -is to say, I yet lacked three years.</p> - -<p>The year before, the first year of the course strictly speaking, I was -obliged to let some studies go over to the September examinations. I -attribute that disagreeable occurrence to the bad influence I was under, -in a certain boarding-house, where the evil one tempted me to take up my -abode. The time I passed there left undying recollections in my memory, -which bring a smile to my lips and indiscreet joy to my soul whenever I -evoke them. I will give some idea of the place, so that the reader may -judge whether Archimedes himself would have been capable of studying -hard in such a den.</p> - -<p>There are several houses in Madrid at the present date—for example, the -Corralillos, the Cuartelillos, the Tócame Roque—all very similar to the -one I am about to describe. Within that abode dwelt the population of a -small-sized village; it had three courts with balconies, on which opened -the doors of the small rooms,—or pigeon-holes one might call -them,—with their respective numbers on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span> lintels. There was no lack -of immodest and quarrelsome inmates; there were street musicians singing -couplets to the accompaniment of a tuneless guitar; cats in a state of -high nervous excitement scampering from garret to garret, or jumping -from balustrade to balustrade—now impelled by amorous feelings, now by -a brick thrown at them full force. Clothes and dish-cloths were hung out -to dry; ragged petticoats and patched underwear, all mixed up pell-mell. -There were pots of sweet basil and pinks in the windows; and in fact, -everything would be found there that abounds in such dens in Madrid—so -often described by novelists and shown forth by painters in their -sketches from real life.</p> - -<p>The third suite on the right had been hired by Josefa Urrutia, a -Biscayan, the ex-maid of the marchioness of Torres-Nobles. At first her -business was pretty poor, and she sank deeper and deeper in debt. At -last she got plenty of boarders, and when I took up my abode in the -“dining-room bed-room,” the place was in its glory; she had not a single -vacant apartment. All the boarders paid<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span> their dues honestly, if they -had the money, with certain exceptions, and the reason of these I will -reveal under the seal of profound secrecy.</p> - -<p>A certain Don Julián occupied the parlor, which was the best room on the -floor. He was a Valencian, jolly and gay; a great spendthrift, fond of -jokes and fun, and an inveterate gambler. They said that he had come to -Madrid in quest of an office, which he never succeeded in getting; -nevertheless the candidate lived like a prince, and instead of helping -with his board to keep up Pepa’s business, it was whispered about that -he lived there gratis, and even took from time to time small sums from -her, destined to go off in the dangerous coat-tails of the knave of -hearts.</p> - -<p>However, these little private weaknesses of Pepa Urrutia’s would never -have come to light, if it had not been for the green-eyed monster. The -Biscayan was furiously jealous of a handsome neighbor, who was fond of -flirting with all the boarders opposite, as I have indubitable evidence. -In a fit of desperation Pepa would sometimes shriek at the top of her -lungs, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> would call out “swindler; rogue!” adding, “If you had any -decency, you would pay me at once what you have wheedled out of me, and -what you owe me.”</p> - -<p>On such occasions Don Julián would stick his hands in his pockets, -firmly shut his jaws, and, silent as the grave, pace up and down the -parlor. His silence would exasperate Pepa still more, and sometimes she -would go off into hysterics; and after showering injurious epithets on -the Valencian, she would rush out, slamming the door so as to shake the -whole building.</p> - -<p>Then a stout, florid, bald-headed man, about fifty years old, with a -nice pleasant face, would appear in the passage-way, and with a strongly -marked Portuguese accent, inquire of the irate landlady:</p> - -<p>“Pepiña, what ails you?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all,” she would reply, making a stampede into the kitchen, -and muttering dreadful oaths in her Basque dialect. We would hear her -knocking the kettles and frying pans about, and after a little while the -cheerful sputtering of oil would announce to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> us that anyhow potatoes -and eggs were frying, and that breakfast would soon be ready.</p> - -<p>The stout, bald-headed gentleman, who had the back parlor, was a -Portuguese physician who had come to Madrid to bring a lawsuit against -the Administration for some claim or other he had against it. He was an -ardent admirer of Spanish popular music, like most Portuguese, and he -would pass the whole blessed day in a chair, near the balcony,—dressed -as lightly as possible in jacket and linen pantaloons (it was in the -month of June, I must observe), a Scotch cap, with floating streamers -concealing his bald pate,—and strumming on a guitar, to the harsh and -discordant accompaniment of which he would sing the following words:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love me, girl of Seville, beauteous maid, spotless flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For with the sound of my guitar my heart beats for thee,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Here he would break off his song to look toward the window of a young -washerwoman, ugly enough in appearance, but lively and sociable. She -would stand at the window laughing and making eyes at him. The -Portuguese<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span> would sigh, and exclaim in broken Spanish: “<i>Moy bunita!</i>” -and then, attacking his guitar with renewed zest, would finish his song:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, what grief, if she is false—no, fatal doubt flee far from me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, what joy is love when one finds a heavenly soul!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>When he was done, he would draw a straw cigar-case from his breast -pocket, with a package of cigarettes and some matches. Hardly would he -have finished lighting the first one, when a young man, twenty-four -years old,—one of Pepa’s boarders also, whom I looked upon for a long -time as the personification of an artist,—would burst into the room. -His surname was Botello, but I never thought to inquire his Christian -name. He was fine looking, of good height, wore his hair rumpled, not -too long, but thick and curly, and he looked something like a -mulatto—like Alexandre Dumas, with his great thick lips, mustache like -Van Dyke’s, bright black eyes, and a fine, dark complexion. We used to -tease him, calling him Little Dumas every hour of the day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span></p> - -<p>Why had Pepa Urrutia’s boarders made up their minds that Botello was an -artist? Even now, when I think of it, I cannot understand why. Botello -had never drawn a line, nor murdered a sonata, nor scrawled an article, -nor written a poor drama, not even a simple farce in one act; yet we all -had the firm conviction that Botello was a finished artist.</p> - -<p>I think that this conviction sprang from his careless and slovenly -attire more than from his way of living, or his striking and genial -countenance. In all sorts of weather, he would wear a close-fitting blue -cloth overcoat, which he declared belonged to the Order of the Golden -Fleece, because the collar and cuffs displayed a broad band of grease, -and the front a lamb, figured in stains. This precious article of -apparel was such an inseparable companion that he wore it in the street, -washed and shaved in it, and even threw it over his bed, as a covering, -while he slept. His trousers were frayed around the bottom, his boots -were worn down at the heels, and the cracked leather allowed his -stockings to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span> be seen, smeared with ink so that their incautious -whiteness might not appear. With all that, Botello’s handsome head and -graceful form did not lose all their attractiveness even in such a -guise; on the contrary, his very rags, when seen upon his elegant -figure, acquired a certain mysterious grace.</p> - -<p>Another distinctive phase of Botello’s character, which made him -resemble a Bohemian of the artistic type, was his happy-go-lucky -disposition, as well as his contempt for labor, and utter ignorance of -the realities of life. Botello was the son of a judge, and the nephew of -a nobleman’s steward. When Botello’s father died, he was left under his -uncle’s charge, who lodged and fed him, and gave him an allowance of two -hundred and fifty dollars, only demanding that Botello should be in bed -by twelve o’clock. He did not oblige him to study, nor take any pains to -give him an education; but when he discovered that his nephew passed -every evening at the Bohemian <i>café</i> or at some low resort, and came -home at all hours of the night, letting himself in with a latch-key so -as not to be heard, he made the welkin ring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> Instead of trying to -reform him, he ignominiously drove him out of his house.</p> - -<p>Without any occupation, with only twenty-one dollars a month to keep -him, Botello wandered from boarding-house to boarding-house, each one -worse than the last, until in a gaming-saloon he made the acquaintance -of Don Julián, the lord and master of Pepa’s heart. Thus he came to our -dwelling, drawn by this new bond of friendship. From that hour, Botello -found an exemplary guardian in the Valencian. Don Julián took it upon -himself to draw the young man’s monthly allowance, and then off he would -rush to the tavern or gaming-house to try his luck. If he got a windfall -of one or two hundred dollars, he could give Botello his twenty-one, and -even, occasionally, add a few more; but if fate were unpropitious, -Botello might take leave of his money forever. As he sorely needed -funds, the ward would then engage in a lively tussle with his guardian.</p> - -<p>“Well, now, <i>señor mio</i>, how shall I get along this month?” he would -ask. Just then a providential apparition would present itself in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span> Pepa, -who would come to the rescue of her dear extortioner, while she screamed -loudly, threatening Botello:</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, be quiet! I will wait.”</p> - -<p>“What of that?” the unfortunate youth would reply; “he has not left me -even a dime to buy tobacco.”</p> - -<p>Pepa would then put her hand in her pocket, and, drawing out a grimy -quarter, would exclaim:</p> - -<p>“There now, buy yourself a package of cigarettes.”</p> - -<p>But when Pepa’s quarters were scarce, or even when they were not, -Botello would have recourse to the Portuguese. He would be in the -latter’s room as soon as he heard him strike a match to light a -cigarette, and half jokingly, half in earnest, would tease for some, -until the best part of the package would find its way into the -Bohemian’s pocket. As the Portuguese was accustomed to the ways and -disposition of little Dumas,—who was a genuine artist, as he solemnly -assured everybody he met,—he never took his jokes seriously, nor did he -get offended on account of the marauding<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span> inroads into his pockets. On -the contrary, one would say that the musical physician’s heart was -wonderfully drawn to Botello by his very pranks, even though he often -carried his practical jokes too far. I will mention one as an instance.</p> - -<p>As the Portuguese was obliged to make calls and to present his letters -of recommendation, in order to hasten the execution of his business, he -ordered a hundred very glossy visiting-cards with his name, “Miguel de -los Santos Pinto,” engraved in beautiful script. Botello happened to see -them, and showed them to everybody in the house; expressing his -amazement that a Portuguese should have so few surnames. He wanted to -add at least, “Teixeira de Vasconcellos Palmeirim Junior de Santarem do -Morgado das Ameixeiras,” so that it should be more in character. We got -that out of his head, but his next idea was even worse. He -surreptitiously laid hold of the pen and India ink, which I used for my -drawings and my plans, and wrote carefully under “Miguel de los Santos -Pinto” this appendage, “Corno de Boy” (Ox-horn). In order not to take -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span> trouble of adding it to all the cards, he did so to twenty-five -only, and hid the rest.</p> - -<p>The next day the Portuguese went out to make some calls, and left ten or -twelve of the cards at different places. The following Sunday he met an -acquaintance in Arenal Street, who, half-choked with laughter, stopped -him, saying, “Why, Don Miguel, is your name really Corno de Boy? Is -there any such name in your country?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” said the embarrassed Portuguese. “Of course not; my -name is simply Santos Pinto; nothing more.”</p> - -<p>“Well, just look at this card.”</p> - -<p>“Let me see, let me see!” murmured the poor man. “It really does say -so!” he exclaimed in amazement, on reading the addition.</p> - -<p>“The engraver must have made a mistake,” added his friend, jocosely.</p> - -<p>But Don Miguel did not swallow that, and as soon as he reached the house -showed the card to Botello, and demanded an explanation of the sorry -jest. The big scamp so warmly protested that he was innocent, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span> he -succeeded in diverting Don Miguel’s suspicions toward me.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see,” he said, “Salustio has the very pen and ink with which -that was written, in his room now? Don’t trust those quiet people. Oh, -these proper fellows!”</p> - -<p>In consequence of this Macchiavellian scheme, the good-natured -Portuguese singled me out for his jealous suspicion, although I had -never meddled with him in my life. But I firmly believe that his -blindness was voluntary, because he could not have had the slightest -doubt in regard to some other malicious pranks that Botello perpetrated.</p> - -<p>One day when he was playing dominoes with his victim, Botello managed to -put a paper crown, with donkey’s ears, on the latter’s head, so that the -nymph of the ironing-table might be convulsed with laughter, for she was -watching the whole performance. Then, one day, he pinned long strips of -paper upon his coat-tails, so that when he went out in the street all -the street Arabs hooted at him. Nevertheless, the fondness of the -Portuguese for Botello never failed. When Botello<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span> lacked money to pay -for a ball ticket, he would go to Don Miguel and ask for half a dollar, -and exhaust all his eloquence in trying to persuade him that he ought to -go on a frolic also. When the Portuguese would refuse, making the excuse -that he did not want to displease the washerwoman, Botello would retort, -calling him a booby. As the Portuguese did not understand that word, and -appeared somewhat offended, Botello would make a movement as if to -return the half-dollar. “Take it, take it, if you are angry with me,” -the sly youth would exclaim. “My personal dignity will not allow me to -accept favors from any one who looks at me in that way. You are angry, -aren’t you now?”</p> - -<p>“I can never be angry with you,” the Portuguese would reply, putting the -money into his hand by main force; then turning toward the rest of us -who were witnessing this scene, he would say with the most kindly smile -I have ever seen on any human countenance: “This rapacious rogue! But he -is a great artist.”</p> - -<p>Then he would go back to his place at the window, and strum on his -guitar.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span></p> - -<p>The reader must acknowledge that there was no opportunity for applying -one’s mind to methodical, engrossing, and difficult study in a house -where such scenes occurred every moment of the day. The bursts of -laughter, alternating with frequent squabbles; the racing up and down -the halls; the continual going in and out of lazy fellows who, not -knowing how to kill time, endeavor to make the studious ones lose it; -the irregularity of our meals; the confidential way we had of living in -each other’s rooms; the being up all night, and getting out of bed at -midday, did not greatly help a student to win distinction in the School -of Engineering. On the other hand, the contagion of joking and mirth -could not possibly be withstood at my age.</p> - -<p>Other students boarded there; some attending the University, others the -School of Mountain Engineering, and others the School of Architecture; -but none of them was a prodigy of learning. Perhaps I was ahead of them -all in diligent application to my studies; but as my subjects were very -difficult,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span> it turned out that I found myself put over to the September -examinations that year. Consequently I was obliged to spend my vacation -in Madrid, and was unable to enjoy the cool breezes of my home in the -province.</p> - -<p>That summer would have been wearisome indeed, and unbearable, if I had -not been surrounded by such jolly and frolicsome people, and if the -good-natured Portuguese had not afforded us such fun by submitting to -the endless pranks of Botello.</p> - -<p>When there was no other way of killing an afternoon, little Dumas would -snap his fingers and say, throwing back his perspiring head so as to -brush away the thick black mane, which was suffocating him:</p> - -<p>“Let us play a trick on Corno de Boy. Who will help me catch some bugs?”</p> - -<p>“Catch bugs?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, just make a cornucopia and fill it with bugs to the top. The small -ones will not do; they must be big ones.”</p> - -<p>Then every one would go to his room to engage in the strange hunt. -Unfortunately, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span> was not difficult. As soon as we searched under our -beds, or our pillows, we would quickly collect a dozen or more fearful -fellows. We would carry our tributes to the inventor of the practical -joke, and he would put them all together. As soon as we knew that the -Portuguese was in bed, we would take off our shoes, and, repressing our -desire to laugh, would station ourselves at his door. As soon as Don -Miguel began to snore, Botello would softly raise the latch, and, as the -headboard was next the door, all that the imp of an artist had to do was -to open the cornucopia and scatter the contents over the head and face -of the sleeping man. After this was accomplished, Botello would close -the door very quietly, while we, convulsed with laughter, and pinching -one another in sheer excitement, would wait for the pitched battle to -begin. Hardly two minutes would elapse before we would hear the -Portuguese turn over in bed. Then we would hear broken and -unintelligible phrases; then strong ejaculations; then the scratching of -a match, and his astonished exclamation, “By Jove!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<p>We would come forward with great hypocrisy, inquiring whether he was -sick or whether anything had happened. “By Jove!” the good man would -exclaim; “pests here, and pests everywhere. By Jove! Ugh!”</p> - -<p>The next day we would advise him to change his room; and he would do so, -hoping to find some relief; but we would repeat the same performance.</p> - -<p>So we managed to kill time during the dog-days, with these stupid -practical jokes. What most surprised me was that the Portuguese, who was -always the butt of them, never thought of changing his boarding-house -nor even gave his persecutor a drubbing.</p> - -<p>When I passed in my deficient subjects in September, I was obliged to -exert all my energy and resolution in order to do what I thought the -Portuguese should have done—that is, to change my boarding-house. The -attraction of a gay and idle life, my pleasant intercourse with Botello, -for whom it was impossible not to feel a compassionate regard, similar -to tenderness; the very defects and inconveniences of that abode, made -me much<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span> fonder of it than was expedient. But reason finally triumphed. -“Life is a treasure too precious to be squandered in boyish pranks and -stupid practical jokes,” I reflected, as I was packing up my effects -preparatory to taking myself off somewhere else. “If that unfortunate -Botello is an idle dreamer, and has made up his mind to fetch up in a -public hospital, I, for my part, am determined to acquire a profession, -take life seriously, and be my own lord and master. The people in this -house are poor deluded mortals, destined to end in nameless -wretchedness. I must go where one can work.”</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding all this, my heart felt heavy when I took leave of them -all. Pepa’s tears flowed freely at losing a good boarder who, she -declared, always paid punctually and never gave her the slightest -trouble. My eyes were not filled with tears, but I felt as much regret -as though I were parting with some of my dearest friends, while I -embraced Botello, and cordially pressed the hand of the good Portuguese. -As I walked behind the porter who carried my trunk, I explained my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span> -emotion to myself in the following words: “This picturesque -irregularity, this predominance of feeling and jolly good humor and -contempt for serious life, which I observe in Pepa Urrutia’s house and -among her boarders, have a certain charm, inasmuch as they make up a -kind of romanticism innate in our countrymen,—a romanticism which I -also suffer from. That dwelling seems like a community founded not on a -basis of socialism but on a total lack of common sense and brains. I -have met several persons there who are so very good that they are -totally devoid of discretion or common sense. I suppose that I shall -miss them greatly at first, for that very reason, and shall feel -homesick; and as years roll on my imagination will invest everything -connected with them with a poetic glamor, even to the episode of the -bugs. Nevertheless, I am worth more than what I am leaving behind me, -because I am capable of tearing myself away from that place.” My pride -consoled me, by whispering to me, that I was better bred and more -energetic than Pepa’s boarders.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">My</span> homesickness did not last as long as I feared. Everybody prefers his -natural element, and I did not find mine in the confusion and rollicking -ways of the Bohemian boarding-house.</p> - -<p>My new abode was in Clavel Street. It was in a suite on the fourth -floor, with plenty of sunshine; the rooms there were not so small as -those which are usually furnished for six shillings a day. Our landlady -was also a native of Biscay, for half of the boarding-house keepers in -Spain come from that province. But she was very unlike Pepa Urrutia. She -was as neat as wax, and could make most delicious stews of codfish and -tomatoes, as well as stewed tripe and vegetable soup, and other savory -messes of our national cuisine, and she had no wastefulness apparently; -consequently all the boarders had either to settle<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span> their bills in due -time, or to leave the house. In Doña Jesusa’s abode—we called her Doña -because she was middle-aged—the beds were scrupulously clean, though -hard and narrow. She kept the maid scrubbing and cleaning all the time. -A caged linnet sang merrily in the passageway in front of the kitchen. -On Christmas Eve she regaled us with almond pottage and sea-bream, and -there was some kind of humble comfort and domestic peace to be enjoyed -there. It is true that everything was scrimped and scanty; and, as our -rations were so meager, the five or six students of us who usually dined -there, ordinarily left the table unsatisfied. I don’t wish to complain -of the chocolate, which was pasty stuff of the color of a brick, nor of -the leathery corn-cakes, nor of our dessert of apples and pears, which -seemed like wax counterfeits to judge by the way we refrained from -touching them.</p> - -<p>“At least they ought to give us the dessert of raisins and almonds, -which they give to criminals condemned to death,” said Luis Portal, a -fellow from my province, who was of a humorous vein.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span></p> - -<p>I will not say much about the maccaroni soup, which Luis classified as -“alphabetical” or “astronomical,” according as the paste was cut in the -shape of letters or of stars; I will not dwell on the wretched pieces of -boiled meat, with a bit of bacon hidden behind a pea, and already served -out in portions, so that no boarder should take more than his share; nor -will I betray the flabbiness of the beef, nor the maggots we used to -find in the fish. At my age it is seldom that one bothers himself much -about the pleasures of the palate. Besides, on any boarder’s birthday, -or on any great holiday, Doña Jesusa would regale us with some rural -dish, upon which she had lavished all her skill, and we would then take -our revenge. Doña Jesusa always celebrated the principal holidays, and -observed them by having an extra dish on the table; so these -extraordinary occasions helped us to put up with her usual -parsimony—after the manner of the pleasing alternations between want -and plenty in our homes.</p> - -<p>Luis Portal was the son of a coffee-merchant in Orense, and as he was -very ingenious as<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span> well as fond of good living, he conceived the idea -that we might enjoy a cup of coffee, mornings and afternoons, without -great cost. So he purchased a second-hand coffee-pot in the <i>Rastro</i>, -which held enough for six cups; he also bought a second-hand -coffee-mill, got some of the best coffee, and two pounds of brown sugar; -and, when the cost was divided between us, we found that we had the most -delicious coffee at a very low price. If we could only afford half a -wineglass of champagne or of brandy! But we were brought to a -stand-still there. Our means would not reach thus far, for brandy was -ruinously expensive. Portal had a bottle in his trunk which he had -brought from home, so we made up our minds to make the most of that by -taking only one swallow at a time; and we kept to our resolution so well -that in two days we drank it all up.</p> - -<p>In fact, one could study in Doña Jesusa’s house. It was quiet and -orderly, and there were regular hours for everything. Sometimes the -landlady would fall to scolding the maid; but this familiar and expected -noise<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> did not disturb us at all. So we all ground away to the best of -our powers, trying not to have to say “not prepared” when the professors -questioned us. The professor, who taught the principles of machinery, -used to frighten us a little by his habit of <i>going a-fishing</i>, that is, -asking questions out of the regular order.</p> - -<p>I have already said that I was not one of the most diligent in my -studies, nor was Luis Portal, either. We both used to fall back on -general knowledge, letting our wits float easily unburdened by a great -load in the memory, because we feared the particular exhaustion which -those arid and hard studies cause in weak brains, and which Luis called -“The mathematical topsy-turviness.”</p> - -<p>On the other hand, two lads who lived with us were so completely worn -out that we were afraid that by the time they finished their course—if -they ever did finish it—they would be ready for a lunatic asylum. One -of them, a Cuban, was gifted with a prodigious memory. With the aid<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span> of -this inferior but indispensable faculty, which can so deftly cover the -weakness of the intellect, he would fairly devour text-books, and as -long as it was not necessary to enlarge upon a subject, nor to add a -single word to the text, nor take one away, he would come off with -flying colors. But the slightest objection, or the gentlest -interruption, anything, in fact, which called for the exercise of mind, -would crush him; he would get completely addled, and could not give a -straight answer to the simplest question.</p> - -<p>Portal used to call him the little parrot, and make sport of his -serenity and his languid air; and laughed to see him always shivering, -even when close to the fire. When he put away his books, the West Indian -was like a bird released from his cage. At such times, in place of the -mental vigor to handle the heavy iron weights of science skillfully, the -poor exile would display the riches of a brilliant imagination, all -light and colors; or to be more exact, all spangles and phosphorescent -gleams. The commonest phrase,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span> on issuing from his lips, took on a -poetic form; he could make rhymes as unconsciously as a mocking-bird -sings, and could talk in rhythmical and harmonious verse an hour at a -time.</p> - -<p>But the sarcastic Portal used to say that the Cuban’s poetry had -precisely the same artistic value as the tunes we compose and hum while -we are lathering our faces preparatory to shaving, and had as much -meaning read from the bottom up as from the top down.</p> - -<p>“We’ll call him the mocking-bird instead of parrot,” he would say every -time that the Cuban would display for us his poetical string of -glass-beads which usually occurred after he had filled himself with -coffee.</p> - -<p>The other assiduous student came from Zamora; he had a narrow forehead -and an obtuse mind. He had neither father nor mother, and the cost of -his education was met by his octogenarian and paralyzed grandmother, who -used to say: “I don’t want to die until you are a man, and have finished -your studies, and can see your future secure.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span></p> - -<p>It was but a slight thread which bound the poor old woman to this world, -and the lad knew it; so he displayed a silent and savage determination. -As the Cuban studied with his memory, the Zamoran studied with his will, -always kept tense. His poor mental endowments obliged him to work -doubly. He neither took nights off on Saturdays nor had holidays on -Sundays, nor any excursions whatever. No correspondence with a -sweetheart for him; no—nothing but his books, his everlasting books, -from morning till night; an equation here and a problem there, without -relaxing his assiduity for a single moment, without being absent for a -single day, and never saying “not prepared.”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever seen such a fellow? He is always on the stretch,” my -friend Luis Portal would say; “why, he’ll be a civil engineer before we -are, if he does not burst his skin. How thin he is, and his hands are -very feverish at times. His breath is very bad; his digestion must -surely be out of order. No wonder it is, for he does not take any -exercise nor any recreation whatever. Salustiño, it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> all right to get -ahead, but one must look out for his health!”</p> - -<p>I got along well with Luis Portal, and we became fast friends, although -our ideas and aspirations were so entirely different. Portal used to -like to show himself a sagacious, practical person, or, at least, gave -indications that he would be when he arrived at the age when a person’s -moral nature becomes well-defined and unified.</p> - -<p>We did not differ totally in our views; we had some opinions in common. -Portal, like me, was a champion of self-help, and despised restraint or -tutelage. He thought that a man should be self-sufficient, and should -take advantage of his earlier years, in order to secure freedom or -comfort for his manhood.</p> - -<p>“We don’t appear like Galicians,” he sometimes used to say, “for we are -so energetic in everything.”</p> - -<p>I did not agree with him on this point, and bade him remember the -adventurous and enterprising spirit the Galicians had displayed within a -short time past.</p> - -<p>“There’s no doubt about it,” he would say,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> obstinately, “we are more -like Catalans than Galicians, my dear fellow.”</p> - -<p>If we were much alike in our ideas of the way to order our lives, we -differed greatly in our estimate of the principal aim of life.</p> - -<p>Portal used to say:</p> - -<p>“Look here, sonny, I am not going to waste my time catching flies nor in -trifling pursuits. I’ll try to get money so as to set the world at -defiance. It is but a sorry joke to pass one’s life grubbing and in -want. My father is an awful miser; he will not shell out a cent, and as -yet I know nothing at all about many fine things there are going. I -don’t know whether by following my profession I shall ever succeed in -obtaining them; I believe that politicians and tradespeople know how to -make money better than professional men. It is true the two things are -not incompatible, and that Sagasta himself is a civil engineer. Anyway, -just let them give me free swing and I shall know how to fix things. If -I don’t get rich, put me down for a fool.”</p> - -<p>While I applauded his valiant resolution, yet I knew that my dreams of -the future<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span> differed from his. By “fine things” Portal meant to live -well, to drink good wines, to smoke good cigars, and perhaps marry some -beautiful, rich girl; while I, without despising all these good things -of the earth, did not long for any one of them in particular. I only -desired my freedom. I foresaw that with that I might obtain something -very noble, and worthy of being tasted and enjoyed; but not in a -material or prosaic sense; something like renown, celebrity, passion, -adventures, wealth, authority, home, children, travels, combats, even -misfortune. At any rate, it would be life—life rich, and worthy of a -rational being—who is not content simply to vegetate nor to gloat over -pleasures, but who must run over the whole scale of thought, of feeling, -and of action. I could not clearly define in what my hopes consisted, -but I thought that it would be degrading to lower them to Portal’s -material and sensuous level.</p> - -<p>Nor did I consider myself a visionary, or an enthusiast, or a dreamer. -On the contrary, I knew that if sometimes my head did lift itself toward -the clouds, my feet still remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span> firmly planted on the earth; and -that all my actions were those of a man fully determined to make his way -in the world, without being distracted by the siren of enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>If our creed for the individual had certain points in common, in our -creed for the nation, Portal and I utterly disagreed. We were both -Republicans; but he belonged to Castelar’s party, was a cautious -opportunist, and almost a monarchist by force of concessions; while I -was a radical, one of Pi’s followers, and firmly believed that we ought -not to carry out a conciliatory policy in Spain, nor accommodate -ourselves to old traditions in any respect whatever; but that, on the -contrary, we ought to press on resolutely and uncompromisingly in the -path of thorough and progressive change.</p> - -<p>“These concessions are ruinous and fatal to our country,” I would say, -“and by concessions in this case I mean something equivalent to -cheating. They say ‘concessions’ so as not to say capitulation or -defeat. If our forefathers, those upright men of 1812 to 1840, had -accepted a compromise and walked softly about absorbed in thought, a -pretty fix we should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span> in now! It hurts to cut out a cancer, and -causes disturbance in the system; but the cancer is destroyed. I can’t -understand this mania for compromising with the past, with absolute and -fanatic Spain. Your illustrious Chief—for thus we styled Castelar—is a -man of the world, fond of making himself agreeable to duchesses and to -crowned heads; and that’s what he calls holding to old traditions. Empty -words! Fortunately, the French in 1793 did not adopt that method, nor -did we in later times. Don’t talk to me. At the rate we are going, -within a few years Spain will be crowded with convents again. It is -absurd to tolerate such craftiness, and even protect it, as our most -liberal government does now. The Jesuits have again spread their net, -and every once in a while draw it in a little more. Some day they will -catch the whole of us. Of course, when such big bugs as they gain their -ends, they don’t care what comes after. ‘After me the deluge,’ as that -old scamp, Louis XV., used to say. No well-balanced mind can think that -in order to weaken and uproot an institution like Monarchy, you must -begin by strengthening<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span> and coddling it, and quietly implanting it in -the hearts of the people. I don’t swallow that ‘concession’ hook; don’t -let them try that business on me.”</p> - -<p>Portal would then get excited and answer me with equal energy: “Well, -you are simple, to say the least. Those who think as you do are in a -fool’s paradise. With your system, we would have an outbreak of the -Carlists in the twinkling of an eye, and Spain would be plunged in petty -civil war. I don’t like to think, either, what would happen on the -establishment of your famous federation. Within two months after the -establishment of the Galician canton, there wouldn’t be a rag left. All -would want to command, and none to obey. If you begin by wounding and -outraging the susceptibilities of a nation, it will surely result in -demoralization like that which followed the Revolution of September. -Rest assured, Castelar has a long head. It is the republic that is not -yet of age, not the king. Let the republic fall of its own weight, like -a ripe pear.”</p> - -<p>“Try some other dog with that bone. What<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span> they all want here is to be -chief. Sonny, there are no ideals; all that has collapsed and we must -bring them to life, believe me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t spin me great yarns about your ideals,” Portal would reply, -getting angry. “Ideals are the cause of all our troubles. There is no -other ideal but peace, and to bring order into all this chaos, little by -little.”</p> - -<p>Another subject of dispute was local government. I was not at all modest -in my demands. I wanted the independence of Galicia. In regard to our -annexation to Portugal, we might discuss that later. We would see what -was most expedient. But it would be well for Portugal, also, to shake -off her ancient and fantastic monarchical yoke, and assent to the -Iberian Federation.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what I’d give just to see your swinish ideal realized for -about twenty-four hours,” Luis would exclaim. “If Galicia should declare -itself a canton, not even the evil one would stay there. Make up your -mind to one thing: in Spain, the smaller the governing entities—is that -the right word?—the worse they are. The central government, as you call -it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span> makes a thousand blunders; but the provincial legislature would -make two thousand, the county justices three thousand, and the village -authorities a million. Fortunately, to talk about Galician independence -is as idle as to ask the fish and the sands what they know about the -sea.”</p> - -<p>“So you think that the provinces have no right to say, like individuals, -‘each one for himself.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Look here, don’t say anything about their rights. To talk about their -rights, is running off on a tangent. By rights and technicalities, I can -prove to you that Isabella the Second is to-day the rightful Queen of -Spain, and that her grandson is only a usurper. In rational politics no -rights nor mummeries exist. There is only what is advantageous or -otherwise, what is successful or unsuccessful. There is a sense of smell -and of touch, and although I can’t explain to you in what it consists, -yet it shows itself in the result. Radical ideas lead on to logical -absurdities. You can’t apply algebra to politics. And say no more about -independence. Our Spanish nation is an indisputable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span> reality, even if -you do not believe it.”</p> - -<p>Irritated by his opposition, I would exclaim: “What a musty idea that -love of country is! The great thinkers laugh at the idea of patriotism; -you can’t deny that.”</p> - -<p>“Tell your great thinkers to go think in a stable. If they suppress the -springs of action, little by little, because humanity has always -progressed, we’ll no longer have any pretext for so much as living. You -know that I am not at all sentimental, but our country is like our -family, and there’s no need of poetry or sentimentalism to make us love -it and defend it with our lives. You think you settle everything by -dragging out that about old-fashioned notions. Well, old-fashioned -notions are inevitable and necessary and proper. We live on them. And -that old idea about our love of country is not the only one bred in our -bones. There are a great many others, my dear fellow, which we’ll not -give up for twenty centuries. I believe that in this country, in order -to foster the ideas which are to replace the old-fashioned ones, what we -must do is to be crossed with<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span> other races. All of us who are a bit -enlightened—why, let us marry foreign wives!”</p> - -<p>Sometimes we got to quarreling over these profundities, and would roar -at each other while loitering at the table or even while eating. These -disputes usually gave us the greatest eagerness in the play of mind on -mind; and even in the midst of our hottest arguments we felt drawn -toward each other by the conviction that though our opinions were so -antagonistic, we were able to understand each other and to spur each -other on.</p> - -<p>We had come to be inseparable. We helped each other in our studies; we -used to go to walk together, even when Luis was going to promenade -before the house of a certain outlandish sweetheart he had discovered; -we used to sit at the same table in the Levante Café; when we had a -little spare cash we would go together to our favorite resort—the -gallery in the Teatro Real. All of us students at Doña Jesusa’s were -musical; we were all ready to die for “L’Africaine,” and “Les -Huguenots,” especially the Cuban, who had a musical craze. His retentive -memory would store up not only<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span> the music but the words as well, and we -used to amuse ourselves on getting home by making him sing over the -whole opera.</p> - -<p>“Trinidad,” we would say, for that was his name, “Come now, sing the -love duet between <i>Vasco</i> and <i>Selika</i>.” “Trinidad, there now, the -poniard scene.” “Come, Triny, sing that about <i>O paradiso</i>. Now about -<i>Copre fuoco</i>.” “Triny, sing the Protestant psalm. Now, the violins -start in—now come the oboe’s notes, when <i>Marcelo</i> appears.” The -mocking-bird would sing all we called for, reproducing with astonishing -exactness the slightest details of the instrumentation, until at length -fairly worn out, he would exclaim, beseechingly:</p> - -<p>“Let me go to bed. I see you are making a fool of me.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> morning, or, rather, afternoon, almost at the end of the term, we -rushed out of school, almost running from Turco Street to Clavel Street. -You must remember that from eight o’clock, when we took our muddy -chocolate, until half-past one, the hour when our drawing-class closed, -our recitations came along one after the other; and we had nothing to -sustain our strength, but now and then a sausage which we would -surreptitiously purchase from the janitor, or some scrap which we would -filch at the boarding-house and carry along. Smelling our lunch from -afar, we mounted two steps at a time, and on entering the dining-room, I -came face to face with my Uncle Felipe, who said to me, abruptly, “You -must lunch with me to-day at Fornos’s. I imagine that eatables are -scarce here.”</p> - -<p>“I should be glad to go, but I have so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span> studying to do just now,” I -answered, affecting reluctance.</p> - -<p>“Bah, you’ll not lose a year’s time if you don’t study to-day. Come -along, for we must have a talk—a talk about a great many things,” he -added, with an air of mystery.</p> - -<p>The truth is—and it would do no good to conceal it, because it will be -made very evident in the course of this story—that I had not merely no -affection or respect for my Uncle Felipe, but not even any sort of -attachment or as much as gratitude for the favors he was conferring upon -me. Quite the contrary. I know it does me no credit to say so, and that -ingratitude is the ugliest of faults; but I know, also, that I am not -naturally ungrateful, and in order to justify, or at least explain -myself, I will sketch in silhouette my Uncle Felipe’s physical and moral -characteristics, to do which I must allude to some matters that are of -the nature of family secrets.</p> - -<p>My baptismal name is Salustio, my paternal surnames are Meléndez Ramos, -my maternal, Unceta Cardoso. That name Unceta indicates<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span> plainly that my -mother’s father was a Basque, and came from Guipuzcoa, to be more exact; -and Cardoso—that’s where the mischief comes in. It seems that the -Cardosos of Marín—I was born in Pontevedra, and my mother’s family came -from the little seaport of Marín—were a broken branch of the Portuguese -trunk of Cardoso Pereira, a Jewish trunk, if there is such a thing. How -did the fact come to my knowledge that my mother’s ancestors were Jews? -Just find out if you can who tells these things to children. One day -when I was nine or ten, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, I -asked my mother:</p> - -<p>“Mamma, is it true that we belong to the Jewish race?”</p> - -<p>With fire flashing from her eyes, she lifted her hand and cuffed my ears -soundly, crying:</p> - -<p>“If you say that again, I’ll break all the bones in your body!”</p> - -<p>That chastisement left the impression in my mind that to be a Jew was a -sore disgrace; and two or three years later, when one of my -school-mates<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span> at Pontevedra threw it in my face, calling out,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Cardoso’s a Jew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a tricky one, too!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>I seized my slate and broke it over his skull.</p> - -<p>I cannot be sure when I reached the religious crisis, or that period in -which boys scrutinize their beliefs, sift them and finally discard them, -feeling a pain from the loss of their faith like that caused by the -pulling of a double-tooth. I do not think I ever experienced such a -change, or felt such agonizing doubts, or such remorse and longing when -looking upon a Gothic church. I was naturally skeptical and took up, if -not with atheism, at least with religious indifference, as if it were -something perfectly congenial to me.</p> - -<p>I had never been “perverted” by reading any particular book, nor by -hearing a person of “dangerous ideas” discourse upon religion; nobody -“opened my eyes,” for I believe that I came into the world with them -wide open. As many young men cannot say exactly how and when they lost -the innocence of childhood in matters relating to the sexes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span> so I -cannot fix the precise time when my faith began to waver, for, indeed, I -do not recall that it was ever very steadfast. I believe that I was born -a rationalist.</p> - -<p>But it is singular that in spite of that, the insult, “tricky Jew,” -always clung to my mind like a poisoned dart. My fellow-students never -dared repeat it before me, but notwithstanding, I never could forget it -for a single day. When I was about to graduate, quite a tall, shapely -fellow by that time, I became acquainted with Don Wenceslao Viñal, a -queer individual, but a good deal of a scholar, mousing around in -libraries, filled with all sorts of strange learned trifles, and very -well informed in regard to Galician archæology and history. He used to -lend me old books, and sometimes carry me off to walk in the vicinity of -Pontevedra in search of beautiful views and ruined buildings. I used to -torment him with questions, to keep up my reputation as a studious -youngster.</p> - -<p>One day I got it into my head that Viñal might clear up my doubts in -regard to the Jewish question, so I boldly said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span></p> - -<p>“See here, Don Wenceslao, is it true that there are families living in -Marín, who are of Jewish descent, and that the Cardoso family is one?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed,” answered the bibliomaniac quietly, without noticing the -great eagerness of my question. “They are of Portuguese origin; that is -so certain that there is much antipathy shown them in Marín. It is said -that they have not abjured their faith, and that they still keep up -their Jewish rites; that they change their linen on Saturdays instead of -Sundays, and that they will not eat a bit of pork for love or money.”</p> - -<p>“And do you believe all that?”</p> - -<p>“For my part, I think it is all tittle-tattle and old woman’s gossip—I -mean in regard to their observing the Jewish rites; but that they are of -Jewish origin, cannot be denied. Furthermore, if I have time, I’ll -rummage through some old papers I know of, and we’ll disinter a certain -Juan Manuel Cardoso Muiño, a native of Marín, whom the Inquisition of -Santiago tortured and flogged, on the ground that he was a Judaizer. He -was besides an incurable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span> leper. So you see I know all about it, you -curious fellow. I’ll look up the papers.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, it’s not necessary. I only wanted to find out—mere idle -curiosity. Don’t trouble yourself about it, Don Wenceslao.”</p> - -<p>For a month I was sorely afraid that the fellow actually would look the -matter up, or perhaps even send an absurd communication to some wretched -sheet in Pontevedra, as he used to do every two years, whenever he -imagined that he had discovered some important and unpublished data -which might serve as an historical key to the ancient kingdom of -Galicia. I therefore carefully avoided recurring to the conversation -about the Judaizers of Marín. This very precaution indicated that I was -not quite reconciled to the drubbing which had been inflicted upon Juan -Manuel Cardoso Muiño.