PLANNING THE HOME
The rest of the audience was leaving the theatre, and as Gonzalo met the
people pouring from the door, many of them recognized him, and he was
soon surrounded by old friends who were all warm in their welcome.
The first to throw his arms around his neck was Don Mateo; then came Don
Pedro Miranda; then the mayor, Don Roque; then Don Victoriano and his
wife, Dona Rosario, and their three daughters.
Thus a circle soon gathered round the young man, who responded
effusively to the greetings, embraces, and hand-pressures which reached
him from all sides.
The sailors and women of the place also joined the senores in this
demonstration of affection, and nothing was heard but exclamations of
delight and admiration.
"How stout you have grown, Gonzalito!"
"You are a fine young man!"
"Why don't you grow like that, Periquito?"
"Don Gonzalo, you are a head taller than all the other fellows of
Sarrio!"
"Grow! He has not grown; he has doubled his height. Come here,
Grenadier, and embrace me directly."
A shipmaster declared that the youth was as like the Prince of Wales as
two drops of water, although Gonzalo might be taller.
The tall figure of the youth certainly towered above the group, and he
reached his hand over the heads of those about him to the friends who
could not get close to him, and his fine, open countenance beamed on
all.
Don Mateo, on tiptoe, pulled him by the arm so that he bent down, and
then he whispered in his ear:
"What a performance you have lost, Gonzalo! It is a pity you did not
arrive in the afternoon. The soprano sings like an angel! And the
dancing! The dancing! I tell you, boy, they don't have better in Bilbao
or Corunna. But never mind, I will have the performance again before the
company leaves--or it won't say much for my influence."
But Gonzalo paid little heed to these words. With his eyes fixed on the
door, he was waiting in breathless expectation for the appearance of the
De Belinchon family, which, as one of the first and most patrician of
the place, always waited behind to avoid mixing with the plebeians. At
last, by the light of the lamp burning under the archway of the
entrance, he caught sight of the face of Dona Paula, followed by that of
Cecilia, and he tremulously advanced to greet them.
The girl turned as red as a poppy. This was natural, but for the mother
to do so also was less natural. What was he to her? Why was she to blush
as much as the daughter? But it was what she did to perfection. The
voices of all three trembled, and after inquiring after each other's
health, their tongues seemed tied. The looks of curiosity from the
people added to their embarrassment. Fortunately, Pablito now approached
with Venturita, and our young friend greeted the former affectionately
and gave a ceremonious bow to the latter.
Pablo smiled.
"Don't you know her? She is my sister, Venturita."
"Oh! How could I know her? She is a woman. How do you do, Ventura?"
The girl gave him her hand with a mocking, roguish expression that quite
confused him.
They then all turned toward home. Venturita ran in front, dragging her
brother with her. Dona Paula, Cecilia, and Gonzalo walked behind. Don
Rosendo closed the procession with his old friend, Don Pedro Miranda.
The streets were dark, for it was only at the corners that there were
lamps.
The distance between the three groups of people gradually increased.
Gonzalo made desperate efforts to sustain conversation with his
bride-elect and future mother-in-law; but the girl never opened her
lips, and Dona Paula was very far from being a Madame de Stael, and as
the young man had never consulted the manual of conversation, he could
not be called brilliant. In their letters they had arrived at the
confidential stage. Dona Paula had put post-scripts into Cecilia's
epistles, to which Gonzalo had replied with little jokes; he had sent
stamps and caricatures for Ventura, and in every way had comported
himself as a member of the family. But now the three were quite
embarrassed, for our young friend had never before spoken to the Senora
de Belinchon, and to Cecilia he had only addressed the words that we
have recorded.
But there in front was Venturita, laughing with her brother; and the
engaged couple were quite certain that the merriment was at their
expense. Nevertheless, by the time they reached the house they were more
at home with each other, and there were signs of increasing friendliness
between them. The party collected together on reaching the door of the
De Belinchons' abode, which was situated in the Rua Nueva, the best
street in Sarrio, and, like all the houses in that quarter, it was
large and handsome.
As Gonzalo had not yet supped, Don Rosendo asked him to join them at
their evening meal; and the invitation was given so cordially, that the
young man, who wished for nothing better, willingly accepted it.
Senor Miranda and his son then took leave, and the Belinchon family,
with the newcomer who was soon to be one of them, entered the house.
In the anteroom the ladies took off their cloaks and hats.
The light seemed to make the affianced pair shy. Gonzalo was now well
able to see his betrothed, who had not improved with years. She was
taller, but also thinner--love affairs don't make girls grow plump; her
nose seemed a trifle sharper; but her beautiful eyes, so soft and
intelligent, still shone like two stars.
He was greatly struck with the change in Venturita, the child he had
seen skipping to school on the arm of a schoolfellow.
