In Vilamorta there was a Casino, a real Casino, small indeed, and
shabby, besides, but with its billiard-table, bought at second-hand,
and its _boy_, an old man of seventy, who once a year dusted and
brushed the green cover. For the only reunions in the Casino of
Vilamorta were those of the rats and the moths who assembled daily,
to amuse themselves by eating away the woodwork. The chief centers of
reunion were the two apothecaries' shops, that of Doña Eufrasia,
fronting the Plaza and that of Agonde in the high street. Doña
Eufrasia's shop, nestling in the shadowy corner of an archway, was
dark; in the hours of meeting it was lighted by a smoky kerosene
lamp; its furniture consisted of four grimy chairs and a bench.
From the street all that was to be seen were dark mass-cloaks,
overcoats, broad-brimmed hats, two or three clerical tonsures that
shone at a distance like metal clasps against the dark background of
the shop. Agonde's shop, on the contrary, was brightly illuminated
and gloried in the possession of six glass globes of brilliant
coloring and fantastic effect, three rows of shelves laden with
imposing and scientific-looking white porcelain jars bearing Latin
inscriptions in black letters, a divan, and two leather-covered
armchairs. The two contrasting shops were also antagonistic; they had
declared war to the knife against each other.
Agonde's shop, liberal and enlightened in its opinions, said of
the reactionary shop that it was a center of unending conspiracies,
where _El Cuartel Real_ and all the rebel proclamations had been read
during the civil war, and where for the past five years
ammunition-belts were being diligently prepared for a Carlist party
that never took the field; and according to the reactionary shop,
that of Agonde was the headquarters of the Freemasons; where lampoons
were printed on a little handpress and where gambling was shamelessly
carried on. The meetings in the reactionary shop broke up with
religious punctuality at ten, in winter, and eleven in summer, while
the liberal shop continued to cast on the sidewalk until midnight the
light of its two bright lamps and the blue, red, and emerald-green
reflections of its glass globes; for which reasons the members of the
liberal reunion called those of the other party _owls_, while those
of the reactionary clique gave their opponents the name of _members
of the Casino of the Gaming Table_.
Segundo never put his foot over the threshold of the reactionary
shop and, since the beginning of his acquaintance with Leocadia
Otero, he had shunned that of Agonde also, for his vanity was wounded
by the jests and gibes of the apothecary, who was noted for his
waggish humor. One evening as Saturnino Agonde was crossing the Plaza
of the Alamo at an unusually late hour--on his way the devil only
knew whither--he had caught sight of Leocadia and Segundo seated at
the window, and had heard the psalmody of the verses which the poet
was declaiming. From that time Segundo had seen depicted on the
countenance of Agonde, a practical man of a sanguine temperament,
such contempt for sentimental trifling and for poetry that he
instinctively avoided him as far as it was possible to do so.
Occasionally, however, whenever he desired to read _El Imparcial_, to
know what was going on, he would stop in at the shop for a few
moments. He did so on the day after his conversation with the echo.
The meeting was very animated. Segundo's father was leaning back
on the sofa with a newspaper resting on his knees; his
brother-in-law, the notary Genday, Ramon, the confectioner, and
Agonde were hotly disputing with him. At the further end of the shop
Carmelo, the tobacconist, Don Fermin, alias _Tropiezo_,[1] the
physician, the secretary of the Municipality and the Alcalde sat
playing _tresillo_ at a small table. When Segundo entered, he
remarked something unusual in the air of his father and of the group
that surrounded him, but certain that he would presently be told the
cause, he silently dropped into an armchair, lighted a cigar, and
took up the copy of _El Imparcial_ that was lying on the counter.
[1] Trip.
"Well, the papers here say nothing, absolutely nothing, about
it," exclaimed the confectioner.
From the tresillo table came the voice of the doctor confirming
Ramon's doubts; the doctor, too, was of the opinion that the event in
question could not happen without due notice of it being given in the
papers.
"You would die rather than believe anything," replied Agonde. "I
am certain of it, I tell you, and it seems to me that when I am
certain of it----"
"And I too," affirmed Genday. "If it is necessary to call
witnesses to prove it, they are there. I know it from my own brother,
who heard it from Mendez de las Vides; you can judge whether I have
the news on good authority or not. Do you want further proof? Well,
two armchairs, a handsome gilt bedstead, a great deal of china and a
piano have been ordered from Orense for Las Vides. Are you
convinced?"
"In any case they will not come as soon as you say," objected
Tropiezo.
"They will come at the time I have said. Don Victoriano wants to
spend the holidays and the vintage season here; they say he longs to
see his native place again, and that he has spoken of nothing all the
winter but the journey."
"He is coming to die here," said Tropiezo; "I heard that he was
in a very bad state of health. You are going to be left without a
leader."
"Go to----What a devil of a man, what an owl, always predicting
misfortunes! Either hold your tongue, or talk sense. Attend to the
game, as you ought to."