</p> - -<p>Later on, when I left Pontevedra for Madrid to begin my studies -preparatory to the School of Engineering, I often recalled that stigma, -and tried to view it in a sensible light. It seemed to me absurd to -place so much importance upon a thing that, in our present social<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span> -state, has none whatever in the light of good judgment and the -philosophy of history. The Jews are, in fact, a people of noble origin, -who have given us “the religious conception”—a conception to which, -viewed either as a sublime product of the mind or as a lofty flight of -the imagination, I attributed great importance.</p> - -<p>In another point of view, also, that of social standing, it no longer -seemed right to me to despise Hebrews. The stigma of the Middle Ages has -been so far obliterated that wealthy Jewish capitalists intermarry with -the most aristocratic families in France, and give splendid receptions -and banquets at which the Spanish aristocracy deigns to appear. Aside -from these outward considerations, I used to fix my thought on others, -higher and deeper, and remembered that great thinker Baruch Spinosa, who -was of Jewish race; as were also Meyerbeer and Heine.</p> - -<p>In fact, as I assured myself again and again, there was not the -slightest reason for feeling so sore at having descended from the Jews, -except the unreason of an instinctive aversion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span> born of sentimental -hereditary prejudice. There was no doubt about it; the blood of the old -Christians which flowed in my veins, shrank with horror from -intermingling with that of the Jewish race. It is very singular, I -thought, that the inmost part of our being thus resists our will and -reason, and that, in spite of ourselves, there exists within us a -rebellious and self-governed something, over which our own convictions -have no control whatever, but which is only affected by those of past -generations.</p> - -<p>And here my Uncle Felipe again appears on the scene. I do not know -whether I remarked before that he was my mother’s brother, somewhat -younger than she was. He was about forty-two or forty-three at the time -our story commences, and was considered “quite good-looking;” perhaps -because he was tall, well-formed, and somewhat stout, with thick hair -and whiskers. But at the first glance my uncle showed all the -unmistakable traces of a Jewish origin. He certainly did not look like -the images of Christ, but resembled, rather, another Semitic type, that -of the sensual<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span> Jews, such as the scribes, Pharisees and doctors of the -law, as they appear in pictures and sculptures representing scenes in -the Crucifixion.</p> - -<p>The first time I ever visited the Prado Museum I was struck by the great -number of faces resembling my Uncle Felipe’s. Above all was this the -case in Rubens’s paintings, in those big, fat, florid Jews, with their -hooked noses and gluttonous, sensual lips, hard, suspicious gaze, and -with profiles like a bird of prey. Some of them, exaggerated by the -Flemish master’s heavy strokes, were caricatures of my uncle, but most -faithful ones. His red beard and curly hair made my uncle look precisely -like the figure of one of the executioners carried in the processions of -Holy Week. And to me it was very plain, it was my uncle’s deicide face -which from childhood inspired me with that stolid, sullen, insuperable -aversion, like that we feel for a reptile though it does us no harm. Not -even my rationalistic ideas, nor my scientific positivism, nor the -knowledge that I was supported and protected by that hated being, could -rid me of this aversion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<p>“These are the tricks of art,” I reflected. “For five hundred years past -the painters have endeavored to bring together in half a dozen faces the -expression of avarice, of gluttony, cruelty, selfishness, and hypocrisy, -and so have succeeded in making the Jewish type so repugnant. Luis is -right. Tradition, that binding cement, that mold which gathers in our -very souls, is stronger than culture or progress. Instead of reflecting, -we feel; and not even that, because it is the dead who feel for us.”</p> - -<p>Sometimes, in order not to acknowledge myself guilty of fear or -childishness, I sought other reasons for the antipathy I felt toward my -uncle. I make a great point of personal neatness, while my uncle, -without being careless in his dress, was not very cleanly in his person; -his nails were sometimes not immaculate, and his teeth betrayed a tinge -of green. My dislike for my uncle was also stimulated by my seeing that -he, without any desert whatever, as the result of no moral or -intellectual qualities, had yet been able to secure a good position. I -do not mean to say that he was wicked or stupid, but that he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span> one of -those intermediate hybrid creatures, of whom we can never quite -discover, whether they are bright or stupid, good or knavish, although -they are strongly inclined to be the latter. A mushroom springing up in -the corruption of our politics, and growing rank in the deadly shade of -electoral intrigue, he was condemned by my puritanical and radical -ideas, with all the rigid inflexibility of youth, to the punishment of -general contempt. Although he was not as high in power as some of his -fellow-bosses, his unjustifiable prosperity sufficed to stir all my -youthful indignation against him.</p> - -<p>When my uncle was licensed to practice law, he owned some land and a -house or two in Pontevedra, which he had inherited from his father. This -property would not yield him an income of $1000 annually, at five per -cent. How it happened that this meager fortune was more than doubled in -bank stocks and four per cent. government bonds a few years later, let -any one explain who understands how such miracles are worked; so common -nowadays that they no longer surprise anybody. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span> uncle did not -practice his profession; the law was for him, what it usually is for -Spaniards in political life—an avocation, a passport. He went into -politics cautiously, swimming, but keeping an eye on his clothes. He was -elected provincial deputy several times, and picked away at his pleasure -in the fig-basket of offices. In order not to waste his money in -electoral campaigns, he contented himself with going to the Cortes only -once, standing for one of those vacancies which occur on the eve of a -general election, and which usually go to the benefit of journalists. My -uncle, by the favor of Don Vicente Sotopeña, the all-powerful “boss” of -Galicia, carried off the prize without spending a single penny; and took -the oath the very day before the House was dissolved, leaving the way -open to become a Governor, and later on—who can tell?—a Councilor of -State or Minister of Public Instruction. Governor he was very quickly, -sometimes as acting head of the province, sometimes as executive in his -own right.</p> - -<p>From time to time some good thing fell mysteriously into his lap; and -they had a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> deal to say in Pontevedra about the expropriation of -some of my uncle’s property, which the city council bought at a fabulous -price. But it is neither pleasant nor profitable to recount these -transactions. My uncle was one of the petty third-rate politicians who -never dip into the dish without bringing out a fat slice. His method -consisted in cutting down expenses and adding up profits, without -despising the most insignificant.</p> - -<p>They used to say in his praise that he was long-headed. Now such a trait -appeared to me only another symptom of Judaism, though, perhaps I was -unjust in this, because many bosses in my part of the country, though of -the purest Aryan extraction, are not behind Uncle Felipe in that -respect.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I felt conscience-stricken on account of my dislike toward my -nearest relative. I accused myself of being without proper feeling, -because I was returning only hatred for favors. If my uncle were mean -and stingy, he deserved all the more credit for meeting a good part of -the expenses of my education. And I could not deny that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span> my uncle showed -a liking for me, in his own fashion. When he was in Madrid, he used to -give me an occasional quarter to go to the theater; and two or three -times during his stay he would invite me to breakfast or dine with him -at Fornos’s; and he was never strict with me. He used to treat me like a -pleasure-loving young lad of not much consequence, questioning me about -my tricks and frolics, about my fellow-boarders’ pranks, and about the -girls over the way, who were amusing.</p> - -<p>Sometimes he even dropped into worse talk, boasting that he was an -expert in all matters relating to licentious amours. After dinner, when -the wine, the coffee and the liquors had flushed his cheeks, he would -display his expertness, treating of dubious subjects which sometimes -nauseated me. I did not dare to protest, for we men are ashamed to -appear innocent; but the truth is, my youthful palate refused that -spicy, too-highly-seasoned dish. Sometimes it happened, also, that at -night the indecent images called up by his conversation would assault -and excite me, until I would freely bathe the back of my head and neck<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span> -with cold water out of the pitcher. In winter as well as in summer this -proceeding would refresh my brain and enable me to forget myself in my -books again.</p> - -<p>Aversion, or rather antipathy, is as powerful a motive force as love, -and I was looking forward to the end of my studies as the close of a -patronage which I felt to be unbearable. To be my own master, to earn -enough money to live on, to pay back to my uncle what he had given -me—that was my dream; and I clung to its wings in order to reach the -top of the dry hill of machinery, construction and topography.</p> - -<p>Now that I have drawn my Uncle Felipe’s portrait, I will add, that when -we found ourselves in the little, dark, low room in Fornos’s, seated at -the table where the waiter was placing a dish of radishes, Vienna rolls, -butter, and the rest of the lunch; after making several remarks on -various unimportant subjects, he said, clapping me on the shoulder, but -without looking me in the face, “Guess what I have to tell you.”</p> - -<p>“How can I?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, what use is it for you to study so hard, if you cannot?”—said -he, making an effort to appear jocose.</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders, and my uncle added:</p> - -<p>“I am going to get married.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was doubtless in order to lead up to this piece of news that he had -ordered a caraffe of iced champagne, a luxury always to be enjoyed, and -the more so that the heat was beginning to grow intense and the air to -be parched in Madrid. I held the delicate glass, filled to the brim with -that cool, golden liquid, and could not repress a start of surprise, -when I heard his announcement, so that I dashed a little cascade of it -on the table-cloth.</p> - -<p>My uncle avoided meeting my gaze, though I stared at him with my eyes -wide open in amazement. He pretended to be picking up the bread crumbs, -and to be fastening his napkin to his button-hole, but he was looking at -me out of the corner of his eye. As he observed that I did not say a -word, he went on, with a forced voice: “I shall be very glad if you and -your mother approve of my marriage.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<p>I, in the mean time, was absorbed in thought. Now I understand it. There -is some mystery hidden here. His next neighbor must have lost her -husband, or else they desire to legitimize their offspring. That’s the -way it always works with old bachelors.</p> - -<p>Finally, as I thought I ought to say something, I asked in a faltering -tone: “Does my mother know about it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I wrote to her yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“I presume that you informed her of the name of your bride-elect?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it so happens that I first met her at Ullosa, at your mother’s, -and became acquainted with her there.”</p> - -<p>When the ice was once broken, my uncle kept on chattering very fast, -like one wanting to free his mind in a hurry.</p> - -<p>“It seems impossible that you should not know about it,” he said. “Last -summer your mother and she became very intimate. She is Carmiña Aldao, -don’t you know? Carmiña Aldao of Pontevedra.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know her; however, the name sounds familiar. Perhaps my mother -may<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span> have written to me about her. I don’t know. You know I had no -vacation last summer.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true. Well, she is the young Aldao girl, the daughter of the -owner of that fine property called the Tejo.”</p> - -<p>“Is she an only child?” I inquired, somewhat sharply, thinking perhaps -self-interest was the motive for the marriage.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! she has a brother who also lives in Pontevedra.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know her,” I repeated. “But anyhow, if she is going to -marry you, I’ll have plenty of time to become acquainted with her.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you will, as I am going to take you to the wedding, my boy. -As soon as you pass your examination, you must go there with me. The -thing will not take place before Carmen’s birth-day, and between now and -then I have yet to find a house, and to furnish it,—so you see!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, so you are going to live in Madrid?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the bride wants to do so. I’ll take you to the wedding, you may be -sure of that. We shall be married at Tejo! Look<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span> here, I don’t know what -your mother will think of it. She has a temper somewhat peculiar. So if -you write to her, tell her that I shall not give you the cold shoulder, -when I get married. Until you finish your studies——”</p> - -<p>“I believe I didn’t say anything about that,” I exclaimed, while for the -second time the glass of champagne trembled in my hand.</p> - -<p>“Well, I do. Don’t get excited, for there is no cause for it. I suppose -that I am master of my own actions, and do not hurt anybody by getting -married.”</p> - -<p>“Who talks about its hurting?” I cried, feeling myself turn pale under a -rush of sudden hatred which tempted me to throw myself upon that man.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you take it in that way——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t take it in any way whatever! You are entirely free to do what -you like; and if you do anything for me, it is not because I have asked -you for it. I’ll pay back to you the money you are spending on my -education, if I live.”</p> - -<p>In spite of the fact that he always got very<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span> red, when animated by -eating and drinking, my uncle also turned pale. His lips were -compressed, and his eyes gleamed with anger.</p> - -<p>“If you were not a whipper-snapper, I’d be tempted to answer you -roughly. What is bred in the bone will come out in the flesh. You are -just like your father, the most ungrateful and ill-behaved man in the -world.”</p> - -<p>“Be kind enough not to mix up my father’s name in this matter, with -which it has nothing whatever to do,” I replied, feeling that if I did -not exert my self-control, I was liable to seize the bottle and smash it -over his head.</p> - -<p>“I only mentioned your father to say that though one always tries to -help you, you are always growling and scratching. However, I was not -going to get married without telling you about it. It is easy to see -that you don’t like it at all. Come, my boy, have patience. It was not a -thing to consult you about beforehand. The bill, waiter,” he added, -knocking his spoon against the glass.</p> - -<p>We had raised our voices pretty high and some of the loiterers at the -adjoining tables turned their heads and looked at us. I felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span> ashamed, -and frowning, though trembling inwardly, shook the crumbs off my coat -and made a movement to rise. My humiliation had a real and immediate -foundation, seeing my uncle put a bank-note on the plate on which the -waiter had presented the bill. That note I desperately wished I could -have taken out of my own pocket. I breathed more freely (boy-like) when -a good deal of change in silver was brought back—more than five -dollars. With the tip of his forefinger, my uncle pushed a couple of -nickels toward the waiter, and getting up, took down his hat from the -rack, saying dryly:</p> - -<p>“Let’s go.” But on emerging from the dark restaurant into the sunshine, -he immediately controlled himself, and, with the adaptability which -characterized him in his business relations and political schemes, -extended his hand to me, saying, half in joke:</p> - -<p>“When you feel better, come to see me. I want to show you your -prospective aunt’s photograph.”</p> - -<p>I returned to my boarding-house in a very bad humor, feeling -dissatisfied with myself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span> -but without knowing very well the cause of my -mental disturbance. All the animosity I felt toward my uncle was not -sufficient to prevent me from recognizing the fact that, on this -occasion, I was the one who had conducted himself badly. Luis agreed -with me on this subject, when, on questioning me in the evening as to -the cause of my ill-humor, I told him what had occurred.</p> - -<p>“Well, my dear fellow, you were altogether in the wrong, and your uncle -was perfectly right. You must have known that he would get married some -day.”</p> - -<p>“I don't care a rap whether he marries or not,” I exclaimed, hotly. -“What does it matter to me, anyhow?”</p> - -<p>“It matters a great deal,” replied the sensible fellow. “It makes a -great deal of difference to any nephew when his uncle, his mother's only -brother, gets married. It matters so much to you that you are much -worried over the match. But all that you can do is to make the best of -it. Make concessions, you eager fellow, for that's the way government is -carried on.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<p>“Don't talk to me about matrimonial opportunism!”</p> - -<p>“There isn't a subject with which opportunism will better square than -this very marriage. Your uncle is going to get married? Well, then all -you have to do is to make the best of the situation; try to get into the -good graces of your dear little aunt--all the more so as she is really a -charming girl.” -</p> -<p>“Have you seen her?”</p> - -<p>“No, I have not seen her; but when I was in Villagarcia last year, -taking sea baths, I met some girls from Cambados who told me all about -her. I recall it perfectly.”</p> - -<p>“What did they say?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, girl's talk. That she is handsome, and plays the piano very well; -that they were going to make her father a marquis, and so forth and so -on. It seems that the girl is not a beggar. I understand that her father -has a fat income.”</p> - -<p>“And how is it that my uncle can carry off such a prize, rich, -beautiful, and young? He must have nerve!”</p> - -<p>“Are you crazy? What is there to despise -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> -in your uncle? Because he did not care -to study much, that does not prove that he is not quick-witted and a -great manager. He has almost as much political influence as Don Vicente -himself, and is certain of a political future. Come now, don’t be -stupid. Go to the wedding and try to ingratiate yourself with your dear -little auntie. Don’t be glum, for it will be all the worse for you if -you are.”</p> - -<p>“Well, now, you surprise me. If any one should hear you run on, who does -not know me, he would think that I am deluding myself with false hopes -in regard to inheriting my uncle’s money, and that I am disappointed at -seeing it escape from my grasp.”</p> - -<p>“That’s not the question,” argued my friend, resenting my words a -little; “I don’t assert that you are capable of any meanness for the -sake of a bit of cash, or of running after it. But what I do say is -that, until you finish your education, you cannot get along without your -uncle—and I fancy that you don’t want to be left in the lurch.”</p> - -<p>Before many hours passed, I began to see that my friend was right, and -had talked<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> common sense. And as our own errors seem plainer, when we -see them committed by other people, whom we consider inferior to -ourselves in mental capacity and culture, I more clearly perceived the -necessity of making the best of the situation, after reading a letter -which the postman brought me the next day.</p> - -<p>I recognized its handwriting at once, and saw by its thickness that it -was stuffed with furious complaints and outpourings, such as spring to -the lips or flow from the pen under the shock of unexpected events. In -order to be able to read it quietly, I repaired to a little coffee-house -near by, which was entirely deserted at that hour.</p> - -<p>The waiter, after the regular “what’ll it be?” brought me some beer, and -left me in peace. I took a swallow, and while enjoying the bitter flavor -of the fermented hops, broke the seal, and pored over the thin sheets -written in a clear, small, Spanish hand-writing, with several slight -errors in spelling, particularly in the use of double <i>r’s</i> which -indicated great vehemence of temper; without a suspicion of punctuation, -or division into paragraphs, or capital letters. Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> it may seem -strange, all these things lend a certain forcible iteration and rapidity -of movement to this kind of angry, feminine letters, really doubling -their effect.</p> - -<p>It was just what I had imagined it to be, a furious tirade against Uncle -Felipe’s marriage, alternating with the narration of events, some of -which were entirely new to me. I will copy a few paragraphs without -adding so much as a period or comma, or disentangling the grammar, or -suppressing the repetitions:</p> - -<p>“You see now Salustio how much a poor mother suffers without any hope -but that of seeing you well established and being somebody to-morrow or -next day and her greatest hope that your old prig of an uncle might -leave you something whose duty it was to do so if he had a conscience -and the worst of all is that he will have children and you will be left -with your mouth wide open without what belongs to you for although I -call it yours I am not talking nonsense for you must know that your -uncle in the division of my father’s property for my mother did not have -so much as a bed to die on but father left a handsome property<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> and your -uncle grabbed it almost all up and left me almost in the street though I -don’t know how he worked it and set the trap so that I only had three or -four crusts while he ate up all the soft part of the loaf himself I know -not how he consented to give me Ullosa that was a wonder for he took all -the houses and lots in Pontevedra and afterwards fixed up a fine bargain -with the city council and frightened the brave schemers as soon as your -father died whom Felipe bothered dreadfully because he was empowered by -the clergy and compromised him frightfully you can’t recollect about it -for you were but a child when your father died who is now in heaven well -at that time I said to him with great dignity of manner Felipe it is one -thing to be a good sister and another to be obliged to beg and I have a -son and no bread to give him so I speak freely I shall have the -partition looked into for there was cheating there and in this way I -cannot live for I am going to educate my son and he goes on to reply -very patronizingly don’t feel anxious I will not abandon you but will -give your son the best profession to be found don’t go to law<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span> for law -suits are the ruination of a property and only fatten the lawyers be -quiet silly creature for whose shall be what I have I am not going to -carry it to the other world and as for marrying I shall not marry any -sooner than the devil does a loose ox is hard to catch I can swear to -you that your uncle said this and I haven’t changed a single word.”</p> - -<p>Without doubt, on reaching this point, the moral necessity of attending -to her punctuation must have suddenly taken possession of my mother’s -mind with great force, and in order not to do things by halves, she -added a whole string of periods and two exclamation points side by side...!!</p> - -<p>“Oh my son any one who trusts the word of a man without religion or -conscience and now he comes out with his nonsense that the idea of -getting married came to him suddenly I don’t know what he saw in the -Aldao girl she is quite plain and in delicate health and in sober -earnest I don’t know how it will turn out for in her own house she has -the bad example her father sets by being mixed up with her mother’s maid -who has been there for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span> years and two other little girls in the house -who knows if they are daughters or nieces of the gadabout anyhow the -girl takes up with your uncle so they say solely in order to get away -from that infernal place where they abuse her and don’t give her enough -to eat but I don’t know how your uncle will treat her for he comes of a -bad race and is the very image of the Jews who come out in the -procession of Holy Thursday I feel ashamed of being his sister for God -had reason in singling him out for punishment mark my words for I know -that God is very just and they want you to visit them on your vacation -to see their beautiful place I am a silly if the Evil One didn’t tempt -me to bring Carmen Aldao home next summer it will be different I’ll -shine by my absence and we’ll see how they get on if they leave you out -in the cold we will have the partition papers looked into and there will -be an awful time for your uncle cannot make a fool of me and I am ready -to go to law as long as I have any clothes to my back.”</p> - -<p>I went on reading the letter, between swallows of the beer. It affected -me differently<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span> from what my mother had intended. My uncle’s schemes to -get hold of my inheritance, all that about the partition, instead of -arousing in me justifiable indignation, soothed my mind. I was delighted -to have reason for complaining of my uncle instead of being grateful to -him, and now that I knew his wicked conduct, it seemed to me that the -throbbing of my deadly hatred for him was diminishing. At least I no -longer need feel conscience-stricken for hating him; and that somewhat -consoled me.</p> - -<p>I at once wrote my mother a very discreet letter, the very quintessence -of good sense. I advised her to restrain herself, insisting that it was -very unlikely that my uncle who had helped us so far, should leave us to -our own resources at the last, and saying how useless and futile -litigation and lawsuits seemed to me. What had been done, should be left -as it was; for it was of no use to kick against the pricks. It was -absurd to think that a man in the prime of life, strong and -well-preserved, should keep single in order to please us. A few idle -words could not possibly bind him to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span> remain unmarried. As for attending -the wedding or not, we would discuss that matter later. Meanwhile, -calmness and patience.</p> - -<p>I read the letter to Portal, who applauded it greatly, saying:</p> - -<p>“That is the right way; make concessions, compromise, and avoid the -breakers. That’s what I like. Follow my plan, and at least conform -outwardly, for nobody can see what your inner feelings are.”</p> - -<p>“Outside or inside, what in thunder does it matter to me that my uncle -is going to marry? How you do talk!” I exclaimed, feeling hurt. Portal -wagged his head, and I added, “My mother asserts that my uncle’s -betrothed is homely.”</p> - -<p>“Who knows? Perhaps she is, and it would be all the better if she were. -Anyhow, she has a pretty name, Carmiña Aldao, don’t you like it?”</p> - -<p>“The name—oh, well, that’s good enough.”</p> - -<p>“You should try to captivate your uncle’s betrothed,” resumed Portal, -after a short silence. “Yes, captivate her, that’s a good idea. Make her -love you, my boy—I mean no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span> harm—like a brother, or a son, or however -you wish. Anyway, try to make her like you. But do it slyly, skillfully; -be polite; no outbreaks or scandal. Your uncle is an old rooster, and -she is nearer your own age. But be careful, youngster, for you are a bit -like the youthful Werther. Take care, don’t let us have any family -dramas.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I will</span> pass over all the events of the end of the term and examinations, -for all that the reader most interested in my future will care to know -is that I passed that year; I had my books at my tongue’s end.</p> - -<p>The boy from Zamora was likewise successful, but Portal and Trinito did -not come off so well; they had not worked hard enough. The Cuban bore -his disappointment with his usual indolent composure; but Portal tore -out his hair, and laid the blame on the professor’s spite, and on the -influence artfully brought to bear in favor of other students, the -practical result of which had been to put all the strain on him.</p> - -<p>“They have cut me square in two, they have fairly smashed me!” cried the -unhappy fellow, forgetting all about that pleasant theory of his in -regard to adjusting one’s self, making concessions, conforming and -waiting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span> His calmness in the field of theory turned into furious -impatience in actual practice. But he had felt so sure of success that -year!</p> - -<p>I left him fuming with rage, and went to tell my uncle the good news of -my success. I felt greatly pleased, because it seemed to me that every -step forward was another victory over my hateful protector, and was like -breaking one of the links of the golden chain which bound me. My uncle -lived at the Embassador’s hotel, but the <i>concierge</i> told me, with a -knowing air: “He is usually at his new house, at this time of day. He -does not stay here much of the time. Don’t you know, sir? He has rented -a house—but he does not sleep there yet. Where is it, do you ask? Why, -Claudio Coello Street, No.——”</p> - -<p>I took a car and got off almost at the door of the new dwelling, going -up to the second floor. I did not have to ring the bell, for the door -was wide open, and in the reception-room there was a man seated -Turk-fashion, and sewing strips of fine matting together, with a big -needle.</p> - -<p>My uncle was pacing up and down in a good-sized<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span> parlor, bare of -furniture, and was agreeably surprised to see me.</p> - -<p>“Halloo, Paul Pry! You here! Come in and take a look at everything.”</p> - -<p>“They gave me your address at the hotel, so I came to tell you——”</p> - -<p>“Why, come in at once! I want you to look around. What do you think of -the house, eh? It is very good for the price. But then, the street is -not very central. The parlor is not fixed yet; they have not brought the -<i>tête-à-tête</i>, nor the large mirror, nor the hangings. One loses all -patience with these upholsterers! The boudoir and the bed-room are -farther along. Come in, come in!”</p> - -<p>I entered and looked abstractedly at the boudoir, which was the extreme -of commonplace, with its white marble mantle-piece, its arm-chairs -upholstered in raw silk with a plush border of a darker shade, its tiny -writing-desk, and its theatrical-looking toilet-table, dressed with -imitation lace and adorned with bows of ribbon of the same color as the -curtains. The narrow looking-glass over the mantle-piece did not have a -gilt frame, but one of plush like<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span> that on the arm-chairs and sofa. My -uncle wanted me to observe all this style, for he was like all niggardly -people, when they make up their minds to spend anything extra, in -wanting people to know about it.</p> - -<p>“Do you see the little mirror?” he said. “That is the way they frame -them now—a fashionable freak. And don’t think that they are any -cheaper. Whew! they cost three times as much, my dear fellow. That empty -space there, in front of the window, is for the piano. My <i>fiancée</i> -plays beautifully.”</p> - -<p>From the boudoir we passed into the <i>sanctum sanctorum</i>, the nest, or -bedroom, which was a roomy apartment with stuccoed walls. The wooden -bridal-couch, which was very broad and quite low, and had a carved -head-board, was standing in the center of the room.</p> - -<p>“The two mattresses are still wanting,” murmured my uncle, with a -complacent smile. “Just fancy, the upholsterer has got it into his head -to make them of rich, costly satin. I told him that cotton damask was -good enough. If I had not been careful to furnish the house, your -prospective aunt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span> who does not know what people are in Madrid, would -have been swindled right and left. Look at those commodes; would you -believe that the two cost me twenty-five dollars? People are so -extravagant nowadays. Come now, and take a look at my study.”</p> - -<p>We went through the hall and into his study, already completely -furnished with its large desk, like a cabinet officer’s, and a big -book-case which seemed ashamed to contain nothing but heavy government -reports and half a dozen foolish and indecent novels, paper-covered, and -very dirty. My uncle opened the glass doors, and taking a handful of -books by Paul de Kock, Amancio Peratoner, and the Chinese Da-gar-li-kao, -gave them to me, saying, with a suggestive smile: “I make you a present -of them, my boy. Don’t get corrupted by reading them, do you understand? -Just amuse yourself for a moment, and that’s all. Married men cannot -keep such contraband goods in their homes. Send after them, or do you -prefer to take them with you?”</p> - -<p>I answered, that I had no time to delve in such serious writings, nor -did they, in fact, amuse me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<p>From the study we proceeded to visit the dining-room, which was already -furnished with sideboards and chandeliers, and then inspected even the -humbler regions of kitchen and storeroom.</p> - -<p>Back of the dining-room there was a cheerful little room, with a window -overlooking some vacant lots.</p> - -<p>“This is our spare room,” said my uncle; “so we shall be able to -entertain a guest.”</p> - -<p>After thus examining the entire house, we went back to the study, and my -uncle took out a cigar, and offered me another one, praising the brand; -but, as I did not smoke, I gave it back, so that he might be able, in -his own words, “to pay off his debts with somebody else.” While he was -taking the first puff, I told him the good news about my having passed -my examination. His face lighted up with sincere joy. Two or three times -I saw him carry his hand to his pocket, instinctively, while he murmured -in a smothered tone, as he still held his cigar between his teeth:</p> - -<p>“Well done, man; well done! So another year has passed, and you only -have two to go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span> Bravo! At that rate you’ll soon be building bridges -over the Lerez. I vow, I’ll push you forward on the works ordered by the -legislature. One must know how to pull out the stops. You may understand -all about problems in algebra, and be able to fling equations and -logarithms about; but I know all about the key-board.”</p> - -<p>When I rose to leave, my uncle got up his resolution, put his hand, not -into his vest pocket, but into his inside coat pocket, brought out his -pocket-book without saying a word, and took out a greasy bank-note.</p> - -<p>How often have I observed that brief struggle in my uncle’s mind between -his parsimony and the quick instinct which notified him when and why it -was necessary, advantageous, or extremely agreeable to spend his money. -I never saw him spend a cent without perceiving that effort and inward -struggle in his soul—the painful and longing good-by which he gave to -his money. It was evident that reason advised him to make the -expenditure, but always had to fight with his temperament. To -superficial observers, even if my uncle did<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span> not seem lavish, he was far -from appearing avaricious; but to me, who studied him closely, with the -cruel sharp-sightedness of hatred, his owl’s beak revealed avarice, -though checked, kept latent, and in that larva-form to which -civilization reduces so many passions or frenzies that, in other days, -when the impulses of the individual had greater power, used to reach a -tragic development.</p> - -<p>My uncle was a frustrated miser; reflection, the power of surrounding -circumstances, as well as the desire for enjoyment and comfort which -modern society fosters, all counteracted his disposition—for nowadays -an old-fashioned miser would appear absurd, and nobody would have -anything to do with him. But under the cover of the successful man of -the present, who knew how to acquire riches in order to enjoy them, I -could see the Hebrew of the Middle Ages, with his greedy and rapacious -claws. Whenever my uncle let any money go, he would turn slightly pale, -his jaw would drop, and his eyes would be cast down as though to conceal -their expression.</p> - -<p>Well, he handed me the bank-note, saying:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span> “This is to enable you to -attend my wedding. They are selling cheap excursion tickets now, -round-trip, do you understand? Yes, they are good for two months, or I -don’t know how long, so that will be very convenient for you. Of course, -you’ll travel second-class, for third-class is too uncomfortable. You -can write at once to your mother what day you expect to start. The -sooner the better, because you’ll not only get more pure country air, -but you’ll save your board at the same time. Your mother is at Ullosa, -and from there to Pontevedra and Tejo is only a step. Come a few days -before the wedding. I don’t know as I told you; it will take place on -the day of Our Lady of Carmen. There is room enough for everybody at -Tejo. It is an old castle, which has been rebuilt and fixed up recently. -You’ll not be in the way. Try to make your mother go also; I am afraid -she is so queer that she’ll not do so.”</p> - -<p>It was getting late in the afternoon, and the man at work at the matting -had finished his task; so my uncle put the key in his pocket, and went -out with me. We turned down the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span> street, and got on a horse-car. When we -came to the Puerta del Sol, instead of going toward the hotel, we took -another car and proceeded toward Ancha de San Bernardo Street.</p> - -<p>“Come with me,” said the Hebrew. “As it is now vacation time, a little -recreation will not harm you. You’ll see some fine people.” Although I -suspected what his “fine people” might be, I could not help feeling -surprised when a very fine-looking girl opened the door for us. This -handsome damsel had on a red calico wrapper, with pink flowers, low -slippers, and wore her hair in that style of large bands pasted down -over the ears which the women of the lower classes in Madrid have -discarded at present for cork-screw curls.</p> - -<p>I warmly admired her raven black hair, her beautiful form, her cheeks, -where the fresh color struggled to show itself through a thick coating -of rice-powder, which she had daubed on hurriedly. Her velvety eyes, -bold, but sweet by reason of their fine lashes, fastened themselves upon -mine, and said something to me, to which I immediately responded in the -same mute language.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<p>Behind this lovely specimen of the Madrid type appeared the head of a -younger girl; not so good-looking, thin, mocking, and combed and -powdered like her elder sister.</p> - -<p>My uncle entered with the air of a lord and master.</p> - -<p>“Come here at once, all of you. I have brought you a young man, and you -must be careful how you treat him.”</p> - -<p>Saying this, he led on over the loosened tiles of the passage-way to a -small parlor, without any furniture excepting a sofa and two arm-chairs -with calico coverings, an old mahogony shelf, several cheap and gaudy -chromos, a little table on which stood several bottles of mucilage, -broken plates, brushes, and scissors; scattered all around, on the -table, chairs, sofa, floor, shelf, and I believe even on the walls and -the ceiling, were endless remnants of silk, satin, and plush; blue, -yellow, green, pink, and of all the colors of the rainbow, mixed up with -strips of paste-board, circular pieces of the same, gilt and silver -tinsel, ribbons and galloons, chromos and paints, flowers, and the -thousand other accessories belonging<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span> to the pleasing trade of covering -and decorating boxes of sweetmeats “for weddings and christenings,”—for -this was the official occupation of those buxom girls. A woman, about -fifty years old, shriveled, untidy, with very weak eyes, was busy in -decorating a lilac-silk bag by pasting on each side a bunch of lilies -and an angel’s face that she had cut from a chromo containing at least -ten legions of angels. She saluted my uncle, saying, “Good afternoon,” -in a dry manner, and went on pasting lilies and angels. Then my uncle, -turning toward the girls who were following us, tapped each one under -the chin in succession, and introduced them to me as “Señorita -Belén—Señorita Cinta.”</p> - -<p>After that, drawing near to the table, he exclaimed, jestingly:</p> - -<p>“What a barricade! Come, girls, clear things away! I must treat my -nephew.”</p> - -<p>The old woman then interfered, exclaiming harshly:</p> - -<p>“That’s it! waste the afternoon for us, so that when the time comes to -deliver the work at the shop, we’ll just tell them that there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span> too -much chattering, isn’t that so? As for things to eat, there’s nothing -here but a miserable dish of rice and mussels.”</p> - -<p>My uncle’s lips contracted, as they always did previous to his -disbursing any money, but that movement was only momentary, and drawing -forth a coin from his vest pocket he gave it to the smaller girl, -saying:</p> - -<p>“Cintita, just get some sherry wine, and biscuits, and a few oranges -also.”</p> - -<p>This argument was convincing to the old woman.</p> - -<p>“Gents, I’ll go into the next room to finish my work of sticking on -these angels so as to leave the table free; make yourselves at home.”</p> - -<p>They brought the wine and biscuits, and got some cracked, dirty glasses -from the depths of the kitchen, and the scene became quite animated. -Belén took down her guitar, and sang something or other in that low, -hoarse voice, which reminds one of the cooing of a dove, displaying all -the grace of her southern beauty, and showing her pretty, arched foot, -which rested on the round of the chair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span></p> - -<p>Cinta brought out a tambourine, and put it on her head like a hat, -laughing merrily all the while, and amusing herself by throwing -orange-peels at us. Then she got a little old India crape shawl out of a -drawer, and put it on, while she made all sorts of contortions, saying -that she wanted to have a regular spree.</p> - -<p>Then ensued bravos, sky-larking, pushing, racing round the room, chairs -upset, and pieces of silk flying through the air. Afterward they made us -strum on the guitar, and sing, while the girls danced. The wine flowed -freely; my uncle breaking the bottle against the edge of the marble -table, for we had no corkscrew. As we soon dispatched the contents of -that bottle, he told Cinta to bring up another one.</p> - -<p>“I have spent all the cash,” answered the girl. My uncle scowled a -little, and said:</p> - -<p>“But I gave you four dollars.”</p> - -<p>Belén came to her rescue, exclaiming, “Come now, old fellow, you must -not be mean. We need a lot of things and they will not trust us at the -grocery for our pretty faces. Keep quiet skin-flint, you stingy thing -you!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<p>What with scolding and joking, they got two dollars more out of the -Hebrew, so we had something “to wet our whistles.”</p> - -<p>My uncle’s face was flaming red, and it seemed as though the blood would -burst from his veins; if his tongue was thick, his eyes, on the other -hand, gleamed more than ordinarily, and a beatific expression of -material enjoyment was clearly marked upon his face.</p> - -<p>I also felt the effects of the wine, for as it was adulterated, it kept -rising to my nose; and this, together with the natural excitement of -youth in the society of two girls—one a proud, and the other a saucy -beauty;—but either capable of turning the head of an anchorite, and -much more so of a student,—made me beside myself.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it would not be fair to say that I was tipsy. I had made -up my mind never to fall into the ignoble condition of a drunken man. I -had often seen Botello completely fuddled, stumbling around, or falling -on the floor like a block, or wild and beside himself; and I could never -forget the shock it gave me, to see that handsome creature converted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span> -into a beast, talking nonsense, or bellowing like a calf. Luis Portal, -the man of the golden mean in self-indulgence, used to say:</p> - -<p>“In jolly company, when there is some advantage in it, one may get a -trifle elevated, but never drunk. On the contrary, you should keep cool, -and try to enjoy yourself at the expense of the tipsy fellows.”</p> - -<p>I followed this maxim, and was thus able to keep within bounds, not -losing my head. I did foolish things, but knew that I was doing them, -and rather enjoyed it.</p> - -<p>The frolic was getting more obstreperous every moment. My uncle took out -three dollars more; Cinta went down several times, now to get wine, now -a shrimp salad, now fruit and preserves. Finally, he bled again in order -to have some coffee and liqueurs brought up. In short, there was got -together at last an appetizing mixture of dinner and supper. The old -woman must have feasted herself on the platter of rice and mussels, all -alone out there in the kitchen, for that commonplace dish did not make -its appearance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<p>We did not leave that diabolical den until after one o’clock. The mamma -lighted us down the narrow, crooked stairs, with a kerosene lamp which -gave out a ray of sickly light. When we reached the street, the first -breath of fresh air aroused me as if from a dream. While we walked down -Ancha Street, my uncle smacked his lips over the jolly time we had had.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of the girls, eh? There are none of that kind in our -part of the country. Which do you like the best? Belén, of course. She’s -just splendid. How lovely she is! I presume, of course, you are -discreet, so mum’s the word. There is no need of talking yonder about -these fair ones we run across here; they are innocent creatures, and -harm nobody. We must have a good time, my boy, for the very reason that -I am about to become a sober, married man. It is well enough to go on a -lark once in a while. And then, Belén and Cinta are not so exacting as -many others; although, if they could, they would make me scatter money -like dust all day long.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you give them one or two<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span> bank-notes at first? It would have -been better than to keep haggling over one dollar after another.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! Are you perchance some Russian prince? Such creatures, if one is -free-handed with them, get so high and mighty you can’t stand them. If I -had shown them my pocket-book! I am even sorry that I carried it with -me, because in such rollickings, one never can tell——”</p> - -<p>He suddenly stopped, entirely recovered from the effects of the sherry, -and pale and frightened, hastily thrust his hand into his pocket, -crying:</p> - -<p>“Why! my pocket-book! It is not here! Daggers and knives, it isn’t, it -isn’t! Those thieves have stolen it. Three bills of a hundred each, at -least. Thunder and Mars! It is not here, I tell you. Let’s go and make -them give it up.”</p> - -<p>“Search for it carefully,” I murmured, with difficulty concealing my -annoyance and disgust. “Search your pocket, they have not taken it, -that’s nonsense! I think your overcoat bulges out at the side, there.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span></p> - -<p>He took a deep breath; the pocket-book was found. He felt of it -joyfully, stopping under the light of a lamp-post to make sure that all -the money was there. After he had searched the depths of his -pocket-book, he recovered his good humor and said: “And, besides, it -contained my Carmen’s photograph. A nice fix I’d have been in, if they -had stolen it. Belén would have been capable of digging out the eyes -with a big pin.”</p> - -<p>He handed me the photograph, which was a small one, such a we give to -those we love. I saw a youthful face, with a high, broad forehead, the -hair dressed in a simple style, a pair of bright eyes with a gleam of -passion and strength of will which surprised me—for I had pictured my -uncle’s sweetheart as mild and yielding, passively submitting to -everything put upon her. Nor did I find her as plain as my mother had -led me to expect. She had one of those faces, which, without being -beautiful, attract your gaze the second time.</p> - -<p>I left my uncle at the door of his hotel, and went to bed not far from -daybreak.</p> - -<p>I should never end if I were to tell how Portal<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span> teased me the next day. -He smelled of my clothes, and then smacked his lips, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Aha! You’re a sly bird, you rogue! <i>Odor di femina!