She was now a woman, a full-grown woman, not so much from her height as
from the roundness and fulness of her figure, and a certain directness
of look touched with a dash of coquetry.
They cast a rapid look at each other, as if they met for the first time;
and Gonzalo said in a low voice to Dona Paula:
"How Venturita has improved! She is a beautiful girl."
Low as it was, the girl overheard the remark; she pouted disdainfully
and went straight to the dining-room, without betraying the
gratification his spontaneous admiration had given her.
The table was laid, a patriarchal provincial board, abundant and clean,
without flowers or any of the elegant accessories which are now the
fashion. All Gonzalo's shyness vanishing at the sight of the meal, he
soon felt quite at home. A feeling of cheerfulness pervaded them all.
They exchanged remarks and smiles; Gonzalo took Pablito by the arm and
asked him after his horses; Dona Paula arranged the order of the places;
Venturita, who was already seated, began eating olives and throwing the
stones at her sister, with knowing winks, while Cecilia, her cheeks
aflame, put her finger on her lip to call her to order. Don Rosendo had
returned from putting on his jacket and smoking cap, as he could not eat
supper without them. His wife now invited the visitor to take the chair
next to Cecilia, but she had taken her seat at the other end of the
table.
"What are you about? Why don't you come to your proper place?" asked
Dona Paula in surprise, whereupon the girl, without replying, quietly
rose and blushingly took the chair next to her betrothed.
The classic dish of buttered eggs was already steaming on the table.
"Come, help Gonzalo--serve him first," said Dona Paula to her daughter,
with the benign smile befitting a wife whose ideas were in accord with
those given by Saint Paul in his celebrated epistle.
Cecilia hastened to obey, and filled the plate of her future husband. He
always had an excellent appetite, fitting for his great size, but now,
sharpened by the sea air and some hours' fasting, he was voracious. He
ate everything that was put before him, without stopping a moment, and
without leaving a morsel, and Cecilia, as we can suppose, was
indefatigable in serving him.
Directly he began to eat Gonzalo lost his shyness, for the pressing
necessity of satisfying his enormous appetite was all-absorbing.
Cecilia, on the contrary, hardly touched her food. Seeing two little
pieces of ham about the size of two filberts on her plate, the young man
said:
"Whom is that plate for--the parrot?"
"No; it is for me."
"And are you not afraid it will give you indigestion?"
It was the first joke that he had ventured to make with his bride-elect.
She smilingly returned:
"I never eat more than that."
Dona Paula whispered into Venturita's ear:
"Don't you think they are very stiff with each other?"
Venturita repeated the remark in an undertone to Pablo, and he passed it
on to his father. All four began laughing and casting glances at the
engaged couple, who looked confused, asking with their eyes the reason
of the sudden merriment.
"Mama, do you want me to tell them what we are laughing at?"
"Tell them."
"Then, senores, we were thinking that you might be less stiff with each
other."
The bride and bridegroom-elect hung their heads and smiled.
The good spirits of the supper party now broke forth in laughter and
jokes. Pablito asked his future brother-in-law questions about horse
racing, skating rinks, and other more or less enthralling topics of the
kind.
Only Cecilia was silent in the intensity of her happiness, shown in the
brilliant scarlet of her cheeks, the heat of which she tried in vain to
cool with the back of her hand.
When she thought she was unobserved she cast long, loving looks at her
fiance, whose fine, insatiable appetite, the sign of life and energy,
surprised and captivated her; and she gazed at him in adoring admiration
as a splendid type of masculine strength.
But these long, ecstatic looks did not escape Venturita, who managed by
signs to draw the attention of Pablo and her mother to them. Gonzalo
acknowledged the attentions of his fiancee with a rapid "Many thanks"
without looking at her, for fear of blushing. When he did look up to
speak to Pablo, his eyes always encountered Venturita's, and her
smiling, mocking glance somewhat disconcerted him.
At last they left the table and dispersed. Don Rosendo and Ventura,
disappeared, and Pablo, after a few minutes, following their example.
Dona Paula and the engaged couple remained alone in the dining-room, and
all three sat on low chairs in a corner together. Soon nothing but soft
whispers were audible, as if they were at the confessional. The three
chairs were close together, and with their heads almost touching, they
began an animated conversation.
Dona Paula soon broached the all-important question.
"This is the twenty-eighth of April. There are only four months from now
to the first of September," and here she cast a long, knowing glance at
the couple.
If it had been possible for Cecilia to get redder, she would have done
so.
Gonzalo's lips wreathed in a meaningless smile, and he lowered his
eyes.
After looking at them for a minute, as if enjoying their confusion, Dona
Paula continued:
"It is necessary to think of the trousseau."
"Heavens! It is early for that," exclaimed the girl in dismay, while her
heart leaped into her mouth.
