V.

Agonde rose early on the following morning, and descended shortly

afterward to his shop, leaving his guests wrapped in their slumbers,

and Carmen charged, the moment they should stir, to pour the

chocolate into their mouths. The apothecary desired to enjoy the

effect produced in the town by Don Victoriano's sojourn in his house.

He was reclining in his leather-covered easy-chair when he saw

Tropiezo riding past on his gray mule, and called out to him:

"Hello! Hello! Where are you bound for so early?"

"For Doas, man. I have not a minute to spare." And saying this

the doctor alighted from his mule, which he tied to an iron ring

fastened in the wall.

"Is the case so urgent?"

"Urgent? That it is. The old woman, the grandmother of Ramon, the

confectioner. It appears she has already received the last

sacrament."

"And it is only now they have sent for you?"

"No; I went to see her yesterday, and I applied two dozen

leeches, that drew their fill of blood from her. She looked like a

dying kid; she was very weak, and as thin as a wafer. Perhaps if I

had given her something that I thought of, instead of applying

leeches----"

"Ah! a trip," interrupted Agonde maliciously.

"Life is a series of trips," responded the doctor, shrugging his

shoulders. "And upstairs?" he added, raising his eyes interrogatively

to the ceiling.

"Snoring like princes."

"And he--how does he look?" asked Don Fermin, lowering his voice

and dwelling on every word.

"He?" repeated Agonde, following his example. "So-so. Oldish. And

very gray."

"But what is the matter with him? Let us hear. For as to being

sick, he is that."

"He has--a new disease--a very strange one, one of the latest

fashion." And Agonde smiled maliciously.

"New?"

Agonde half-closed his eyes, bent toward Tropiezo, and whispered

something in his ear.

Tropiezo burst into a laugh; suddenly he looked very serious, and

tapping his nose repeatedly with his forefinger:

"I know, I know," he said emphatically. "And the waters here, and

some others in France, are the only cure for that disease. If he

drinks a few glasses from the spring, he will be himself again."

Tropiezo emitted his dictamen leaning on the counter, forgetful

of the mule that was stamping impatiently at the door.

"And the Señora--what does she say of her husband's state of

health?" he suddenly asked, with a wink.

"What should she say of it, man? Probably she does not know that

it is serious."

A look of derision lighted up the inexpressive features of the

physician; he glanced at Agonde and smothering another burst of

laughter, began:

"The Señora--"

"Chut!" interrupted the apothecary furiously. The whole Comba

family were making an irruption into the shop through the small door

of the porch. Mother and daughter formed a charming group, both

wearing wide-brimmed hats of coarse straw adorned with enormous bows

of flame-colored bunting. Their écru cotton gowns embroidered with

red braid completed the rustic character of their costumes, reminding

one of a bunch of poppies and straw. The girl's luxuriant dark hair

hung loose over her shoulders, and the fair locks of the mother

curled in a tangled mass under the shade of her broad-brimmed hat.

Nieves did not wear gloves nor was there visible on her face a trace

of powder, or of any other of the cosmetics whose use is imputed

unjustly by the women of the provinces to the Madridlenians; on the

contrary, her rosy ears and neck showed signs of energetic friction

with the towel and cold water. As for Don Victoriano, the ravages

made in his countenance by care and sickness were still more apparent

in the morning light; it was not, as Agonde had said, age that was

visible there; it was virility, but tortured, exhausted, wounded to

death.

"Why! Have you had chocolate already?" asked Agonde, in

confusion.

"No, friend Saturnino, nor shall we take it, with your

permission, until we return. Don't trouble yourself on our account.

Victoriniña has ransacked your pantry--your closets----"

The child half opened a handkerchief which she held by the four

corners, disclosing a provision of bread, cake, and the cheese of the

country.

"At least let me bring you a whole cheese. I will go see if there

is not some fresh bread, just out of the oven----"

Don Victoriano objected--let him not be deprived of the pleasure

of going to breakfast in the poplar-grove near the spring, just as he

had done when a boy. Agonde remarked that those articles of food were

not wholesome for him, to which Tropiezo, scratching the tip of his

ear, responded sceptically:

"Bah! bah! bah! Those are new-fangled notions. What is wholesome

for the body--can't they understand that--is what the body craves. If

the gentleman likes bread--and for your malady, Señor Don Victoriano,

there is nothing like the waters here. I don't know why people go to

give their money to those French when we have better things at home

than any they can give us."