</i>” Suddenly he burst -out laughing:</p> - -<p>“Ho, ho! What’s all this!”</p> - -<p>On the left leg of my trousers were stuck two little heads of angels, a -rose, a bunch of lilies, and I know not what other properties. I had to -make a clean breast of it, and give him a faithful and detailed -description of the sweetmeat-box artists.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">How</span> glad I felt to start for Galicia! In Madrid the heat had become -stifling, while at home one could enjoy the pure, fresh air, filled with -the sweet fragrance of the country. It seemed as if I had never breathed -before, and that my exhausted lungs required that moist, balmy, and pure -air in order to perform their functions properly.</p> - -<p>I am not one of those Galicians who feel homesickness very intensely, -but, nevertheless, the first group of chestnuts which I recognized in -the distance, appeared to me like a friend bidding me welcome home.</p> - -<p>My mother was at Ullosa, so I went there at once, partly by stage and -partly on foot, for one has to make use of all sorts of locomotion to -get there. I arrived at sunset, and my mother came out into the road to -meet me. With joined hands, and arm in arm, we walked over the space -which separates Ullosa from the highway.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span></p> - -<p>After she had wiped away the tears which invariably gather in a mother’s -eyes when she sees her son after a long absence, her first volley of -questions was as follows: “So your uncle has hired a house, eh? Is it -true that he has furnished it very handsomely? That’s what a man does if -he has money. They say that the bridal-bed is sumptuous. What rent does -he pay? Something frightful, I presume, because everything is up to the -sky in Madrid. And do you know whether he has yet secured a servant? It -will be a wonder if he does not hire some horrid jade. That’s the way -the city council’s funds fly off. That’s why they do such mean things. -Don’t say that they don’t, or you’ll drive me wild, Salustio.”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear mother, what difference does it make to us?” I exclaimed, -when I could get in a word edgewise. “How am I to blame because my uncle -gets married?”</p> - -<p>“Because you said it was all right,” she replied, stopping to take -breath, while her lips quivered like children’s when their little -troubles come upon them.</p> - -<p>“You seem to think my uncle would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span> guided by what I say. You must -make the best of it, dear mother, and try to bear patiently what you -can’t help. I am sure that is the best way to act, on all accounts, even -for our own advantage.”</p> - -<p>My mother fixed her eyes on me. She was two years older than Uncle -Felipe, and had kept her good looks remarkably, thanks to her robust -health, to the simple and healthful life she led, and perhaps also to -her lack of serious thought and resulting intellectual weariness. She -was as brisk as a bird, and her excitable and changeable disposition -kept her from getting bilious, and whipped her blood into a more rapid -circulation. Her moral fickleness, her inability to rise to the region -of general and abstract ideas, allowed my mother to keep all her energy -and ability for action. It was her strong will which guided her -thoughts; and the predominance of the emotive and practical elements was -revealed in her smooth, narrow brow, in the capricious play of her lips, -and in the questioning, restless gaze of her ever-watchful eyes.</p> - -<p>My mother never went to Pontevedra<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span> except in cold weather, or in Holy -Week, or at Easter to take communion. The Ullosa place was kept up the -year round. With all her reviling of the Cardoso stock, my mother had -much of the acquisitiveness, the sordid economy, and the mercantile -spirit which characterize the Hebrew race. How much affection can do, -and how it tangles up logic! Those traits which disgusted me in my uncle -appeared like virtues in my mother, and really were so, if it is a -virtue to make the best of circumstances. With a miserable four or five -hundred, which was the most that could be got out of our property with -the utmost squeezing, it was little short of a miracle to be able to -live as she did with comparative comfort, pay no small part of the -expenses of my education, and even hide away inside of a mattress five -or six <i>onzas</i> for a rainy day. She who could succeed in doing this, was -not an ordinary woman.</p> - -<p>My mother always wore the Carmelite habit, to save expense for dresses, -of course. She had linen woven from the flax raised on her land,—that -strong, coarse, brown, Galician<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span> linen, which never wears out,—and made -shirts and sheets out of that. Out of a vineyard of sour grapes she made -a little claret with which she would regale me during my vacations; from -the rye raised in her fields, she made the bread she ate; a couple of -pigs, fattened at home, kept her pot full all the year round; she raised -chickens, to furnish her with eggs; she got her wood from a bit of a -grove; she kept a cow, and sold it at the fair at a good profit when it -no longer gave milk; other cattle she used to have in partnership with -her tenants, making some small gains in that way; she distilled brandy -from the grape-skins, and preserved plums in it,—in fact, she did -everything possible to get the juice out of her money and her property, -thus accomplishing those prodigies of good management and frugality, -which a woman is only able to perform when she lives alone. Forced by -her sex to confine her business undertakings within narrow limits, she -made up for it by looking carefully after the smallest details, and not -wasting the value of a pin. Healthy, high-spirited, indefatigable, she -passed every<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span> moment of the day in some useful occupation; and I even -suspect that she sometimes did sewing or embroidery, in a secret way, -for other people.</p> - -<p>“I shall be as proud as a queen the day you finish learning your -profession, and begin to earn money,” she would say, when I used to -express my amazement at seeing her so eager and so busy.</p> - -<p>So I studied with greater zest, desiring to be able to make the last -years of my mother’s life easy and tranquil. But that was a mistaken -idea; for, even if my mother were to have heaps of money, she would be -just as active, given her temperament and disposition. She was so -overflowing with life, and was so energetic and determined to get what -she could out of the world, that far from inspiring compassion, she -should have excited envy in those of us who dwell much within ourselves, -and finally make of our imagination a prison cell.</p> - -<p>My mother’s disposition was of the kind that makes people happy and -strong, and arms them against the friction and disappointments of life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<p>It was singular, but when I did not see my mother, I idealized her, and -gave her credit for certain traits and weaknesses associated with her -sex, which she was far from possessing. For example, I was strongly -persuaded that she had passionate religious convictions, and sometimes I -would respond to the profane jokes of my companions, or exclaim when I -gave utterance to some audacious assertion: “Heaven grant that my mother -may never know it.” If I ate meat in Holy Week, or remembered how long a -time had passed without my going to church, I would say to myself: “I -hope my mother wont find it out.” But the fact is that my mother, in -spite of her Carmelite habit, attended to her church duties only -perfunctorily, and never displayed any great concern for the welfare of -my soul.</p> - -<p>That is not to say that the high-spirited Galician woman had no positive -beliefs. Doubtless my mother inherited from her Jewish ancestors the -most deeply-rooted of her religious convictions, namely, that God was an -angry, vindictive and implacable being<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span>—the God of the Old Testament -who “visits the sins of the fathers upon the children, to the third and -fourth generation.” She believed naïvely that God does all this -punishing unmercifully, right on the spot; and she also imagined that he -was particularly disposed to pour out all the vials of his wrath upon -those who troubled her, Benigna Unceta, for any cause or in any way. -Thanks to her incapacity for general ideas, she concluded that the Deity -was greatly interested in her personal wrongs and resentments. So much -so, that when she stopped on the slope between us and Ullosa, quite out -of breath with climbing and the vehemence of her anger, she exclaimed, -in a prophetic tone:</p> - -<p>“You’ll see how God will punish your Uncle Felipe in His own way. You’ll -see. Just wait; he’ll not get off scot-free.”</p> - -<p>I protested against this singular supposition, and, as though a heavenly -voice from above joined with me in proclaiming mercy and charity, just -then the <i>Angelus</i> sounded from the little church near by, with subdued -melancholy and great poetic effect.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<p>My mother turned abruptly and inquired:</p> - -<p>“Are you going to the wedding?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, and you ought to go also. It is scandalous that you should -not go.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say anything to me, for I have no desire to be present at such a -frightful scene. There never was, and never will be, such an absurd -thing. Heaven grant that your uncle may not get an unfaithful wife! I -wouldn’t wager a copper that he will not, though, marrying at his age! A -nice thing it would be if I got married now!”</p> - -<p>I battled against her invincible obstinacy asserting that my uncle was -at a very good age to marry, and that we should appear ridiculous if we -were to get angry at such a natural and proper procedure.</p> - -<p>“That’s all bosh!” cried my mother, furiously. “A fine old mummy you are -defending! I know what I say, and I also know what people tell me. God -will square his accounts, though. Don’t imagine that I am crazy. Oh, no; -but he’ll take a tumble, you’ll see! And the girl who marries him, I -tell you, has no decency. I would not have your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span> uncle if he were -covered with gold, and if he were not my brother, I’d——”</p> - -<p>My mother gave me for my supper a country dish, which she knew I was -very fond of—corn-meal fritters with new milk. She would take out the -fritters sizzling hot, and let them get cool, and form a crust; then she -would make a hole in the middle, and pour in there the richest of milk -out of an earthenware pitcher. While I was dispatching this delicacy of -Homeric simplicity, she talked and questioned me incessantly, and would -always come back to the starting-point—my uncle. “He is now mixed up -here in an affair, and I don’t know how it will end. They are having a -terrible row, and it seems to me that they’ll settle him this time. It -is another scrape, but much worse than that one about the lots and -houses, though that was bad enough. The trouble now is in regard to the -contract for the provision market; they say that your uncle goes shares -in the profits with the contractor, and that they have allowed him -fearful opportunities for extortion; but that, nevertheless, the man has -not fulfilled a single part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span> his contract, absolutely not one, so the -municipal authorities are going to sue him. And they are not what they -were last year, your uncle has no hold there. He’ll have to go on a -pilgrimage to the boss——if Don Vicente does not help him out of this -scrape it’ll be all up with him. But he’ll help him; one is as bad as -the other. By the power of Don Vicente’s protection, they can do what -they please in this province. As your uncle is to go to live in Madrid, -they are going to hire his house in Pontevedra for the -post-office—another fat thing for him! Nowadays, everybody has to be -wide awake. A pretty state of things! I am not a man, but if I were, I’d -go on a pilgrimage to the boss’s house, like everybody else. I am saying -this to you confidentially; but be careful what you say anywhere in -public. Don Vicente has a crowd of dependents and powerful friends, and -it would not do for him to take a dislike to you, because he may be -useful to you some day.”</p> - -<p>On seeing her so demonstrative, I caught her by the waist and kissed her -on the neck and cheeks, and took the occasion to say, laughingly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span> “My -dear mother, in order to present myself at Tejo with some show of -propriety, I ought to take a wedding gift to the bride. My uncle may be -as bad as you choose, and may have served us a thousand scurvy tricks, -but anyway, he is now paying a good part of the cost of my education.”</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t do it for nothing. Look here, my boy, if we were to claim -what rightly belongs to us,—and who knows if he’ll keep on paying your -expenses?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that makes no difference, dear mother; that makes no difference. -Even if he should not, I must have the present.”</p> - -<p>“But I haven’t a single cent! Do you think I coin money here? Yes, much -we are coining! It would cost me a pretty penny to do what you want.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said I, resolutely, “then there’s no need of talking any more -about it. I’ll go to Pontevedra to-morrow, and pawn my watch or my -boots, for a present there must be. I have made up my mind to that.”</p> - -<p>The next morning my mother came into my room to awaken me. She had a -basket of ripe<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span> cherries which she left on my bed for me to eat; and in -her hand were two little gleaming disks, which she held up to the height -of my eyes. They were five dollar gold pieces.</p> - -<p>“What do you think of that? I have had trouble enough to scrape this -together. Now go and squander it; throw it away, since you are bound to. -I don’t want you to say that your mother treats you badly, when she -doesn’t need to, in any way whatever.”</p> - -<p>I threw my arms around her neck, and gave her three or four hearty -smacks, while she pretended to ward me off, exclaiming: “You clown, you -schemer, go out to walk, little boy!”</p> - -<p>With the ten dollars, I bought in the city a brooch with two crossed -anchors and a little Cupid in the center, with a small ruby and two -pearls. It was one of those senseless trinkets which fashion invents, -but which good taste casts aside. But at least, now I was not going to -the wedding empty-handed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">From</span> Pontevedra to San Andrés de Louza, and thence to the country seat -of Tejo, was a pleasant excursion rather than a journey. I crossed at -the mouth of the river in a launch, which I hired in Pontevedra. Landing -on the opposite bank, I resolved to go on foot for about a quarter of a -league, through the most beautiful country one can imagine. From the -beach, showing the footprints so clearly marked in the fine, silvery -sand, and lined by great clumps of flowering aloes, to the foot paths -overrun with honeysuckle, and the cornfields rustling in the breeze, it -all seemed like an oasis; and my soul was filled with that vague joy -which, when one is young, is born of the excitement of the senses, and -with a sort of inexplicable presentiment, a messenger of the future—a -presentiment, which without necessarily being a forerunner of happy -days, yet excites us as though they really would follow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span></p> - -<p>As the country-seat of my uncle’s prospective father-in-law was situated -on high ground, I could see it from the very cove where I landed. To be -more exact, all that I could see clearly was the square, turreted tower -and the windows, stained red and gold by the setting sun. The rest of -the building was hidden by a mass of verdure, probably a group of trees. -Anyhow, I could see enough to guide me on my way. I left my valise in -the village, saying that I would send after it on the following day, and -went on.</p> - -<p>I was ascending the sloping path, whipping with my cane the rustling -corn and bushes, whence the startled butterflies flew; when, at a turn -of the road, I was greatly surprised to see a man sitting on a rock. My -surprise may seem strange at first, but the fact is the man was a friar. -For the first time in my life I was looking at a friar in flesh and -blood. I was astonished, as if I had thought that friars were no longer -to be met with, except in the canvases of Zurbarán or Murillo.</p> - -<p>All the knowledge I had of a friar’s dress was derived from pictures I -had seen in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span> museum, or from having seen Rafael Calvo, once, in the -Duke of Rivas’s drama, <i>Don Alvaro</i>, or <i>The Force of Destiny</i>. I -perceived that the friar seated on the rock was a Franciscan. His coarse -gown fell in statuesque folds over his limbs, his hood had fallen on his -shoulders, and in his hand was one of those coarse felt hats, with the -brim looped up like a French abbé’s, with which he was fanning his brow, -wet with perspiration, breathing heavily all the time. Soon, putting his -hat on the ground, turning his elbows out, and resting his open hands on -his knees, he remained plunged in thought.</p> - -<p>I observed him with eager curiosity, imagining that by the simple fact -of his being a friar, his mind must be filled with strange or sublime -thoughts.</p> - -<p>He lifted his right hand, and thrusting it into his left sleeve, took -out an enormous blue-and-white checked handkerchief from a kind of -pocket formed in the folds of the sleeve, and blew his nose vigorously. -Then he arose, took up his hat, and began to go on, just as I came up to -him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<p>I did not know whether to come close to his side, or to fall back, or to -pass on simply wishing him good afternoon. Without any known cause, that -man attracted, interested and fascinated me. I had two antagonistic -ideas about friars: on one side was the friar of the cheap chromos after -Ortego—a gluttonous, drunken, dissolute creature, a man without any -sense of decency looking out from under his cowl; on the other, was the -friar of novels and poems,—gloomy, mystical, visionary, with his mind -enfeebled by fasting, and his nerves shaken by abstinence; fleeing from -womankind, avoiding men; dyspeptic, assaulted by temptations and -scruples. And I was eager to know to which of the two classes my friar -belonged.</p> - -<p>As though he had read my thoughts, he stopped on hearing my footsteps, -and faced me, while he said in a resolute and commanding tone:</p> - -<p>“Good afternoon, sir. You’ll excuse me for asking you a question. Do you -come from San Andrés de Louza, and are you going to the Aldao’s Tower?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I am going there,” I answered, somewhat surprised.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you have no objection, we’ll go along together. I know the -way, because I have been there before. I take the liberty of making this -proposition, as I imagine that whenever one finds himself traveling -alone in the country, he is not offended—”</p> - -<p>“Offense! Quite the contrary,” I replied, pleased with the friar’s -martial air.</p> - -<p>We went on side by side, because the path was widening and allowed us -this privilege of sociability. I then noticed that he wore no shoes, but -had on sandals which were fastened over the instep, thus leaving free -his toes, which were fleshy and well-shaped like those of the statues of -San Antonio of Padua. He at once began to question me.</p> - -<p>“You must pardon me, for I am very frank, and like to have people know -each other. Are you, perchance, a relative of Carmiña Aldao?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, but of her betrothed. I am his nephew.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, I know now; the one who was studying<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span> in Madrid to become a civil -engineer; Benigna’s son.”</p> - -<p>“Just so. How is it you know so much about me?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you. The Aldao family honor me with many confidences, and -that’s the way I come to know so much about those details. And how do -you get on with your studies? I know also that you are very assiduous, -and have a brilliant future before you. And I am very glad to make your -acquaintance. I say so sincerely, for I am not in the habit of paying -compliments. But you don’t know my name yet. I didn’t tell you, because -a poor friar does not need to introduce himself, as his habit is a -sufficient introduction. My name is Silvestre Moreno, your humble -servant.”</p> - -<p>“And my name is Salustio——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know, I know. Salustio Meléndez Unceta.”</p> - -<p>“I see that you know everything.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I did,” replied the friar, with a good-natured laugh; and then -stopping suddenly, he said to me imploringly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<p>“Couldn’t you do me the favor to give me a cigarette?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t smoke,” I answered, with a certain hauteur, which afterward -seemed absurd to me.</p> - -<p>“You are quite right; one need the less. But I, oh, dear, I am so -corrupted that—well, never mind, I must have patience till we get to -Tejo.”</p> - -<p>“How long is it since you have smoked?”</p> - -<p>“Heigh, ho, since yesterday afternoon. I have been staying at the house -of an old lady in Pontevedra, who is a very respectable widow and lives -there all alone. And you can well understand that neither she nor her -maid smoke. I cut myself, when I was shaving in the morning, as I had a -saw instead of a razor, and that lady was so kind, that she bought me a -little English razor, fine enough to cut a thought; here it is,” he -added, pointing up his sleeve. “I haven’t used it yet. So you see, after -that present, which must have cost her considerable, I couldn’t be mean -enough to ask her for money for tobacco.”</p> - -<p>“But,” cried I, infected by the friar’s frankness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span> “don’t you carry a -copper of your own?”</p> - -<p>“Why, to be sure I do not, most of the time, nor half of one.”</p> - -<p>“How is that possible?”</p> - -<p>“Why, good gracious, my vow of poverty—is that only a joke?”</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry I don’t smoke,” I exclaimed, “if only for this once.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t distress yourself, friend, for we friars don’t mind it when we -cannot indulge a bad habit. Besides, when I get to Tejo I’ll have more -good things than I want. You’ll see how Señor Aldao will rush forward to -offer me a cigar.”</p> - -<p>He said this with a cheerful and philosophical air, and proceeded on his -way in good spirits, walking faster than I could. A question kept -springing to my lips, and I finally ventured to put it, “Doesn’t it -mortify you to go without shoes?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” he replied, slowly, as though trying to recollect whether it -really did annoy him. “I did miss my shoes at first, or rather, not -them, but my stockings, because I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span> wore any but those which my -mother used to knit for me, and they were very heavy. Oh, I am mistaken; -I have worn stockings, and that of the finest silk, not so very long -ago. I say this, that you may not fancy, because I am a friar, that I -have never enjoyed such luxuries. However, that is foreign to our -subject. But in regard to your question, which I wish to answer -categorically, you must know that since I have been going around without -shoes, I have never suffered with corns, chilblains, bunions, or -anything of the kind.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he thrust out his foot, which was really well-shaped, and -had none of the deformities caused by wearing shoes.</p> - -<p>“And just observe, sir, what habit will do. It seems to me now that I am -cleaner this way. I have come to think that shoes and stockings serve -only to hide nastiness. No one who goes without shoes has really dirty -feet, no matter how much he may walk or how hot it may be; especially if -he has the habit I have”—suiting the action to the word, he drew aside -a few steps, and approaching the little brook which flowed by the side -of the pathway,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span> between reeds and briers, took off his sandals, tucked -up his gown a little, and thrust first one foot and then the other into -the flowing stream. After he had dried them on the grass, he put on his -sandals, and looked at me with a triumphant air. I smiled under the -impulse of an idea, or, rather, a very warm feeling, which might be -expressed in these words:</p> - -<p>“What a queer friar, and how nice he is!”</p> - -<p>“Come now, I can guess what you are thinking about,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you can. Go on, and I’ll tell you if you are right.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, you are thinking under your coat, there, that we friars pay -little attention to our manners, that we are very democratic, and don’t -understand the ways of society; and, besides, that we are very crafty in -our dealings with people.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed, sir, by no means! I was thinking——”</p> - -<p>“Call me Father Moreno, or simply, Moreno, if it is the same to you. -That ‘sir’ sounds too formal for a poor friar.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, Father Moreno, what I was puzzling over—but there, I am afraid -if I tell you I shall offend you.”</p> - -<p>“By no means, by no means. I like frankness.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I was thinking that friars do not generally have the reputation -of being so—so much devoted to bodily cleanliness as you are.”</p> - -<p>While saying this, I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye, -examining his hands, his ears, his neck; all which outwardly betray a -person’s habits of cleanliness.</p> - -<p>“I even thought you considered it sinful to care for the person. They -say that the chief merit of some ascetic saints consisted in their -carrying a thousand inhabitants on their persons; and having their hair -and beards—colonized!”</p> - -<p>Instead of getting angry at my impertinence, the friar burst into the -heartiest laugh I ever heard in a man’s mouth.</p> - -<p>“So that’s what you thought,” he said, when his mirth would allow him to -speak. “And you, who appear to be so well informed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span> young fellow, -don’t you know what the glorious St. Teresa used to say? Why, she would -bathe herself thoroughly, and then exclaim, ‘Lord, make my soul like my -body!’ So you thought that all we friars were stupid pigs! No wonder you -felt startled when you met me! Have you ever met any friars except your -humble servant?”</p> - -<p>“To tell the truth, you are the first I ever met in my life. -Furthermore, I thought you no longer existed. Of course, it was -nonsense; for I know that they are re-peopling the convents of various -orders in Spain. But, honestly, I had the fancy that friars were only to -be found in paintings, in the figures in churches, and, -consequently—but it was all a mistake, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Well, here you see a live one. It is the same with friars as with the -rest of the world, and you will readily understand that there are many -different tastes and dispositions, though all are governed by the same -rule. Some are careless, while others pay more attention to dress. But, -as you are aware, our sacred garb does not allow us to carry about many -perfumery<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span> bottles, or an array of essences and pomades. How nice a -friar would look using Fay’s wash, or <i>Kananga</i>—or what the deuce do -they call that perfume which is so much the rage just now?”</p> - -<p>“I see that you know all about it, Father,” I exclaimed, laughing in my -turn.</p> - -<p>“It is because I am often with some very stylish and elegant ladies. -Don’t feel surprised that I desire to clear myself, and all poor little -friars, of the bad reputation you give us. Just fancy, our Holy Founder -was so fond of water that he even composed some fine verses proclaiming -it pure and clean! I speak to you with entire frankness; I do like neat -people, but I don’t like excessive care of the person. That seems to me -sickening and disgusting. Goodness! This wasting a half hour by a young -fellow in trimming and polishing his nails—that may pass in a -woman,—but for a man who wears a beard—bah!”</p> - -<p>As he said this, the friar folded his arms, and turned toward me, as if -tired and wanting to rest.</p> - -<p>In the reddish light of the setting sun which so clearly defines the -form, I could see<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span> that his was in perfect harmony with that profession -of manly faith. He was robust, without being stout, and of good height, -without being very tall. His dark, olive complexion indicated a bilious -temperament, and his skin was bronzed by journeying exposed to the -blazing sun. His very black eyes were quick, lively, and well-shaped; -with a piercing look which seemed to search the very depths of your -soul. His neck, left uncovered by his tonsure, indicated strength; and -so did his hands, large, strong, and flexible—hands which might serve -alike gently to elevate the Host, or to use the spade, the cudgel, or -the musket, in case of need. His features did not belie his hands, and -were drawn as though by a skilled sculptor; uniting that calmness and -firmness to be seen in certain statues. On his upper lip and in the -middle of his chin he had two dimples, which almost always indicate a -kindly heart, destined to modify a naturally severe disposition. I even -noticed his ears, which were wide and almost flexible, like a -confessor’s—ears with a great deal of character, such as ecclesiastics -usually have.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span></p> - -<p>“What a friar he is! What a vigorous nature he seems to have!” I kept -thinking in surprise.</p> - -<p>We held on our way. We must now have been quite near to the Aldao place, -but we could not reach it until nightfall, which was rapidly -approaching. The fragrance of the honeysuckle was more penetrating; the -dogs thrust their noses through the fences, and barked at us with the -greatest fury; far away you could hear the owls hooting; and the new -moon, like a fine line traced in the sky, showed itself over the river. -The friar uttered a slight exclamation, thus proving that he appreciated -the beauty of the scene.</p> - -<p>“What a lovely afternoon! Ah! but this is a beautiful country! The more -you see it, the more you admire it. And how cool it is! Too much so for -me. For my part, I prefer the climate of Africa.”</p> - -<p>“Have you been much in Africa?”</p> - -<p>“I should say so! Why, I am half Moor.”</p> - -<p>“And have you journeyed over the desert?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly; and without any tents, or store of provisions, or escort, or -any other traps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span> such as explorers usually carry. I traveled around -mounted on a mule, with a couple of hens tied to the pommel of my -saddle; drinking water from the pools; and sleeping under the wide -canopy of the stars. Thus I have wandered far over those sandy wastes, -and had many an adventure.”</p> - -<p>I should have liked to question him about his African travels, but just -then I was pricked on by a greater curiosity, as we drew near to Tejo -and could see its white walls and a great black blotch of trees, as it -seemed to me. I wanted to test the exactness of my mother’s information -by finding the opinion of a person whom I already believed to be -extremely impartial and straightforward.</p> - -<p>“Tell me, Father Moreno, are you acquainted with the family into which -my uncle is to marry? What sort of a person is his betrothed? What kind -of a man is her father?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, I know them,” replied the friar, putting, as it were, a mask -of discreet reserve over his frank face. “They are a very nice family, -and your uncle’s betrothed is—a very good young lady, indeed.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span></p> - -<p>“And—is she pretty?”</p> - -<p>The friar was not shocked by my question, but answered freely:</p> - -<p>“I am but a poor judge of that. Perhaps I may be mistaken, but I will -confess that she does not appear to me to be ravishingly beautiful. I -would not call her ugly, but neither—Although I say I’m a poor judge, -yet it is not because I have not had an opportunity of seeing women; -for, over there in Tangiers, Tetuán, and Melilla, there are Jewish and -Moorish women who are considered very beautiful. You’ll be surprised, -but I have some Moorish friends who thought so much of me that one of -them showed me his harem. Among those people it was a great mark of -esteem, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Ah,” I murmured, unable to keep back a mischievous remark. “So the door -of the harem was opened to you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied the friar, with great simplicity; “and do you want to -hear a description of my friend’s favorite, the chosen one, I say, of -this Moorish friend of mine, who was a very wealthy man in that place?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<p>“How did she look? Very enticing?”</p> - -<p>“I have already told you that I am but a poor judge, and can only -describe her outward appearance; and you may decide for yourself. She -wore a rich silk dress, cut low in the neck, which was covered with -diamond necklaces and strings of big pearls. She had on at least two or -three. She wore large gold bands on her arms, like those described by -Cervantes in his novel <i>El Cautivo</i>. Haven’t you read it? Well, that was -the kind. Then there were cushions and cushions and more cushions; some -under her arms, others under her hips, and others behind her head. Their -purpose was to prevent her chafing herself, for she was almost bursting -with fat, which is the secret of beauty among Moorish women. This one -could not stir. Do you know how they used to fatten her? Why, with -little bread balls, and in such numbers that it could no longer be -called fattening a woman, but cramming her. She was smoking through a -tube as long as this, and in front of her she had a little table inlaid -with mother-of-pearl, which was covered with sweetmeats and various -drinks.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<p>“Ah, you old rogue of a friar!” I thought. “You pretend to be very -simple and innocent, though you are really the greatest and most crafty -rogue in the world. You are boring me with all this gossip about the -Moors so as not to drop anything about my prospective aunt. But I’ll -catch you yet! Just wait!” So I said aloud:</p> - -<p>“Father Moreno, as you can describe a Moorish woman so well, you can -surely draw the likeness of a Christian woman. At least, you might -inform me whether my uncle’s betrothed is stuffed with bread balls, or -if she has a slender and graceful figure, like the palm-tree of the -desert. Come, Father!”</p> - -<p>We were ascending the stony path which runs along the inclosure of Tejo, -and there we could not walk side by side. So the friar turned around and -faced me, in order to reply. The last rays of the sun had disappeared, -but in the twilight I could see his eyes gleam, while he answered me -with a strange mixture of sportive grace and earnestness:</p> - -<p>“Sir, pardon, I pray you, a poor friar for expressing himself in a -manner conformable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span> to the habit he wears, and to the rule he obeys. I -may describe the person of a Moorish woman, a heathen, because, if God -has made it beautiful, it is the only thing we can praise about her; -since her soul is wrapped in the darkness of error. But you, yourself, -have called your uncle’s betrothed a Christian woman; and I, for my -part, am fully persuaded that she is worthy of that name; so—pardon me, -if I express myself with too much warmth—I was going to say, that name -so sublime. A Christian woman’s soul is the first, and perhaps the only -thing about her worthy of praise, and any other eulogies would not sound -well, coming from my lips. A body which incloses a soul, redeemed by the -blood of Christ! Ah! I am not going to praise her to you with pretty -words, or flowers of rhetoric. If I assure you that your future aunt is -indeed a Christian woman, I have said all that I have to say.”</p> - -<p>“Is she so very good, Father Moreno?”</p> - -<p>“Excellent, excellent, excellent!”</p> - -<p>The tone in which the friar repeated this adjective, left no room for -further urging.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span> Besides, we had reached the gate. Nevertheless, when -the father seized the knocker, I could not refrain from asking, in an -insinuating tone:</p> - -<p>“And do you come to the wedding out of pure friendship, Father Moreno?”</p> - -<p>“Oranges!” he exclaimed, in the harsh tone which usually emphasizes the -most innocent expletives; “Why, I have come to perform the ceremony!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> ponderous gate swung open, and we found ourselves in a court filled -with shrubs and creepers, which climbed all over the front of the villa, -almost concealing its architecture. The vines and shrubs were covered -with blossoms, and gave out a delightful fragrance—that divine perfume, -beyond the reach of the chemist’s art, which can be distilled nowhere -but in the mysterious laboratory of Nature.</p> - -<p>Seated on stone benches and rustic iron chairs, enjoying the moonlight, -were several persons who rose as we entered and came forward to welcome -Father Moreno with joyful exclamations. They noticed no one but him at -first, and that gave me time to study them attentively. My uncle was -foremost, dressed in a white duck suit, and by his side was a young lady -of medium height, of light and elegant figure, who uttered a cry of joy -on seeing the father. On the left was a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span> pretty well advanced in -years, bald and with a mustache—the father-in-law. Behind him stood a -very young, little priest, almost a boy; and near him a tall girl of -about sixteen years, and a little girl who could not have been more than -twelve.</p> - -<p>They all gathered around the father, bidding him welcome with a -confusion of voices. At last they remembered that I was in existence, -and my uncle introduced me:</p> - -<p>“Señor de Aldao, this is Benigna’s son, my nephew,—Carmiña, this is -Salustio.”</p> - -<p>My future auntie looked at me abstractedly. All her attention was -absorbed by the father. Nevertheless, after a little while she turned -toward me, and asked whether my mother would come, for she much desired -to see her. I made excuses for my mother’s absence as well as I could, -and Señorita Aldao returned to her attentions to the friar. “Wouldn’t -you like some water, orangeade, ale, sherry wine? A glass of milk? A sip -of chocolate?”</p> - -<p>“My child!” cried the father, pushing her back familiarly, as one would -brush away a fly, “If you want to give me something I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span> would wish,—good -gracious, give me half a cigarette, although it were of straw!”</p> - -<p>In the twinkling of an eye two cigar-cases flew open, and Señor Aldao -and my uncle offered him their cigars, and several matches were -immediately lighted. My uncle’s Havana cigar was given the preference.</p> - -<p>“You may well enjoy smoking it,” said he, for he was fond of praising -what he gave away. “It came from no one less than Don Vicente Sotopeña.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, of course he wouldn’t have any but the very best—plague on him!”</p> - -<p>“Sit down, sit down and smoke,” they all besought him.</p> - -<p>Seated at last, with the cigar between his lips, he proceeded to answer -the questions of each and every individual. They wanted to know when he -had left Compostela, and how were the other friars, and what was going -on there.</p> - -<p>I sat a little apart from the rest, overcome by a singular feeling of -abstraction, a sort of mental intoxication. Reclining on a bench, I -perceived that at my back the branches of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span> magnificent creeper were -spread like green silk tapestry. It was the Datura, or “Trumpet of the -Day of Judgment”; and it did not require a very vivid imagination to -compare its gigantic white blossoms to cups full of exquisite perfume. A -double jasmine, entwined with the Datura, stretched itself along the -wall. Those pleasant odors, set astir by the light breeze, mounted to my -brain and quickened my young blood, inspiring me with an eager longing -for love,—an ethereal, pure, and deep love—an absorbing passion, ready -to defy all laws, both human and divine. When we make a change of -abode,—even though our fortune may not be altered,—when we enter a -circle of unknown people, our imagination and self-love become excited, -and those to whom we were totally indifferent yesterday, suddenly become -of interest to us, and we feel anxious in regard to the opinion they may -form of us, and to the feelings with which we inspire them.</p> - -<p>The government official, the army officer, who is sent to a distant -post, has a vague idea of the place where he is going to reside. But -scarcely has he set foot in it, when the past is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span> blotted out, and the -present rules over him with the great power of the actual, and the -stimulus of the novel and unknown.</p> - -<p>In that way, excited by my new horizon, though somewhat mortified in the -bottom of my heart because they paid no attention whatever to me, I -imagined that those people, barely seen for the first time, strangers to -me a few moments before, would yet have some decisive influence on my -heart or fortune. I began by imagining that in the bosom of that family, -so peacefully gathered together enjoying the moonlight, a very strange -moral drama was being unfolded, of which the friar undoubtedly knew the -mystery.</p> - -<p>There are everywhere dramas behind the scenes, and secret histories, I -reflected, with my brain intoxicated by the delightful fragrance of the -jasmine. At Josefa Urrutia’s house there in Madrid the drama has a -grotesque form, but is none the less real. A famous farce might be made -of Botello’s life and fortunes. If there is anything going on here, -Father Moreno must know all about it. Why does this young lady, -remarkable as she seems,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span> marry my disagreeable uncle? Is it true that -they treat her badly? No, for my mother herself, when I pressed her, -confessed that that was a rumor without the slightest foundation. And -these little girls I see here, what rôles do they take? And Señor -Aldao’s mistress, where is she? And that engaged couple, sitting in a -spot so fitted to stir the senses and the imagination, are they in love -with each other? And if they are not, why do they get married?</p> - -<p>I was suddenly aroused from these reveries by the young priest, who -approaching me said in a boyish voice and an unpleasant Galician accent:</p> - -<p>“Pardon my curiosity, but are you Doña Benigna’s son?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am.”</p> - -<p>“The one who is studying to be an electric, magnetic scientist?”</p> - -<p>At first I did not understand his poor attempt at wit, so he added:</p> - -<p>“Who is studying to be an ingenious,—I mean, an engineer.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I am glad to meet you. Do you want anything? Do you feel tired? -Do you smoke?”</p> - -<p>“And are you the parish priest at San Andrés de Louza?” I inquired, just -to say something.</p> - -<p>With the most unwarrantable familiarity the little priest put his hand -on my head, and, forcing me to bow it till it touched my knees, he -shrilled:</p> - -<p>“Come down, come down, your Excellency, for I am not up so high as that. -Parish priest! Oh, if you had called me one of the clergy, -<i>contentaverit mihi</i>. I am still an apprentice, or, in other words, a -raw recruit in the sacred militia.”</p> - -<p>He sat down by me, and began to talk to me in the most nonsensical -fashion, though I scarcely paid him any attention, because, in truth, my -thoughts were quite otherwise engaged. Meanwhile the hour was -approaching when the heavy dew, and the dampness which impregnates the -air, makes it unpleasant in Galicia to remain out of doors. Our host -arose and had us enter and go up to a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span> parlor, adorned with -cretonne hangings; thence we passed into the spacious dining-room, where -the supper was served by two attendants; one with the appearance of a -rough country lout, the other somewhat more polished, both being under -the direction of a fat old woman, who shuffled her feet as she walked, -and who, in spite of the decay into which her attractions had fallen, I -fancied must be Señor Aldao’s ex-mistress. The two girls that I had met -in the court had vanished, and did not make their appearance either at -the table or in the parlor.</p> - -<p>I was seated opposite my uncle’s betrothed, and the lamp shone full on -her face, so that I could satisfy my curiosity by gazing at her—fairly -devouring her face, in fact. I at once acknowledged to myself that -Father Moreno was right; she was neither beautiful nor plain. Her lithe, -graceful figure was finer than her face; the latter having a somewhat -sharp profile, and lacking the clear complexion and regular features -which are the primary elements of beauty. But after a brief study, I -came to the conclusion that if she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span> not handsome, she was at least -very fascinating.</p> - -<p>When she opened her black eyes, with their animated expression; when she -smiled; when she turned in answer to some question, her mobile face -became expressive, life flashed through all those features which I had -imagined to be always cold and in repose, in spite of my having already -seen in her photograph, by the light of the street lamp in Madrid, some -indefinable revelation of spirit.</p> - -<p>Carmiña Aldao laughed but seldom, and yet she did not appear to be -melancholy. Her animation was that of the will. She even seemed -demonstrative in the extreme when I gave her my little offering after -supper, and praised the poor trinket in the most enthusiastic manner.</p> - -<p>“What good taste! Look here, papa, Felipe! How cunning it is! And did -you choose it yourself? Just think of it, a student! Ah, it is clear -that you can be intrusted with commissions. Why, it is beautiful!”</p> - -<p>Father Moreno also put in his oar, saying:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span> “I declare it is beautiful, -indeed. That’s what rich people can do, but we poor friars do not dare -to be so extravagant. Our gifts are more simple—”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he went off in search of his traveling bag, his only -luggage, which a boy had brought from San Andrés de Louza; and produced -from its depths a pearl crucifix of the kind they bring from Jerusalem, -which, though of modern make, shows the body of the Lord carved with a -certain Byzantine stiffness. It was half a yard long.</p> - -<p>“It is all that I can give you, my daughter,” he said. “This crucifix -has touched the Stone of Golgotha, where our Lord’s cross was erected.”</p> - -<p>The young girl did not reply, but with a rapid movement she bent over -and kissed either the crucifix or the hand which offered it to her, I do -not know which.</p> - -<p>The friar went on bringing out from his bag a variety of rosaries, some -of pearl, others of black olive-pits strung on a cord and not yet -clasped into a circle. “These come from the olive-trees on the Mount of -Olives,” he explained,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span> while he separated and distributed them among -those who were present. When it came to my turn, I must have made a -movement of surprise, for the friar said, with stately courtesy:</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want it? You must take things, remembering from whom they -come; we are poor by vocation, so we cannot offer gifts of more material -value, Sir Salustio.”</p> - -<p>I took the rosary, somewhat embarrassed by the lesson he gave me. -Meanwhile some people had arrived from San Andrés to help pass the -evening pleasantly, and make up a game at cards: the parish priest, the -druggist, and an adjutant of the Marines. They offered me the fourth -seat at the table, but I refused, as I feared I might lose, and find -myself without money in a stranger’s house. My uncle sat down by his -sweetheart and began to talk to her. Father Moreno went off to read his -breviary, and I was again left to the tender mercies of the clerical -apprentice.</p> - -<p>“Where is my room?” I inquired. “Do you know? I should like to go to -bed.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said; “but he who has<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span> a tongue—goes to Rome. Come -on, take hold of my little finger.”</p> - -<p>We went through the dining-room. The lamp was still lit, and the old -woman was overlooking the operation of taking off the table-cloth, -gathering up the glasses and plates, and putting away the dessert. I -again fixed my attention on the retired sultana. She certainly must have -been good-looking in former times, but now her scanty gray locks, her -skin blotched with erysipelas, together with her great obesity, rendered -her abominable. She appeared to be industrious, fond of scolding, but at -the same time quite humble, and resigned to her life below stairs.</p> - -<p>The little priest, preparatory to asking her a question, squeezed her -right arm.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Serafín, be quiet. What impudent tricks you do play! My, what a -fellow!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Mulier</i>, one can pinch you without danger; for you are at least proof -against all temptation. Where is the <i>cubiculo</i>, or, in other words, -bed-room of this young gentleman?”