"It is not so, Cecilia; you do not know the time the embroideresses take
in such matters. Nieves took a month to embroider two petticoats for
Dona Rosario's daughter--and Martina is slower than she."
"Nieves embroiders very well."
"There is no embroideress in the town to hold a candle to Martina. She
has hands of gold."
"I prefer the embroideries of Nieves."
"Then, if you wish it, let her embroider your clothes, but I--" said
Dona Paula, looking at her daughter in an offended, haughty sort of way.
"I don't say so," returned the girl in alarm; "I only say I like the
work of Nieves better than Martina's."
The trousseau soon became the subject of conversation. It was discussed
from every point of view, and with the gravity and the care it deserved.
To whom should they entrust the hemming of the linen sheets? To whom the
common ones? Who should make the underlinen? Where should the mantles be
bought, etc.? All these questions were discussed, weighed, and
considered. Dona Paula gave her opinion; Cecilia affected to
contradict, but in reality what did she care?
Her whole soul was so filled with the thought of her approaching
marriage that her voice trembled with emotion, and she could hardly
speak, while her eyes glowed with rapture, and shone like two fine stars
on a soft summer night.
"How hot it is!" she exclaimed every now and then, putting her hands
upon her flaming cheeks.
Gonzalo assented with an inane smile to what was said, and frequently
changed the position of his long legs, which were cramped from the
lowness of his chair.
When they had discussed the linen of the trousseau, they passed on to
the dresses, and the conversation became more animated, and Cecilia saw
her betrothed without looking at him, and the eyes of Dona Paula, as she
gazed at them both, grew softer and softer, their breath mingled, and
the shoulders of the future bride and bridegroom touched each other.
The soft whispers, the lowered light of the lamp, which scarcely reached
them, the frequent contact with the arm of her beloved, all combined to
fill Cecilia with overwhelming emotion. Quite overcome, she got up two
or three times and kissed her mother warmly; when she did this the third
time, Dona Paula saw what it betokened and, with a compassionate,
smiling glance, said:
"Poor little thing! My poor little thing!"
Cecilia covered her eyes with her hands, and remained so for some time.
"What is the matter?" said Dona Paula at last.
"Nothing, nothing."
But she kept her eyes covered.
"But what is the matter, my daughter?"
"Nothing," she replied at last, taking her hands from her face, and she
smiled, but her eyes were wet.
"I know, I know," returned the mother. "You want the salts; you feel
faint."
"No, I am not faint; I am quite well."
The conversation was then renewed, and Dona Paula expressed her wish
that Gonzalo should come and live with them. This he rather objected to
at first, as he knew his uncle would not like it, nevertheless he ended
by conceding to the entreaties of both ladies. It was so natural that
they should not want to be separated! "You can both be quite
independent, I will take care of that. There is the large room, the blue
one, you know, Cecilia; it has a large alcove; then you only want the
study for Gonzalo. But I have thought of that. Just by the large room
there is the wardrobe-room, that opens on the courtyard; it is nice and
light. It is all in disorder now, but, with a little trouble, it could
be turned into a very nice room. Would you like to see it, Gonzalo?"
The young man replied that it was not necessary, that he believed all
she said, and that he had as good as seen it; but the lady insisted on
it, and, taking a flat candlestick, she escorted him to the other end of
the house.
"This is the room--large, is it not? Two windows. The alcove is large
enough for two beds, let alone for one," she added, with a glance at her
daughter, who turned aside to shut a window.
"Let us go and see the wardrobe-room--"
And leaving the apartment, crossing a passage, and turning round a
corner, they entered another room full of cupboards and lumber.
"Don't mind about the distance, for it is really next to the large room;
it only wants a door of communication to be made between."
Gonzalo turned to his intended and said softly:
"Why does not mama thee and thou me as your papa does? Ask her from
me--I do not like to."
Then Cecilia approached her mother's ear and said in a soft voice, which
trembled with shyness:
"Gonzalo would like you to thee and thou him."
"What do you say, child?" asked Dona Paula, putting her hand to her ear.
Cecilia, with a great effort, raised her voice a little:
"Gonzalo asks why you do not thee and thou him as papa does?"
"Ah! I am glad the suggestion comes from him, otherwise I should not
have ventured. Very well, then, when a door is made here in the wall,
you will be able to go from the large room into this one without
crossing the passage--do you like the room? Is it large enough?"
"Too large; my business at the present moment does not require much
space."
Cecilia looked anxious, as if something were on her mind. She opened her
mouth several times as if about to speak, and then lacked courage. At
last, after a long pause, she ventured to say:
"One thing is wanting, mama."
"What?"
The girl hesitated, as if to gain courage, and then, in a trembling
voice, she said:
"There is no dressing-room for Gonzalo."