Segundo was gazing abstractedly at the glass globes of the shop,
his attention seemingly occupied with the blue, green, and red points
of light that sparkled in their center. He understood now the subject
of their conversation--the expected arrival of Don Victoriano Andres
de la Comba, the minister, the great political leader of the country,
the radical representative of the district. What mattered to Segundo
the arrival of this pretentious coxcomb! And giving himself up to the
enjoyment of his cigar, he allowed the noisy dispute to go on
unheeded. Afterward he became absorbed in the reading of an article
in _El Imparcial_, in which a new poet was warmly eulogized.
Meanwhile at the tresillo table matters were becoming
complicated. The apothecary, who sat behind the Alcalde, was giving
him advice--a delicate and difficult task.
The tobacconist and Don Fermin held all the good cards; they had
the man between them--a ticklish position. The Alcalde was a thin
shriveled-up old man, of a very timid disposition, who, before he
ventured to play a card, would think a hundred years about it,
calculating all the contingencies and all the possible combinations
of which cards are capable. He did not want now to play that _solo_.
It would be a great mistake! But the impetuous Agonde encouraged him,
saying: "Come! I buy it." Thus urged, the Alcalde came to a decision,
but not without having first entered a protest:
"Very well, I'll play it, but it is a piece of folly,
gentlemen--so that you may not say I am afraid."
And all that he had foreseen happened; he found himself between
two fires: on the one side his king of hearts is trumped, on the
other his opponent takes his knave of trumps with his queen. Don
Fermin wins the trick without knowing how, while the tobacconist, who
is smiling maliciously, keeps all his good cards. The Alcalde lifts
his eyes appealingly to Agonde.
"Didn't I tell you so? A nice fix we have got ourselves into! We
shall lose the hand; it is lost already."
"No, man, no. What a coward you are--always afraid of everything.
There you are hesitating as long about throwing a card as if your
life depended on it. Play a trump! play a trump! That is the way
cowards always lose--they are afraid to play their trumps."
The opponents winked at each other maliciously.
"_De posita non tibi_," exclaimed the tobacconist.
"_Si codillum non resultabit_," assented Don Fermin.
The Alcalde, quaking with fear, proceeded, by Agonde's advice, to
look through the tricks his partners had taken, in order to see how
many trumps had been already played. Tropiezo and the tobacconist
protested:
What a mania he had for examining the cards!
The Alcalde, somewhat tranquillized, resolved at last to put an
end to his uncertainty, and with a few bold and decisive plays the
hand ended, each player winning three tricks.
"A tie!" exclaimed the tobacconist and the apothecary almost
simultaneously.
"You see! Playing as badly as you could you haven't lost the
hand," said Agonde. "They needed all their cards to win what they
did."
They were all absorbed in the game--whose interest was now at its
height--with the exception of Segundo, who had abandoned himself to
one of those idle reveries in which the activity of the imagination
is stimulated by bodily ease. The voices of the players reached his
ears like a distant murmur; he was a hundred leagues away; he was
thinking of the article he had just been reading, of which certain
expressions particularly encomiastic--mellifluous phrases in which
the critic artfully glossed over the faults of the poet--had remained
stamped on his memory. When would his turn come to be judged by the
Madrid press? God alone knew. He lent his attention once more to the
conversation.
"We must at least give him a serenade," declared Genday.
"A serenade, indeed!" responded Agonde. "A great thing that!
Something more than a serenade--we must have some sort of a
procession--a demonstration which will show that the people here are
with him. We must appoint a committee to receive him with rockets and
bands of music. Let those plotters at Doña Eufrasia's have something
to rage about."
The name of the other shop produced a storm of exclamations,
jests, and stamping of feet.
"Have you heard the news?" asked the waggish Tropiezo. "It seems
that Nocedal has written a very flattering letter to Doña Eufrasia,
saying that as he represents Don Carlos in Madrid so she, by reason
of her merits, ought to represent him in Vilamorta."
Homeric bursts of laughter and a general huzza greeted this
remark.
"Well, that may be an invention; but it is true, true as gospel,
that Doña Eufrasia sent Don Carlos her likeness with a complimentary
inscription."
"And the regiment? Have they fixed on the day on which it is to
take the field?"
"Of course. They say that the Abbot of Lubrego is to command it."
The hilarity of the assembly was redoubled, for the Abbot of
Lubrego was nearing his seventieth year, and was so feeble that he
could scarcely hold himself on his mule. A boy at this moment entered
the shop, swinging in his hand a glass bottle.
"Don Saturnino!" he cried, in a shrill voice.
"What is it you want?" answered the druggist, mimicking his
tones.
"Give me some of what this smells like."
"All right," said Agonde, putting the bottle to his nose. "What
does this smell like, Don Fermin?"
"Let me see--it smells something like--laudanum, eh?--or arnica?"
"Arnica let it be, it is less dangerous. I hope it will have a
good effect."
"It is time to retire, gentlemen," said the Lawyer García,
consulting his silver timepiece.
Genday stood up and Segundo followed his example.