</p> - -<p>“Right next to yours. May the Lord give the unlucky man patience to -stand you so<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span> near! Candidiña, Candidiña, bring a light, and show these -gentlemen their way.”</p> - -<p>The tall maid before-mentioned appeared, candle in hand. She had a fair -light complexion, innocent, and even slightly stupid features,—which -somewhat resembled a wooden cherub’s; but her little eyes were speaking -and mischievous, and she lowered them so that they should not betray -her. She went on ahead, and we followed her up a steep staircase. She -led us to our rooms up in the tower, which were separated from each -other by a narrow hall. These rooms had not been made over, when Señor -Aldao had the tower reconstructed, and were very old. Probably they were -ordinarily used for storing chestnuts or squashes. The furniture -consisted only of a bed, two chairs, a small table, and a wash-stand.</p> - -<p>The girl left the candle on the table and said:</p> - -<p>“That’s Serafín’s room, and this is yours. They are plenty large -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Even enough for you, too,” said the clerical apprentice, in a most -impudent manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<p>The girl winked and laughed aloud, while she waved her hand -threateningly at Serafín; but immediately afterward she turned toward me -and, assuming a most modest demeanor, asked, in a humble tone, whether I -had any orders to give her. I said I should like to have some writing -materials, and she replied that she would run and get them at once. As -she carried off the candle, I was left almost in the dark, and could -only see by the reflection of the moon. I went up to the window, and -beheld, close by, a vast, dark mass stretching itself out; a sort of -vegetable lake, which resembled a single tree—although I doubted it -could be, on account of its size. Afar off, the river gleamed like a -gray satin robe, dotted with silver spangles; the crescent moon was -multiplied in its bosom, and the imperceptible sound of the lapping of -the waves against the beach mingled with the soft night breeze, which -shook the branches near by.</p> - -<p>A cool, moist breeze caressed my cheeks. Candidiña interrupted my -meditation, stealing in without knocking at the door. She brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span> in -one hand an inkstand, almost running over; and in the other, besides the -candle, paper, envelopes, a stub of a pen, and a cornucopia filled with -sand.</p> - -<p>“Aunt Andrea says that you must excuse us for having everything so -topsy-turvy. She says that to-morrow, without fail, she will give you -the sand-box. She says that in the country one must overlook a great -deal.”</p> - -<p>I began to gather things together preparatory to writing to Luis Portal, -but the girl, instead of going off, remained standing there, gazing at -me as if my person and my actions were matters of great curiosity. When -she peeped over my shoulders to see how I arranged my paper, she said, -with almost childish surprise, and with the sweet accent peculiar to the -people who live on the seashore of Galicia:</p> - -<p>“Oh, are you going to write to-night, when it is so late?”</p> - -<p>A capricious fancy flashed through my imagination, a thrill ran along my -veins, which I repressed with the comparative effort needed to subject -purely physical impulses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<p>“Be a little careful, Salustio. You are excited to-day. Go very slowly.”</p> - -<p>Then, in order to say something to the girl, I asked:</p> - -<p>“Is that a single tree I see from the window?”</p> - -<p>“Why, don’t you know it is the Tejo (the yew-tree)?”</p> - -<p>“A single yew cover that immense space! Santa Bárbara! It must be at -least half a league in circumference.”</p> - -<p>“Half a league! How absurd! Don’t exaggerate so. It is not half a league -from this place to San Andrés. But I tell you it is three stories high.”</p> - -<p>“Three stories in a tree!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s so, you’ll see! One is the ball-room, the other is where they -take coffee, and from the third you can see a great deal of land—and -the river, and everything.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Fac-simile</span> of my letter to Luis Portal:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="nind"> -<span class="smcap">My dear Boy</span>:<br /> -</p> - -<p>Here I am at your orders at Tejo, the country-seat of the father of -my uncle’s lady-love—confound him! called so, not my uncle, but -the country-seat, on account of a colossal yew-tree, which, -according to what they say, is three stories high, as high as the -finest house in Orense.</p> - -<p>I have just arrived here, so I can’t tell you yet what I think -about the bride and the people here, to wit: her father, an old -woman who had some connection with the father in former times, and -two daughters or nieces of the old woman; one well grown, and -although she is called Cándida—well, the least said about that the -better. My future auntie is a young lady of graceful bearing, with -a pleasant face, if you examine it attentively. She has pretty -eyes, very pretty, indeed. I know not whether she is in love, but -she displays considerable affection for my uncle,—well, old chap, -I come back to my old subject. Can you believe that a decent and -high-minded woman—and they say that my auntie is such—can marry -such a man just for the sake of marrying? Does not her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span> little -heart conceal some secret experience? Or can it be that, by reason -of her own innocence, she imagines that to marry a man is only like -taking his arm for a promenade?</p> - -<p>The thing fills my mind, because in a very short time I have formed -a private opinion in regard to Carmiñia Aldao, due to the -information I have received from a friar. Don’t you know, my boy? I -have journeyed with a veritable friar, a Franciscan, barefooted and -all that. And he praised my auntie up to the sky, saying that she -is a model of a Christian woman. This is singular, indeed, coming -from a friar. If you could see what a curious type this Father -Moreno is! He is one of the most unaffected, simple, frank, and -fascinating beings the Lord ever created! He amazes me. Nothing -startles him nor is he bigoted; he does not avoid talking upon any -subject which may be alluded to in good society, nor does he treat -one disdainfully, or fall into any pious foolishness; nor does he -do anything that does not seem cordial, discreet, and fitting. You -must not think, by what I am saying, that the friar is taking me -in; that’s not so easily done. On the contrary, I am dreadfully -stirred up by his gift of fascinating everybody around him, -including myself. I will watch him; and I am of little use, if I -don’t unmask him yet. What does the rogue mean? To make himself -able to win more proselytes? There’s no doubt about it, with his -charming disposition and manners he secures and exerts great -influence. Is it possible that he is concealing other schemes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span> not -in accordance with his garb? For he is either a saint or a -hypocrite, although quite different from any ordinary hypocrite. Do -you believe, my boy, that a man can live that way, surrounded by -breakers and quicksands, without running upon them? One must admit -that his vow of perpetual poverty is no pretense, for I have found -out that he does not even carry enough money to buy a pipe; -likewise his vow of obedience, though soldiers also obey their -superior officers; but as for his vow of chastity—well, if he -keeps that—don’t you think that’s rather fishy, my boy?</p> - -<p>As you can fancy, my uncle is as deeply in love as is possible for -him. To tell the truth, his sweetheart seems to be a great catch -for him. Perhaps Señor Aldao has not much money, because they say -he likes display and that his country-seat eats up his cash; also, -that his married son bleeds him freely. But with all that, I think -that my uncle has more than he could have hoped for.</p> - -<p>The wedding will take place soon, on the day of Our Lady of Carmen. -My uncle sleeps at the druggist’s in San Andrés; but I, not being -the lover, am entertained at Tejo, I will tell you what goes on -here.</p> - -<p>Write to me, old chap, you lazy fellow. I presume you go on chewing -your old cud of opportunism and compromise with everybody, even the -devil himself.</p> - -<p>You are a great rogue!—I forgot, tear this up at once,—but you -are so prudent you were sure to have done so without my asking it.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span></p> - -<p>I had finished, and, luckily, had just sealed up my letter, when the -little clerical apprentice entered my room unceremoniously. If it were -not for circumstances which will appear in due time, I would not -describe so minutely the appearance of that priest in embryo; but it -will be a help to say that he had a sort of rat’s snout, a small mouth -without lips, which displayed his decayed and irregular teeth when he -smiled; that he had a small hooked nose, eyes drawn up toward his brain, -which could hardly have been larger than a sparrow’s; a white face -spotted with large freckles; and that he was beardless, while his hair, -eyelashes, and eyebrows were red. I was in doubt whether he was a -simpleton or a puppy. At the same time he was something like a forward -child, which prevented any one from taking his words or actions -seriously.</p> - -<p>“Bathe?” he asked, addressing me impersonally as he was wont to do.</p> - -<p>“Do I bathe?”</p> - -<p>“Do you bathe in the ocean, sir,—in San Andrés? I ask because I go down -to the beach every day, and might accompany you.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span></p> - -<p>“Very well; we’ll take a dip.”</p> - -<p>“I thought it would please you, that about the sea-baths. Your uncle -also takes a dip every morning. He does it like a cod-fish: but he does -not seem to get any cleaner for all that. He, he!”</p> - -<p>“The worst of it is, I have no bathing-suit.”</p> - -<p>“Nor I, neither. But if you are so squeamish—all you have to do is to -go to some corner behind a rock.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Or put on an extra pair of drawers.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that might do.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the little priest, or acolyte as he might better be called, -leaned back in his chair as though he were going to stay all night. I -saw that it was necessary to use no ceremony with him, so I undressed -rapidly and got into bed.</p> - -<p>“Are you sleepy?” asked Serafín, approaching the bed, and with the -greatest familiarity pinching my shoulder and patting my cheeks. I -screamed, and instinctively struck him a hard blow, which made him burst -out laughing convulsively. Then he tried to find out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span> by experiment, -whether I was ticklish; or if I was in love—for that purpose cruelly -squeezing my little finger.</p> - -<p>That strange familiarity, more suitable to a child of six years than to -a man, and especially a man who aspired to the priesthood, inspired me -with a ludicrous contempt for him; though, at the same time, with a -certain tolerance for his faults; and I threatened to throw my boot at -him, if he did not keep quiet. That threat took effect; Serafín sobered -down, and, throwing himself like a lap-dog across the foot of my bed, he -said that he was not sleepy and that he wanted to talk to me.</p> - -<p>I told him that he might go on, and never was a programme more -faithfully carried out to the very letter. A flood of ridiculous -nonsense rushed from that mouth; laughable simplicities mixed with bits -of theological learning, and fragments of coarse wit, so pointed at -times, that I was amazed, and quite unable to solve the problem whether -that individual were a born idiot or a tremendous rogue.</p> - -<p>“So you come from Madrid. Ah, how delightful<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span> Madrid must be! I have -never been there. Have no cash for the railroad. Cash! I wish I might -see some! Well, Serafín, my boy, when it rains dollars you’ll get some. -And are the streets in Madrid like—those—of Pontevedra? I suppose the -pavements are of marble. Well, the people there go off to the other -world, either raging or singing, don’t they? Well, then I do not envy -the people in Madrid a bit. All are equal in the presence of death, sir. -And you, what are you studying for? To be one of those who make -viaducts, railroads, and tunnels? Ah, then we’ll have to call you Your -Excellency! You’ll be a Minister, and you’ll make me an electoral -canon,—I mean lectoral. Still, I would make a better penitentiary -canon, because I am awfully penitent. And you, even if you come to be -more of an engineer than the very one who invented engineering, you’ll -not get ahead like your uncle. Get on! Ah, your uncle knows how; he is a -crafty one. Nobody can get the cream out of Don Vicente Sotopeña as he -does. That business of the lots was a good slice, and now they are going -to hire his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span> house for the post-office, and pay him a million dollars -rent. Afterward, when they have elections, they’ll come to soft-soap us -priests. But as a friend of mine, a priest, said to me: Gee-up, there, -<i>vade retro, exorciso te</i>, for liberalism is sin, and if anybody doubts -it I will thrust under his nose the fundamental doctrine of <i>de fide</i>, -expounded by the Holy Vatican Council. Our palates here are not spoiled -by mongrel sauces. Ha, ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>“And what do you think about politics?” I inquired.</p> - -<p>“About politics? Noble breasts can hold but one opinion.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s hear what opinions noble breasts hold.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I will tell you through the lips of one who knew what he was -talking about: <i>Nequit idem simul esse et non esse</i>. Do you want it any -clearer? I am not an advocate of <i>Iglesia liebre en el Estado galgo</i> (a -church like a hare in a state like a grey-hound). <i>Quod semper, quod -ubique, quod ab omnibus.</i>”</p> - -<p>“Do speak Christian; or, at least, Galician. Are you a good-for-nothing -Carlist?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span></p> - -<p>“<i>Ego sum qui sum</i>; that is to say: Look out for mixtures, -discriminations, and jobs. I told your Uncle Felipe so very plainly, and -Don Román Aldao, also, who is a great braggart, and who is sighing for -the title of Marquis of Tejo, or at least for the grand cross. They say -that his son-in-law will bring it to him as a wedding present. <i>Vanitas -vanitatis!</i> Ha! ha! Carmen’s brother also wants some pap; he wants a fat -post in the administration of the hospital—I believe that poultices -fatten one like everything.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, you turn my stomach!”</p> - -<p>“He’ll not get it, for his brother-in-law dislikes him. He’ll not be -able to make porridge with linseed flour, nor to put wooden chickens, -just for show, in the stews made for the poor sick people. Uncle Felipe -is a good one! He’ll do. He has no delicacy, not a bit! Although he is -going to get married, he still runs after Candidiña out in the garden. -Don’t you believe it? She is no fool, either! She already knows more -than many old women. <i>Ne attendas fallaciæ mulieris.</i>”</p> - -<p>“Don’t slander my uncle, you prurient little<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span> creature,” I exclaimed, -with my curiosity excited, because I fancied that the simpleton -sometimes hit the nail on the head. “Do you think he would run after -girls in the very sight of his lady-love?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, you may be sure of it. If you could see some other old men, -who can hardly get around any longer, run after the little monkey! -<i>Vinum et mulieris apostatare faciunt sapientes</i>, as has been said. -Cándida leads them on; and don’t imagine she does it just to pass the -time. She knows when to throw the hook. Carmiña will find a stepmother -starting out from behind a cabbage.”</p> - -<p>I started up in surprise.</p> - -<p>“But, that Candidiña, is she not,—is she not a daughter of—”</p> - -<p>The little acolyte gave a shriek.</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, ha! he thought that—” (he made the gesture of joining the tips -of his forefingers). “No, man, no! Neither Cándida nor the other girl -are figs from Doña Andrea’s fig-tree. They are her nieces—I knew their -father, who was a general, I mean a corporal of the coast guard. The old -woman took<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span> charge of them because their parents died. And, by my faith, -remember that Serafín Espiña assures you of it, the witch does not run -after love affairs out of <i>concupiscentia carnis</i>. She wants to drag a -silk train after her. If we live, we are bound to see miracles.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> took a sea-bath the following morning; we walked about in San Andrés, -feeling our importance, for our presence was an event in the little -village; we visited the parochial church; we gathered shells on the -beach; and yet were back at Tejo at nine o’clock, ready for our -chocolate. Father Moreno did not accompany us; he preferred to take his -bath in the afternoon, because he did not like to omit his mass. My -uncle had not yet made his appearance, nor would he come until one -o’clock in the afternoon, our dinner hour; so Carmen was free from the -duty of entertaining her lover, and had time to devote to me, even -showing herself affectionate and unreserved.</p> - -<p>“You retired early last night because you felt bored. Really we do not -know how to entertain you, and it will be hard for you if you do not try -to find some amusement for yourself in the country.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t worry yourself on that account. I like the country very much, and -I never feel bored there. This place is beautiful; this morning I had a -splendid bath.”</p> - -<p>“And how is my ungrateful friend Benigna? How sorry I am that she will -not come! Your mother is very agreeable, and I always liked her—now -with all the more reason.”</p> - -<p>“You see it is not easy to make my mother stir. She always has so much -to do.”</p> - -<p>After these commonplace remarks my prospective aunt and I sat like -ninnies, without knowing what to say. At last she said courteously and -very amiably:</p> - -<p>“As you brought me such a beautiful present, would you not like to see -some of the others I have received? I keep them in a room by themselves, -because the girls are so curious and so fond of meddling. Come this -way.”</p> - -<p>I followed after her. She carried several keys in her pocket, which -rattled prettily, with a familiar sound, as she walked along. She took -out the bunch of keys, opened the mysterious door, and pulled back the -curtains, displaying<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span> the splendors of the wedding gifts. When I say -splendors, it should not be taken too literally, because there were -plenty of articles of provincial make; and others, though they came from -Madrid, were not of the finest taste—at least so far as I am able to -judge of those things. The bride-elect went on telling me about them -all. That black satin dress, trimmed with jet, was a present from the -bridegroom, as were also the pearl ear-rings set with diamonds. Papa had -squandered his money on a rich blue silk brocade; and there, too, were -the little hats to correspond. Another dress seemed very beautiful to my -uninitiated eyes: it was a dull white silk, with a delicate net-work of -imitation pearls in front, a beautiful train, and two clusters of leaves -and flowers, placed with exquisite taste.</p> - -<p>This, Carmen said, was a thing without utility, a caprice of Señora -Sotopeña’s, who had been commissioned with the selection of finery in -Madrid, and who had insisted that the bride must have an evening dress. -The jewels given by the father were some old family jewels reset; there -was a splendid brooch, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span> several other things. The Sotopeña family -had sent her an elegant fan, representing Fortuny’s “Vicarage,” and with -shell sticks. Her brother had given her an ordinary-looking bracelet. -Then followed a collection of jewel-cases, albums, useless -articles,—the thousand and one trifles, as ordinary as they are -worthless, which are only bought and sold on the pretext of giving a -present on the occasion of a wedding or birthday. Behind them all, in -one corner, as though ashamed of itself, was a most singular object—an -enormous rat-trap.</p> - -<p>“Why, who gave you that?” I asked, without being able to restrain my -laughter.</p> - -<p>“Who else could it be but Serafín,” she replied, joining in my mirth.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible!”</p> - -<p>“Yes; and he felt so proud of it. I wish you could have seen him holding -his rat-trap on high, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>This, at least, will be useful!’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“But about that Serafín,—is he crazy, foolish, or what is he?”</p> - -<p>“In my opinion, he has not got over being a child. He has not a bad -heart, and sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span> makes bright remarks. But a moment afterward he’ll -fly off on a tangent, and say all sorts of silly things. Sometimes, for -example, he will make a sound observation regarding some point of -theology or morality,—I know it is so because Father Moreno says -so,—and again he is exceedingly stupid about the simplest facts. Once -we gave him some candle snuffers, telling him to snuff a candle, and he -took them, looked at them attentively, wet his fingers in his mouth, -snuffed the candle with his fingers, and then, opening the snuffers, put -the bit of wick inside, saying proudly: ‘I can see very well how you -work, little box!’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>We were still laughing at this anecdote when we went out into the -garden. My prospective aunt showed me the outbuildings, the hen house, -the stables, and the orchard, inviting me to taste the fruit of the -sweet cherry, to pick some flowers, and to try the swing and the -trapeze.</p> - -<p>Father Moreno made his appearance in the garden, calm, communicative, -and even jocose. He questioned me about certain people who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span> preferred to -take a dip rather than attend mass celebrated by a friar; about Serafín, -who could not be found to do service as acolyte; about our triumphal -excursion through San Andrés. Señor Aldao also was not long in -presenting himself. He was brushed and waxed, his mustaches dyed, and -his cranium glistening like a billiard-ball; but he looked to me like a -wreck, under the green shade of his opened umbrella. He asked me if I -“had seen it all,” with the air of a Medici inquiring whether a -foreigner has visited his palaces and galleries. Then he added:</p> - -<p>“What do you think of the yew—the famous yew-tree?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, it is magnificent, wonderful!”</p> - -<p>“An English naval officer was here last year who admired it -enthusiastically and wanted to photograph it. He carried away more than -ten different views. Don Vicente Sotopeña assures me that Castelar, in -his speech at the Literary Contest, praised the yew very highly when -speaking of the marvelous beauties of Galicia. Castelar is a great -orator, hey? Flowery,—above all things flowery.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span></p> - -<p>Señor Aldao appeared to me like one of those men who carry their vanity -(somewhat concealed in other men) outside and entirely visible to -everybody. I afterward found out that he had always been vain, and -founded his vanity on the most hollow and superficial things. When a -young man he prided himself on his dandyfied appearance, his waxed -mustaches, and eyebrows drawn out straight. Afterward he was seized with -the nobility fever, and on all occasions wore his uniform as an officer -in the militia, dreaming about the marquisate of Tejo. He made a sort of -platonic love to the said marquisate, attaching himself closely to the -civil governors when he desired a title from Castile, and to the bishops -when he wanted it to be palatine. However, his desire for vulgar display -was never gratified. An old man now, the extraordinary power Don Vicente -wielded, and his absolute control over the province and a great part of -Galicia, had made Señor Aldao comprehend that social rank, in our times, -is not founded on parchments, more or less musty. “Nowadays politics -absorb everything,” he used to say. “The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span> man who can give away -sugar-plums with one hand, while he wields the lash with the other, is -the real celebrity.” That was one reason why he had received my uncle’s -matrimonial proposals with so much favor. He saw in them the handle -whereby he might fasten on to the great Galician boss’s coat-tails, and -thus gratify a multitude of miserable ambitions he had preserved for -years, and which were getting sour, viz., that about the cross; the -rousing up of a bill for a carriage-road, which was sleeping the sleep -of the just; and I don’t know what other trifles in connection with the -Provincial Legislature and contracts.</p> - -<p>No matter how much we may search the depths of the human heart, we never -succeed in disentangling the cause of certain hidden feelings. Envy, -competition, and emulation demand, it would seem, something like -equality, and one cannot understand how those bad passions are developed -when not the slightest equality exists between the envious one and the -man he envies. Can a soprano who sings in comic opera envy Patti, or a -simple lady of the middle class, the queen? Well, they do,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span> without any -doubt, and from the obscurity wherein they dwell they try to cast a -feeble ray of light which will compete with that of the star.</p> - -<p>In the same way, Don Román Aldao, a small, provincial gentleman, who -enjoyed only a moderate income, indulged himself at times in impulses to -compete with Don Vicente Sotopeña, the renowned politician, the shining -light of the law, the famous chief, the great boss of Galicia, the -lawyer overrun with succulent cases, the millionaire, the man of great -and universal influence.</p> - -<p>And in what particular did he want to eclipse Sotopeña? Why, in the -matter of their respective country seats. Don Vicente owned a sort of -royal estate near Pontevedra, where he could rest from his labors and -enjoy his leisure hours; and whenever Señor Aldao heard any one speak of -his magnificent villa, of his orange orchard, of his grove of eucalyptus -trees, of his marble statues, and of the other beauties which were -displayed at <i>Naranjal</i>, his face would wear a scowl, his lips would be -compressed in mortified pride, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span> he would ask the people with whom he -was speaking:</p> - -<p>“What do you think of the tree, my yew? An English naval officer praised -it most enthusiastically and wanted to take views of it,” etc.</p> - -<p>It was a fancy of Don Román’s, never to be realized, that he could -beautify his estate in imitation of <i>Naranjal</i>. Nature was an accomplice -in his dream, however, for, besides the gigantic yew-tree which she had -created, she spread around it all the charms which she is accustomed to -display in that corner of paradise which is called <i>Rías</i> <i>Bajas</i>. The -sun, the ocean, the sky, the climate, the beach, the vegetation of a -district so luxuriant, formed an oasis of Tejo, though it could not -compete with <i>Naranjal</i> in what depended on the work of man. Art may -make a great show in the country, but the highest charm of a country -seat depends on Nature. But our Don Román did not understand this. He -did not appreciate the ineffable sweetness and repose of the country, -which causes a man to forget the pleasures of social life. On the -contrary, he longed for the bustle, the style, the glories<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span> and pomps of -a proprietor and local magnate, and felt, above all, the urgings of his -vanity, which was so absurd, because so impotent. Of course, Aldao did -not attempt to copy splendors like those of the famous chapel of -stalactites, so highly praised by newspaper writers and tourists. But -if, for example, they set up at <i>Naranjal</i> a spacious breakfast room, in -an arbor covered with jasmine-vines, immediately Don Román would fall to -planning a rickety place, covered with honeysuckle, wherein they might -take their chocolate. Was there fine statuary at <i>Naranjal</i>? Out Don -Román Aldao would come with his plaster busts, his “Four Seasons,” or -his group of “Cupids,” and would place them in the middle of a meadow or -an espalier. If they introduced a conservatory at <i>Naranjal</i>, with a -fine collection of ferns and orchids, immediately after Don Román would -repair to Pontevedra, and purchase all the worn-out window-frames he -could find, in order to fit up a cheap hot-house, filled with stiff and -insufferable begonias. Did they have rustic tables and seats brought -from Switzerland at <i>Naranjal</i>?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span> Señor Aldao would show the village -carpenter how to saw pine cones in two, and with the trunks of the pine -trees would make rustic seats and all kinds of furniture. And, to crown -all, there was the yew-tree!</p> - -<p>On the first day of my stay at Tejo some people came from Pontevedra to -dine: Señor Aldao’s oldest son, Luciano, with his child, a boy about -four years old, and a provincial deputy named Castro Mera, who was my -uncle’s greatest friend at that time, and head of the clique which -represented his political views in the bosom of the Pontevedra Assembly. -Everything is relative, and in Pontevedra there were not only my uncle’s -henchmen but his own public policy, directed by the strict principles -which the reader will imagine.</p> - -<p>The editor of <i>El Teucrense</i> was also there. That petty sheet was a -devoted supporter of my uncle at that time, although it used to abuse -him soundly six months before; but there are magical sops to throw to -such Cerberuses. They talked a great deal about local politics, which -were so small that they were fairly microscopic.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a>{170}</span></p> - -<p>We took our coffee in the Tejo and I gazed attentively at that -respectable patriarch of the vegetable world which was destined to play -a certain part in my life. The enormous, rugged trunk fantastically -covered with moss, with its bark alive and sound in spite of age, easily -supported the majestic branches of the giant of the <i>Ria</i>, as it was -styled in poetic parlance by the writers and correspondents of the -Madrid journals when they came to pass the summer there. The manner in -which it grew and spread its foliage of an intensely dark green had -something of biblical impressiveness. It was impossible to look at the -yew tree without profound veneration, as a symbol of exuberant and -maternal nature which had brought forth such a sovereign organism.</p> - -<p>The ocean, enamored of the beauty of Galicia, embraces her lovingly with -its waves, kisses and fondles her with its spray, surrounds her, -caresses her, and extends toward her a blue hand eager to press the soft -roundness of the coast. The spreading fingers of this hand are the -<i>Rías</i>. There the air is purer, softer, and more fragrant, while the -vegetation is more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a>{171}</span> southern and luxuriant. That Tejo, king of all other -trees, only on the border of a <i>Ria</i>, and on land enriched by its -waters, could spread itself with such lordly pride. It was the real -monument of that region. It gave a name to the country seat; it served -as a landmark to the boatmen and fishermen when in doubt how to find -their way back to San Andrés. From its lofty summit one could overlook -the surrounding country, and see not only the hamlets on the seashore, -but also the group of islands, the famous <i>Casitérides</i> of the ancient -geographers, and the boundless extent of a sea almost Grecian in its -quiet beauty.</p> - -<p>In order to build the three balconies, one above another, which adorned -it, neither great architectural science nor unusual skill were needed. -All they had to do was to take advantage of the splendid horizontal -position of its branches, and build on that strong foundation some -circular platforms, guarded by a light balustrade, running around them.</p> - -<p>The winding staircase found a natural support in the very trunk of the -giant. Its foliage was so dense that no one, from the ground,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a>{172}</span> could see -those who were taking coffee or refreshments in the second story, nor -those who were dancing in the first, while the person who climbed to the -third had to come to the front of the balcony in order to be seen.</p> - -<p>Each story had its name. The first was the ball-room, the second the -supper-room, and the third, “Bellavista.”</p> - -<p>At Aldao’s you would often hear some one say: “Did you go up to -Bellavista this morning?” “No, I went no further than the ball-room.”</p> - -<p>To tell the truth, even if Señor Aldao should be displeased by it, the -ball-room was not very spacious. However, it was large enough to enable -them to dance a contra-dance there very comfortably, to the sound of the -piano, which was brought out into the garden on such festive occasions. -And it was quite charming to dance under its green awning, between its -green walls, which hardly allowed the sunlight to flicker through. The -platform used to shake a great deal, and so the exercise was dancing and -swinging at the same time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a>{173}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">That</span> day, when we climbed up in the supper-room to take our coffee, -where they had already placed a number of chairs, benches, and rustic -tables, the yew was more attractive than ever. A fresh breeze coming up -from the estuary made the branches gently sway; the sun, striking full -on the tree’s top, gilded it, and drew out that penetrating, somewhat -resinous odor, which increases in our hearts the rapture of life. The -height at which we found ourselves suspended might indeed make us fancy -that we were birds; to me, it seemed that the birds would have a -pleasant abode in the bosom of that colossus; and suddenly, as if nature -took pleasure in inspiring me with one of those desires, impossible to -gratify, with which she makes sport of mortals, I felt a desire, or, -rather, an eager longing to fly, to lose myself in those blue spaces, -pure and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a>{174}</span> unfathomable, which we could see through the openings in the -branches. When I perceived that I was envying the sea-gulls, which, far -off, were swooping down upon the cliffs of San Andrés, I took myself to -task for my folly, and, making an effort, I gave my attention to the -conversation.</p> - -<p>As usual, Father Moreno had the lead, and was once more assuring his -hearers that he always felt better in Morocco than in Spain, better -among the Moors than among the Christians, “of the kind they had there.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t think,” he hastened to add, “that we friars have an easy time in -Africa. If I did feel more contented there, it was because those poor -people do their best to serve one, and treat him with great -consideration. I learned the Arabic, if not as well as my brother, -Father Lerchundi, at least enough to make myself understood. If you only -knew how useful it was to me! Our garb recommends us to those poor -creatures. They call us in their language saints and wise men—precisely -as is done here!”</p> - -<p>“You could not say more clearly that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a>{175}</span> would like to become a Moor,” -observed Don Román.</p> - -<p>“I was a Moor,” said the friar, vivaciously. “That is,” he added, -modifying his assertion, “as you will understand, I did not become a -Mohammedan; and I didn’t say Mohammedan or a follower of Mohammed, but -Moor, which means a son of Africa, an inhabitant of Morocco.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, we know that you did not renounce your faith,” exclaimed my -prospective aunt, in the tone of gentle and affectionate jesting which -she always adopted in addressing the father.</p> - -<p>“No, my child, I did not renounce my religion; thanks to divine -compassion, I did not go so far.”</p> - -<p>“But tell us in what way you were a Moor.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, goodness! Why, it scarcely needs to be told,—and it’s a very long -story. It went the rounds of the papers; the <i>Revista Popular</i> of -Barcelona had an article about it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do tell us!”</p> - -<p>The friar was well pleased to do so, to judge by the complacency with -which he commenced<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a>{176}</span> his tale. He first took out his handkerchief from -his sleeve, and wiped from his lips the liquor he had just been -drinking.</p> - -<p>“Well, you see it was a little while before the Restoration, when -politics were in a bad way here, and Spain was all stirred up by the -Republic. I was then in Tangiers, feeling very happy, because, as I have -told you, I am very fond of Africa. But we have taken a vow of -obedience, and suddenly I received the disagreeable order to leave for -Spain, to go to Madrid itself, and it was not possible for me to wear my -habit; fine times for habits those were! ‘Listen, Moreno,’ said I to -myself, ‘it is time to cast off your friar’s garb and become a fine -little gentleman.’ You know that they allow us to let our beards grow -while we are in Africa, and that is a great aid in disguising a friar, -because one of the things which betrays a priest dressed as a layman is -his smooth face. The tonsure we were not very careful to shave, so all I -had to do was to let my hair grow for a few days before the journey, and -get it even with the rest, and there I was. I ordered my clothes from -the best<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a>{177}</span> tailor there. And the accessories,—because a gentleman’s -attire has a thousand accessories,—of those the ladies of my circle of -acquaintance insisted on taking charge, particularly the ladies in the -English Consul’s family. These ladies liked me very much, and understood -all about the elegancies of the toilette and how a gentleman fixes -himself up. They got me silk embroidered stockings, neckties, ruffled -shirts, and even handkerchiefs marked with my initials. But they -especially wanted to see me with all my finery on. ‘Father Moreno, after -you are dressed you must come and show us.’ ‘Father Moreno, we must give -you the last touch, or you’ll go away looking like a scarecrow.’ ‘Father -Moreno, don’t deprive us of that pleasure.’ But I was obstinate. ‘Am I a -monkey to show off my tricks? No, indeed, nobody shall laugh at me. You -shall not see me dressed up. If you like that, well and good; but if you -don’t, we’ll no longer be friends.’ The day arrived, and I decked myself -out, head to foot; not the slightest detail was lacking—not even -sleeve-buttons, for they had made me a present of some. I dressed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a>{178}</span> -the convent, and went through the most retired streets to take a boat -which was to put me on board. Well, will you believe it? In spite of all -that, those ladies made out to see me! When they heard that the steamer -was going to weigh anchor, they stationed themselves on their balconies, -well provided with spy-glasses, and while I was taking my ease on the -bridge, they all looked at me as much as they chose. They say that I -seemed like another man to them. I should say so! I carried a cloak, had -my traveling-bag, wore my hat on one side, and had two-buttoned gloves -on my hands.”</p> - -<p>There was a burst of laughter among his hearers, as they imagined how -Father Moreno must have looked in such elegant attire.</p> - -<p>“And afterward, what happened then?” asked Carmen, greatly interested.</p> - -<p>“I landed in Gibraltar—what a fury I was in to see the English flag -floating there! From that place I took ship again for Malaga. Nothing of -much account happened except that I met two English Catholic priests, -and conversed with them in Latin—because I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a>{179}</span> knew no English—about the -great strides Catholicism was making in England. From Malaga I went to -Granada. To tell the truth, I was very anxious to see that beautiful -city, so celebrated all over the world, and to visit the Alhambra and -the Generalife. As soon as I went out in the street, what did I do but -meet a friend of mine, a judge whom I had known in the Canary Isles! He -looked at me in amazement, doubting the evidence of his senses. I -addressed him, and he finally recognized me. I explained matters to him, -he invited me to take coffee, and we agreed to meet the following day to -go to see the Alhambra in company with some friends of his at the hotel. -I begged him not to tell them that I was a friar. He promised that he -would not, and was better than his word, as you shall see. In fact, when -we met the next day he brought with him two army officers, two medical -students, and a priest; and as soon as he saw me, he began to shout, -feigning great surprise, ‘Hello, Aben Jusuf, you here! By Jove, who -could think of meeting you at such a place and at such an hour!’ I -replied, comprehending<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a>{180}</span> his object, ‘By Allah, when I left Morocco I did -not expect to enjoy the pleasure of seeing you.’ His companions, already -excited, whispered to my friend: ‘Why, is this gentleman really a Moor?’ -My friend, in order not to tell a barefaced falsehood, replied: ‘You -might know that by his name. I called him Aben Jusuf.’ ‘And is he a -friend of yours?’ ‘Yes, I met him in the Canary Isles, when I went to -take sea-baths.’ ‘I say, just invite him to come with us to visit the -Alhambra, to see what he’ll say.’ ‘Agreed.’ I accepted the invitation, -of course, seeing I had already done so the night before. My friend, -drawing near me, held out his hand, and said: ‘Aben Jusuf, I would ask -you to come with us to visit the Alhambra, but I am afraid of arousing -your unpleasant feelings.’ I replied that it must be, indeed, unpleasant -for a son of the desert to visit the monuments erected by his -forefathers, which they no longer possess, but that, in order not to -incommode him and those gentlemen, I would willingly accompany them.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a>{181}</span></p> - -<p>“Did they keep on thinking that you were a Moor?” inquired Señor Aldao.</p> - -<p>“Of course. And such a Moor; a Moor of the Moors! I played my part with -all seriousness. I overheard one of them say to the others, ‘He looks -like all of his race.’ At every door, every window, and every court, I -would stop as though sad and depressed, uttering broken phrases, like -groans of pain; in short, just as I imagined a Moor might express his -feelings there. Once I stroked my beard——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Father Moreno, how I would have liked to see you with a beard!” -cried Carmen.</p> - -<p>“<i>Naranjas!</i> It is true, you have not seen me!” exclaimed the friar, -breaking off the thread of his discourse. “Wait, my girl, I think I must -have it here.” Reaching up his sleeve, he brought out an old -pocket-book, and took from it a card-photograph, which in a moment went -the rounds of the crowded gathering in the second story of the tree. The -women uttered exclamations of admiration and Candidiña cried -mischievously, “How handsome you were, Father Moreno!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a>{182}</span></p> - -<p>I could not help thinking to myself that he really was handsome. His -long hair and heavy beard brought out more forcibly the friar’s manly -appearance.</p> - -<p>“Well, I stroked that big beard that you see there, and exclaimed -seriously, ‘If Spain goes on in the road she has been traveling for a -few years past, Allah will again lead Arabian horsemen to these plains, -which they still recall in their homes in the desert.’ Then turning to -those present, without looking at my friend, who was desperately -striving not to laugh, I resumed: ‘Pardon, gentlemen, a son of the -desert; these opinions have escaped me without my being able to prevent -it.’ You should have seen these men, charmed with my outburst. ‘No, no, -it is all very well. Hurrah for the agreeable Moors!’ they cried, with -other sayings of the same nature. But my trouble began when they -commenced to question me about what they supposed was my religion, and -the customs of my alleged country. One inquired whether it was true that -the laws of Mohammed authorized having many wives. Then another, a -cavalry officer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a>{183}</span> burst out, ‘By Jove, that is the best thing in the -laws of Mohammed.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>This part of the story caused a great sensation. My uncle frowned. Señor -Aldao compressed his waist; Serafín hiccoughed; Carmen laughed heartily, -and I joined in.</p> - -<p>“How did you get out of the scrape, Father Moreno? Let us hear it, for -that must be entertaining.”</p> - -<p>“Listen,” said the friar, when the merriment had a little subsided. “I -became serious, without any appearance of having taken offense, and said -in a natural tone: ‘Gentlemen, although they call us barbarians and -fanatics, we know how to acknowledge the defects of our legislation. I -have traveled a great deal, and have studied the inner constitution of -many different forms of society, and I assure you that nothing charms me -more than a family consisting of one man and one woman, who have vowed -to love each other and to protect the fruit of their love. Neither the -heart of man, nor the quiet and security of the family, nor the dignity -of woman, can be exalted and strengthened by polygamy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a>{184}</span> Not even sensual -passions are satisfied, for, as you know, sensuality is a sort of moral -dropsy, which finally engenders tedium and disgust.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Bravo, Father Moreno!”</p> - -<p>“Excellent, and what did they reply?”</p> - -<p>“They remained dumbfounded and abashed to hear me express myself in that -way. The officer looked at me, his mouth stretched from ear to ear, and -what do you think he burst forth with, the rogue, as soon as he -recovered his equanimity? He faced me, and said very politely: ‘And you, -Aben Jusuf, how many wives have you?’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>His hearers again gave free rein to their laughter.</p> - -<p>“What a joke!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, he hit the mark.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you reply?”</p> - -<p>“The truth is, I was slightly confused at first, but an idea came to me -like a flash, and you’ll see how I parried his thrust. ‘That gentleman -knows my tastes,’ I said, pointing to my friend; ‘I am a man who does -not care to sacrifice his fondness for travel and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a>{185}</span> independence, to -the duty of sustaining a wife and family. I want to be free as a bird, -and for that reason I long ago resolved never to marry.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Were they satisfied with your reply? Didn’t they ask more questions?”</p> - -<p>“Not on that subject,” said the friar.</p> - -<p>“The conversation no longer turned upon women. They talked about -politics, and there my road was still more unobstructed. The medical -students and the two officers, who were more liberal than Riego himself, -began to praise the beneficial results of the revolution. Then I -answered that perhaps I, being a Moor, had a different conception of -liberty from theirs. ‘Pardon me, for I am a stranger here, and explain -to me how it happens that although you have so much liberty for all the -world, here, you will not allow some men, whom we esteem greatly over -yonder—a kind of Christian saints, who wear gray tunics and have no -shoes on their feet, and are called—are called—’ ‘Friars!’ the officer -shouted. ‘Nice scamps they are! If they are among the Moors, let them -stay there!’<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a>{186}</span> Without paying any attention to him, I went on: ‘They are -greatly respected in Morocco, and they help to inspire us with love for -this land, which we regard as our other country. I am amazed that here -(according to your history, which I have read because I am fond of -reading) they barbarously massacred a number of them in the year 1834 in -Madrid, and in 1835 in Vich, Zaragoza, Barcelona, and Valencia, burning -their convents. Am I mistaken, or was it so? We don’t do so in Morocco -to inoffensive people devoted to praying and fasting.’ They kept as -still as the grave. One nudged the other, and I heard him say, ‘See how -well-informed he is.’ ‘He has squelched us!’ replied the other. That was -what he said, ‘squelched.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Well, what was the final result of your Moorish escapade?”</p> - -<p>“Bah! You can fancy how it ended. On our return to Granada, while going -through the winding streets, near my hotel, I suddenly turned toward -them, and said with great seriousness: ‘Gentlemen, all that about my -being a Moor was a joke. I am only a poor Franciscan<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a>{187}</span> friar, who, thanks -to the liberty which reigns in Spain, has been obliged to disguise -himself in order to revisit his native land. I now salute you in my true -character.’ I then turned and went off, leaving them more astonished -than ever.”</p> - -<p>The friar’s adventures, told with spirit and grace, made us wish to -learn the outcome of his journey. Father Moreno then went on to tell -about his stay at the baths of Lanjarón; his discussion with an -impudent, saucy-tongued young gentleman, whom he silenced at the <i>table -d’hôte</i>, leaving him as quiet as a mouse; of his trip to Madrid in a -second-class car, always playing the part of a Moor, and availing -himself of his foreign dress to censure the abuses of the time in Spain. -“As those were remarks made by a Moor,” observed the father, “they did -not take offense, but were even impressed by my assertions. If they had -discovered that I was a friar, they would have sent me off flying. In -fact, I felt immensely dissatisfied not to be able to cry out, ‘Friar I -am, friar I shall be, and friar I shall die, God willing!’ But as I was -not going to Madrid<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a>{188}</span> to enjoy myself, but because I had been sent there, -I had to champ the bit and play the Moor. So well did I do it, that I -never once betrayed myself by making any movement peculiar to a friar. I -never searched for my handkerchief in my sleeve, but in the left pocket -of my cloak. It even seems to me that my Moorish appearance and my great -beard gave those gentlemen a bit of apprehension, so that they didn’t -like the idea of getting into a quarrel with Aben Jusuf.”</p> - -<p>It was already getting dark when we left the supper-room. Carmen was -full of animation, commenting so gayly on the father’s story that a -suspicion flashed through my mind regarding the Abencerrage with a -friar’s gown. I tried to dismiss it from my thoughts, but, finally, -giving form to the fancies which stirred in my brain, I came to the -conclusion, “It can’t be with the father that she is in love—but as for -my uncle, she isn’t with him either.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a>{189}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">That</span> conviction took possession of me, and I do not know whether it was -pleasant or painful. I know that it caused a kind of revolution in me, -renewing the feeling of unconquerable aversion with which my uncle -inspired me, and strengthening it by all the lack of affection I thought -I perceived in his future wife. At the same time I would ask myself with -eager curiosity, “Why does she marry him?”</p> - -<p>Three or four days sufficed to convince me that only my mother’s -passionate hatred could insinuate that Carmen was not well treated at -home. Doña Andrea scarcely had any part there, if it were not as an old -family housekeeper, versed in domestic management, and a slave to her -work. I believe that the only privilege Doña Andrea enjoyed, in her -capacity as retired mistress, was to hold intercourse oftener than was -seemly with the wine bottle or the demijohn of brandy. As for the rest,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a>{190}</span> -she always used to address Señorita Aldao with great affection, and the -latter, in her turn, used to treat the old servant with indulgence and -consideration. Doña Andrea never emerged from her own sphere of -housekeeper, and did not make her appearance in the parlor, or make any -pretensions incompatible with her position. The only person out of her -place there was Candidiña. She was neither a young lady fit to associate -with the daughter of Don Román Aldao, nor a scullion devoted to her pots -and kettles; she was a little of each, and her presence and ambiguous -position, admitted to the drawing-room but excluded from the table, were -not easily to be explained. Her younger sister, more humble, occupied a -very different position, though no reason appeared for the distinction. -Anyhow, it was evident that my uncle’s sweetheart did not live like a -Cinderella, and that in getting married she was not simply obeying the -desire to emancipate herself, to rule over her own household, which so -often influences single women to accept the first man who offers -himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a>{191}</span></p> - -<p>What was the reason then? It was most probably due to the comfortable -circumstances and well-assured prospects for the future which my uncle -enjoyed. It could not be for any other cause. She had doubtless decided -to marry him, if not purely for self-interest, at least because it was -not advisable to disdain such an advantageous match. In that case, -although Señorita Aldao’s conduct did not appear to be delicate or -high-minded, nevertheless it was not rightly open to censure.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, though I was convinced that this was the real motive -of Carmen’s action, I noticed in her, while I observed her daily in the -intimacy and familiarity produced by the country life, our near -relationship, and the similarity of our ages, something which was -contradictory to the practical and reasonable procedure I was -attributing to her. Carmen displayed touches of vehemence and feeling -which proved that she was naturally passionate. Sometimes her eyes would -flash fire, her nostrils dilate, and a singular strength of will show -itself in that dreamy face, with its ascetic lines. I fancied that under -the surface<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a>{192}</span> there must be hidden fire, and a good deal of it.</p> - -<p>As I am not a novelist, I am not compelled to make skillful transitions; -and as I am not a hypocrite either, I shall mention one fact which I do -not know whether any observer or moralist has ever spoken of so frankly. -It is that the first glance a man gives a woman, when he is young and -prone to love, as I was, is almost always an inquiring look, somewhat -loving also,—a look which asks, “Could that woman love me? What would -happen if she did?” This is not an affectation of cynicism, nor do I -make out human nature worse than God created it; but it only indicates -that the sexual instinct, like all other instincts, never rests, -although reason may repress it. If I had felt affection and respect for -my uncle, I would have silenced that confused murmur of instinct at -once. But I did not; my uncle irritated me, and roused my whole soul -secretly against him; and so, when I fancied that I perceived in his -lady-love the germs of a similar feeling, I felt drawn toward her by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a>{193}</span> -fellowship of mind which was right on the road to love.</p> - -<p>Without a moment’s doubt, without feeling surprised at the thing in the -least, and without hesitating for a moment in confessing it to -myself,—always an easier confession than an auricular one,—I desired -and determined to ingratiate myself with my future aunt, if possible. -The temptation took hold of me with the greater ease because, as the -wedding had not yet taken place, I was spared that brief inward struggle -and that misgiving, which are aroused when it is a case of another man’s -wife.</p> - -<p>To tell the exact truth, I did not purpose to win her for myself or even -to displace her lover. I was not capable of plotting in cold blood what -Luis Portal called a family drama. All that I aspired to do was to -discover whether my surmises in regard to Carmen’s inward shrinking from -him were true, and whether she could treat me with indulgent kindness. I -sincerely believed that if I were to succeed in that, my uneasiness -would be soothed and would vanish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>{194}</span></p> - -<p>Our manner of life at Tejo was conducive to intimacy. When we returned -from bathing, we would take our breakfast whenever and wherever we -desired; a liberty highly favorable to meetings with Carmen in agreeable -isolation, in the orchard or in the garden. It cost me a great effort to -get rid of the acolyte in order to carry out my plans, for he was fond -of me, and stuck to me like a burr. While he was reading the papers, or -playing checkers with Don Román, or picking cherries and strawberries -with Candidiña, I would steal off in search of Carmen. I would generally -meet her coming out from the chapel, where she had been to hear Father -Moreno say mass.</p> - -<p>As soon as I approached I would offer her some flowers, and begin to -chat. We talked on the subjects usually chosen for conversation with an -unmarried girl; whether Pontevedra was lively, about the Virgin’s -festival, about the balls at the Casino, about walks, about how they -passed the winter there, about her friends, love affairs and -engagements, and other such insipid subjects, fitted, in my opinion, to -lead up to some gallant speech.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a>{195}</span></p> - -<p>I found occasion to compliment her slyly, telling her how becoming her -dress was, praising her hair, asking her to lean on my arm, while we -walked around, assuring her that such a grateful pressure would not tire -me.</p> - -<p>She never put on a face of indignant virtue at my endeavors to -ingratiate myself with her. She received my compliments with a careless, -mischievous smile, as much as to say: “Very well; we understand each -other; my future nephew is very agreeable.”</p> - -<p>She would lean on my arm in accordance with my request, without the -slightest hesitation and with decorous cordiality. One day, when I -affected a slightly melancholy air, in order to change my tune, she -thought I was ill and proposed to take care of me, offering me all sorts -of remedies for the body, while I pretended to desire a moral cure. In -fact, I could not find an open breach, whereby to attack that little -heart.</p> - -<p>I observed her conduct toward my uncle. While she treated me, after we -were once acquainted, with gay cordiality, her deportment toward her -lover was polite and correct, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>{196}</span> same time that it was submissive -and attentive. It might be considered the result of bashfulness or -modesty by the uninitiated, but to me, viewed in the sinister light -which was in my mind, it seemed the unmistakable symptom of absolute -coldness.</p> - -<p>When I fancied that I had made this discovery, I experienced a -mysterious feeling of sympathy with the poor girl. If she really felt -the same aversion toward my uncle that I did, what stronger mental tie -could bind us than that? “The bridegroom is repugnant to the bride. -Perhaps she is unaware of it, but it is so. It is evident; and that -proves her good taste and moral delicacy. I said so all along.” Then the -same old question would arise, “Why, then, does she marry him?”</p> - -<p>While I was propounding this enigma to myself, I did not neglect to -ingratiate myself with Carmen. I fancied that all I needed to carry out -my plan was time. It lacked but a few days of the date set for the -wedding, and evidently, in order to obtain if not the affection, at -least the friendship and entire confidence of that young lady, it was -necessary to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a>{197}</span> see her frequently, so that every hour might bring forth -its fruit little by little; as the dried and withered leaves of the -Jericho rose unfold when the stalk is moistened with water. “Of course,” -I would say to myself, when I saw her so amiable but so reserved in all -matters of the heart, “this girl is not going to intrust me with the key -to the treasure all at once. It will not be an easy matter to find out -from her own lips why she has accepted my uncle.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I was very attentive to her, joked with her, and tried to -gain a few inches of ground. My first attempt at a joke was to call her -<i>auntie</i>. At first she did not relish my conceit, but finally she made -up her mind to join in the joke and to call me <i>nephew</i>. As soon as I -heard her pronounce that name, which implied a certain familiarity, I -returned to the charge, and asked her permission to call her <i>Auntie -Carmen</i>. These two names, the first rather childish, and still more the -second, with its aroma of youth and beauty, appeared charming to me, and -henceforth I fastened them upon Señorita Aldao, whom I never called by -any other name during the rest of my life.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a>{198}</span></p> - -<p>There was a time when I imagined that Auntie Carmen had entered on that -stage in which, deliberately or unconsciously, we reflect some of the -feelings of others, and through sympathy share the pangs they suffer.</p> - -<p>It was one afternoon when my uncle was in Pontevedra, managing and -playing the scale of small politics, which he declared that he -understood so well. In order to amuse us, Don Román proposed to go -fishing for sunfish in the tranquil waters of the estuary. This was -usually done on pleasant days, letting the boat float along very slowly, -and throwing out the hooks baited with bits of meat or earth-worms. It -is really a pleasant excursion on the water, at the most enjoyable hour -of the day, for the country. We all went in one launch. Auntie, who was -seated at my side, kept joking me because my line never felt the sharp -nibble of the fish, while hers was incessantly on the stretch, catching -sunfish and some other kinds of small fry. I proposed to change rods, -and she consented, but the fish were not to be deceived, and still -slighted me. I took advantage of the fact<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a>{199}</span> that Candidiña was quarreling -with Serafín, and that Father Moreno, of whose acuteness I was afraid, -was amusing himself with the fishing like a boy and seemed unobservant, -and ventured to say something very sweet to my auntie. She replied, -smiling at me with a look I cannot define, except by saying that it -seemed a mingling of brightness and innocent archness. If that was -mocking, it was mocking coated with honey, adorned with roses, and -seasoned with affectionate mirth.</p> - -<p>Suddenly it seemed to me that her glorious eyes were overshadowed by -deep sadness, and that a sigh came from that breast—a deep sigh that -could only mean: “This is all very well, my dear nephew, but -unfortunately I am already bound to your disagreeable uncle, and -consequently we cannot come to a good understanding. Don’t be foolish, -or I shall have to say to you, ‘Much too late.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>Nightfall put an end to our fishing. We returned to Tejo on foot by the -path already described. There was a moon—that kind of a moon which -always seems more silvery in the country, more melancholy and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a>{200}</span> even -larger than when it lights up a city. Auntie went on ahead, leaning on -Candidiña, and would turn occasionally to speak to Father Moreno or to -me. In order to go by a shorter route, we went through some plowed -fields, and even through an inclosure, rousing the fury of a mastiff, -who desired to take a nip at our legs.</p> - -<p>On arriving at Tejo and entering the parlor, where a multitude of moths -and tiny butterflies were fluttering around the lamp, coming in through -the open windows, auntie gave an exclamation, saying:</p> - -<p>“Oh, in passing through the inclosure I have covered myself with -<i>loves</i>!”</p> - -<p>I understood what she meant; some of those little flowers, or stiff, -hooked plants, had stuck to her so closely that she could not get them -off. Immediately I knelt down, and commenced to take off the <i>loves</i>, -right and left. The pests stuck to my clothes also. Without changing my -position, I raised my eyes toward her and murmured softly:</p> - -<p>“They cling to me, too.”</p> - -<p>Just at that moment an ugly bat came in,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>{201}</span> with its heavy and stupid -flight, and made the circuit of the room several times; making its -appearance where we least expected it, and beating its wings against the -wall or brushing against our heads, when we were most unprepared. We -laughed and shouted, and armed ourselves with whatever we could lay our -hands on—handkerchiefs, tidies—and pursued the hideous monster. -Serafín was the first to lay hand upon it. In spite of the sharp cries -it uttered on being caught, the acolyte held it tightly, asked for two -pins, and, stretching out its membranous wings, fastened it against the -window frame. Afterward he stuck a cigarette into its mouth, and lit it -with a match; and while the bat struggled in its death agony, its -persecutor made a thousand gestures and grimaces at it.</p> - -<p>It was a grotesque scene which caused us to shout with laughter, and I -was giving myself up to the enjoyment of it when I heard Carmen, ask -impatiently:</p> - -<p>“Candidiña,—where is Candidiña?”</p> - -<p>The girl did not appear. Then Carmen went to the window, and cried:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a>{202}</span></p> - -<p>“Papa, papa, come up here. Come and see the bat we have caught.”</p> - -<p>Don Román answered from the garden, “I am coming;” and presently the old -man came in with flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>The torment of the bat amused him very much; but Carmen interceded for -the victim.</p> - -<p>“Serafín, leave that poor thing alone. It is all right to kill it, but -not to torture it. Don’t be a Jew!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a>{203}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the fishing excursion, my uncle came every afternoon to make love -to his <i>fiancée</i>, and all that dawning intimacy between her and me -disappeared; perhaps it was imaginary all along. The wedding-day was -fast approaching, and one could notice in the house that excitement -which always precedes any great domestic event.</p> - -<p>One morning my uncle went to <i>Naranjal</i> to invite Sotopeña to honor him -by attending his wedding. But the great man was suffering with -biliousness, and was just about to start for the Mondáriz Springs, and -his many urgent matters of business and important engagements would not -permit him to put off his journey even for twenty-four hours. This -refusal was a severe blow to my uncle, whose influence in the province -would increase on receiving a public testimony of esteem from<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a>{204}</span> the -tutelary divinity of the region; from the man who was so popular, even -among the men from his province, resident in the West Indies and South -America.</p> - -<p>Señor Aldao, on the contrary, felt more at his ease when he found out -that Don Vicente would not visit them. What opinion would the owner of -<i>Naranjal</i> form about the ornamental improvements effected at Tejo? Don -Román’s instinctive regard for his own vanity was very great, and made -him fearful that Sotopeña might laugh in his sleeve at the little -variegated balls which reflected the landscape, at the plaster busts, at -the stained glass windows in the chapel, at the great shield carved in -wood, displaying the armorial bearings of the Aldao family, and at the -hothouse made out of old window frames, and lastly, at all the -arrangements for the wedding.</p> - -<p>As the wedding-day drew near, and the friends and relatives sent in -their wedding gifts, my uncle took full advantage of his right to -monopolize Carmen’s conversation, so that I found fewer opportunities to -approach her, though my desire to do so increased more<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a>{205}</span> and more. I saw -more clearly every day her glacial coldness toward her future husband, -though it was disguised and covered up by her gracious manners.</p> - -<p>I was sure that I was correct in these surmises; it was impossible that -I could make a mistake, as a more disinterested person might. Once or -twice I perceived a start of repulsion, a gesture of nervous impatience -at times when a woman, seated by the man she loves, ought to show a face -lighted up with joy. I also observed—and this lent importance to the -first observation—that Carmen did not display any greater happiness or -tenderness in talking to her father or her brother. She was respectful, -cordial, and affable, but nothing more; never effusive.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, I noticed that whenever she spoke to Father Moreno, -she did reveal a warmth of feeling impossible to disguise, because it -shows itself in the gleaming of the eyes and in the inflection of the -voice. Seeing this, I fell into disrespectful soliloquies:</p> - -<p>“The little friar cannot cheat me! With those black eyes, that resolute -air, that open<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a>{206}</span> character, and the picture with the great beard—oh, oh, -what an Aben Jusuf he is!”</p> - -<p>These suspicions were confirmed when I became convinced that the Moorish -father and my aunt used to exchange those glances which everywhere -bespeak a secret understanding; sometimes rapid, though expressive, -sometimes deliberate and full of meaning. One would have said that -Carmiña and the friar were plotting together to effect some mysterious -and important purpose. I even heard them whisper something to each other -in the orchard one day. “Can they meet at night?” I ventured to ask -myself. But when I studied the arrangement of the house, I saw that it -was quite impossible. Father Moreno had the best room in the house, -except the one reserved for the bridal chamber, and it communicated with -Don Román’s room, so that the friar could not stir without being heard -by him. Candidiña and her sister slept in the same room with Carmiña, so -that it was impossible for her to attempt to go out at night without -being detected. Thus I could find no foundation, on that side either, -for my evil surmises.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a>{207}</span></p> - -<p>But nevertheless, I had not the slightest doubt that the friar and -Señorita Aldao understood each other, and were seeking for an -opportunity to meet clandestinely.</p> - -<p>I observed this on several occasions. I noticed the guilty ones, after -taking their coffee, attempt to steal into the garden; in the morning -they would try to go secretly away to some nook or corner of the -gallery. They were always interrupted either by Candidiña’s willful -pranks, or by my mischievous intervention, or by Serafín’s jests, or Don -Román’s officious attentions. And Carmen’s annoyance was always apparent -at such times. The father was able to disguise his feelings much better.</p> - -<p>As I tried to think what I would do in their place, I began to perceive -that there was one hour left them for a secret meeting, and that was the -very early morning. By arising at daybreak they could solve the problem. -In fact, while the father was saying early mass, the greater number of -the inmates of the country house were cosily lying in bed, as a general -rule.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a>{208}</span></p> - -<p>As I expected that this plan would occur to them, I began myself to get -up at unearthly hours. I would go to bed very early, not without having -a lively skirmish with the clerical apprentice, who was determined to -chat with me till the late hours of the night. Daybreak would scarcely -have come when I would leave my downy couch, and, barely awake, I would -rush off to the orchard, which was delightfully cool, still moist with -the night dews, full of the mysterious quivering of the foliage on being -awakened by the sunrise, and fragrant with the delicious perfumes wafted -in from the flowers in the garden. The murmur of the fountain was more -melodious, sweet, and changeful than ever, as if it fell from heaven -into a vase of glass. All these attractions predisposed me to indulge in -a reverie, and even made me forget that I was lying in ambush.</p> - -<p>By the second morning it came easier; and afterward I rose early for my -own pleasure, as I was then persuaded that my ambuscade would not bring -me anything more than the enjoyment of seeing the orchard when so<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a>{209}</span> -charming. But I persevered, and on the fourth morning, while drinking in -the pure air with delight, it suddenly occurred to me that it would be -very pleasant to go up into the yew, and from that height watch the sun -rise over the ocean. No sooner said than done. I ascended the stairs, -passed through the ball-room, went up to the supper-room, and thence on -to Bellavista.</p> - -<p>I stopped, surprised and enchanted by the panorama spread out at my -feet. Near by was the gentle slope where San Andrés is situated; groves -of chestnut-trees, corn-fields, meadows, and several mills, dotting the -shores of the winding brook like pearl clasps on a diamond necklace, -though they were not yet made brilliant by the rays of the sun. That was -scarcely visible, showing itself, like the betraying reflection of a -great fire, in that part of the horizon where sea and sky flow together, -and where the dark mass of the Casitérides was outlined.</p> - -<p>It was a diffused light, like the first uncertain gaze of beautiful, -half-opened eyes. The fog still veiled it. When the first rays of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>{210}</span> -red globe began to light up the sea, so marvelously calm, a strange -quivering stirred upon the surface of the waves, which were tinged with -rich colors, as if the hand of some magician had scattered ever them -gold, sapphires, and rubies. At the same time the landscape became -animated, the river glittered in the sun, and the beach at San Andrés -and Portomouro stood out pure and white, as though cleansed by the -waves, with the silvery whiteness of their sands and the green festoons -of their seaweeds. The great aloes, in blossom, displayed their yellow -plumes against the background of the pure sky. The red tiles on the -roofs appeared like coral. Suddenly, like a bird spreading its wings to -fly, the lateen sail of a fisherman’s launch shot forth from the -infinite blue of the estuary, in front of San Andrés, and behind it came -many others pressing together like a flock of doves. I sat there -fascinated.</p> - -<p>Some hidden prompting made me look in another direction, and I turned my -gaze toward the orchard and the house,—the latter closed and quiet at -that hour. The coat-of-arms<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a>{211}</span> carved on the wooden shield, the baskets -and borders of roses, pansies, and petunias, the little grove of fruit -trees, the watering trough, all appeared, from Bellavista, like sketches -of a geometrical garden traced upon tapestry. The windows of the silent -house gleamed in the sunlight just then.</p> - -<p>An event which our imagination has foreseen, though it seems very -unlikely to our reason, excites vivid feelings, even if it does not -really concern us. My heart began to beat rapidly and my hands turned -cold, when I saw both Father Moreno and Carmen emerging from different -doors almost at the same time. They were evidently vying with each other -in punctuality; they had agreed on a fixed hour; and Carmen’s small gold -watch and the father’s bull’s-eye chronometer, given to him by the -English Consul’s wife, agreed to a minute.</p> - -<p>When the young lady and the friar caught sight of each other, they -approached each other eagerly, as though they were anxious to meet by -themselves, and had something very important to talk about.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a>{212}</span></p> - -<p>Carmen quickly bent down and kissed the father’s hand. Then, for a -moment, they seemed to be discussing some question in an animated and -serious manner, until the father suddenly extended his arm, pointing -toward the yew tree. I knew that they could not see me, for -instinctively I had hidden behind the thick foliage. I understood their -gestures, which seemed to say:</p> - -<p>“Up there in the tree we shall be better situated and can talk at our -ease.”</p> - -<p>As soon as I perceived this, I had a sudden idea. I was burning with -eagerness to hear that conversation, whether guilty or innocent, for it -could not fail to be of the greatest interest to me. I felt that the -first thing they would do, before talking unreservedly, would be to -search the tree, although it was not likely that anybody would be there -at such an hour. So I looked around for a hiding place.</p> - -<p>The foliage of the yew tree was not merely thick, but almost solid, so -close that any one could easily hide behind it; but it grew thinner -toward the top. I saw no way of concealing myself except by going down -to the supper<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a>{213}</span>-room. There I could see and hear them, wherever they -might place themselves. So I descended and, getting over the railing, -hid myself among the shadowy branches, bestriding the strongest one I -saw. Some branches cracked, and two or three smaller ones broke; the -leaves rustled, and several startled birds flew off with a great -fluttering of wings, to escape my pursuit, as they thought it. -Fortunately, the friar and my uncle’s <i>fiancée</i> were passing under the -covered walk of the arbor just then, and it was not possible for them to -glance toward the tree, or to see anything if they did. Otherwise they -would have noticed the agitation of the branches, comparable to that of -the water in a tank when a nutshell falls into it. They were still -rustling and quivering when I heard the tapping of Carmen’s feet, and -the father’s ponderous tread, coming up the stairway.</p> - -<p>They sat down close to each other, placing themselves so that I could -see their faces by looking a little up; and as they were in full light, -while I was in comparative darkness, I could all the better study their -expression<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a>{214}</span> and even hear their quick breathing, caused by their climb, -and the creaking of the chair when the friar dropped his heavy weight on -it.</p> - -<p>He spoke first, praising their selection of a spot where they might have -a confidential chat without being overheard.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is true,” said the young lady, well satisfied. “I agree with -you, there is no other place where we can talk with entire freedom. -Either Serafín or Salustio would make their appearance in the orchard, -and would stick to us, and there it would be impossible. Even if they -should take a fancy to get up early, they would never think of coming to -the yew tree. And have you noticed how persistent they are, how they -will scarcely let one breathe?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a>{215}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Particularly</span> your prospective nephew,” replied the friar. “I don’t -really know what is the matter with that young gentleman, but it seems -as though he were watching us. Sometimes I feel tempted to send him to -the deuce. Because if he and all the rest did not keep close to our -heels, we should not be obliged to make use of this secrecy, which does -not please me, my child, because it might give occasion to malicious -interpretations; and it is not enough to be good, one must appear so -also.”</p> - -<p>“That’s true; but if I did not unbosom myself to you, I believe that I -should die. There are certain things one cannot explain clearly in the -confessional.”</p> - -<p>“To be sure; well, now that we are here, let us hope that the Lord will -bring us some good out of this bad business. My child, open your<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a>{216}</span> heart, -and say all you wish. Here is Father Moreno to listen to you and advise -you, not now as a confessor but as a friend. I am really your -friend—you know that very well, so further words are useless.</p> - -<p>“Well, Father, I have no better friend than you. I am so unfortunate -that it is impossible for me to confide either in my father or my -brother; we do not understand each other; there is a barrier—I do not -know what. I believe that you already guess what I want to consult you -about.”</p> - -<p>The father smoothed his chin with his hand, as though in deep -meditation.</p> - -<p>“According to what you said to me, you marry in order to prevent greater -evils. I believe that I have understood.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Father, it is not that. The evils that may occur here, I cannot -now prevent. I have done all that I could; I have turned myself into a -watchman, a police agent, a spy,—everything that one can turn one’s -self into,—certainly a repugnant and sorrowful part to play. But I am -convinced that it is impossible to protect a woman who will not protect -herself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a>{217}</span> and that the whims of old men are harder to combat than those -of children.”</p> - -<p>My aunt hesitated a little.</p> - -<p>“My papa,” she said, resolutely, at last, “is like a boy of fifteen. He -is wild after that girl; blindly following her around, putting up with -her mockery, and acting perfectly moon-struck if she makes a silly -grimace at him. I should not mind it, if—at least—”</p> - -<p>“You mean you would like to have him marry her?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly. If the man who gave me being does not lose his soul, I shall -feel resigned to all the rest. You know the trouble I had on Doña -Andrea’s account. While she and my father lived—in that way—all I -wanted was that they should get married. I should have my mother’s maid -for a stepmother, but on the other hand papa would be living at peace -with God. Doña Andrea is an unhappy being—believe me, she has a good -heart. She has never shown the least disrespect for me, and has taken -care of me with a real affection that I cannot describe to you. Only, -she has no—what shall I say?—has no<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a>{218}</span>—”</p> - -<p>“No moral sense.”</p> - -<p>“That is it. She is naturally good, but she cannot discriminate between -good and evil.”</p> - -<p>“That is what I call being idiotic in respect of conscience,” said the -father.</p> - -<p>“Just so. So when she found that she was old and ugly, she considered it -the most natural thing in the world to bring this girl to our house, -without doubt, in order to regain her ascendency over my father, or in -order that some member of her family might inherit that honorable post!”</p> - -<p>“My child, as you are going to get married, it is better to speak -plainly—so that we may understand each other. Formerly your father -lived maritally with Doña Andrea, and now—he does not?”</p> - -<p>“You are right; he does not now.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, it does not make much difference now whether your father -marries her or not, if he has abandoned that sin. Still, so long as she -remains here the scandal continues.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, sir; there is no scandal at all! Doña Andrea is in such a -condition that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a>{219}</span> seems to me she cannot scandalize any one,” replied -my aunt, with a jocose and somewhat mischievous smile.</p> - -<p>“So much the better, so much the better; though when people are bound to -be scandalized, my daughter, they do not look to see whether a face is -pretty or ugly.”</p> - -<p>“Father, unhappily, there will soon be here another cause for scandal, -and that is what they look at. Don’t believe that people do not notice -it. Not a bit of it. I blush with shame whenever I perceive that anybody -notices certain things.”</p> - -<p>“You surely have no cause to be ashamed, my daughter. Shame was not made -for you,” murmured the friar in so endearing and affectionate a tone -that Carmen blushed slightly, though I believe it was with pleasure.</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it,” she stammered. “A father is so sacred that you do not -know how much a daughter suffers when she finds that she can no longer -respect him, as she ought to do, according to God’s holy commandments. -Outwardly I treat him with respect, but inwardly—no, I can’t live this -way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a>{220}</span> There are times when I think I shall go mad!”</p> - -<p>“Hoity, toity!” exclaimed the friar, gayly. “Mad; nothing less! I have -already told you that your head is like a volcano. I suppose you refer -to what you have already told me—Candidiña!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; he runs after her like a cadet. And I don’t know what to do, -nor on whom to call. He has controlled himself during the last few days -in the presence of his guests and of strangers; but when we were alone, -all I can tell you about the way he pursues her does not do justice to -it. I will not enter into details which are unseemly; suffice it to say -that one morning I witnessed such a scene that I fell down on my knees -at papa’s feet that night, and begged him, in the name of God and the -Virgin, to marry that girl at once, or to send her away into service -somewhere else.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that the girl gives him any encouragement?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Father, encouragement; yet at the same time, when things go too -far she defends<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a>{221}</span> herself, and leaves me puzzled. Well, I am not obliged -to look out for her. I have tried to persuade her; I have scolded her -and given her good advice; I have her in my own room. Her own mother -could not do more for her. What horrifies me is that my father,—believe -me,—papa does not know what he is doing; he is crazy,—perfectly crazy. -He is passionately in love with the girl; I counted upon that when I -begged him to marry her; but he replied that the world—the people—and -his social standing—oh, Father, I can bear it no longer! I cannot!”</p> - -<p>“God bless me!” sighed the friar. “What folly! and, allow me to add, -what stupidity! At his age—at his age!”</p> - -<p>“Fancy it; he has even gone so far as to say, ‘I will not marry her, -because that would be nonsense; but, if Candidiña leaves by one door, -you shall leave by the other and go to your brother’s house.’ And he -said it with such a tone and air that—why, I shed more tears that day, -Father, than I should if my father had died! If he had died! Oh, I wish -that he had died, if he were at peace with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a>{222}</span> Maker! I would rather -see him dead a thousand times than this way—his gray hairs dishonored!”</p> - -<p>As she said this, Señorita Aldao seemed to me very handsome. Her eyes -flashed, and her nostrils dilated with enthusiasm and indignation. Her -bosom rose and fell convulsively. The friar looked at her in amazement.</p> - -<p>“You are more than right!” he exclaimed at last. “How much better it -would be to die than to wallow in disgusting sins! Death is nature’s -law; we all have to pay that tribute sooner or later; but, my child, at -least let us refrain from paying another to the devil so that he may -laugh at the way he cheats us. How slight a thing man is, my child, and -for what vile toys he will go to destruction! Lucifer’s sin consisted in -pride, an ugly sin, but it is not so vile, so indecent as—faugh!” and -here the friar gave a start like a man seeing some disgusting animal.</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately,” said the young girl, trying to calm herself, “there is -a little of everything here, and pride plays an active part in this -affair. If it were not for pride, papa would<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>{223}</span> marry that girl who has -turned his head so completely. People would laugh at him a little,—that -is, a good deal,—but there would be no disgrace, no crime. I should not -be obliged to submit to what has caused me such bitter sorrow ever since -I reached the years of discretion. Furthermore, I should not have -to——”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, but finally added:</p> - -<p>“I should not be obliged to get married.” Her revelation was of such -serious import that the friar sat amazed, shaking his head and -tightening his lips, as though saying to himself, “Bad, very bad.”</p> - -<p>“So you——” he added, “Carmiña, let us speak without reserve, for we -are here, in a sense, as though in the confessional. You are not -marrying willingly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Father, I marry willingly because I have made up my mind to do it, -and when I make up my mind to do a thing—— I formed that resolution -the day that my father told me that if Candidiña left the house, I -should leave, too. Anything rather than hear and see what I have to. I -have no other way of protesting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a>{224}</span> My filial respect ties my hands and -even my tongue. But to sanction it by my presence; no, never!”</p> - -<p>“And your brother?” asked the friar, eagerly.</p> - -<p>“My brother—my brother has a child every year, and they need money, and -my father gives it to them. That closes his eyes to everything; and he -has even scolded me many times for urging papa to get married. He says -that if he gets married he may have more children, and injure our -prospects. I once thought of taking refuge with my brother, but his wife -does not want me there, nor he neither. I shall not force my presence -where it is not wanted.”</p> - -<p>The friar remained silent for a few moments, his brow knit, and his -hands pulling at the tassels of the cord which bound his waist. His face -revealed the greatest anxiety, and he coughed and breathed heavily -before venturing to speak, as though he were about to make some decisive -and weighty remark.</p> - -<p>“Well, my child,” he said, at last, “my advice is only what any person -of ordinary judgment would give you. It is not a joke to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a>{225}</span> married, -nor does it last only for a day. No, my child, it is the most decisive -step of the whole life, for an honorable woman as you are, by the mercy -of God. Tell me the truth, do you dislike that man?”</p> - -<p>“Dislike him?”</p> - -<p>Another long period of silence ensued. I held my breath. The rough -branches of the yew tree cut into my flesh and the hand with which I was -clinging to the tree began to get numb.</p> - -<p>At length Carmen spoke in a changed tone:</p> - -<p>“Dislike him? I do not know. What I do know is that I do not feel any -great affection toward him, nor any of that enthusiastic—don’t get -frightened, Father. I do not mean enthusiastic love. Let’s see if I can -make my meaning clearer. I should like, when I get married, to be able -to look on the husband whom I am to take, in the sight of God, as a -person worthy of the respect of all the world. Father, do you think that -Felipe is—that?”</p> - -<p>“Daughter, I speak with entire candor. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a>{226}</span> have never heard that he has -committed any crime, but his reputation is not very high in regard to -political machinations, and he is not much liked. As you have asked me, -I must tell you this.”</p> - -<p>“That he is not much liked,” said Carmen, with remarkable sagacity, -“cannot be due to political machinations, for in that respect let him -who can win. So I think it is for some other reason. Have you noticed -his face?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have. It is—goodness, I do not know how to tell you, daughter!”</p> - -<p>“It is the face of a Jew,” said Carmen, resolutely. “It may seem -singular to you that I should say so,—I should dare say so only to you. -It is a Jewish face, indeed; so marked that it cannot be mistaken. For -that reason, when you asked me whether I disliked him, I was undecided. -That face,—it has cost me a great deal to get accustomed to it. I don’t -know whether he is ugly or good-looking, but that face——”</p> - -<p>I was listening with all my might when, owing to a circumstance foreign -to the conversation, I was seized with sudden anguish. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a>{227}</span> fact is, I -felt the branch of which I was astride begin to creak with an ominous -slowness as though notifying me that it was not made to hold birds of my -size. Nevertheless, I kept on listening:</p> - -<p>“Well, my child,” said the friar, resolutely, “if you feel such an -antipathy or dislike toward him as you really seem to, you should not -marry him. At least, consider whether you are able to go through with -it. Reflect well on what a married woman’s condition is. Remember that -the husband you take, whether he pleases you or not, is your life-long -companion; the only man whom it is lawful for you to love, who will be -with you one flesh,—that is what the Church says,—one flesh. He will -be the father of your children, and you owe him not only fidelity but -love; do you understand? I’ll repeat it to you,—<i>love</i>. Child, reflect, -now that there is still time; don’t be obstinate. I know it would make a -stir and trouble to break off the engagement, but so long as the -indissoluble tie does not exist—pshaw! These things furnish food for -foolish tongues for a couple of days and then are forgotten. While<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a>{228}</span> as -for the other, my child, death alone,—only the death of one of the -two,—can dissolve it. Do you understand what the sacrament of marriage -signifies? Do you know what a husband is to a Christian woman? I want -you to study that question well, my child. Don’t say afterward that your -friend Moreno did not warn you in time!”</p> - -<p>Just then I broke into a cold sweat. It was not fear; no, though the -branch was breaking. The danger of falling from so great a height was -not enough to frighten me at that moment; but I dreaded the -mortification of being caught in such unworthy eavesdropping. For then I -could see clearly that my eavesdropping was unworthy, my curiosity an -affront, and my lying in ambush an outrage.</p> - -<p>The cracking of the dry wood, that dull and agonizing cra-a-a-ck! -cra-a-a-ck! seemed to say, in its thick and broken tones: “Impertinent -meddler, gossip, Paul Pry!” I seemed to hear the Father’s disdainful -voice lashing me with these scornful words: “I had already spotted you. -I knew before that you were watching us. Fool, you thought that we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a>{229}</span> -all complacent slaves of passion, and that this young lady and I—well, -now you have seen that we are two decent people.”</p> - -<p>Making up my mind to renounce hearing the rest of their dialogue, I -tried to slide down the branch, mount astride the next, and, branch by -branch, descend to the ball-room, and thence to the ground. The -operation as a gymnastic exercise was not difficult; but it was -impossible to carry it out without making any noise—noise which would -surely attract the attention of the two speakers and immediately betray -my hiding place. The attempts I made to measure the distance were -causing a prolonged rustling of the leaves. My only choice was to keep -calm, to hold out, not to breathe, to commend my soul to God, and to -hope everything of the strength and good nature of that branch. -Consequently, I tried not to bear my whole weight on it, and remained -half suspended in the air, in a very painful position. What exasperated -me most was not to be able to pay due attention to their conversation, -which was then more animated than ever. I do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a>{230}</span> know whether I heard -the last part very well; but I believe that the following is more or -less what Carmen said:</p> - -<p>“It is evident that we cannot do anything without God’s assistance, but -I do not consider it vanity on my part to assure you that I shall -fulfill the duties I assume. If you knew, Father, how that word duty -sounds to me! I assure you with all the truthfulness of my soul, if I -imagined that I should fail in my duty toward him, as time goes on, I -would a thousand times rather die first. No; neither my husband, nor my -father, nor God, shall ever have any cause of complaint against me. In -that way I shall live—or shall die happy. If it were to be otherwise, I -would kill myself! I am marrying with my eyes open. Circumstances have -placed me in this peculiar position—well, then, with my eyes open, I -will be good. I don’t want to make excuses beforehand; I will be good, -even if the earth should sink!”</p> - -<p>Let the reader smile; but these words made me wild with enthusiasm; so -much so that I even forgot my dangerous situation. I arose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a>{231}</span> as though -to applaud her, reaching out my hands toward my angel of an aunt, when, -by an involuntary movement, I fell heavily upon the branch; a terrible -noise was heard, which seemed to me like the blast of an unchained -tempest, and I instantly became aware that I was falling, slowly -falling, the heavy, thick foliage seeming to retard my fall, though I -scratched and bruised myself fearfully on the sharp points of the -smaller branches and the knobs on the larger ones. It seemed as though I -was a century falling; and in the midst of my bewilderment I thought I -heard overhead, up in the tree, exclamations, cries, and a confused -clamor.</p> - -<p>Finally, my descent grew faster and faster. I tore some of my clothing, -and at last fell flat on my face on the turf. I bounced up like a ball, -and went off, running like a hunted deer. What I wanted was to hide -myself—to disappear—to cover up, if possible, my wrong-doing and its -ludicrous result.</p> - -<p>This thought spurred me on, and gave me wings, and even sharpened my -wits, leading me to plunge into the covered walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a>{232}</span> through the fruit -trees, where they could not see me from the yew. From that to the little -grove was but a step, and from the grove to the arbor covered with -honeysuckle, no distance at all. Into that I rushed, and without paying -any attention to my scratched and bloody hands or my bruised condition, -excited, beside myself, I lowered myself over the wall, and, once out of -the orchard, did not consider myself safe till, pushing on through short -cuts and cross-paths, I reached the beach. “A perfect <i>alibi</i>!—I was -bathing!”</p> - -<p>I undressed myself in a twinkling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a>{233}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> wedding took place two days after this episode. I awoke that day -with a violent pain in my chest. By dint of applying cloths soaked with -arnica, which I slyly procured of the druggist in San Andrés, I had -succeeded in partly disguising the scratches and bruises I had on my -face. As for my clothing, I had only torn the lining of my coat; that -was lucky. The only two witnesses of my fall had doubtless agreed to -keep silent; but they would look at me from time to time, and I felt a -disagreeable sensation on meeting Carmen’s surprised and severe gaze, or -the Franciscan’s eyes, in which I thought I observed a humiliating -mixture of anger and contempt. For that cause I deeply regretted my -bruised condition, thinking to myself, “I’ll bet I have sprained or -broken something, and that will necessarily let the cat out of the bag.” -To my physical depression there was joined a<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a>{234}</span> mental state of -considerable excitement, as the following paragraphs from my latest -letter to Luis will demonstrate:</p> - -<p>“My dear boy: I don’t know how to tell you what has happened to me. By -chance I have discovered Carmen’s secret, and I am convinced that she is -an angel, a seraph in the shape of a woman. The friar was right when he -declared that Carmiña is the type of a perfect Christian woman. -Undoubtedly there is something in such a woman which calls for -reverence; something heavenly. I did wrong to doubt it or even to -imagine that she might not be a saint. If you knew how unhappy she is, -what self-sacrifice she is making! I will tell you what is going on—and -then you say whether there can be greater heroism or dignity of -character. I have been lost in amazement ever since I have learned the -motives for her conduct.”