The Minister looked at Tropiezo with keen interest depicted on

his countenance. He called to mind his last visit to Sanchez del

Abrojo and the contraction of the lips with which the learned

practitioner had said to him:

"I would send you to Carlsbad or to Vichy, but those waters are

not always beneficial. At times they hasten the natural course of a

disease. Rest for a time, and diet yourself--we will see how you are

when you return in the autumn." And what a look Sanchez del Abrojo

put on when he said this! An impenetrable, sphinx-like expression.

The positive assertion of Tropiezo awoke tumultuous hopes in Don

Victoriano's breast. This village practitioner must know a great deal

from experience, more perhaps than the pompous doctors of the

capital.

"Come, papa," said the child impatiently, pulling him by the

sleeve.

They took the path toward the grove. Vilamorta, naturally given

to early rising, was more full of activity at this hour than in the

afternoon. The shops were open, the baskets of the fruit-venders were

already filled with fruit. Cansin walked up and down his

establishment with his hands in his pockets, affecting to have

noticed nothing, so as not to be obliged to bid good-morning to

Agonde and acknowledge his triumph. Pellejo, covered with flour, was

haggling with three shopkeepers from Cebre, who wanted to buy some of

his best wheat. Ramon, the confectioner, was dividing chocolate into

squares on a large board placed on the counter and rapidly stamping

them with a hot iron before they should have time to cool.

The morning was cloudless and the sun was already unusually hot.

The party, augmented by García and Genday, walked through orchards

and cornfields until they reached the entrance to the walk. Don

Victoriano uttered an exclamation of joy. It was the same double row

of elms bordering the river, the foaming and joyous Avieiro, that ran

on sparkling in gentle cascades, washing with a pleasant murmur the

rocks, worn smooth by the action of the current. He recognized the

thick osier plantations; he remembered all his longings of the day

before and leaned, full of emotion, on the parapet of the walk. The

scene was almost deserted; half a dozen melancholy and

bilious-looking individuals, visitors to the springs, were walking

slowly up and down, discussing their ailments in low tones, and

eructating the bicarbonate of the waters. Nieves, leaning back on a

stone bench, gazed at the river. The child touched her on the

shoulder, saying:

"Mamma, the young man we saw yesterday."

On the opposite bank Segundo García was standing on a rock,

absorbed in meditation, his straw hat pushed far back on his head,

his hand resting on his hip, doubtless with the purpose of preserving

his equilibrium in so dangerous a position. Nieves reproved the

little girl, saying:

"Don't be silly, child. You startled me. Salute the gentleman."

"He is not looking this way. Ah! now he is looking. Salute him,

you, mamma. He is taking off his hat, he is going to fall! There! now

he is safe."

Don Victoriano descended the stone steps leading to the spring.

The abode of the naiad was a humble grotto--a shed supported on rough

posts, a small basin overflowing with the water from the spring, some

wretched hovels for the bathers, and a strong and sickening odor of

rotten eggs, caused by the stagnation of the sulphur water, were all

that the fastidious tourist found there. Notwithstanding this, Don

Victoriano's soul was filled with the purest joy. In this naiad he

beheld his youth, his lost youth--the age of illusions, of hopes

blooming as the banks of the Avieiro. How many mornings had he come

to drink from the fountain, for a jest, to wash his face with the

water, which enjoyed throughout the country the reputation of

possessing extraordinary curative virtue for the eyes. Don Victoriano

stretched out his hands, plunged them into the warm current, feeling

it slip through his fingers with delight, and playing with it and

caressing it as one caresses a loved being. But the undulating form

of the naiad escaped from him as youth escapes from us--without the

possibility of detaining it. Then the ex-Minister felt a thirst

awaken in him to drink the waters. Beside him on the edge of the

basin was a glass; and the keeper, a poor old man in his dotage,

presented it to him with an idiotic smile. Don Victoriano drank,

closing his eyes, with indescribable pleasure, enjoying the

mysterious water, charmed by the magic arts of memory. When he had

drained the glass he drew himself up and ascended the stairs with a

firm and elastic step. Victoriniña, who was breakfasting on bread and

cheese in the avenue, was astonished when her father took a piece of

bread from her lap, saying gayly:

"We are all God's creatures."