And she adorned herself for the town ball with a certain
illusion, with the same care as if she were dressing for a soirée at
the palace of Puenteancha.
Naturally the gown and the ornaments were very different from
what they would have been in the latter case, but they were selected
with no less care and consideration--a gown of white China crêpe,
high-necked, and without a train, trimmed with Valenciennes lace,
that fell in clinging folds, whose simplicity was completed by long
dark Suède gloves wrinkled at the wrist, reaching to the elbow. A
black velvet ribbon, fastened by a diamond and sapphire horseshoe,
encircled her neck. Her beautiful fair hair, arranged in the English
fashion, curled slightly over the forehead.
She was almost ashamed of having selected this toilette when she
crossed the muddy plaza, leaning on Agonde's arm, and heard the poor
music, and found the entrance of the townhall crowded with
country-people sitting on the floor, whom it was necessary to step
over to reach the staircase. On the landings ran the lees of the
fair--a dark wine-colored rivulet. Agonde drew her aside.
"Don't step there, Nieves; take care," he said.
She felt repelled by this unsightly entrance, calling to mind the
marble vestibule and staircase of the palace of Puenteancha, carpeted
down the center, with plants arranged on either side. At the door of
the apartment which she was now entering was a counter laden with
cakes and confectionery, at which the wife of Ramon, the
confectioner, holding in her arms the inevitable baby, presided,
casting angry glances at the young ladies who had come to amuse
themselves.
Nieves was given a seat in the most conspicuous part of the room,
in front of the door. The whitewashed walls were not very clean, nor
was the red cloth which covered the benches very fresh, nor did the
badly snuffed candles in the tin chandelier produce a brilliant
illumination. Owing to the large number of people present the heat
was almost insupportable. In the center of the apartment the men
stood grouped together--the youth of Vilamorta, visitors to the
springs, strangers, gamblers, and the gentry from the neighboring
country, mingling in one black mass. Every time the band struck up
anew, deafening the ear with its sonorous strains, the indefatigable
dancers would leave the group and hurry off in search of their
partners.
Nieves watched the scene with amazement. The young ladies, with
their large chignons and their clusters of curls, their faces daubed
with coarse rice-powder, their bodices cut low around the throat,
their long trains of cheap materials, continually trodden upon and
torn by the heavy boots of the gallants, their clumsy, tastelessly
arranged flowers, and their short-wristed gloves of thick kid, too
small for their hands, all seemed to her strange and laughable. She
remembered Agonde's descriptions, the toilet made in the pine grove,
and fanned herself with her large black fan as if to drive off the
pestilent air in which the whirl of the dance enveloped her. The
dancers pursued their task earnestly, diligently, as if they were
contending for a prize to be awarded to the one who should first get
out of breath, moving, not with their own motion only, but impelled
by the jostling, pushing, and crowding of those around them. And
Nieves, accustomed to the elegant and measured dancing of the
soirées, wondered at the courage and resolution displayed by the
dancers of Vilamorta. Some of the girls, whose flounces had been torn
by some gallant's boot-heel, turned up their skirts, quickly tore off
the whole trimming, rolled it into a ball, which they threw into a
corner, and then returned, smiling and contented, to the arms of
their partners. In vain the men wiped the perspiration from their
faces; their collars and shirt-fronts grew limp, their hair clung to
their foreheads; the silk bodices of the ladies began to show stains
of perspiration, and the marks of their partners' hands. And the
gymnastics continued, and the dust and the particles of perspiration
vitiated the atmosphere, and the floor of the room trembled. There
were handsome couples, blooming girls and gallant young men, who
danced with the healthy gayety of youth, with sparkling eyes,
overflowing with animation; and there were ridiculous couples, short
men and tall women, stout women and beardless boys, a baldheaded old
man and a stout, middle-aged woman. There were brothers who danced
with their sisters through shyness, because they had not the courage
to invite other young ladies to dance, and the secretary of the town
council, married for many years to a rich Orensen who was old and
very jealous, danced all the evening with his wife, dancing polkas
and waltzes in the time of a _habanera_ to keep from dying by
asphyxiation.
When Nieves entered the ballroom, the other women looked at her,
first with curiosity, then with surprise. How strange to come so
simply dressed! Not to wear a train a yard and a half long, nor a
flower in her hair, nor bracelets nor satin shoes. Two or three
ladies from Orense, who had cherished the expectation of making a
sensation in the ball of Vilamorta, began to whisper among
themselves, criticising the artistic negligence of her attire, the
modesty of the white, high-necked bodice, and the grace of the small
head, with its elegantly arranged hair, vaporous as the engravings in
_La Illustracion_. The Orensens determined to copy the fashion-plate,
the Vilamortans and the women of the Border, on the contrary,
criticised the Minister's lady bitterly.
"She is dressed almost as if she would dress at home."
"She does it because she doesn't want to wear her good clothes
here. Of course for a ball here----She thinks probably that we know
nothing. But she might at least have dressed her hair a little
better. And how easy it is to see that she is bored; look, why, she
seems to be asleep."
"And a little while ago she seemed as if she couldn't sit still a
moment--she kept tapping the floor with her foot as if she were
impatient to be gone."
And it was true; Nieves was bored. And if the young ladies who
censured her could only have known the cause!
She could see Segundo nowhere, anxiously as she looked for him,
at first with furtive glances, then openly and without disguise. At
last García came to salute her, and then she could restrain herself
no longer, and making an effort to speak in a natural and easy tone,
she asked:
"And the boy? It is a wonder he is not here."
"Who? Segundo? Segundo is--so eccentric. If you could only guess
what he is doing now. Reading verses or composing them. We must leave
him to his whims."
And the lawyer waved his hands with a gesture that seemed to say
that the eccentricities of genius must be respected, while in his own
mind he said:
"He is most likely with that damned old woman."
The truth is that nothing in the world would have induced the
poet, under the circumstances, to come to a ball like the present
one, to be obliged to dance with the young country girls of his
acquaintance, to perspire and to be pulled about like the other young
men. And his absence, the result of his æsthetic feeling, produced a
marvelous effect on Nieves, effacing the last remnant of fear,
stimulating her coquettish instincts, and piquing her curiosity.
At the same time, in the radical circle that surrounded Don
Victoriano and his wife, the approaching departure of the Minister
and Nieves for Las Vides to be present at the vintage was
discussed--a project that delighted the Minister as an unexpected
holiday delights a schoolboy. The persons whom the hidalgo had
invited or intended to invite for the festive occasion were named,
and when Agonde uttered Segundo's name Nieves raised her eyes, and a
look of animation lighted up her face, while she said to herself:
"He is fully capable of not going."