</p> - -<p>I then proceeded to explain affairs at length, praising Carmen’s -wonderful strength of character; and added, to finish making a clean -breast of it: “I think that the friar is good, also. Although it may -seem very strange, yet I am inclined to think that he does fulfill his<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a>{235}</span> -vows. There is no doubt of it, my boy, he will fulfill them. Virtue does -exist, of course it does! There is even such a thing as country! I don’t -know really what my feelings are; whether, since I have seen clearly -what my auntie is I love her more, in a highly refined way, or whether I -no longer care for her as a woman. What I am sure of is that my uncle -does not deserve the treasure which has fallen to him from heaven. I -know I shall never find such a woman, if ever I get married myself some -day.”</p> - -<p>I wrote this letter on the eve of the fatal day. At daybreak next -morning I felt sore, as I was saying, and all my bones ached; I had a -great desire to stay flat on my back without moving, thinking, or -breathing scarcely. But the cursed acolyte came into my room with his -customary jokes and boyish pranks, and at once fell to pulling off the -sheets.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter?” he asked; “is your breast-bone broken? You are -like the cats that smash themselves jumping off the roof. What pains our -young gentleman? Shall I rub you?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a>{236}</span></p> - -<p>I arose painfully, and, threatening him with my clenched fist, -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“If you talk about falls—”</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll talk about whatever your Excellency desires. <i>Ne in furore -tuo arguas me!</i>”</p> - -<p>“I will argue with you with a shoe, if you don’t keep quiet.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s not worth while to put yourself out! Get up, for they are -already putting all the frippery on the bride. Don’t you hear the -orchestra from the Royal Imperial and Botanical Theater? Mighty good -music!”</p> - -<p>I could, in fact, hear, coming up from the court, the light, rapid notes -of a country measure, which seemed to dance along with pastoral joy. It -was the pipers tuning up and playing their prelude. That lively, merry, -jubilant music depressed my heart.</p> - -<p>Making an effort I set my bones in motion. I felt a depressing -uncomfortableness in my chest, as though it held a heavy stone, giving -me unendurable distress. Pulling myself together, I washed, dressed -myself as well as I could, and went down to breakfast. Nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>{237}</span> all the -guests were there. I noticed that Señor Aldao was uneasy, and learned -that his disturbance arose from a letter he had just received from -<i>Naranjal</i>. Don Vicente Sotopeña’s godson and protegé, Lupercio -Pimentel, wrote it in the former’s name, and after many courteous -congratulations and great professions of friendship for my uncle, he -went on to say that Don Vicente had commissioned him to be present, in -the great man’s name, at the wedding feast, if not the ceremony itself.</p> - -<p>Hence came Don Román’s anxiety, for he was afraid that something might -be lacking of the elegance which the presence of such an important -personage demanded. He would almost have preferred to deal with the -great chief himself. The latter, at least, was very unassuming and -frank, and if one gave him country dishes and jokes in Galician dialect, -he would not observe any omission. On the other hand, the godson—Heaven -only knows! He was young, very elegant, and accustomed to the splendid -festivities in the Capital.</p> - -<p>After dispatching our chocolate without much ceremony, we proceeded to -the parlor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a>{238}</span> We could hear merry feminine voices outside in the hall, -and soon afterward the bride made her appearance, surrounded by several -of her young friends from Pontevedra, invited to the ceremony, and by -Candidiña, Doña Andrea, and the little girl, who were all stumbling over -each other in their eagerness to get a good view of her.</p> - -<p>Carmen Aldao was pale and feverish, with deep circles under her eyes. -Her eyelids had a heavy, purplish look, as though she had passed a -sleepless night. She wore the white dress with the net-work of imitation -pearls, a black lace mantilla, fastened with jeweled pins, a spray of -natural orange blossoms on her breast, long gloves, and carried a lace -handkerchief and a prayer-book and rosary inlaid with pearl.</p> - -<p>After bowing to her lover, who said “good-morning” to her in a somewhat -constrained voice, and then smiling at the rest of the company, she -remained standing in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do -next. But when Señor Aldao, at a signal from Uncle Felipe, said, “Let us -proceed to the chapel,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a>{239}</span> Carmen advanced, and went up to her father with -a frank and eager air.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me if I have ever offended you,” she said, in a vibrating, -though restrained voice, “and I pray you give me your blessing.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she fastened on her father an eloquent, profound, and -almost dreadful look, so intense was it. Her father turned away, -murmuring, “May God bless you!”</p> - -<p>I believe that I saw something glistening in his eyes. There are some -things which grate on the nerves.</p> - -<p>Her friends devoted themselves to arranging the bride’s dress, pulling -out her flounces and picking up the pearl beads, some of which were -already rolling around the floor. Not walking arm in arm, and in -considerable disorder, we set out for the chapel.</p> - -<p>It was fragrant with flowers, and entirely carpeted with ferns and -anise, while the altar was lighted up with countless tapers. The -ceremony was rather long, as they were married and took the communion at -the same time. I heard the clearly pronounced “yes”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a>{240}</span> of the bride, and -the indistinct one of the bridegroom. I heard read what everybody calls -St. Paul’s Epistle, though it may not be so. There the husband is -compared to Christ, the wife to the Church; and, in confirmation of the -man’s superiority, the embroidered stole fell over the head of the bride -at the same time that it fell on her husband’s shoulder. Carmen Aldao, -crossing her hands on her breast, bowed her head and submitted to the -yoke.</p> - -<p>A number of peasants were among the spectators, attracted by curiosity, -and were crowding each other with a respectful murmur in their efforts -to see over the heads of the gentry. When the mass was over, the -fire-crackers went off, the country pipes gave forth their -characteristic harsh sounds, and the people all rushed out in a body, -while the bride was surrounded by her friends, who filched the orange -leaves and buds from her dress, and gave her hearty smacks.</p> - -<p>That was an awkward moment. Where should we go? What should we do? How -should we entertain the company?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a>{241}</span></p> - -<p>Castro Mera, who was young and lively, proposed that we should go over -to the yew, have the piano brought out into the garden, and get up a -dance, while the married couple and Father Moreno were breakfasting, as -they had not been able to do so before on account of the mass and -communion service. They all consented to this arrangement, but the -dancing had scarcely begun when the bride reappeared without her -mantilla. She had only taken a sip of chocolate, and came to fulfill her -social duties. She herself played the first country dance down in the -garden. The second was played by a young lady from Pontevedra, and -Castro Mera then danced it with her, whom I may now with propriety call -my aunt. Afterward a young lady from San Andrés proposed to have a -waltz. I had dragged myself through the country dance only so that -people should not discover how much I was suffering with my bruises; but -when I heard them say “waltz,” a Wertherian thought flashed through my -mind: “I will embrace the bride before the arms of her lover have -touched her.” Rising quickly, and forgetting all about my sprains, I -invited<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>{242}</span> her to take a turn. She refused, smilingly, but her friends -pushed her on, and then, making a grimace as though to say, “Well, it -will be for the last time,” she rested her left arm on mine and allowed -my right arm to encircle her waist.</p> - -<p>As I clasped her form, I forgot all about my fatigue and bruises, and -felt intuitively that I was more in love than ever with that woman who -was now indissolubly bound to another. Thus to hold her—in that room -walled in by vegetation, gilded by the sun, which at times, stealing -through the branches, cast a playful ray upon the bride’s hair or -brow—made me beside myself. I observed the delicate outlines of her -lithe figure; I felt her warm breath on my cheek; and the wild fancy -which agitated me became a longing so vehement that I was obliged to -exert all my self-control in order not to press her so closely to my -heart as to hurt her.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, my transport was the purest and most sublimated of all -such loving raptures. I felt a heavenly illusion, if I may so call it; a -divine illusion, noble in its origin and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a>{243}</span> development. What thrilled me -most was the thought that I held in my arms the purest and holiest woman -on earth, and that, although she belonged to another, she was still a -virgin, pure, unsoiled as the calyx of a lily, as the orange blossoms -which she still wore on her bosom, and which, as they faded, gave out an -intoxicating and delicious perfume.</p> - -<p>We waltzed on very smoothly, and between the turns, I believe I said to -her:</p> - -<p>“As we are relatives now, may I address you with the <i>tu</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Of course; it would be absurd for you to be so terribly formal as to -say <i>usted</i> to me.”</p> - -<p>“Will you get vexed?”</p> - -<p>“No, why should I?”</p> - -<p>I remained silent. The silken folds of her dress brushed caressingly -across my knees, and I felt my heart, agitated by the movement of the -waltz, beating violently. Then, with an irresistible impulse, the truth -burst from my lips:</p> - -<p>“Auntie,” I murmured, “forgive me. I have behaved very badly toward you, -don’t you know? I was indiscreet. But then, I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a>{244}</span> so glad, so glad! -Because I now know all that you are worth; and listen—I know it to be -so much, that I am like one crazy. Don’t you see it?”</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, you silly boy!” she replied, somewhat short-breathed from -dancing. “If you were really indiscreet, what shall I say to you? You -did very wrong.”</p> - -<p>“I know it,” I said, remorsefully. “For that very reason I want you to -pardon me. Pardon me, come now, pardon me. Will you forgive me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she replied, as though acceding to a childish whim.</p> - -<p>“How good you are!” I exclaimed, impulsively, in a low, deep tone.</p> - -<p>We took several turns more, and felt our heads grow dizzy from waltzing -in such close quarters. She stopped for a moment, and I then inquired:</p> - -<p>“Auntie, do you expect ever to dance again?”</p> - -<p>“No, this is my last waltz. Married women do not dance.”</p> - -<p>“The last!”</p> - -<p>“Certainly.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a>{245}</span></p> - -<p>“Then give me, I beg you, that spray of orange-blossoms. Do give it to -me!”</p> - -<p>“What do you want it for?”</p> - -<p>“Give it to me, or I shall do something desperate.”</p> - -<p>“Take it, nephew,” she replied, stopping; “and don’t ever hide in the -trees again.”</p> - -<p>I grasped the spray as a robber would grasp a stolen treasure, and -looked at my aunt, searching her eyes to their depths. I did not -perceive either resentment or severity in her while she thus frankly -avowed that she had discovered my outrageous performance. But a slight -sense of startled modesty was discernible in her eyes, though this -severe bearing was tempered by a half-smile and the animation of her -countenance, flushed by the dance.</p> - -<p>I would gladly have had that waltz last forever. I remained silent, for -the force of my feelings tied my tongue; while I felt that I was raised -to the fifth heaven. Unable to restrain myself, I must have clasped her -slender waist too closely, for suddenly aunt stopped, and with an -agitated countenance, but a firm voice, said: “That is enough.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a>{246}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> did not sit down to dinner until three o’clock in the afternoon. We -were somewhat crowded because the dining-room was almost entirely taken -up by a huge table in the shape of a horseshoe, adorned with vases of -flowers placed at regular intervals, and pyramids of confectionery. -There were more than thirty guests present; many of the gentry from San -Andrés, several priests, a number of physicians, the adjutant of -Marines, three or four landed proprietors, judges, district politicians, -young ladies, some of my uncle’s political adherents, and even the good -Don Wenceslao Viñal, who placed himself at my side so that he might have -some one with whom to talk about his archæologico-historical whimseys.</p> - -<p>Lupercio Pimentel, Don Vicente’s godson, had the place of honor at the -bride’s right hand. He was good looking, well mannered, an easy talker, -cordial and full of fun, after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a>{247}</span> fashion of politicians of the -present time, who, instead of relying on the force which ideas and -principles carry with them, trust to their own personal magnetism. From -the commencement of the banquet, I observed that he left no stone -unturned in order to ingratiate himself with the company; “those -elements,” as he would say. He looked around, and I heard him say, -bending toward my uncle over the bride’s shoulder:</p> - -<p>“How is it that the Mayor of San Andrés is not here?”</p> - -<p>“Because he is so opposed to us,” replied my uncle.</p> - -<p>“For that very reason he ought to be here. Our friend Calvete must -afterward put his name in the list of guests,” he added, pointing to the -editor of <i>El Teucrense</i>, who bowed, greatly flattered.</p> - -<p>After a moment’s reflection, Pimentel resumed:</p> - -<p>“Let two go after him. If necessary, have them bring him by force, so -long as he gets here in time to hear the toasts.”</p> - -<p>Castro Mera and the officer of Marines rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a>{248}</span> with docility, and under a -blazing sun wended their way to San Andrés, in order to bring back the -refractory and obstinate “element.”</p> - -<p>While they were serving the soup, the great leader’s godson said to my -uncle in a low tone, yet so that his words should make due impression on -the public:</p> - -<p>“Cánovas has made himself out of the question. He has got the opinion of -all sensible people against him. The Regency is not feasible with him. A -conservative Administration would not be feasible.”</p> - -<p>It appeared to me—I do not know why—that many of those present did not -comprehend the meaning of the word <i>feasible</i>, but somehow took it for -granted that it all meant something very bad, and highly prejudicial to -Cánovas; but they fully understood when Pimentel observed that Pi’s -party was Utopian, and they murmured their approbation.</p> - -<p>I scarcely listened. I was in the yew, waltzing, feeling the floor sway, -and seeing the green foliage tremble with a prolonged rustle. At the -second course I was obliged to emerge from my reverie, because the -clerical apprentice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a>{249}</span> seated at my left, took it upon himself to pinch -me, nudge my elbow, and step on my foot at every word that Pimentel -uttered.</p> - -<p>I do not know what had come over Serafín; perhaps the two glasses of -Burgundy which he had imbibed with his soup, had stimulated his -impoverished blood and drew him out of his childish foolishness, causing -him to utter satirical and biting jests. All I affirm is, that he -accompanied his nudges and kicks with some terrible remarks worthy of a -Juvenal in a cassock.</p> - -<p>“Behold,” he said, in a low tone, “the greatest miracle of the -miraculous boss. He has made a great man out of that creature. What do -you think of it, Salustio? And what is your opinion of the indecency of -us Galicians? We leave the temple of the Lord deserted, and worship the -golden calf—<i>feceruntque sibi deos aureos</i>. They will not make a -pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Nieves, and yet they repair to -the saint of the orange grove, to feed on offices and pap. They all do -it—not one is lacking. He who cannot get there alive will be carried -there<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>{250}</span> dead. And you’ll not escape the contagion, either. You’ll worship -the miraculous saint; for if you don’t, invent all the magnetic bridges -and electric carriage-roads you please, and your countrymen will pay no -attention to you whatever. Why don’t you become a saint also, you -goose?”</p> - -<p>Fortunately, the length of the table, the number of guests, and the hum -of conversation prevented them from hearing the string of nonsense the -ecclesiastical monkey uttered; but I could not restrain my laughter on -seeing the amazement depicted on Don Wenceslao’s face, who was seated at -my right hand.</p> - -<p>The saint had just performed one of his miracles, in the person of the -lucky archæologist, by getting up for him a nice little salary as -librarian to the Legislature; and his face expressed the most profound -terror. If Pimentel should hear that wild talk and attribute it to him! -In spite of the customary somnambulistic condition of library mice, -Viñal sharpened his ears, perceiving the terrible risk his blessed three -hundred a year were exposed to.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a>{251}</span></p> - -<p>“Salustio,” he said to me, in anguish, “make that silly fellow stop -talking. He is drawing attention to us. Stop him, for pity’s sake.”</p> - -<p>The highly excited state of my nerves induced me to go contrary to the -wishes of the peace-loving scholar. I also felt inclined to sour and -pessimistic censure. What irritated me was my uncle’s aspect, -overflowing with satisfaction, while he paid more attention to Pimentel -than to his bride, and even gave a toast dedicating the banquet to the -protector of his disgraceful schemes.</p> - -<p>“Cringing people,” I thought, “if you want to worship any one, bow down -all you like before Father Moreno, who represents the sacrifice of a -life on the altar of an idea; bow down before that bride who is the -personification of virtue and duty; but as for doing it before him whose -only merit consists in distributing pap!—I also am disposed to give -vent to my feelings. Serafín is not far out of the way.”</p> - -<p>Not knowing how to relieve my impatience, and without paying the -slightest attention to Viñal, who was pulling at my sleeve, I improved<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a>{252}</span> -the first opportunity to contradict Pimentel. I think it was about Pi -and his Utopias—and the things that were feasible or not feasible. It -caused a great sensation when they heard me dare to raise my voice in -such an inconsiderate manner, and my uncle looked at me with an -expression which redoubled my ardor.</p> - -<p>“You say the Republic is not feasible here? And why not, I want to know? -We cannot possibly prolong the abject state of anarchy in which we now -live. We are suffering from the drawbacks of a monarchy, and, -nevertheless, do not enjoy its advantages. There is no cohesion, no -unity, while political customs have deteriorated so greatly that -nowadays the public man who aspires to set an example of morality -appears ridiculous, and he who holds any opinions of his own likewise.”</p> - -<p>Pimentel turned toward me, replying with calm courtesy:</p> - -<p>“What you desire and what we all desire, in fact, might answer for other -races—oh, yes, for northern races; but here, with the Arab blood in our -veins, and our everlasting rebelliousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a>{253}</span>—oh, it would be impossible, -utterly impossible!”</p> - -<p>Nobody was a more ardent defender of civil rights than he; his -sacrifices were well known to all (they bowed assent), “but let us not -confound, gentlemen, let us not confound anarchy and license with a -just, reasonable, and feasible liberty. The northern countries produce -statesmen because the masses are already educated for political freedom; -it comes to them through hereditary transmission, if one may so say—it -is hereditary. If you don’t believe it, just look at the theories of -Thiers—English public opinion——”</p> - -<p>I, not knowing how to extricate myself, caught hold of Thiers like a -drowning man catching at a straw.</p> - -<p>“It must be the French opinion you mean, sir; for you cannot be ignorant -that Thiers was a——”</p> - -<p>I purposely made a pause, during which my adversary looked at me with -some anxiety.</p> - -<p>“Thiers was a Frenchman.”</p> - -<p>The priest from San Andrés timidly ventured to say, from his corner:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a>{254}</span></p> - -<p>“Of course he was a Frenchman, for it was he who restored peace to -France after the Commune.”</p> - -<p>As I looked around to observe the impression my words had made, I -noticed that Don Román’s face expressed disapprobation and surprise, -while my uncle’s was flushed with anger, and Father Moreno’s lighted up -by a roguish smile.</p> - -<p>Pimentel replied, somewhat confused: “Of course he was a Frenchman; we -were not speaking of that, I believe. We were discussing English public -opinion,—for, there is no doubt about it, England is the land of -self-government, as the renowned Azcarate proved so conclusively,—while -we—our idiosyncrasy—it will not do to implant here what in other -nations more—it will not be feasible; because every ruler has to -consider the inherent tendencies of the race.”</p> - -<p>“That is all talk,” I argued; “generalities, which prove nothing. Let us -come closer to the point, if you please. We have nothing to do with -races. We are talking about the Spanish Republic, to which all those who -are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a>{255}</span> in authority to-day, big and little, had committed themselves, but -which they betrayed for thirty pieces of silver, like Judas. Would they -do the same by the Restoration, if it had not given them full swing with -the Government’s salary-list?”</p> - -<p>I did not perceive the insolence of my attack, until I heard Serafín -exclaim in his harsh voice, clapping his hands:</p> - -<p>“That’s it! Go on, that’s where the shoe pinches.”</p> - -<p>Pimentel wiped his mustache with his napkin, turned his head toward me, -and instead of answering me in an angry manner, smilingly agreed with -me, saying:</p> - -<p>“That is very true, Señor Meléndez. The tact of the Restoration in -compromising with the revolutionary elements has rendered feasible that -which under other circumstances—”</p> - -<p>His speech was interrupted just then by the arrival of the Mayor of San -Andrés, who was almost dragged in by the committee that had gone in -quest of him at their young chief’s command. They must all have run up -the hill, for they were dreadfully out of breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a>{256}</span></p> - -<p>The Mayor was in a dripping sweat, and kept mopping his face with an -enormous handkerchief. He stammered out that he did not consider that he -was called upon to sit down at such a fine banquet; but Pimentel, as -sweet as honey, seized his hand, found a place for him at his own side, -and endeavored by every means in his power to gain the good will of his -political opponent.</p> - -<p>I should not be able to give the <i>menu</i> of that tiresome dinner. It -seemed as though all the dishes enumerated in cook-books kept coming on -the table, while the stupidity of the servants, and their inexperience -in serving, prolonged the dinner indefinitely. The most difficult task -of all would be to give a detailed account of the wines, the sweets, the -liqueurs, the endless pastry, the coarse Pontevedra preserves, and the -cakes sent by this or that neighbor, which, as the donors themselves -were present, could not possibly be slighted.</p> - -<p>I drank five or six glasses of champagne, but the only effect they had -on me was to revive the belligerent spirit which had induced me to -attack Pimentel. I felt quarrelsome, aggressive,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a>{257}</span> quixotic, and desirous -of pitching into everybody, right and left. And beneath that singular -effervescence I felt the throbbing of a dumb ache in the depths of my -heart, a sort of longing for something I seemed to have lost. I cannot -define it for it was one of those subtle, vivid feelings which sometimes -do not correspond to any deep mental need, but to certain fantastical -whims thwarted by stern reality.</p> - -<p>The bride, at whom I glanced furtively from time to time, had a dejected -and weary appearance. This was very likely nothing more than the fatigue -caused by the long time they were at the table, but I fancied that it -was melancholy, the bitterness of the chalice she had put to her lips, -the foretaste of the bitter draught.</p> - -<p>And why not? Had I not overheard the conversation in the yew tree? Was I -not positive that my uncle inspired her with an inexplicable feeling of -aversion, and that only in order to perform a moral duty, the -“categorical imperative” of her faith, had she drawn near to the altar, -a veritable sacrificial altar for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a>{258}</span> her? I wanted, at all hazards, to -penetrate into the depths of her inmost soul, and read that gentle and -suffering spirit. What could she be thinking about? What can she hope -for? What can the fair bride be afraid of?</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the champagne, which had only quickened my imagination, began -to affect the others more strongly, as was shown by their flushed faces, -flashing eyes, somewhat obstreperous voices, unwarrantable and vehement -loquacity, loud laughter, and silly effusiveness. Pimentel, although -more decorous and self-possessed than the rest, became animated also, -discussing with my uncle a grand project which would assuredly be an -epoch-making event in the annals of the Sotopeña party; nothing less -than to convert the procession in honor of the Virgin into an imposing -political manifestation, Don Vicente himself to carry the standard, -while all the people of Pontevedra and its vicinity, for seven leagues -around, would turn out to furnish an escort of honor to their provincial -divinities, the Virgin and their wonder-working saint. Some of the -priests were listening to this project, and highly applauded it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a>{259}</span> -exclaiming: “Excellent—give Catholic sentiment the first place; that’s -the way!” Castro Mera was vehemently insisting on the excellency of law, -a young man from San Andrés was challenging another from Pontevedra to -see which could drink the greatest quantity of Curaçoa; the officer of -Marines was disputing with the Mayor about the fishing tackle prohibited -by law; Serafín was laughing convulsively because Viñal was maintaining -with great energy that he had documents which proved that Tenero had -founded Hellenes, and was even boasting that he knew the spot where -Tenero was probably buried.</p> - -<p>Don Román Aldao at last determined to make a move, telling the rest of -the guests not to disturb themselves, for he was only going to show -Pimentel the grounds and to take a little fresh air. The bride went off -leaning on Pimentel’s arm, while her father and the bridegroom followed -them arm in arm. As soon as they left, the rest became more animated, -and the hullabaloo grew so loud that nobody could make himself -understood. Some were disputing, others laughing loudly, others were -arguing<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a>{260}</span> and pounding the table, already stained with wine and dotted -with bits of cake and sweetmeats. Nobody was eating any more; they only -kept on drinking, consuming an extraordinary amount of wines and -liqueurs. The young gentleman from San Andrés, the one who had made the -wager, had been obliged to go to the window to cool his heated brow, -while the other one, from Pontevedra, was still unmoved in spite of the -prodigious quantity of wine he had guzzled down, and was entertaining -himself by teasing Serafín. He had already made him drink a quart of -spirits, and now was amusing himself by pouring out sherry and Pajarete -for him through a cylindrical bit of pastry, used as a funnel.</p> - -<p>The acolyte would sometimes protest, sometimes swallow it down, while -his pale and distorted face revealed the effects of the alcohol. Finally -he asserted himself, and shouted in a bellowing tone:</p> - -<p>“No more; I don’t want any more! Get out, I am not a sponge!”</p> - -<p>He pushed away the other’s hand, and the sherry was spilt over his shirt -front, soaking it<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a>{261}</span> completely. Suddenly his paleness turned into an -apoplectic flush, and mounting his chair he began to harangue the -company:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, I know I am not doing right to stay here. It would only -serve me right if you were to drown me in Pa-Pa-jarete—or some other -Liberal poison. You are all Liberals—the first is proved <i>per se</i>—<i>per -se</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Per <i>so</i>!” shrieked Castro Mera, and the officer of Marines.</p> - -<p>“To be a Liberal constitutes a greater sin than to be a homicide, an -adulterer, or a blasphemer. This second proposition I can prove by Sardá -and the fathers of the church at my tongue’s end. Therefore I, who drink -Pajarete with you, am liable to the major excommunication—<i>Catæ -sententiæ!</i> Don’t you know what a big-bug of the ecclesiastical -hierarchy once said? Don’t you know, you blockheads? He! he! he! Well, -he said: ‘<i>Cum ejus modi nec cibum sumere</i>’—Hey? It seems that he made -it clear enough. <i>Cum ejus modi nec Pajaritum su—sum—</i>”</p> - -<p>I looked at him with curiosity. There was no doubt that sometimes that -toad was sincere<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a>{262}</span> in his ravings, and that his true feelings bubbled -forth from his lips. The acolyte considered himself nothing less than an -apostle, and talked away, threatening us with his fists. His cries -became hoarser, his throat contracted, and his eyes, which looked like -two big white balls, seemed to start from their sockets. Suddenly he -passed from words to deeds, and seizing the bottle near him threatened -to throw it at our heads. What most excited his fury was Pimentel’s -project for the civico-political procession. That drove him wild. -Strange effect of drunkenness! When in his normal state, and free from -vinous influences, the clerical apprentice was very meek and humble; but -as soon as he was under the influence of alcohol he became belligerent -and aggressive. He abused us all soundly, and freed his mind especially -regarding Sotopeña. I clearly perceived that trouble would ensue, for -Castro Mera, somewhat elevated also, rushed to the fray, defending right -and left the political principles which the little priest was berating; -and as the latter was replying with fearful invectives,—or, rather, -insulting<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a>{263}</span> epithets,—I suddenly saw him froth at the mouth, heard his -maudlin laugh, saw him double his fists, and noticed that his wandering -hands were seeking among the plates and glasses for a weapon—a knife. I -restrained Castro Mera, saying, in a low tone, “He has a terrific -epileptic fit.”</p> - -<p>In fact Serafín was already struggling in the arms of several, who -rushed forward to hold him, with herculean strength, or rather a -formidable nervous force, a momentary effect of the seizure; he fought -like a wild animal, biting, scratching, and kicking so that at times we -thought that he would overpower us all.</p> - -<p>Finally we succeeded in tying his hands with a handkerchief. We deluged -him with cologne, cold water and vinegar; we picked him up by his feet -and shoulders, and with great difficulty succeeded in taking him up to -the tower, and throwing him upon his bed, where he lay in a heavy -stupor, broken at intervals by short, sudden spasms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a>{264}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> went down into the garden, and the cool evening air served to refresh -our heated brains. I thought that I was not even on the verge of what is -meant by intoxication, but nevertheless I attributed the strange weight -on my heart, the profound melancholy which took possession of me, to the -effects of wine, which sometimes produces that painful tedium. Those -happy, jesting, merry people, who considered the wedding a joyous event, -inspired me both with disgust and an inexplicable aversion. They roamed -over the grounds, enjoying themselves and laughing, but I tried to be -alone with my own dark thoughts and lugubrious fancies. My imagination -took on blacker hues every moment, as though some dire misfortune was -weighing me down. I wandered off instinctively to the most retired nook -in the orchard, and, opening the worm-eaten gate which lead into the -grove, rushed through impetuously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a>{265}</span> eager for quiet and solitude. A -clear, energetic voice exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Where are you going, Señor Salustio?”</p> - -<p>In voice and words I recognized Father Moreno. He was seated on a stone -bench, leaning against the wall, and reading a book, which he closed as -he saw me.</p> - -<p>“I came here,” he said, “looking for a fit place to read my prayers. I -was just finishing. And you, may I ask whether you also have come out -from the orchard to pray?”</p> - -<p>“No,” I replied, with the impetuous frankness which is the usual result -of several glasses of strong wine inside one. “I came because all those -people bored me with their noise, their jollity, and silliness, and -because their stupidity made my head ache.”</p> - -<p>“Bravo, dear sir, you are right, more than right! I also was satiated -with both the food and the company. It was a veritable hullabaloo, and -it is not singular that it should scare away a friar—but you——”</p> - -<p>“Father Moreno, believe me, there are days when, taking no account of -one’s belief, he feels like becoming a friar, and renouncing the follies -of the world.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a>{266}</span></p> - -<p>The friar fastened his calm, powerful, and piercing eyes on mine, -saying:</p> - -<p>“Do you really feel so? Well, then, you’ll not be surprised if a poor -friar should reply to you that in my opinion you are already at the -beginning of the road to knowledge, and even happiness, as far as it is -possible for man to obtain it in this world. To seek for peace and to -renounce our worldly affections is not virtue; it is simply calculation -and selfishness. Believe me, sir, I do not envy anybody in the world, -but on the other hand, I pity a great many people.”</p> - -<p>My pride as a layman did not rebel at his words. I was surprised at this -afterward, when I reflected that the friar’s compassion, ironical though -it probably was, ought to have given me offense; because, taking into -consideration my ideas, my ways of thinking and feeling about religious -questions, and the ridiculous significance in my mind of monastic vows, -it was I that should have pitied the friar, and pitied him as one does -victims of an absurdity and of a useless immolation on the altars of a -mistaken idea. My strange acquiescence<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a>{267}</span> in Father Moreno’s words can -only be explained on the supposition that there exists in the inmost -depths of our soul a perpetual tendency to self-sacrifice, to -renunciation; a tendency, so to speak, derived from the Christian -subsoil upon which the crust of our rationalism rests. At that moment of -moral depression the thought occurred to me: “Which is better, Salustio, -to go on studying, to learn your profession, practice it, get married, -assume the care of children, endure the trials and tribulations of life, -bear everything which it must bring in its train, sorrow, -disappointments, struggles, and combats, or pass your days like that -good Father, who, at a wedding festival, takes his book and comes out -into the grove to pray so peacefully?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed, I pity a great many,” proceeded the friar, taking my arm -familiarly, and leading me through the grove to a little meadow beyond, -which ended in a fence over which <i>Parietariæ</i> and wild flowers grew. -“To people who judge by appearances only, it may seem that I ought to be -envious in the midst of a wedding-feast, or at least consider my -condition<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a>{268}</span> so different from that of married people, eh? Well, see here, -I assure you (and you will not suppose me to be juggling with words, for -you know now that I am very frank) that it seems rather as if the -newly-married couple inspired me with a feeling of compassion—yes, -compassion—when I realize the hardships which await them on their way -through life, however happy they may be, even though God should shower -upon them all that is understood by the word happiness.”</p> - -<p>The friar’s sentiments tallied so well with mine just then, that I would -gladly have embraced him. But yielding the second time to the desire to -unbosom myself, I sat down on the fence and said:</p> - -<p>“Father Moreno, the marriage appears perfectly absurd to me. Either I am -much mistaken, or it will lead to most lamentable results. Carmiña is an -angel, a saint, an exceptional being; and my uncle—well, I have reason -to know him.”</p> - -<p>The appearance of the Father’s face suddenly changed. His eyes became -severe, he knit his brow, and his smiling lips contracted<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a>{269}</span> into a -serious, almost austere expression. His face revealed, what was seldom -visible there, the stamp of his vocation; the friar and confessor was -reappearing from under the semblance of the affable, courteous, human, -and communicative man.</p> - -<p>“You speak thoughtlessly,” he said, without circumlocution, “and you -must pardon me for bringing you up with a round turn. Perhaps you think -that you have something to found your opinion upon, though I really -regret that you oblige me to recall <i>that</i>—because I desire to forget -that you were more indiscreet and inquisitive than is fitting in a -person who, by his training and the scientific nature of his profession, -ought to set everybody an example of seriousness. You know we have never -alluded to that subject, but now that you yourself afford me an -opportunity, I shall not let it pass by. I believe that you acted as you -did out of the natural thoughtlessness of youth; if otherwise, my -goodness!”</p> - -<p>“To what do you refer?” I asked, feeling my personal dignity begin to -assert itself, and looking him squarely in the face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a>{270}</span></p> - -<p>“Bah! as if you did not know! But I am not one who measures his words. I -refer to the tree—to the yew. Do you want it still clearer? To the fall -you got for listening to what did not concern you in the least.”</p> - -<p>“See here, Father, your garb does not give you a right to -everything,—I——”</p> - -<p>“You were listening to us? Yes or no. No rhetoric, now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, if you want to know. Yes, but with the desire to——”</p> - -<p>“To hear what we were talking about.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir; wait; let me explain myself. You may be superior to me in -discretion, Father Moreno, and on that occasion I acknowledge it; but as -for pure intentions and high-minded purposes,—Father, in spite of all -your vows and your belief, you do not surpass me in that regard; I give -you my word of honor.”</p> - -<p>“I admit that you are right, and it is a good deal to admit,” said the -friar, calmly; “and I do so because I have liked you from the first -moment I saw you; because I think I can read and understand your -disposition, and I do not at all perceive in you fiendish malice, or a -corrupt<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a>{271}</span> heart, or wicked purposes. Come, now, you must acknowledge that -I am doing you ample justice. But in the case we speak of, I fancy that -you are laboring under a foolish, romantic spirit, which leads you to go -about righting the wrongs of the oppressed, as Don Quixote did; and that -you suffer from a morbid curiosity which sometimes tempts us to meddle -in affairs that do not concern us, and that the Lord has given us no -commission to regulate.”</p> - -<p>“But my uncle’s marriage——”</p> - -<p>“May possibly affect you, inasmuch as it concerns your personal -interests; but as for whether Carmen will be happy or unhappy, whether -she is good or bad,—with that you have nothing whatever to do any more -than I have with the affairs of the emperor of China, not a bit more, -Señor Don Salustio; and still less to endeavor by means of an -indiscretion to penetrate into the sanctuary of a spirit and the -intricacies of a conscience.”</p> - -<p>“Father,” I answered, proudly, for I was urged on by my anger at his -reprimand, and by my singular and unpleasant predicament, “you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a>{272}</span> may say -what you please about my conduct, and I will pay due respect to your -words, not on account of the garb you wear—which does not mean much in -my estimation—but on account of the dignity with which you wear it. Let -it be conceded that I was indiscreet, a meddler, a veritable Paul Pry, -or whatever you like to call me; but that does not prevent me from being -right in predicting evil of a marriage made under certain conditions and -circumstances. Now that you are aware that I have cause to know all -about it, and now that I acknowledge myself guilty of playing the spy, -do not deny that what you did to-day in the chapel was to give your -sanction to a fatal and horrible mistake.”</p> - -<p>The friar kept looking at me, his frown growing all the while darker and -more displeased. In other circumstances his manifest displeasure would -have restrained me; but at that time no one could have silenced me. I -caught him by the arm, and said, resolutely:</p> - -<p>“Listen, Father,—marriages which have not been consummated are very -easy to annul,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a>{273}</span> according to canon law. You must know that better than -I. Speak to me frankly; I appeal to your honor, Father. We may avert a -terrible misfortune. Do you think I had better go to Señorita Aldao, and -say to her, ‘Poor child, you do not understand what you have rushed -into, but you still have time; your marriage is not valid; protest, and -break it all off. Don’t let the wrong become complete. Free yourself -from that fearful thing. In your innocency, you cannot imagine, unhappy -girl, what it is to be my uncle’s wife. It is a horrible thing, I assure -you. I hope I may never live to see it. First, let me become blind! -Father Moreno is an honorable man, and his advice to you is the same as -mine. Come, now, be brave, break the chain—I will help you, and the -Father and all of us will help you. Courage!’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“What I can swear to,” said the friar, “is that you are crazy, or are in -the straight road to become so. Or else—see here!” He clapped his hand -to his forehead, and added, “How many glasses of sherry have gone down -you to-day?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a>{274}</span></p> - -<p>“Do you think that I am drunk?” I shouted, drawing myself up fiercely.</p> - -<p>“I give you my word,” he said, readily, “that I do not believe you are -in that shameful condition. I only wish to say that the wine has -somewhat excited your brain, producing a disturbance which is more moral -than physical, and which shows itself in talking fair-sounding nonsense, -in meddling in other people’s affairs and in regulating the world to -suit ourselves—goodness, when the one who should regulate it is God!”</p> - -<p>“Very well; but if I should say to Carmiña that she must annul her -marriage, what would be your reply?”</p> - -<p>“I should advise you to take care of yourself, and probably should say -to you, ‘Soak your head, my son, for it is red hot!’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“So you think there is no remedy!” I cried, with painful vehemence. -“That we should allow the iniquity to be consummated and the catastrophe -to be brought on with our arms folded! But is it possible that you do -not know my uncle? Don’t you see the meanness and vileness of his -nature—above all, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a>{275}</span> compared with the goodness of that incomparable -woman, whom you ought to venerate as much as the Virgin Mary, because -she is as good——”</p> - -<p>I could not go on. Exasperated and flushed with anger, with all the -energy of his nature and the spirit of his calling, the friar stopped my -mouth by laying his broad hand on it.</p> - -<p>“By my faith! by all the saints! I feel like sending you I know very -well where, and I would send you there if I did not see that you are in -an abnormal state of mind. Serafín drank the Pajarete, but you have the -fumes of it in your head. I did not believe it before, but now,—I did -not imagine that too much drink was what ailed you; but if you go off in -such wild sayings, the greatest favor I can do you is to suppose that -you are tipsy.”</p> - -<p>I stepped back, protesting and offended.</p> - -<p>“Take care, Father, be careful what you say! Nobody has a right to -hurt——”</p> - -<p>The friar, quickly passing from anger to cordiality, clapped me on the -shoulder, saying:</p> - -<p>“Don’t get offended. Good gracious! Listen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a>{276}</span> to me quietly if you can. -Your potations have inclined you to take a high and sublime stand, which -proves that you have a fund of good feeling stored away in your heart, -that springs to the surface when you are least in control of yourself; -precisely when you speak with perfect freedom, <i>ex abundantia cordis</i>. -This is what I have observed, and I tell you so sincerely, with the -sincerity becoming a member of a religious order, who neither disguises -his thoughts nor concerns himself over trifles. I will even grant you -more. Possibly, in the midst of your—ahem—excitement, you may clearly -perceive the future, and be a prophet in maintaining that this marriage -has been, humanly speaking, a blunder. But you make no account of the -aid of grace and of Providence, which never fails the good, the -simple-hearted, or those who do their duty, and trust in the word of -Christ. Peace in the soul is a real treasure, among the many false ones -the world offers. Don’t pity your aunt, or me, or any one who walks in -the straight path and knows how to defy man’s physical nature.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a>{277}</span></p> - -<p>The friar’s arguments pierced my brain like a sword. Rather it was not -his arguments, but the tone of conviction and veracity with which he -uttered them, aided by my state of mind, and the silly admiration of the -“high and sublime,” as the Father put it, induced by my tipsiness. At -any rate, my pessimistic opinions sprang up afresh, and so did my desire -to make an end of my wretched existence, or at least of its hurtful -illusions. Repressing a longing to throw myself into the friar’s arms, I -exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Alas, Father, how correct you are in that! Oh, if one might only enjoy -your belief and wear your garb! Tell me whether a rationalist may enter -a convent. I believe he can. Oh, I feel so sad, so sad. It seems as -though my life were at an end.”</p> - -<p>The friar looked at me with singular penetration. His eyes seemed like -two lancets probing my heart, and dissecting its fibers. His tone became -more severe as he said:</p> - -<p>“Take care that you do not lose your self-respect, or forget your -purpose to behave yourself like a man of honor. However, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a>{278}</span> -closely at the matter, provided you do not make an end of the lives of -the others—do what you please with your own.”</p> - -<p>I did not turn my head, or droop my eyes, or blush. If the friar’s eyes -accused, mine made an open confession; they almost challenged him, as -though I said: “Agreed, you can read my thoughts, I make no attempt to -conceal them. Judged by my views of morality, what I feel is no crime. -The only crime is to have performed that marriage ceremony.”</p> - -<p>I turned my back on him, and, jumping over the fence, passed on into the -fields.