The tresillo party proceeded to settle accounts; calculating
winnings and losses, centavo by centavo, by means of white counters
and yellow counters. After the close atmosphere of the shop the cool
air of the street was grateful; the night was mild and clear; the
stars shone with a friendly light and Segundo, who was quick to
perceive the poetic aspect of things, felt tempted to leave his
father and his uncle without ceremony and walk along the road, alone,
according to his custom, to enjoy the beauty of the night. But his
Uncle Genday linked his arm through his, saying:
"You are to be congratulated, my boy."
"Congratulated, uncle?"
"Weren't you crazy to get away from here? Didn't you want to take
your flight to some other place? Haven't you a hatred for office
work?"
"Good man," interposed the lawyer; "he is crazy enough as it is,
and you want to unsettle his mind still more----"
"Hold your tongue, you fool! Don Victoriano is coming here, we
will present the boy to him and ask him to give him a place. And he
will give him one, and a good one too; for whether he thinks so or
not, if he does not do what we ask him, the pancake will cost him a
loaf. The district is not what he imagines it to be, and if his
adherents do not keep their eyes open the clergy will play a trick
upon them."
"And Primo? And Mendez de las Vides?"
"They are no match for the priest. The day least expected they
will be made a show of; they will hang their heads for shame. But
you, my boy--think well about it. You are not in love with the law?"
Segundo shrugged his shoulders with a smile.
"Well, turn the matter over in your mind; think what would suit
you best. For you must be something; you must stick your head in
somewhere. Would you like a justiceship? a place in the post-office?
in one of the departments?"
They had turned the corner of the Plaza on their way to García's
house and were passing under Leocadia's window when the fragrance of
the carnations penetrated to Segundo's brain. He felt a poetic
revulsion of feeling and, dilating his nostrils to inhale the
perfume, he exclaimed:
"Neither justice nor post-office employee. Say no more on that
point, uncle."
"Don't insist, Clodio," said the lawyer bitterly. "He wants to be
nothing, nothing but a downright idler, to spend his life scribbling
rhymes. Neither more nor less. The money must be handed out for the
Institute, the University, the shirt-front, the frock coat, the
polished boots, and then, when one thinks they are ready to do for
themselves, back they come, to be a burden to one, to smoke and to
eat at one's expense. I have three sons to spend my money, to squeeze
me dry, and not one to give me any help. That is all these young
gentlemen are good for."
Segundo stopped, twisting the end of his mustache, with a frown
on his face. They all stood still at the corner of the little plaza,
as people are wont to do when a conversation changes to a dispute.
"I don't know what puts that into your head, father," declared
the poet. "Do you suppose that I propose to myself never to be
anything more than Segundo García, the lawyer's son? If you do, you
are greatly mistaken. You may be very anxious to be rid of the burden
of supporting me, but you are not half as anxious as I am to relieve
you of it."
"Well, then, what are you waiting for? Your uncle is proposing a
variety of things to you and none of them suits you. Do you want to
begin by being Minister?"
The poet began to twist his mustache anew.
"There is no use in being impatient, father. I would make a very
bad post-office clerk and a still worse justice. I don't want to tie
myself down to any fixed career, in which everything is arranged
beforehand and moves by routine. In that case I should be a lawyer
like you or a notary like Uncle Genday. If we really find Don
Victoriano disposed to do anything for me, ask some position--no
matter what--without fixed duties, that will enable me to reside in
Madrid. I will take care of the rest."
"You will take care of the rest. Yes, yes, you say well. You will
draw upon me for little sums, eh? like your brother in the Philippine
Islands. Let me tell you for your guidance, then, that you needn't do
so. I didn't steal what I have, and I don't coin money."
"I am not asking anything from you!" cried Segundo, in a burst of
savage anger. "Am I in your way? I will get out of it, then; I will
go to America. That ends it."
"No," said the lawyer, calming down. "Provided you exact no more
sacrifices from me."
"Not one! not if I were starving!"
The lawyer's door opened; old Aunt Gáspara in her petticoat,
looking like a fright, had come to let them in. Tied around her head
was a cotton handkerchief which came so far over her face as almost
to conceal her sour features. Segundo drew back at this picture of
domestic life.
"Aren't you coming in?" asked his father.
"I am going with Uncle Genday."
"Are you coming back soon?"
"Directly."
Walking down the square he communicated his plans to Genday. The
latter, a short man, with a fiery temper, signified his approbation
by movements quick and restless as those of a lizard. His nephew's
ideas were not displeasing to him. His active, scheming mind, the
mind of an electoral agent and a clever notary, accepted vast
projects more readily than the methodical mind of the lawyer García.
Uncle and nephew were much of the same way of thinking as to the best
manner of profiting by Don Victoriano's influence; conversing in this
way they reached Genday's house, and the servant of the latter--a
fresh-looking girl--opened the door for her master with all the
flattering obsequiousness of a confirmed old bachelor's maid-servant.
Instead of returning home Segundo, preoccupied and excited, walked
down the plaza to the highroad, stopped at the first clump of
chestnut trees he came to, and seating himself on the step of a
wooden cross which the Jesuits had erected there during the last
mission, gave himself up to the harmless diversion of contemplating
the evening star, the constellations, and all the splendors of the
heavenly bodies.