"That's true. I never thought of that. Where was my head? There is no
room about here--wait a moment--wait. We might put the pantry
downstairs, and then there would be that little room, which, nicely
furnished, would perhaps do. The only thing is, it does not communicate
with the other rooms; he will have to cross the passage."
"What does that matter?"
They then returned to the dining-room, and to the same seats in the
corner. Presently Venturita came in, in a white peignoir, cut so as to
show her alabaster throat and part of her beautiful neck; her hair hung
loose over her shoulders, and her feet were shod with gorgeously
embroidered Eastern slippers. She came to say "Good-night" before
retiring to rest, and, approaching her mother, she gave her a kiss,
making teasing faces at her sister the while, which Gonzalo could not
see.
"Well, good-night," she said, giving Gonzalo her hand.
"Good-night," he returned, with an admiring glance, and in a tone of
admiration not unnoticed by the girl.
She was just going away when a coquettish feeling made her turn back at
the door and say to Cecilia:
"Where did you put the shoe-horn? I had to come in with slippers, as I
could not find it."
Then she took the opportunity of showing her pretty foot.
"But it is there in the table drawer."
"If you only knew how sleepy I am," she said, advancing a step, and
putting her hand on the head of her sister--"Do you know what I ought to
do for it?" she added, with a smile. Gonzalo looked at her attentively.
She was really a perfect creature; the more he looked at her, the more
he admired her particular charms. Her skin was soft, and shining as
silk; her complexion pink and white; her mouth like a budding rose; her
lips red and full enough to show two rows of even teeth; her hair
golden, silky, and abundant; a drawing-room magazine would say that it
fell over her shoulders like a cascade of sunbeams, or something to that
effect.
Her only imperfection was her height. If she had taken after her mother
in this respect, nobody could have found any fault with her excepting,
perhaps, her friends.
Seeing she was an object of admiration, she went on walking about,
turning herself round to be seen from all sides, posing in affected
attitudes, asking impertinent questions of her sister, then laughing
aimlessly and covering her with kisses, or pinching her unmercifully.
"Let me alone, Venturita; how wild you are to-day!" exclaimed Cecilia,
with her kind, frank smile as she tried to get away from her.
"Go to bed!" said Dona Paula.
"I am going."
But instead of going, she embraced Cecilia again, and, tickling her, she
managed to whisper into her ear:
"How are you enjoying yourself, you rogue? Don't make those large eyes
at him, or you will frighten him. Good-by, good-by, Senores," she said
in a louder voice, "and leave something for to-morrow, eh?"
"What a little silly!" cried Cecilia, blushing.
Dona Paula and Gonzalo smiled, and he said in a low voice:
"What lovely hair!"
Ventura overheard him, and shaking her locks, she said:
"It is false."
They all burst out laughing.
"Don't you believe it?" she asked in a serious tone, and approaching
nearer.
"Pull it, and you will see it will come off in your hand."
The young man did not dare to comply, and continued to smile.
"Pull, pull," she insisted, turning her back to him, and holding her
hair before his face.
Gonzalo raised his hand to the hair, but he only ventured to touch it
caressingly.
"What! it has not come off! That is because it is well tied on."
And she ran out of the room.
The private conclave was prolonged for some time, and many more points
of their future life were touched upon; and as Cecilia listened to her
mother descanting upon what they should do when once they were married,
she could hardly conceal the tremor of emotion that possessed her. She
had taken her mother's hand, and she pressed it and caressed it in a
nervous way; sometimes she raised it to her lips and kissed it
passionately.
Dona Paula looked at her with sympathy, and smiled kindly at the joy
that filled her daughter's heart.
The clock in the dining-room struck half-past twelve.
"Oh, how late! What will Don Rosendo say?"
"He never goes to bed before this time," replied Cecilia.
"Yes; but you know he takes some time to lock up," returned Dona Paula.
Cecilia was silent. Gonzalo shook hands with them warmly, promising to
come the following day. Then he went to Senor Belinchon's study to take
leave of him.
The mother and daughter went on talking in the same corner on the same
theme, the former being the object of countless embraces and fervent
kisses.
"These are not for me," said the lady, in a tone of mingled joy and
sadness.
"Yes, mama; yes!" replied the girl, embracing her with still greater
effusion.
In the meanwhile Don Rosendo was bringing the arduous and complicated
task of locking and bolting the doors and windows to a successful
termination.
He was not contented with locks and iron bars, but, to insure the
non-violation of the sanctuary of his dwelling during the night, the
rich merchant was in the habit of gumming pieces of paper over all the
locks. These he examined carefully in the morning, to be quite certain
that nobody had tampered with them. Then he put various bottles and pots
upon the doorstep, so that if thieves came they would fall over them.