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a>{279}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">I do</span> not know whether the desire to get away from Tejo or to seek -greater solitude, induced me to stroll toward the beach. Night had -fallen. The moon had risen red and angry, but was resuming her serene -appearance as she mounted into the sky. The murmuring waves broke -against the rocks, when I seated myself with a dull sense of pain and an -inclination to give myself up to all the dreams and chimeras of an -imagination heated by the after effects of the champagne. The soft -ripple of the placid estuary, the tremulous glimmer of the moon on the -water, and the mysterious effusiveness inspired by nature, predisposed -me to the following monologue: “If she and I had been married to-day, I -would get rid of these troublesome people, and would lead her here on my -arm; I would sit close to her on this very rock, which seems made on -purpose for an experience like that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a>{280}</span> which one never could forget. -Encircling her waist with my arm, resting her head against my breast, -without startling her, without offending her delicacy, I would gently -prepare her to share with me the full rapture of passion, to yield -herself joyfully to the fated unfolding of human love. And these would -be the most joyous, most delicious moments in our whole life. We would -be wrapt in silent and profound bliss. How sweet our silence would be! -Perhaps such joy would be too great for our hearts to bear. It might be -so intense that we could not endure it. For that reason it lasts but a -short time, and is rarely found. And,” I went on in my soliloquy, “the -fact is, such happiness will never be yours, my boy. Auntie Carmen is -like all women, and only possesses one innocency. She will lose it -to-day. To-day another man will pluck the lily. To-day, what you respect -more than anything else in the world, is given over to profanation. No -matter how many years may pass, or how many favors you may obtain from -that woman, you will never be able to bring her to this beach in the -moonlight, through<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a>{281}</span> paths overgrown by honeysuckle, to taste emotions -never felt before, to enter into life through the gateway of illusion.”</p> - -<p>This was the substance of the wild fancies which floated through my -brain during the paroxysm of my grief, while I struggled against the -depression caused by my partial intoxication. A vague idea floated -through my mind dominating all the rest: “If Carmen’s lord were not my -uncle, I should not be so given over to misery and rage. My romantic -fancy for <i>her</i> is only my everlasting prejudice against <i>him</i>, taking -on another form.”</p> - -<p>I went up to Tejo feeling more desperate than if I were suffering under -some real and terrible affliction. I believe that on my way there I -threw down and trampled on the spray of orange blossoms I had so eagerly -begged her to give me that morning. I endeavored to control myself so as -not to commit greater acts of folly, and when I entered the house I -avoided meeting anybody and went directly to my room, longing to throw -myself on my bed, to fall to cursing, or to toss around until I should -fall asleep, overcome by fatigue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a>{282}</span></p> - -<p>As I ascended the stairs leading to the tower, I recollected that I had -the key of Serafín’s room in my pocket, and that I ought to find out how -he was getting on. He must be snoring by this time, I thought, as I -opened the door. I shaded the candle with my hand, and peered in to see -what the poor drunken creature was doing. As I looked at his bed, where -I thought he was lying, the acolyte arose from the floor at my feet, -where he was crouched, laughing and showing his ugly teeth like an ape.</p> - -<p>“You little beast, what are you doing there?” I said. “A nice mess -you’ve made of it to-day. You ought to be whipped. Were you praying on -account of your sins? Come, get into bed at once, or I’ll—give you a -good one!”</p> - -<p>He rose up. His small eyes gleamed with a cat-like phosphorescence; his -face was still distorted, and his stiff red hair put the finishing touch -to his wild and impish appearance.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he cried, grating his teeth. “I am -enjoying a free performance, and I have a private box to myself.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a>{283}</span></p> - -<p>“What do you mean, you toad?”</p> - -<p>“It’s true. Look for yourself.”</p> - -<p>His meaning flashed through my mind, and I kneeled down quickly to look -in the direction in which the acolyte was pointing. The bridal chamber -was directly underneath the tower. I knew it, and quickly recalled that -fact before I looked. The ceiling was not plastered, but the beams were -left bare, and through a crack in the floor of our story, as the room -underneath was lighted, we could see perfectly all that was going on.</p> - -<p>I shuddered as I became convinced that I was actually looking into the -bridal chamber. It was true! I could see it! I could see it! What a -dreadful discovery! I restrained myself so as not to cry out, and so -that I might remain there motionless, instead of scraping the floor and -rattling its boarding in my insane fury. Fortunately, by chance, by the -will of God, there was nothing going on in the room. It was entirely -empty. At either side of the toilet table a pink-colored candle was -burning in a brass candlestick. There was another one, in a porcelain -candlestick, on a stand behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>{284}</span> the large bronze bed. Flowers, roses -especially, were scattered around everywhere; on the tables, on the -desk, on the toilet table, even in hanging-baskets. What a profanation -of nature! Roses for such a nuptial night! The very solitude of the -place, the strange silence, worked on my imagination to such an extent -that I even fancied I could smell the roses which impregnated the -atmosphere of the room below. I seemed to hear through the open window -the notes of the nightingale, which usually sang in the orange tree at -that hour of the night, and also its fluttering about in the climbing -plants in the court. The whiteness of the half-opened bed, the quiet of -the room, the graceful toilet table with its vaporous lace folds falling -to the floor, all excited me, rendered me wild, and increased the tumult -which raged in my heart. My temples throbbed, and I seemed to feel -something like the singing of the sea in my ears, for as I stooped down -the blood rushed to my head, and I felt like roaring.</p> - -<p>The acolyte touched me on the shoulder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a>{285}</span></p> - -<p>“Look here, monsieur comrade, that is not fair,” he growled. “I also -have eyes to see with.”</p> - -<p>“If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll smash you to atoms,” I answered, -fiercely.</p> - -<p>“Well, at least tell me what you see.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t see anything, you owl,” I replied. “Nothing at all, nothing!”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t the actors arrived yet? Hasn’t the curtain risen? Isn’t the -orchestra playing yet?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I told you to keep still!” I shouted, angrily.</p> - -<p>From that moment the persistent fellow kept quiet, although afterward I -discovered that his silence was neither due to his discretion nor -goodness.</p> - -<p>I still kept on watching, without paying further attention to him. The -bridal chamber remained deserted, suggestive, alluring.</p> - -<p>I could see the smallest details with exasperating clearness. There were -several hair-pins on a small glass tray, and pins stuck into a cushion; -the pillow cases had a shield embroidered in the center, and a branch -of<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a>{286}</span> southern wood was placed in the small font of holy water. I counted -the moths which flew in through the window, singeing themselves in the -lights; I counted the crystal prisms on the candlesticks.</p> - -<p>I thought that my heart would burst when I heard voices in the doorway, -a confused murmur of farewells; the latch was raised, and a person -entered with a light and somewhat timid step, and alone. It was Carmen.</p> - -<p>Oh, Heavens! I prayed for strength not to scream, not to faint. In her -white bridal robe, somewhat crumpled by having been worn all day, she -was bewitching. The first thing she did was to go up to the window, as -though she felt the need of fresh air. She remained there a few moments, -and I could perceive the beautiful curve of her neck, and fancied I -could read her thoughts. Then she came away from the window and looked -at herself an instant in the glass, as it seemed to me with more -curiosity than vanity. Her object in consulting the mirror seemed to be: -“Let me see how I look since the great event which took place this -morning.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a>{287}</span></p> - -<p>Then, with a quickness which showed that she was accustomed to doing -without a maid, she began to take off her ear-rings, bracelets, pins, -and clasps, carefully placing them on the glass tray, with the deftness -which always characterized her purely mechanical movements. Then, -raising her arms, she began to take out her hair-pins, one by one. I -gazed upon that splendid ornament of a woman, her loosened hair, in all -its beauty. Uncoiled, it fell in heavy, black waves down to her knees. A -painful restlessness took possession of me. That loosening of the hair -seemed to me a prelude to other freedoms of the toilet, which I was -about to witness; and the mere thought made my blood boil in distressing -fury. Fortunately—and I could have given thanks on my bended knees for -that—I perceived that she had loosened her hair only to make herself -more comfortable, for she simply combed it out and gathered up the whole -mass in a loose knot. After this, she leaned her elbow on the table, -rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, compressing her lips and -slightly moving her head up and down, like one struggling<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a>{288}</span> with -perplexing thoughts. I noticed a painful contraction in her face; she -had the appearance of one who when she finds herself alone, abandons -herself to meditation, and allows the countenance to express the -feelings of the heart. Her eyes partly closed; she bowed her head on her -breast, let her hands fall into her lap, and—I clearly heard it—she -sighed, a deep sigh, drawn from the depths of her heart. Then she raised -her head, and remained for some moments with her eyes fixed on empty -space. Suddenly she breathed heavily, and rose like one who adopts a -firm and decided resolution. And just at that moment—</p> - -<p>Oh, I will not look, I do not want to see! A man entered the room, -stealthily, with a beaming face, but yet with somewhat irresolute and -constrained bearing. If my eyes had had the power of a basilisk’s, the -bridegroom would have dropped down dead, annihilated by my look. The -silhouette of the deicide stood out against the window frame, and I saw -the gleam of his white shirt-front. The light fell full on his face, -more repulsive<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a>{289}</span> than ever; on his copper-colored beard; his hard eyes, -which I could have torn from their sockets.</p> - -<p>I heard a silly and mocking laugh behind me. I turned, arose, and saw -the acolyte crouched down, looking through another crack in the floor. -He still held in his hand the razor with which he had widened it.</p> - -<p>A murderous impulse ran through my veins, and, trembling with rage, I -clutched Serafín by the throat, choking him while I cried:</p> - -<p>“I will cut you in bits, I will strangle you this minute, if you dare to -look again. Do you hear, you toad? It will be the worse for you if you -dare to peep through that crack again. I’ll kill you without a shadow of -remorse!”</p> - -<p>“But, you were peeping, too—nuts and old Nick!” squeaked the poor -youth, still hiccoughing, after he had somewhat recovered his breath. -“What a way you have! The old Nick! You have driven your fingers through -my throat!”</p> - -<p>“I shall not look any more—nor you, either. We were both brutes. If we -had any decency,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a>{290}</span> we should not have thought of looking. Serafín, we are -not beasts—we are men! No, you shall not look again.”</p> - -<p>“Now you are crying—you are half crazy, I declare!” exclaimed the -theological apprentice.</p> - -<p>“You are the one who is crazy and possessed with the devil,” I answered, -making a heroic attempt to repress the senseless tears which were -burning between my eye-lids. “I am not crying; but if I did, it would be -out of shame for having kneeled down there. I am going to bed; but as I -am not sure that you will not get down again on all fours, I shall tie -you to the bed-post.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t do it, Salustio, don’t,” cried the terrified rebel. “Don’t tie -me! I give you my word of honor not to look.”</p> - -<p>I fastened his hands with a handkerchief, and his body with a towel. He -might have released himself by the slightest movement, but he was so -terrified and subdued that he did not even stir. He only groaned from -time to time.</p> - -<p>I stretched myself on the bed. Who could<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a>{291}</span> have slept in such -circumstances? The endless night passed on, and I kept twisting and -turning, hiding my face in the pillows, covering my eyes and ears with -my hands, as though to shut out the images and sounds which jealousy -presented to my mind.</p> - -<p>At daybreak I arose from my bed of torture, washed and dressed myself, -and without releasing Serafín, or taking leave of anybody, or seeing a -single soul, went off to San Andrés, and thence to Pontevedra and -Ullosa, like one who flees from the spot where a terrible crime has been -committed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a>{292}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">My</span> mother, with her usual sagacity, saw at once that I was preoccupied -and morose, but she made a mistake as to the cause.</p> - -<p>“They must have slighted you at Tejo,” she said. “Don’t say it is not -so, for I am sure that they treated you in a shameful manner. If not, -why did you rush off like a frightened hare, without taking leave of -anybody? Come, now, tell your mother all about it.”</p> - -<p>Although I vowed and protested that I had been treated with the greatest -kindness, she would not believe it.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, keep it to yourself, make a mystery of it; but I’ll find it -out, for everything leaks out. Some of the others will tell me all about -it.”</p> - -<p>I had to tell her all the particulars of the wedding; or, rather, she -went ahead of my story, and showed herself acquainted with details in a -way that amazed me. She was posted on points where I was ignorant. It -was characteristic<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a>{293}</span> of her quick and sharp wit to master the minor -matters of life, but to remain in ignorance of its deep, eternal laws, -which can be perceived only by superior minds, and which will control -life until its last breath is drawn, and the universe grows cold through -the absence of love.</p> - -<p>During the first days of my stay in the village I felt much better. The -singular frenzy of the day of the wedding had subsided through lack of -external stimuli to revive it; so much so that I came to fancy that my -enthusiasm over Carmen, my furious jealousy, the poetic reveries on the -beach, were only tricks of the imagination, which is apt to feign the -existence of profound feelings where there is really only caprice, vague -longings and delusions.</p> - -<p>Luis Portal came from Orense to pass a week at my house, and his society -helped to quiet me down. We took such long walks and ate such quantities -of bread and milk that healthy fatigue and country life did their work, -preparing me to listen calmly and even assent to arguments like the -following:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a>{294}</span></p> - -<p>“What is taking place in you,” Luis used to say when we were stretched -out at the foot of a chestnut, where we had divided our lunch, “is a -phenomenon very common among us Spaniards. While we honestly believe -that we are preparing for the future and longing for it, we live -infatuated with the past, and are really the bitterest kind of -traditionalists at bottom, although we call ourselves Republicans. What -charms and attracts you in your Uncle Felipe’s wife is precisely that in -which she is most in opposition to your ideas, your convictions, and -your manner of life as a man of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>“You say that Señorita Aldao realizes the ideal of a Christian woman. -Nonsense, my boy! Will you kindly tell me what attractiveness we can -find in that ideal if we examine it carefully? The ideal for us ought to -be the woman of the present, or, better, of the future; a woman who -could understand us and share our aspirations. You will say that she -does not exist. Then let us try to manufacture her. She will never exist -if we condemn her before she is born.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a>{295}</span></p> - -<p>“What are the virtues which you attribute to your aunt, and which you -admire so much? In what do they consist? They appear to me negative, -irrational, brutal. Don’t start up in that way,—I said brutal. She has -married a man who is repulsive to her, given herself up to him like an -automaton, and all for what? In order not to sanction by her presence -another person’s sins. Who can be held responsible for anybody’s actions -but his own? That young lady is either demented or a stark fool; and the -friar who countenances her and seconds her,—well, I don’t care to say -what I think of him, because my tongue would run away with me. He -understands better than she does what she is binding herself to, and he -ought to have prevented such a barbarous affair. I tell you that the -little friar,—oh, well, a friar will be a friar; but we, who undertake -to bring about social changes, must differentiate ourselves from him to -some extent.</p> - -<p>“A woman such as our modern society needs would go out to service, would -take in sewing, or scrub floors, if she was not happy in her father’s -house, if her self-respect was<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a>{296}</span> wounded, but she would never give up her -liberty, her heart, and her person, to such a husband. You have caught -the infection of Christianity. You must get rid of it. A perfect -Christian woman! And why is it that you are charmed by a perfect -Christian woman? Are you, perchance, a perfect Christian man? Do you -aspire to be one? Or do you believe that the destined progress of -society depends upon the wife being a Christian and the husband a -rationalist?</p> - -<p>“Salustio, wake up, for you are dreaming. Are you really going to fall -in love with a woman, because her ideas are contrary to yours in almost -every respect? Well, suppose she were single, and you should marry her, -and that she should keep burning the torch of faith,—and—well—I would -not give a fig for it all. Leave her to your uncle, she is just the -thing for him. They’ll make a fine couple. But for you! My boy, cure -yourself of romanticism and Christianity. That does not mean that you -should not make love to your auntie; but do it in a human way, without -any high tragedy business. If you<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a>{297}</span> like her, go on! That is, so long as -you are careful to avoid family dramas. Leave the dramas for the Teatro -Real; even there the greater part of them are senseless. Well, you -understand me, no dramas. But if you dare to tell me any more tales -about Christian women and Jewish men, I’ll give you a dose of bromide. -And, above all things, grind away at your studies. I shall not waste any -time next year, even if Venus herself should come and be sweet on me.”</p> - -<p>Portal’s sensible remarks did not fail to influence me greatly. At least -they made me ponder on the problem of my wild enthusiasm. It was true -that my aunt’s ideas and feelings were radically opposed to mine; I did -not believe at all in what she venerated as dogma; her ideas of morality -differed from mine; the word duty had a meaning for her different from -the one I put upon it; but, nevertheless, that very difference of ideals -attracted me toward her, in the same manner that a white man is -sometimes charmed by the olive hue of a mulatto, or a passionate gypsy -woman by the golden hair of an Englishman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a>{298}</span></p> - -<p>Was Portal right in saying that we knew no woman suited to us, and that -we ought to search for one, to fashion her in our own image, so that she -might comprehend us, and her brain work in unison with ours? Or, on the -contrary, was a piquant unlikeness of souls a greater attraction, and -the having in one’s own soul hidden chambers, like Blue Beard’s, where a -wife would never be able to enter? Why did I exalt that woman, seeing in -her a perfect type of womanhood? Why did her self-sacrifice, which would -have appeared so absurd in me, seem so sublime in her?</p> - -<p>“Luis is right on one subject,” I definitely decided; “we must devote -our minds to our books; a drama in one’s own life is an enemy of study.”</p> - -<p>In fact, I took up my books in order to take advantage of the leisure of -vacation time to do a little reviewing, and when I tried to concentrate -my mind on inflexible mathematics, a fearful battle raged in my brain, -which I used to call, in my private dialect, the war between straight -lines and curved. The straight lines were the equations, the -polynomials,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a>{299}</span> the theorems, the problems connected with the cutting of -angles, and other such demoniacal puzzles; while the curved lines stood -for amorous reveries, hatred of Jews, and all the troublesome -ebullitions of my youthful fancy. At first the curved lines had the best -of it, but the superior tactics and precision of the straight lines -finally routed that undisciplined army, which, in the utmost confusion, -retreated toward the heart, its last refuge.</p> - -<p>The vacation was drawing to a close, when we had an unexpected visitor. -The irrepressible Serafín made his appearance without any signs of -bitterness or ill-will, lazy and good-natured as a little dog, and took -up his abode at Ullosa. I could not recollect that I had ever given him -any invitation, and my mother was sure that she had not. We made the -best of the situation, and from the first day my mother devoted him to -trimming out the vines on the arbors, picking fruit, and feeding the -chickens—tasks which he performed with the greatest pleasure. When we -talked by ourselves, instead of displaying the slightest resentment, he -embraced me warmly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a>{300}</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t you know?” he asked, affectionately; “as soon as you left, I -untied myself. If they had caught me in such a fix, tied up, a nice time -we should have had! What a joke! It was not right to watch them; but it -was jolly fun. The wine was to blame for it all. The married couple went -off to Pontevedra that very afternoon. Now they are showing themselves -off there. The Saint complimented them by a grand dinner at <i>Naranjal</i>; -they served up fried brains of taxpayers and pickled client’s leg. They -had nougat for desert—as your uncle’s house is already rented for the -post-office. Hey? He, he, he! Señor Aldao has obtained some cross or -other, and is now called ‘Your Excellency.’ And you don’t know the best -of it. Haven’t you heard about the irrision,—I mean procession,—in -honor of the Virgin? I was amazed that fire from heaven did not fall -upon it, as was said—<i>Pluit super Sodomam et Gomorrham sulphur et ignem -a domino de cœlo</i>. If you could have seen that masquerade! There was -Don Vicente carrying the standard; Pimentel, very stuck up, with his -white cravat; your uncle<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a>{301}</span> carrying a lighted taper, with a face which -looked like mortal sin; behind him all the political hangers-on, -grasping tapers—they who never thought they would do such a thing! Then -came the fellows with leggins, the secretaries to the Common Council, -with white ruffles round their knees; all the mayors, and all the -judges, and all the registrars, and all the supernumeraries. Oh, why -didn’t you go to Pontevedra that day? We wont have another such in -twenty years to come. Even the newspaper men and the masons carried -tapers. I assure you it is true. And afterward <i>El Teucrense</i> called the -procession a festival. What is a festival? Like a saturnalia, I -presume.”</p> - -<p>Afterward, lowering his voice, he added:</p> - -<p>“There was a bishop there also, gaping away, and not out of devotion to -the Virgin, either, but for the sake of the great saint with the fat -offices. But don’t feel shocked at that. Nestorius was bishop of -Constantinople. And who promoted the schism of that big hog of a king of -England but another pig of a heretical bishop, who was called <i>Crémor or -Cremer</i>!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>{302}</span> Don’t talk to me about bishops. The Church will have to be -reformed by the Pope and us clergy alone—no, I mean the clergy’s -apprentices and a few laymen with grievances—no matter what the -Encyclical, <i>cum multa</i>, says.”</p> - -<p>I assured him that I did not know what that Encyclical said, and then -asked him, as though by chance, after Candidiña.</p> - -<p>“A nice girl she is! He, he, he! She is there all alone with the old -man, now. She’ll drive him distracted.”</p> - -<p>He also spoke of Father Moreno, and I learned that the Moorish friar -intended to spend a few days at Ullosa as soon as he had finished taking -his sea-baths.</p> - -<p>In fact, the Father arrived a few days later, covered with dust from his -long ride in the diligence. My mother, who was very fond of him, -received him quite coldly at first; she could not forgive him for having -officiated at the marriage. But I overwhelmed him with polite -attentions. I should have liked to be able to say to Aben Jusuf:</p> - -<p>“My delirium has passed away. The sentimental fever has abated. If you -only knew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a>{303}</span> Father, how well I feel now. Just like a person who uses an -anæsthetic to cure his neuralgia, and does cure it. My neuralgia, or -lover’s toothache, no longer exists. It seems impossible that I am the -same one who almost broke his neck falling off a tree, lowered his -dignity by playing the spy on a certain wedding night, wanted to throw -himself into the sea, and begged a novitiate’s habit of you. Here you -see a well-behaved young man, a student of engineering, and the son of -Benigna Unceta, who, as you know, is a very practical lady. I am now -sound and whole.”</p> - -<p>If not exactly this, it was something very similar that I said to him in -the course of a ramble over the mountains. I recollect that he seemed -well pleased, and answered as follows:</p> - -<p>“I am indeed glad to hear it, but don’t be too sure. These heart fevers -do not go on as they begin; but the Lord help us, if you get a relapse. -And it’s our fault if we have a relapse, because we go near the fire. In -that lottery, they give prizes to the nearest numbers. Don’t you get -near. Keep at a respectful<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a>{304}</span> distance. Establish a sanitary cordon. If -you do not do so, I shall not consider you a man of honor.”</p> - -<p><i>Mutatis mutandis</i>, so Father Moreno expressed his opinions. After her -momentary annoyance, my mother, whose heart is as good as gold and who -is very hospitable, showered attentions on the Father, and insisted on -feeding him at all hours of the day, until finally the friar, with a -comical air, rose in revolt:</p> - -<p>“No more chicken, not even if you cut me in pieces! Not a morsel more! -What a woman! Hard-hearted creature, do you want me to burst on the -spot? You may wear as big a bustle as you choose, madam, but I must -control the bulging of my own stomach.”</p> - -<p>But her exaggerated gastronomical entertainment of the friar did not -last long, for he went off to his monastery after the two days, leaving -a great void behind him. His vacation was over, and the leave of absence -granted by his Superior in order that he might take sea-baths and -recruit his health; so the Moor in a friar’s garb meekly wended his way -back to his gloomy retreat in Compostela, where the walls<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a>{305}</span> were covered -with dampness, and a green moisture was visible on the window-sills and -the cracks of the masonry. In spite of the hearty manner in which he -assured me that he was willing to fulfill his obligations, I could see -that that Spaniard, who was half Saracen, so fond of the warmth of -Africa, must suffer keenly both in mind and body on being banished to -such a damp and dreary region.</p> - -<p>I saw him march away to his exile, recalling with amazement that I had -envied him his garb, and even the vows which bound him.</p> - -<p>I surely must have been sick with a sort of <i>psycalgia</i>, or moral -neurosis, this summer, and now that I am convalescent I perceive it.</p> - -<p>During the few days before my return to Madrid, as we had no guests or -particular amusements, I buried myself in the reading of two or three -interesting books, works on philosophy, among them Kant’s “Critique of -Pure Reason.” Exempt as it is, in my judgment, from all flow of mere -sentiment and misleading hallucinations, I read it with the purest -delight; my mind, already disciplined by the study of mathematics, -fairly absorbing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a>{306}</span> teaching of the philosopher. I felt the remotest -cells of my brain penetrated, in gentle firmness, by those truths of -criticism, which, far from leading us to skeptical negations, fill us -with a serene conviction of the uselessness of our endeavors to become -acquainted with the external world, and shut us up in the beneficent -selfishness of the study of our own faculties.</p> - -<p>When, after reading Kant, I would roam through the meadows, the groves, -the modest belongings of our patrimonial estate, and the peace of -twilight would sink into my spirit, I would find myself feeling happy; -completely cured of my folly; shut up to the straight line. “Understand, -and you will be free,” I repeated to myself, with youthful pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a>{307}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> I left the train at the northern station in Madrid, the first thing I -saw was the red beard and strongly marked features of my Uncle Felipe, -who shook hands with me and called a porter to take my trunk. Then he -got into a carriage with me and gave the driver the number of his house.</p> - -<p>“Are we not going to my boarding-house?” I inquired with surprise.</p> - -<p>“You’ll see,” replied the Hebrew, with that hesitation in speaking, and -that peculiar contraction of his features, which always accompanied in -him a manifestation of avarice. “It is all nonsense that you should stay -at a boarding-house, when you have relatives here. I have a spare room -in my house, which nobody uses now. We used to keep some old things -there. It is a cheerful room, and large enough. You will be better off -than in the boarding-house, my boy. And for your studies, as quiet as -you could wish.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a>{308}</span></p> - -<p>I understood his meanness at once. It would cost him more to pay for my -board, however cheap it might be, than to lodge me in his own house. But -I <i>there</i>! I cannot explain the singular effect the idea produced upon -me at first. However, I exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“I am quite sure that my aunt will not approve of my taking up my abode -at your house.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you,” answered the husband. “At first she had an idea that -for your purposes the boarding-house would be better. She was quite -strenuous about it. But I have convinced her, and now she does not -object at all.”</p> - -<p>I kept silent. I was feeling the disagreeable impression one experiences -on leaving a warm atmosphere for a current of cold air which whips one’s -face. My life at Ullosa had been a parenthesis, a pleasant rest, a sort -of agreeable sleepiness, and that rude summons to the outside world, to -its agitations and changes, just as I was about to take up my studies -again, and when I needed all my power of mind and will for my difficult -tasks, fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a>{309}</span> bewildered me. Nevertheless, youth is so fond of peril, -the surf, and the tempest, that I felt a thrill of pleasure when my -uncle rang the electric bell, and the door opened behind which was -Carmen Aldao.</p> - -<p>With what agitation I greeted her! All my blood rushed to my heart, and -I perceived the symptoms of “the ancient flame,” as Dante says in -speaking of his encounter with Beatrice. My uncle’s wife received me -with propriety, displaying neither coldness nor excessive cordiality. -Fulfilling her duties as mistress of the house, she led me to my room, -found out what I needed, showed me where I could keep my clothing and -books, and gave me some practical advice about making the most of the -four walls.</p> - -<p>“Here you can put your ruffled shirts. You can hang your cloak on this -hook. The table you will have here, near the window, where you can study -better. Look, here is your wash-stand. Always keep the towels here. I -got this lamp with a green shade for you, so that you might not spoil -your eyes.”</p> - -<p>While she went on explaining all about<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a>{310}</span> those details, I looked at her -with such eagerness that I fairly drank in her features and fed upon her -beloved face. What I was trying to discover, when I scrutinized her, was -that revelation which, to a close observer, is stamped on every married -woman’s face, and which might be called the running account of -happiness. No, no, she was not happy. The dark circles under her eyes -did not betray feverish love, but hidden sorrow. Her mouth had a set -expression, like that of all who wrestle in secret to mortify the flesh -or the mind. Her temples were slightly faded. Her waist was flatter; it -had not acquired the graceful and impressive roundness which is -perceptible in women after a few months of married life, even if they do -not become mothers. No, she was not happy! How my fancy took this -supposition for a foundation, and built upon it! It was not long, -however, before I became habituated to living at Carmen’s, and my stay -there appeared less dangerous to me than at first. Proximity is always -an incentive, but dwelling under the same roof does away with all -dramatic interest and novelty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a>{311}</span> with its commonplace meetings, and this -perhaps diminishes the danger.</p> - -<p>Although the last years of the course in engineering are not nearly so -absorbing as the first, and the difficulties lessen as one ascends the -steep hill of knowledge, I had to study enough to occupy all my -available time. Carmen’s life ran on so far removed from mine that -although we were under the same roof we scarcely ever met, except at the -customary hours. In the morning we both went out, I to my classes and -she to do her marketing and to spend a long time in church. At luncheon -I would notice in Carmen a certain animation and strange satisfaction. -She had found comfort in the Church; that was evident. My uncle also, -contented and talkative, in slippers and without a cravat, would chat -with me, would question me, and comment on the events of the night -before, his dialogues in the house and in the lobbies with Don Vicente -Sotopeña on the political prospect, the insinuations of the newspapers, -the last confidential conversation of the Queen Regent with the Austrian -Minister, which had been reported in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a>{312}</span> the Casino by a person who knew -all about it.</p> - -<p>I seemed to excite the loquacity of the newly-married couple, as Carmen, -in her turn, would tell me all the gossip of Pontevedra; the simple -tales her friends would write to her; as well as a thousand details -regarding the neighbors on the first floor and on the floor above, whom -she used to visit evenings, according to the prevalent fashion in Madrid -among the middle classes, who improvise every evening a neighborhood -party.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon my uncle would go out, sometimes alone, and sometimes -with his wife. I employed my time in studying or in roaming around with -Luis, and so we would not see each other until dinner time. This was a -more melancholy affair than luncheon; my aunt would be nervous or -excited, or depressed or absent-minded, without being able to disguise -it. In the evening she would go up to visit her neighbors, or would do -some fancy-work by the fireside, and my uncle would take me out, -sometimes to some small theater. So there was no danger there. My close -confinement to my studies saved me from the suggestions<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a>{313}</span> of idleness. -The devil did not know when to tempt me.</p> - -<p>You may easily surmise to whom I used to unbosom myself. What are -sensible and discreet people like Portal put into the world for, except -to listen to the confidential disclosures of lunatics? I believe that my -greatest inducement to make a full confession to him was the very fact -of the irritation with which Portal would listen to me. His harsh -censures were like strokes of the lash or sword thrusts which stimulated -me, making me reflect on my situation, and scratch deeper down there in -the corners of my spirit.</p> - -<p>“My boy,” said my sedate friend one day, “I have discovered now what -ails you. I know the medicine for your disease. Take my advice, and you -will be well in a quarter of an hour. Your trouble has this technical -name: <i>repressed ardor of youth</i>. And the remedy,—guess what the name -of that is? It is named Belén.”</p> - -<p>“Belén?”</p> - -<p>“What? Have you forgotten her already? Belén, that houri with radiant -black eyes, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a>{314}</span> used to paste little angels on cardboard boxes? So you -had forgotten all about her? Degenerate one! Well, I have followed the -trail. Old fellow, a magic transformation has occurred. You shall behold -that creature now at her apogee. She does not drive in her own carriage -yet, but she will do so in time.”</p> - -<p>“Is that so? Has she found a <i>gran Paganini</i>?” I asked, without the -slightest interest.</p> - -<p>“I wont tell you anything, so that you may judge for yourself. You will -be amazed.”</p> - -<p>A few days later my friend conducted me to a fine dwelling in a street -both central and retired at the same time. The porch was respectable, -the staircase broad and light, and the door of the second story, at -which we knocked, had a remarkably serious and discreet air, with its -hinges and knobs all shining.</p> - -<p>A middle-aged woman, half servant, half housekeeper, dressed in black, -opened the door, and, as soon as Luis spoke, invited us into the parlor, -saying that she would tell “the Señora.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you think of this?” exclaimed my friend. “<span class="lftspc">‘</span>The Señora’ -up-stairs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a>{315}</span> and ‘the Señora’ down-stairs. Chairs upholstered in wool, -color yellow,—mirror with a rosewood frame,—a good moquette -carpet,—fine jute curtains,—two bronze and porcelain vases,—a lamp -with an umbrella shade. It appears the stock-broker is not -close-fisted.”</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear fellow, what a change!”</p> - -<p>“You shall see. The times are changed; still, this transformation was to -be expected. The girl got tired of decorating cornucopias with orange -blossoms; but at that time she had nothing better than your skinflint of -an uncle, who made her account for every penny she spent when he gave -her money for sweetmeats. Consequently, when the worthy Don Telesforo -Armiñón made his appearance, ready to relieve her distress, you may -imagine what followed. The girl thought the heavens had opened. The -first thing that the poor creature asked for was a pair of shoes; those -your uncle kept her in were all burst out. You know that in Madrid their -footgear is what drives them crazy. Now she wears such beautiful shoes!” -Here Portal launched a kiss into the air. “There she comes. Stop -laughing!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a>{316}</span></p> - -<p>We heard a rustling of skirts. Belén made a dignified entrance. It was -true; no one could have recognized her in that disguise. Her hair was -dressed in the classic modest fashion of a lady. She had on a -straw-colored velvet wrapper, and in her ears gleamed diamond ear-rings. -She also wore rings on her hands, now well-cared for; and as she walked -along, we caught a glimpse of the famous little shoes, high-heeled, -narrow, of dark satin, her apple of perdition.</p> - -<p>She seemed stouter, her movements quieter and more languid, her -complexion even fairer and fresher than before, comparable only to the -satin luster of a magnolia leaf.</p> - -<p>“Have we come at an unsuitable hour?” asked Portal.</p> - -<p>Before answering, Belén fixed her eyes upon me; she almost screamed with -joy.</p> - -<p>“Ah, so the prodigal is found! Is it really you, you scamp? I only had -the pleasure of meeting you once, and then you vanished like smoke. So -you have been away for the summer? Well, the rest of us have stayed here -and put up with the heat and scorching. But how<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a>{317}</span> long have you been -here?” she added, assuming a still more familiar tone.</p> - -<p>“He arrived two days ago,” broke in Portal, “and has been sighing ever -since to see such a nice girl as you. He would hardly let me live with -his, ‘Come, let’s go and call on Belén. Although, as she is now such a -fine lady, perhaps she’ll not pay any attention to us poor students. But -I shall get sick if I don’t see her. I shall have an attack of -something—’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Get out, you fraud!” said the beauty, fixing on me her proud and -penetrating eyes with an ardent, yet humble look. “He did not remember -me at all, nor want to—not a bit. Since the day of our frolic, if I -have met you, I don’t remember about it. And I—well what can a girl do? -Your uncle never wasted much on me. What a skin-flint he is! They say -that he is married. A nice time his wife will have! Well, I am -comfortable now; what they call comfortable. This one is of a different -breed. Look,” she added, without giving us time to sit down. “Come and -see my little house, it is so nice. It has a boudoir with a grate, and -all that. We have no fire to-day<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a>{318}</span> because it is not cold yet, do you -see? But I am going to tell them to light one now. See? You pass through -this way to the dining-room; it is small, but very comfortable; and, -besides, we have a beautiful kitchen and a room for trunks. Go back this -way. Here I have a nice bedroom.”</p> - -<p>“My child,” said Portal, to tease her, “you can’t convince me. You have -only changed an open skin-flint for a hypocritical one. Armiñón has more -dollars than the sands of the sea, and yet he has not bought you a coach -nor given you furniture upholstered in silk. Don’t tell me how generous -he is! He owes you a satin divan and a carriage drawn by an English -mare, as much as I owe my life to my father. The Sevillana and Concha -Rios go about in their carriages dressed like two queens. What good do -your beautiful dresses and diamond ear-rings do you if you can’t go to -the Retiro to display them?”</p> - -<p>“Stop! stop! don’t talk to me about coaches, it makes me sick!” answered -the fair sinner, greatly annoyed, in spite of herself, by that about the -carriage. “Do you believe if I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a>{319}</span> were to ask him for a coach he would -refuse me? But I shall not ask for it. I have too much self-respect, do -you know? When I see decent people so different from your Judas Iscariot -uncle—my dear fellow, what a creature he is! He cannot be your real -uncle. Perhaps your grandmother——”</p> - -<p>Afterward she drew us the likeness of her stockbroker.</p> - -<p>“The best thing about him is that he comes very seldom to see me. And -never until after the stock exchange is closed. And some days he doesn’t -appear at all. To-day, for example. He sent me word, and that’s the -reason I am taking things so easy.”</p> - -<p>“But if he should take it into his head to make his appearance here -suddenly?”</p> - -<p>“What a difficulty! I would not open the door. He has no latch-key. I -assure you there is nobody like him, he is so good. If I were to say ‘a -carriage,’ he would answer ‘with six horses.’ Well, if he comes, I’ll -tell him in the morning that I went out with Fausta to see my mother and -Cinta, and he’ll believe it implicitly.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a>{320}</span></p> - -<p>“And how are they?” inquired Portal.</p> - -<p>“Who, my mother and the other one? Well, my boy, they are unbearable. If -you should give them a silver mine they would ask for a gold one. I try -all the time to shake them off, for they are like leeches; and how they -bleed me! And will you believe it, Cinta has taken it upon herself to -preach to me and to say that before she would subject herself to any man -for money she would work and make an honest living. She wants to become -a singer in comic opera. The trouble is, she will have to learn how -first. But I have persuaded my gentleman to rent a piano and pay for a -teacher for me, and the girl may come here to take her lessons. One must -squeeze the lemon. What is a rich man good for, say I, if not for that? -Well, my boy, you must stay here to-day, and do penance in this house. -You’ll see what an elegant dinner service and what beautiful silver I -have; that is to say, plated, for there is no use in exposing one’s self -to being robbed. I’ll put on my nice silk dress, which he gave me a -short time ago on his birthday. Nonsense! I want you to see me in my<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a>{321}</span> -finery. I’ll wear my watch. It does not go well, but it is gold. -Luisillo may go off if he wants to, but you must stay here!”</p> - -<p>A few days after the call on Belén, as Luis and I were walking through -Recoletos, my friend said, half in earnest, half in jest:</p> - -<p>“All rogues are fortunate. That Belén is crazy over you; I never saw so -capricious a woman. I had to give her some good advice yesterday, lest -she should send off her stockbroker and go back to live in a garret in -order to be able to receive you whenever she pleases and with perfect -freedom. I have told her to hold on to him until she finds another who -is more generous and can give her a carriage and solid silver instead of -plated ware. How I did preach to her! Never a mission preacher did -better. But you are such a lucky dog! What a fancy that girl has taken -to you. And yet you don’t feel contented. You are still wool gathering. -If I cut you off a chicken’s wing——”</p> - -<p>“Cut me off what you please, my dear fellow,” I answered, frankly, -revealing my disenchantment in a heavy sigh. “There are higher<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a>{322}</span> -pleasures in the world than mere physical gratification. If you push me -hard, I will tell you that matter does not exist—that it is a myth; -only an idea, and nothing more. Two moments after taking leave of Belén, -I forget even that there is such a woman in the world. I leave her house -feeling penitent and more of a spiritualist than the devil.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t bear to hear you say such stupidities,” cried Portal, -furiously. “What do I care for your ideas, or your spiritualism, or your -pumpkins! Why, where will you find another treasure like Belén? For you, -Belén is the first prize. The trouble is that they have bewitched you at -that cursed house of your uncle’s. The atmosphere of dullness and -hypocrisy which surrounds you there is wasting away your spirit little -by little. Why don’t you come to live at my boarding-house, I’d like to -know? You would be like a fish in deep water there. We would drive the -blues out of you in short order. Trinito is more amusing than ever, this -year. Will you believe it, he not only sings us all the operas but all -that he hears at the concerts in the Romero Salon as well. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>{323}</span> fills our -ears with “Lohengrin,” “Tannhäuser,” and “Parsifal,” till we can hardly -stand it any longer. And the best of it is that he intends to become a -musical critic. We came near throwing the coffee-pot at him yesterday, -for he nearly split our ears with the “Rhinegold.” Come, my dear fellow, -come with us.”</p> - -<p>“I may be as simple as you choose, Luis, but I can’t bear that girl. I -know that she is handsome, that she likes me, and all that; but it makes -no difference to me. Let us see whether you, who did up this package, -can undo it quickly. First you know, I’ll be telling her to her face -that I hate her, which would be needless cruelty. No, no, I shall have -nothing to do with it. Vice and folly may amuse us for a while, but they -finally fill us with loathing.”</p> - -<p>“You simpleton, how do you make out your vice and folly? Why, Belén is a -treasure for you. She sincerely likes you. She would give up her satin -boots and plated ware for your sake. Belén has a heart, while your aunt -has none; at least, none for you. A fig for your virtuous women! I hate -them. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a>{324}</span> plaster cast is more virtuous than they are, for it neither -feels nor suffers.”</p> - -<p>“What do you know about it,” I murmured, allowing my hopes to run wild -in spite of myself. “How can you be sure that her heart may not be for -me? You are too positive. Suppose it should turn out to be for me?”</p> - -<p>Portal suddenly became preoccupied and serious. He knit his brow, and -said to me in a slightly agitated voice:</p> - -<p>“Heaven grant that it may not! I have pondered on that subject, and I -swear to you that the best thing that can befall you is that such an -event may never occur. Do you hear me? You are a lunatic, fit for the -straight-jacket, and you’ll fetch up in Don Ezquerdo’s hands. Suppose -that your aunt should really care for you, that the heart you prate -about should be manifested as you think it may be. Well, after it had -done so, and you had got to loving each other deeply, oh, immensely, -like Francesca and Paolo, what would you do then, you hopeless stupid? -Let us hear it. Unfold your loving programme. Would you elope with her? -Would you hire an apartment for<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a>{325}</span> her? Would you desecrate your uncle’s -home without any scruple? Answer, you gawk!”</p> - -<p>His friendly interest in me blinded and irritated him. His protruding -eyes stared at me angrily, as though gazing at a naughty boy who was -about to cut his fingers playing with a knife.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what to answer, old chap,” I answered, meekly. “What I do -know is that I should be happy, do you hear me? completely happy, if -that angelic being should love me. Oh, if she would love me! I would ask -no more. I would leave her, I would go off to the North Pole, if only I -could be sure of her love. That is what I hope for and what I live for. -I respect her like a saint,—but I want her to love me, to love me.”</p> - -<p>“To love me, to love me!” chanted Portal, mimicking my voice and manner. -“Why, it is the most senseless folly, by Jupiter, and I can’t stand your -talking so. It is needless to add that I don’t speak in this manner out -of any fantastic regard for morality or inflated consideration for home. -Pshaw! As for morality, let everybody settle that question<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a>{326}</span> for himself. -Home! that is a worn-out institution nowadays, and the one who does most -to scuttle it is most deserving of reward from his countrymen. It is not -that, by Jove! But it is a question of advantage,—your own advantage. -You are losing your mind, and will waste a year’s time in your studies, -and all for what? For a figment of your imagination! At our age we all -dream about women, and it is natural enough that we should; but we ought -to dream about a woman of our own make and not about the very one who -would make us unhappy if we were to be united to her. Grant that your -aunt is very good, very pure and saintly! Her goodness is only -passive—submission to her destiny, a moral routine, my boy—and that’s -the end of it, that’s the end. If you were married to Carmen, you would -act just as your uncle does; you would not talk to her at table, and -would leave her alone as much as possible, because you would not -understand her, neither would she understand you, and you would not be -able to endure each other. A more complete divorce of soul would never -have been seen before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>{327}</span> Believe me, and don’t indulge in stupid -illusions. Could you become an intimate friend of a neo-Catholic, -without culture and full of prejudice? Well, neither could you be a -friend to your wife. And what you consider a virtue in her, would surely -appear to you like affectation in the neo-Catholic.”</p> - -<p>“But,” I exclaimed, “how dare you deny the heroism of a woman, who, in -order not to countenance her father’s indecencies, sacrifices her youth, -and marries a man whom she cannot love? We have already discussed this -subject, and I feel indignant that you do not appreciate the merit of -her sacrifice.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s just it! that’s just it!” vociferated Portal, beside -himself. “I will twist the argument around: how dare you characterize as -virtuous the action of a woman who accepts a repulsive husband, and does -not prefer to sing in a theater, like Cinta, or scrub floors like the -scullion who waits on us at Doña Jesusa’s? Why, what difference is there -between your ideal angel and Belén, for instance? Belén puts up with her -hateful protector, because it is for her interest to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a>{328}</span> so, in that she -eats and spends and has a fine time. And that fine lady, your aunt——”</p> - -<p>“Keep still, keep still!” I cried, getting excited in my turn. “If you -say another word about that I shall believe that you are a worthless -scamp, and will give you a beating, as sure as my name is Salustio. -Don’t you dare to mention Carmiña in the same breath with Belén. Don’t -you enrage me!”</p> - -<p>“You are the one seeking a quarrel, you fag-end of——”</p> - -<p>“Take care what you say!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, you leave me alone—”</p> - -<p>“You leave me alone, that’s all I want—”</p> - -<p>And so forth. I do not add another detail, for the discreet reader will -easily imagine what two good friends in a passion would say to each -other. For two weeks I did not see Luis. The truth is, it seemed as -though I had lost something, the practical reason of my life, the Sancho -who used to moderate my quixotic flights. I did not know myself without -his observations, his jests, his anger, and his preachings. At the hour -when I used to go to his boarding-house in search of him, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329"></a>{329}</span> would feel -discontented and uneasy, and even homesick. I missed the habit which had -become second nature—the pleasant, friendly intercourse, the -intellectual friction, the disputes even. There were days when I -actually thought that his old friendship was more to me than my lover’s -dream. “Confound it,” I said to myself, “I did not know that he was so -necessary to me. But the fact is I am not myself without him. No, -indeed, I am not. But I will not give in. Let him come to me, if he -wants to.”</p> - -<p>Finally he did come, proving once more that he represented, in our -friendship, good common sense, or whatever you may like to call that -modest and pleasant quality which does not allow us to go beyond bounds, -and teaches us not to make life bitter by foolish obstinacy or dramatic -fastidiousness. Our reconciliation was effected in the most natural -manner. One morning, as we were coming out of recitation, Portal nudged -my elbow, and asked with a smile:</p> - -<p>“Has the trouble gone away? Shall we make a treaty of peace?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330"></a>{330}</span></p> - -<p>I confess that I embraced him with all my heart, stammering:</p> - -<p>“Luisiño, my dear fellow!”</p> - -<p>But he laughed, and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, stop it, you foolish boy; you act as though you had just returned -from America after twenty years of exile.”</p> - -<p>We went off arm-in-arm, and chatted more than ever that afternoon.</p> - -<p>“I will no longer oppose you,” said my friend with a comic air of -resignation. “You may fall as deeply in love as an African dromedary or -as Marsilla did with the fellow from Teruel, and I will not try to stop -the current. You will have to convince yourself of the folly of your -illusions. In order to be happy we need well-informed women, who think -as we do and can understand us. Well, I believe that it is so; but you -have got it into your skull that we ought to have wives like the ladies -of the thirteenth century, or the Gothic saints painted on a golden -background. All right, go ahead! You will find out your mistake. Aside -from the fact that your aunt—well, my boy, don’t depend on that. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331"></a>{331}</span> -struggle against fate will wear you out. There, now, don’t begin to -fume. Tell me how your love affair progresses; unburden that dear little -heart.”</p> - -<p>“Luis,” I murmured, mysteriously, “I don’t know whether she loves me or -not; but I am certain of one thing—mark my words! Her husband is -hateful to her.”</p> - -<p>“That proves her good taste.”</p> - -<p>“I am not mistaken; no, indeed! I observe her closely, Luisiño. The poor -girl has lost her color and her appetite. In the morning, when she goes -to church, and, above all, on the days when she communes, she appears to -be somewhat tranquil; but at night! Oh dear, I believe she has the -intermittent repugnance!”</p> - -<p>“But her husband? Does he amuse himself elsewhere?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so. He goes to bed at a reasonable hour, even though he -may go out to hold a conference with Sotopeña or to the club. He does -not attempt to see Belén; she says so. My uncle is close-fisted, as you -know very well, and on the score of economy is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332"></a>{332}</span> capable of being -contented at home. Luis, I don’t say much, but it consoles me to see -that she is sad and is suffering.”</p> - -<p>“A nice consolation that is! Perhaps you are wrong, and that woman gets -on with her husband perfectly.”</p> - -<p>“If I were to see her cooing like a turtle-dove with him, I don’t know -what would happen to me.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that maggot would quit your brain. May the Old Nick get you!”</p> - -<p>This conversation took place as we were leaving Mayor Street and were -entering the famous Viaduct, or place for suicides. The quiet beauty of -the afternoon tempted us to go up to the high iron grating and enjoy the -view, perhaps the finest in Madrid.</p> - -<p>Without stopping to look over the old books, text-books mostly, the -greater part of them greasy and falling to pieces, which an old man who -looked like a maniac had for sale in the open air and right on the -ground, we put our faces close to the grating and delighted our eyes -first with the glorious panorama on the left, the red palace of Uceda, -with its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333"></a>{333}</span> white shields tenanted by fierce lions,—the thousand cupolas -and domes of churches and houses, above which rose, elegant as a -palm-tree, the Moorish tower of San Pedro. Then we turned to the right, -enchanted with the fresh verdure of the garden, which stretched out far -below us like a rug of pine trees and flowery shrubs. Far in the -distance, the Manzanares traced a silver S upon the green meadows, and -the Guadárrama reared its shining white line behind the hard, sharp -outlines of the nearest ridges. But what fascinated us, the sublimest -note of all, was Segovia Street at a fearful depth below us; down, down, -down! Luis clutched my wrist, saying:</p> - -<p>“My boy, this viaduct explains clearly the numerous suicides which have -occurred on it.”</p> - -<p>“It does, indeed, tempt one to throw himself over,” I replied, without -ceasing to look down into that paved abyss, and already feeling in the -soles of my feet the tingling that goes with dizziness.</p> - -<p>“Look at that suicide, my dear boy,” suddenly exclaimed Portal, pointing -to a man of squalid appearance, who was also leaning over<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334"></a>{334}</span> the railing. -“A man like that is liable to fling himself over at any moment.”</p> - -<p>I approached the man out of curiosity. The supposititious suicide turned -around. How long it was since I had seen his noble and expressive face, -his dirty and tattered clothes, his black eyes and graceful bearing! -Poor Botello! I felt a singular and extraordinary joy at meeting that -ineffectual being, that social residuum, so inoffensive and useless.</p> - -<p>“Were you going to commit suicide?” I asked, smilingly, after we had -exchanged warm greetings and embraced each other.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” replied Pepita’s boarder; “I was only thinking, to pass -away the time, how wise a thing I should do if I did throw myself over -headlong. That street with its hard stones was calling me loudly. There -I might put an end to all trickery and poverty—don’t you know? Pepa has -almost put me into the street. I scarcely ever smoke now. I still have a -room where I can sleep, but that matter of eating is a luxury I am not -acquainted with. The landlady is furious because Don Julián has vanished -like smoke, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335"></a>{335}</span> will no longer maintain me. They have stopped my -allowance. Will you treat to a beefsteak?”</p> - -<p>We went out to Bailen Street, and were not long in settling ourselves in -an eating-house before some very appetizing broiled chops. The prodigal, -in a melancholy tone, said to us:</p> - -<p>“Some days I feel so desperate that I even think of going to work at -something. But at what? Besides, that is a foolish idea, produced by -weakness or brandy. No, when I have a quarter in my pocket I wager it -and win a hundred. I am not meant for the ignominy of working. Keep that -for negroes. Besides, one can always find good friends, who wont refuse -a fellow a dollar when he asks for it. Don’t think I live by cheating, -boys; cheating comes in when one promises to pay, and I never do -anything so foolish as that. The man who loans me anything, makes me a -present.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what a trick Mauricio Parra and Pepe Vidal played on me -during Carnival? Do you know them? One is in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336"></a>{336}</span> School of -Architecture, the other in the School of Mines. They board at Pepe -Urrutia’s. Well, we had a boarder there, a fine-looking lady, a widow -from Córdova, and a most attractive woman. I was making up to her a -little. One night I heard that she was going to a masked ball at the -Royal——, and I without a cent!</p> - -<p>“But Mauricio and Pepe encouraged me, bought tickets, and went with me -to the ball. Well, the masked lady came up to us. I recognized her at -once.</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>I am thirsty,’ she said; ‘will you treat me? Let us go to the -supper-room.’</p> - -<p>“I saw the heavens opened before me, and the infernal regions at the -same time, because I did not have a single penny. I put my hand behind -me, and made signs to Mauricio and Pepe. I felt them put a coin in my -hand. Heavens! What could it be? A dollar, without doubt, although it -seemed somewhat smaller. I slipped it into my pocket without looking at -it, and up I went as brave as a lion. She began to eat cakes and drink -sherry, while I was trembling for fear the bill would amount<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337"></a>{337}</span> to more -than a dollar. It seemed as if the good lady would never stop gorging -herself. At last she concluded to stop, and I took out the money from my -pocket and gave it to the waiter with a lordly air, saying:</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Take out what I owe.’</p> - -<p>“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>Why, sir, you have given me a copper!’</p> - -<p>“Well, you may imagine what a row there was. I thought they would march -me straight off to the station-house. What a joke! Well, that is the way -I live, and always shall; more dead broke to-day than yesterday, and -to-morrow more so than to-day. Of course, you must know that my -Portuguese friend went home; but I have found a provincial deputy in -exchange, who has taken it into his head to be a dramatist; and I go -with him behind the scenes, because he fancies that I know the actresses -and actors intimately. And in fact I do know them. Who does not get -acquainted with the whole human race in Madrid? But I don’t know what -part I play at the Lara, or Eslava, or Apolo. Anyhow, at the box-office -they take me for an actor. The actors think that I am a played-out -actor; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338"></a>{338}</span> meanwhile, there I am, at my ease with my provincial deputy, -determined that they shall put his farce, or review, or whatever you may -call it, on the stage.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you really know what it is?”</p> - -<p>“No. He has tried to read it to me more than a hundred times, but up to -the present I have parried the blow. We’ll see if I can continue to do -so. Farewell, my saviors; my idea of committing suicide has now -evaporated. Thanks!</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“<span class="lftspc">‘</span>To-day the heavens and earth on me do smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day the sun reaches to my inmost heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day you gave me chops, two chops!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, to-day, I in Providence do trust.’<span class="lftspc">”</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>As he declaimed this, little Dumas held out to us his dirty, greasy -hands, and went away.</p> - -<p>“There you have romanticism,” murmured Luis, disdainfully, shrugging his -shoulders. “What a pity that he and all the rest like him couldn’t have -a course of lectures on <i>common-senseology</i>!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339"></a>{339}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> spite of what Portal had said, I continued to study Carmen’s face and -actions, and with the second sight of passion plainly perceived an -aversion and dislike, growing all the while more marked and deep.</p> - -<p>Ye dramatists, who strew daggers and poison throughout your terrifying -creations; ye poets, who sing of horrible tragedies; ye novelists, who -have as many murders as chapters,—tell me if there is any struggle more -tremendous than that which goes on in a woman’s heart when she is -united, subjected, fastened to the man whose presence is enough to make -every fiber of her being quiver with aversion! And let those who believe -that psychology is merely a science of facts like the positive and exact -physical and natural sciences, tell us why that husband should so -greatly disgust his wife. There is no sufficient cause for it. He had -not wronged her by any grave fault.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340"></a>{340}</span> She is queen and mistress of her -home; her husband is not unfaithful to her but, on the contrary, is very -attentive to her and is devoted to his home, and the young wife waiting -for him there.</p> - -<p>Ah, it is evident that Carmen’s antipathy was irrational, and for that -very reason all the stronger, deeper, and more impossible to attack and -eradicate. One can fight against an adversary when he has a body, but -not when he is an intangible shadow, real only in the dark recesses of -our soul. There are some husbands who ill-treat their wives, who betray -them, who drag them to ruin, and, notwithstanding, are still loved, or, -at least, not shrunk from. Who can say precisely whence blows that -breath of air called repulsion? It is not hatred. Hatred has its -reasons, is based upon motives, can explain and justify itself; and if I -have sometimes allowed myself to say that I hated my uncle, it is -because I did not express myself with precision. It was not hatred which -his wife and I felt for him, but something more invincible—a profound -aversion. Hatred may turn into friendship,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341"></a>{341}</span> even into love, because, as -it springs from some definite causes, other definite causes may -obliterate it, but a mysterious repulsion, that antipathy which is born -in the depths of our psychical being, that does not die nor become -extirpated or transformed. No reasoning can conquer unreason, nor is -there any logic which will avail against instinct, which acts on us like -nature, directly and intuitively, by virtue of laws whose essence is, -and forever will be for us, an impenetrable secret.</p> - -<p>Grant that Carmen did not hate my uncle Felipe. She was incapable of -feeling hatred toward anybody. My uncle had given her his name, a good -position, such as it was; he did not treat her ill, nor did I even -notice that he scrimped her in money-matters, although I clearly saw -that if the wife were free to do as she desired she would enlarge her -list of charities.</p> - -<p>The married life of my uncle and aunt, thus, was only like that of so -many husbands and wives we see nowadays; in appearance tranquil and even -happy, upheld by that decorous and middle-class spirit of concord, so -fashionable<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342"></a>{342}</span> in our modern society, where customs as well as streets are -drawn in a straight line, more precise and symmetrical every day. But as -within the houses in those straight streets tragic events occur, and -love, vice, and crime come and go just as they did in the crookedest -alleys known to the Middle Ages, so under that couple’s cloak of harmony -and mutual esteem I could perceive their incompatibility of temper; the -husband’s inclination to be mean and tyrannical, and the wife’s cold, -hard, and unconscious feeling of repulsion.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I would say to myself: “Take care, for Luis is right and I am -a fool! I ought not to pay the slightest attention to Carmen’s dislike -to her husband, which I constantly observe. What should preoccupy me is -the sentiment which I inspire in her. If she loved me as I love her, -what would I care if she acted like some dramatic heroine we read of, -and, without ceasing to love me madly, should still display toward her -husband a most tender affection,—filial, or sisterly, or conjugal -respect? Only let her return my love,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343"></a>{343}</span> and the rest, as far as I am -concerned, shall be allowed to take place on the stage of the -soul—where no one ought to venture. What inference can I draw from the -fact that even if she does not care for her rightful lord, she never -even looks at me?”</p> - -<p>Well, I would not draw any inference, yet I kept on watching the signs -of that antipathy with intense joy. Just as, when we begin to surmise -that the woman we love will return our affection, we eagerly watch for a -glance, a smile, a furtive blush, the trace of a passing emotion, that, -tearing asunder the delicate veil which infolds a woman’s heart, betrays -and lays bare the hidden flame, so I used to study the inflections of -her voice, the ill-concealed flashing of her eyes, the scarcely -perceptible tremor of her lips which revealed to me the wife’s moral -state.</p> - -<p>At the dinner hour I would watch her closely, though pretending to be -absent-minded, playing with my fork or discussing politics with my -uncle. I am sure that everything can be feigned, everything subjected to -the will,—even the expression of the countenance,—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344"></a>{344}</span>but not the voice. -Carmen was able to control the muscles of her face, to subdue her eyes, -to prevent her delicate nostrils from dilating, but never could succeed -in making her voice, usually even, soft and clear when she was -addressing others, anything but harsh and muffled when she spoke to her -husband. And, aside from that fact, there were a thousand plain -indications. The plainest was her anxiety to prolong the evenings in the -parlor. Of her own motion, that woman would never have gone to bed. What -a delightful impression it made on me the few times that I succeeded in -spending the evening with her, to see her retard the hour of retiring -with a thousand pretexts; burying herself in her work, saying that she -had a certain stint to finish, that she would not go to bed until she -finished it; that she had to write to her father, or to some friends in -Pontevedra; until, finally, my uncle would unceremoniously command her -to retire. I was only able to make such observations on Saturday nights; -the rest of the week I had to go to my room early on account of my -lessons. I used to sit by the chimney in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345"></a>{345}</span> the boudoir next to her -bedroom, which had moss-green plush portières. They were drawn back, so -that I could look into the hateful chamber, where was daily enacted the -iniquitous mystery of absolute intimacy between two beings who did not -love each other or perhaps feel any esteem for each other, who had no -mutual understanding or any points of contact beyond the fact that the -Moorish friar had thrown the stole over them at the same time.</p> - -<p>One morning I received a letter from my mother, written in her usual -precipitate and incoherent style, without punctuation, it is unnecessary -to add, and wholly devoted to giving me some strange news.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know the greatest joke of all that the old man Aldao fell -into the trap set by that horrid girl Candidiña who turned his head -bewitched and made him raving mad until finally he consented to marry -her secretly not publicly and the priest denies it and the old man as -well but I know it by one who saw it with his own eyes and some very -indecent couplets are going the rounds in Pontevedra about this -phenomenon and it seems that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346"></a>{346}</span> editor of <i>El Teucrense</i> wrote them -and they would make one die laughing an impudent girl can succeed in -anything they say he gave her a mantilla and a black silk dress may the -Lord grant that we may not lose our wits and get in our dotage I don’t -know whether his daughter knows it but keep quiet and let somebody else -tell her for they will surely write to Felipe about this scrape a nice -mess it is and now he has a step-mother and I am glad of it as he took -advantage of us.”</p> - -<p>It is needless to say that as soon as I could find Carmen alone I -hastened to tell her the great news, not without great preambles and -much circumlocution. Far from being startled or sorrowful, Señor Aldao’s -daughter displayed great satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“God has heard my prayers,” she exclaimed, impetuously. “God has -rewarded me, Salustio. At my father’s age he had better be married -than—otherwise. I am glad for his own sake. You may be sure that I -rejoice, though I should have liked him to make a different choice. But -now that it is over, I hope it may turn out well.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_347" id="page_347"></a>{347}</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t want to spoil your joy,” I said; “but Carmiña, a man of your -father’s age runs a great risk and loses something of his dignity by -marrying a girl of sixteen.”</p> - -<p>“That matter rests between her and her conscience,” argued my aunt. -“Probably she will be very careful in the discharge of her new duties, -now that she is married. She never had any before; some improprieties -can be pardoned her.”</p> - -<p>“But she is a regular weather-vane and will continue to be so, for it is -innate in her. A nice one she is, to lead on that poor old gentleman to -such an extreme! I assure you, your step-mother is a rare bird. No one -knows what the future will bring forth.”</p> - -<p>“Well, God is over all. Let us hope that the grace of the sacrament may -do its office.”</p> - -<p>“Do you believe in the grace of the sacrament?” I asked, remembering -what Luis had said, and smiling, in spite of myself, at her words, which -were in such marked contrast to my own ideas and convictions, though, -coming from her lips, they seemed to me the very formula of propriety -and moral beauty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_348" id="page_348"></a>{348}</span></p> - -<p>“What a question! Why shouldn’t I believe in it? Fine I’d look if I -didn’t! When God instituted that sacrament he pledged Himself to help -with His grace all who avail themselves of it. Without such aid marriage -would not be possible.”</p> - -<p>“Grace consists in loving each other, Carmen,” I murmured, drawing near -to her and fixing my eyes on hers. I did not desire to convince her, or -to lead her astray, God knows, but, on the contrary, I wanted her to -display all the absurdities of her theological learning and brandish -before me, like a warlike Amazon, the well-tempered weapons with which -she guarded her virtue. But I reckoned without my host, because Carmen -would not engage in controversy. She only replied, pleasantly:</p> - -<p>“It is only natural that you should think that way, being only a boy, -and having such ideas as you do. I am very sorry that you are not more -religious. With years you will gain experience and will be able to judge -better. Your head will get settled at last!”</p> - -<p>“Well, Carmiña, suppose I only need a word from you to settle it? Do you -say that that<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_349" id="page_349"></a>{349}</span> about loving each other is all nonsense? Well, I’ll -believe it if you say so. But at least you cannot deny that in order to -be happy, no matter how holy the married pair may be, they must have -some affection for each other; must at least not hate each other or be -mutually repugnant. Am I not right?”</p> - -<p>Carmiña turned pale, and her eyelashes quivered slightly. She suddenly -looked at me with a pained expression as though saying: “That is a -forbidden subject and I am surprised that you should allude to it.”</p> - -<p>I carried away from that brief dialogue, broken off by the coming in of -my uncle, a greater supply of hope. My uncle entered hastily, with a -very abrupt and surprised air. As soon as he saw his wife he drew a -letter from his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Carmen, what is the meaning of this? Did you know anything about it? -Why, Castro Mera writes to me saying that everybody declares that your -father is secretly married to his maid-servant’s niece!”</p> - -<p>My aunt tried to control her voice as she answered bravely:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_350" id="page_350"></a>{350}</span></p> - -<p>“It must be true, for Benigna also has written about it to Salustio.”</p> - -<p>“And you say so in that quiet way?” cried her husband.</p> - -<p>There are moments in which the curtain is drawn back, and you surprise -the soul in all its nakedness and perceive its mysterious shapes, -however quickly the surprised one may try to cover them up. That cry -fully revealed my uncle’s soul, hard, dry, and vilely mercenary—like a -great many others which roam around the world inclosed in bodies less -Jewish in appearance.</p> - -<p>“It is a great joke—your taking it so coolly,” he continued, excited -and beside himself. “According to that you don’t care if your father is -crazy! Because that is what it is—senile imbecility, dotage! But your -brother and I will take steps to annul the marriage, and have that old -man put under a guardian. Getting married! What a farce! That is what is -called laughing in the face of all the world and making fools of stupid -sons-in-law!”</p> - -<p>His eyes flashed fire, his hooked nose gave emphasis to the expression -of avarice and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_351" id="page_351"></a>{351}</span> rapacity on his coarse lips, his face was flushed and -almost as red as his beard, while his trembling hand mechanically took -up and laid down again on the table already set for lunch, knife, fork, -and napkin.</p> - -<p>“What do you expect,” replied his wife, firmly, taking her place at the -table as though nothing had occurred. “My father is master of his own -actions for the very reason that he is so old. It is not true that he is -in his dotage, and the respect we owe him ought to prohibit us from -opposing his will. Let us be patient. It would be worse if he were to -live in a scandalous manner.”</p> - -<p>“You are a fool!” exclaimed her husband, losing all restraint for the -first time, and determined to free his mind. “At your father’s age there -is no scandal possible, or any such nonsense; all that there is, is -folly and imbecility and ridiculousness—that most absurd of all things, -marrying a young girl of low birth, a servant! Within a month’s time he -will find that his head is too big for his hat. You women don’t know -about such matters, or know what you are talking about. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_352" id="page_352"></a>{352}</span> your lack -of experience and ignorance of the world, which you do not know, nor -have you any reason to know it. So you would do better to keep quiet -most of the time. And, by Jove! if you will hear it, your father ought -to have told me, before marrying off his daughter: ‘Felipe, don’t be too -sure of me; although I am so old that my pantaloons fall off me, I feel -lively and wont be long in getting married again. And as at my age a man -always has children I shall have two or three boys who will leave my -daughter out in the cold.’ How nice, hey? How nice!”</p> - -<p>My aunt kept quiet. The pallor of her cheeks, her quick breathing and -her flashing eyes indicated the indignation and protest which raged in -her soul. But instead of opening the valve, she repressed her feelings -and took a glass of water which was on the table. I heard the glass -click against her teeth while she drank, showing how rapidly her pulse -was beating. My uncle, without paying the slightest regard to her -agitation and her brave silence, went on, growing more and more excited -with his own words:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_353" id="page_353"></a>{353}</span></p> - -<p>“I shall write him a scorching letter at once and tell him what I think. -He shall hear from me, I swear it. That deviltry will be thrown in his -face, or my name is not Felipe. I’ll give him so much trouble that he’ll -have cause to remember the saint of my name. And he, of course, will -think that I shall allow you to associate with your precious -step-mother!”</p> - -<p>“In the first place,” replied my aunt slowly, with an effort, “I believe -that their marriage is still a secret; and in the second place, I used -to associate with her when I was at home and when she was exposed to -worse things. Why shouldn’t I associate with her now that she is my -father’s wife, if she behaves herself properly?”</p> - -<p>“Behaves herself; no trouble about behavior!” exclaimed my uncle, -ironically. “Behaves herself well! The young fellows at Pontevedra and -San Andrés can tell you all about that. However, as far as that is -concerned I don’t care anything about it—”</p> - -<p>“Well, as for me, that’s the only thing I do care about,” answered my -aunt, vehemently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_354" id="page_354"></a>{354}</span> unable to restrain herself any longer. “I hope that -my father may not have cause to feel ashamed of his choice, and let the -rest be as God wills,—as it will be, after all.”</p> - -<p>Oh, obdurate hardness of heart of the Hebrew race, with how much justice -did Christ reprove you! Those words, prompted by a sublime impulse of -faith, would have moved a stone; but my uncle was harder than a stone, -and, throwing away his napkin, he arose from the table, muttering -between his teeth:</p> - -<p>“As if that was not enough to come upon one, I must listen to -stupidities and twaddle. He must have nerve. Just think of that -scarecrow getting married now; and then to hear him defended here,—here -in my own house!”</p> - -<p>He rushed out of the dining-room. I followed him, for I wanted to know -where he was going, and I had an object in leaving Carmen alone. I heard -my uncle shut himself up in his study, doubtless in order to write the -“scorching” letter to his father-in-law. Then I went back, and entering -the dining-room, suddenly, drew near to Carmen and seated myself beside -her, murmuring tenderly:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_355" id="page_355"></a>{355}</span> “Don’t cry, my aunt; come, now, don’t cry. -Foolish one, don’t trouble yourself about that.”</p> - -<p>I had not deceived myself in my surmises.</p> - -<p>Startled, she turned around, and I saw her eyes swimming in tears, -though her energy of will instantly dried them. In a voice which was -almost steady she answered me, drawing away a little:</p> - -<p>“Thanks, Salustio. It is all over. One can’t help it sometimes, one is -so foolish.”</p> - -<p>“That man talks to you in a way which arouses my indignation. I had a -hard time to keep still. How can you bear it?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, not that; don’t even say it! He is my husband, and can’t stop -to choose his words.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, he ought to choose them. To a woman like you, who are goodness -and holiness in person, one ought to speak in this posture—so—do you -see?” I murmured, kneeling before her.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t get up I shall be angry, and so I shall if you ever say -that again,” answered she, standing up resolutely. “I don’t thank<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_356" id="page_356"></a>{356}</span> you -for this attempt to comfort me, Salustio; it seems more like flattery, -and flattering me is lost time. Do you want me to tell you the truth? -Well, then, I am to blame, entirely to blame, for that unpleasant scene. -I ought not to have gone contrary to Felipe, but to have waited till the -first outburst was over, and then have reasoned with him. It is only -natural that he should feel annoyed at papa’s marriage. Let us be fair. -No husband ever gets angry with his wife if she does not contradict him. -The tongue causes all matrimonial dissensions. It is a wife’s duty to -keep quiet.”</p> - -<p>“No, you foolish girl, your duty is to speak when you are right; the -same as we do, although we often talk a great deal when we are wrong. So -you think that even if your husband were to break forth with some -barbarous remark,—such as to say there is no God,—you ought not to -answer him?”</p> - -<p>“Not while he is irritated—no, what good would it do! It would be like -throwing wood into the fire, and would never persuade him. But as soon -as he gets calm, then I ought to tell him my objections, affectionately -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_357" id="page_357"></a>{357}</span> mildly, as well as I know how, and then he would listen to me and -would be persuaded.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what to reply, since, even though a thousand reflections -occurred to me, my aunt’s way of reasoning conquered me completely, and -seemed the only one worthy of her.</p> - -<p>It was a very cloudy day. The dining-room opened into the court, and the -thick curtains cut off the light and made it more gloomy. The folds of -those dark, thick woolen curtains seemed to me, by a sudden freak of the -imagination, to look like a friar’s garb, the heavy cord that looped -them up helping to make the resemblance all the more striking. The -arabesque patterns on the curtain, at a certain height, looked to me -like a man’s face. It was a strange bit of self-suggestion that evoked -there the shadow of Father Moreno, listening to our conversation, and -ridiculing me with a mocking air. “Cursed friar!” I ejaculated mentally, -addressing the curtain. “You are going to be disappointed, I promise -you. Because nothing that outrages human nature and is contrary<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_358" id="page_358"></a>{358}</span> to its -laws will last, and this heroic abnegation of my aunt and the violence -she does to her own deepest feelings cannot go on indefinitely; the time -will come when the spring will break, and I shall watch for that hour to -come. I swear to you, you stupid friar, you have never tasted the only -real happiness in life.”</p> - -<p>By chance my aunt fixed her eyes on the curtain with the intensity of -those who gaze into vacancy and are distracted by their sad reflections. -I fancied that she also saw what I did in the folds of the curtains, and -that to her eyes also the shadow of the friar stood forth, silent but -eloquent in its attitude.</p> - -<p>What would I not have given then to penetrate into the hidden recesses -of that woman’s mind, and read the revolutionary proclamation which was -undoubtedly written there by an invisible hand! But the wife allowed -nothing to come to the surface. She arose and went into the kitchen to -ask whether lunch was ready. “For you must be hungry by this time, -Salustio,” she said when she came back, calm and self-possessed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_359" id="page_359"></a>{359}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">How</span> did it happen that a ray of divine joy, of unreasoning but delicious -hope, fell upon my soul—a light, in short, like that which according to -popular tradition, penetrates the darkness of the limbo on Candlemas -Day? Let me see whether I can recollect it, with all its most -insignificant and even ludicrous details; with its intermingling of -dreams and realities, so inseparable that I do not know where the first -end or the second begin; indeed, I cannot affirm that the latter ever -existed except within the soul that perceived them, in my own -representative faculty, though that is for me the supreme reality.</p> - -<p>It happened that Trinito, our philharmonic Cuban, on receiving quite a -large sum of money from his island home, set about spending it right and -left in the most reckless manner. One of his extravagances was to take -orchestra chairs at the Real and invite us all to<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_360" id="page_360"></a>{360}</span> go to the opening -night of a Spanish opera, which had been greatly discussed and commented -upon in the newspapers beforehand. In vain did we object that this -lavishness was unnecessary, since we would feel much more at our ease in -the gallery, between girls both plain and good-looking, and skilled -devotees of the “divine art.”</p> - -<p>But what he really aspired to was to put on airs and give a certain -dress-coat its opening night, and he would not listen to us, but dragged -Portal and me off to the theater; but as for the poor boy from Zamora, -he would not budge, even if they were to cut him in pieces.</p> - -<p>Neither Portal nor I owned dress-coats, but we did justice to the -festive occasion and put on our long frock-coats, which we dragged out -from the bottom of our trunks, hoping that no one would notice us, and -that all eyes would be fixed on the Cuban, who was resplendent in his -finery. His new dress-coat and trousers glistened with the peculiar -luster of broadcloth, and the narrow satin lappel, reaching down to his -waist, set off the snowy whiteness<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_361" id="page_361"></a>{361}</span> of his shirt-front. The fellow, in -order not to omit any accessory, had spent his quarter for a fragrant -gardenia, which rested proudly in his button-hole in irreproachable -style. He did not buy a crush hat for lack of time, but entered the -theater concealing his slouch hat under his cloak, so as not to -disarrange his curls and the beautiful parting of his hair.</p> - -<p>We took our seats, feeling somewhat bashful, hoping that nobody would -see us; but Trinito stood up with his back to the orchestra, and, -thrusting out his chest where the fine shirt-front bulged out, passed -his gloveless hand over his carefully dressed hair, and looked just like -a dandy of the loftiest and most overpowering sort. Although his sight -was as keen as his hearing, he had hired an enormous pair of -opera-glasses, and leveled them alternately at the boxes and orchestra -seats, scanning the society belles, their low-cut dresses, their -ornaments and jewels. Portal, very quiet and somewhat abashed, amused -himself by saying <i>sotto voce</i> that Queen Christina was gazing at him -through her lorgnette, and that the Infanta Isabel was making signs<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_362" id="page_362"></a>{362}</span> to -the Infanta Eulalia to call her attention to the unknown and fascinating -dandy.</p> - -<p>As soon as the curtain went up, Trinito experienced his musical seizure, -and closely followed the construction of the opera, which for five hours -gave us siftings of Wagner and Meyerbeer, Donizetti and Rossini, as it -had a little of everything in it except what was new and Spanish.</p> - -<p>Trinito, carried away by excitement, and with his unfailing, retentive -memory, would not let us rest.</p> - -<p>“Boys,” he said, “this is simply an <i>olla podrida</i>. Here the fellow has -put in the <i>largo assai</i> of Mendelssohn’s thirty-second <i>opus</i>. Well, -well! If he hasn’t taken the entire <i>allegretto</i> of the overture of ‘Don -Juan.’ I declare, that’s from ‘The Magic Flute;’ fifteen measures, at -least, are exactly like it, stolen bodily! This <i>maestoso</i> is from ‘The -Flying Dutchman’ or ‘Parsifal.’<span class="lftspc">”</span></p> - -<p>“Or from ‘Green Beans,’<span class="lftspc">”</span> added Portal, phlegmatically.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you laugh, for there is something from ‘Green Beans,’ also, or -very much like it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_363" id="page_363"></a>{363}</span> because I have heard that sort of a clatter in comic -opera. Now he skips to the Symphony in A minor of the <i>sordo -sublime</i>—fellows, I am infuriated! I shall protest! This is simply -highway robbery!”</p> - -<p>In the second act Trinito’s indignation went on in a <i>crescendo</i> no less -noisy than that of the closing duet. In the third, he completely bored -us with his exposures of reminiscences and plagiarisms, shouting so -loudly as to attract the attention of the audience, pointing out the -fragments of a hand of Mozart’s or a shin of Beethoven’s, which were -scattered through the opera; and at the fourth act, his rage grew so -overwhelming that he would not allow us to stay till the end of the -opera.</p> - -<p>“Let us go before they call out that counterfeiter! I would hiss him if -I remained, and one must not raise a rumpus here. Come on, then; let us -be discreet. I am so enraged I scarcely know what I am doing. Hold me, -carry me to the street!”</p> - -<p>We were amazed at this outburst, as surprising in the usually calm and -equable Cuban as it would have been in a canary or a lamb,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_364" id="page_364"></a>{364}</span> and -consented to leave before anybody else, making off through the lobby -toward the door.</p> - -<p>Without transition, we passed from the heated, vibrating, and echoing -air of the orchestra circle, out to the chilly lobby, which was all the -colder for being deserted, since only two ushers were walking up and -down there. A current of air, sharp as a stiletto, entered my -half-opened mouth, while I was laughing, and my dilated nostrils, and -went as by instinct to my chest, where I felt a singular compression.</p> - -<p>“Cover your mouths, gentlemen,” said the practical Luis, “or we shall -catch the greatest pneumonia of the Christian era. Cover your mouth, -Salustio; don’t be childish.”</p> - -<p>I searched for my handkerchief in order to protect myself with it, but I -already felt that strange warning, that dull, numb pain of the disease -which so insidiously enters our bodies, taking advantage of our -imprudence or carelessness, as a thief who sees the key in the door and -improves the opportunity to investigate the chest.</p> - -<p>“I believe that I have already caught it,” I murmured, with some -anxiety.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_365" id="page_365"></a>{365}</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t worry; let us go to Fornos’s and take some punch. Come on, you’ll -see how nice and hot it will be,” said my companions, as we emerged into -the bleak Plaza de Oriente. We proceeded to Fornos’s and took our punch. -Trinito treated us, and gave us a fresh monograph on the plagiarisms and -rhapsodies in the opera; while he sang his indignation for us, and even -played it for us on the table. That time he was determined to write a -musical criticism; of course he would! He was going to pulverize the -composer, or the rat, to be more explicit, which he had caught in the -act of visiting Wagner’s pocket.</p> - -<p>I went to bed late and did not sleep well. The next day I awoke feeling -inexplicably tired and depressed, with that species of despondency or -dejection which precedes any great physical disorder. Carmen noticed -that I did not look well and begged me to lie down, scolding me gently -for having gone to bed the night before at such an unearthly hour.</p> - -<p>I consented because I felt so worn out, and every bone in my body ached, -as we say in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_366" id="page_366"></a>{366}</span> country. As I withdrew I said to Carmiña, in a -supplicating tone:</p> - -<p>“Will you come to see me?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will. I shall take you a cup of tea made of boiled -mallow-flowers to give you a sweat. You have taken cold; probably -through some crazy imprudence.”</p> - -<p>As soon as I lay down, in a flash, the fever broke out triumphantly, as -did my exhaustion and the congestion of my lungs. I began to wander in -my mind and grow delirious. It could not have been delirium so much as a -capricious and fanciful flight of the imagination through those regions -of which I was most fond when in my normal state.</p> - -<p>In my lucid intervals, and between the paroxysms of my struggle for -breath, I seemed to see the yew tree once more, with its dark green -foliage, standing out against the heavenly blue sky and the pale verdure -of the river-lands. I heard the songs of working-women, pipes announcing -the dawn, the whizz of rockets, the sound of a piano, and there were -moments when I was positive that an ugly black bat came fluttering -through the window,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_367" id="page_367"></a>{367}</span> and, with a pin run through it, expired before me. -Of course, Father Moreno was there, and sometimes his presence consoled -me, while at other times it would so irritate me, that I would have -gladly flung something at his head.</p> - -<p>During my delirium, it seems that I sang loudly and gave formulas and -propounded problems, in mathematics. What I am sure of is that, over and -above my delirium and the fever and terrible discomfort, and the -strictures in my bronchial tubes and lungs, an enchanting sensation used -to hover. Carmen did not leave my room; she gave me my medicines, -smoothed my sheets, and waited on me and attended to me all through. At -one time, when, by an involuntary impulse produced by the fever, I threw -my arms around her neck, I fancied—was I really out of my head?—that -Carmen, so strong, so invincible, far from making the slightest movement -to draw away from me, was returning my embrace. I would swear that her -eyes gazed at me with a sweet and tender look; that her hands caressed -and petted me as one pets and<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_368" id="page_368"></a>{368}</span> caresses a child; that her lips murmured -sweet words which sounded like music of the heart. Allowing myself to be -carried away by my fancy, I thought, as I sank to sleep under the -influence of a powerful narcotic:</p> - -<p>“Carmen loves me; she loves me, without doubt. How happy I shall be if I -do not die!”</p> - -<p>I sighed, half turned over in bed, and, if I could have put into words -the feeling which filled my heart, I would have added, “And how happy I -shall be, even if I do die.”</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Christian Woman, by Emilia Pardo Bazán - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CHRISTIAN WOMAN *** - -***** This file should be named 54796-h.htm or 54796-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/9/54796/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at Google Books) - - -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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