As if by tacit agreement the hero and heroine of the adventure
made light of the danger they had run, to their companions in the
excursion in the first place, and afterward to the elders at Las
Vides. Segundo observed a certain reticence regarding the particulars
of the occurrence. Nieves, on the contrary, was more talkative than
usual, speaking with nervous loquacity, going over the most
insignificant details a hundred times. She had slipped; García had
reached out his hand to her; she had caught it, and as she
was--well--timid, she had been a little frightened, although there
was not the slightest occasion for being so. But the obstinate
Tropiezo, with mild scorn, contradicted her. Good Heavens, how
mistaken she was! No danger? Why, it was only by a miracle that
Nieves was not now floating in the Avieiro. The ground there was as
slippery as soap, and the stones below were as sharp as razors, and
the current was so strong that----Nieves denied the danger, making an
effort to laugh; but the terror of the accident had left unmistakable
traces upon her countenance, changing its warm healthy pallor to a
sickly hue, producing dark circles under her eyes, and making her
features twitch convulsively.
Segundo longed to say a few words to her, to ask her to grant him
an interview; he comprehended that he must avail himself of these
first moments, while her soul was still under the softening influence
of gratitude and fright which made her cold heart palpitate beneath
the whalebone of her stays. In the brief scene of the precipice the
arrival of Tropiezo had allowed Nieves no time to respond explicitly
to the poet's ardor, and Segundo wished to come to some agreement
with her, to devise some means of seeing each other and talking to
each other alone, to establish the fact at once that all these
anxieties, these vigils, these intrigues, were love and requited
love--a mutual passion, in short. When and how should he find the
desired opportunity of establishing an understanding with Nieves?
It may be said that in the history of every love affair there
exists a first period in which obstacles accumulate and difficulties,
seemingly insurmountable, arise, driving to despair the lover who has
made up his mind to conquer them, and that there comes, too, a second
period in which the mysterious force of desire and the power of the
will sweep away these obstacles, and circumstances, for the moment
favorable, aid the lovers. So it happened on the night of this
memorable day. As Victorina had been somewhat frightened, hearing of
the danger her mother had been in, she had been sent to bed early,
and Carmen Agonde had remained with her to put her asleep by telling
her stories. The principal witnesses being thus removed and the
elders plunged in one of their interminable viticultural,
agricultural, and sociological discussions, Nieves, who had gone out
on the balcony for air--for she felt as if she had a lump in her
throat which prevented her from breathing--had an opportunity to chat
for ten minutes with Segundo, who was standing near the window, not
far from the rocking-chairs.
Occasionally they would raise their voices and speak on
indifferent subjects--the afternoon's accident, the strange singing
of the pines. And low, very low, the diplomatic negotiation of the
poet followed its course. An interview, a conversation with some
degree of freedom. Why, of course it could be! Why could it not take
place in the gallery that very night? No one was going to think of
going there to spy out what was passing. He could let himself down
easily into the garden----He could not? She was very timid----It
would be wrong? Why?--She was tired and not very well----Yes, he
understood. She would prefer the daytime, perhaps. Well, the other
would be better, but----Without fail? At the hour of the siesta? In
the parlor? No; nobody ever went there; everyone was asleep. On her
word of honor?--Thanks. Yes, it was necessary to dissemble so as not
to attract attention.
Meantime the gentlemen at the tresillo table talked of the
vintage and its consequences. The poor country girls earned a good
deal of money at the work. Apropos of which Don Victoriano gave
expression to some of his favorite ideas, referring to English
legislature, and eulogizing the wisdom of that great nation whose
laws regulating labor give evidence of a careful study of the
problems it involves, and of some regard for the welfare of women and
children. With these serious disquisitions the evening ended, every
owl retiring to his olive tree.
Nieves, seated at her toilet table, her open dressing-case and a
small silver-framed mirror before her, was taking out, one by one,
the tortoise-shell hair-pins which fastened her hair. Mademoiselle
gathered them together and arranged them neatly in a box and braided
Nieves' hair, after which the latter threw herself back in her seat
and drew a deep breath; suddenly she looked up.
"If you could make me a cup of lime tea," she said, "in your own
room, without troubling anybody?"
The Frenchwoman left the room and Nieves leaned her elbow
thoughtfully on the table, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand,
without moving her eyes from the mirror. Her face was deathly pale.
No, this life could not continue; if it did it would carry her to her
grave. She was very nervous--what terrors! What anxiety, what moments
of anguish she had suffered! She had seen death face to face, and had
had more frights, more fears, more misery in a single day than in all
the previous years of her existence put together. If this were love
in truth there was little that was pleasing in it; such agitations
were not suited to her. It was one thing to like to be pretty, and to
be told so, and even to have a passionate adorer, and another to
suffer these incessant anxieties, these surprises that bring one's
heart to one's mouth and expose one to the risk of disgrace and
destroy one's health. And the poets say that this is happiness. It
may be so for them--as for the poor women----And why had she not the
courage to tell Segundo that there must be an end to this, to say to
him: "I can endure these alarms no longer. I am afraid. I am
miserable!" Ah, she was afraid of him, too. He was capable of killing
her; his handsome black eyes sent forth at times electric sparks and
phosphoric gleams. And then he always took the lead, he dominated
her, he mastered her. Through him she had been on the point of
falling into the river, of being dashed to pieces on the rocks. Holy
Virgin! Why, only half an hour ago did he not almost force her to
agree to a meeting in the gallery? Which would be a great piece of
madness, since it would be impossible for her to go to that part of
the house without her absence being noticed by Mademoiselle, or
someone else, and its cause being discovered. Good Heavens! All this
was terrible, terrible! And to-morrow she must go to the parlor at
the hour of the siesta. Well, then, she would take a bold resolution.
She would go, yes, but she would go to clear up this
misunderstanding, to give Segundo some plain talk that would make him
place some restraint upon himself; that he should love her, very
good; she had no objection to that, that was well enough; but to
compromise her in this way, that was a thing unheard of; she would
entreat him to return to Vilamorta; they would soon go to Madrid. Ah,
how long that blessed Mademoiselle delayed with the lime tea.
The door opened to admit, not Mademoiselle, but Don Victoriano.
There was nothing to surprise her in his appearance; he slept in a
sort of cabinet near his wife's room and separated from it by a
passageway, and every night before retiring he gave a kiss to the
child, whose bed was beside her mother's; nevertheless Nieves felt a
chill creep over her, and she instinctively turned her back to the
light, coughing to hide her agitation.
The truth was that Don Victoriano looked very serious, even
stern. He had not indeed been very cheerful or communicative ever
since his illness had assumed a serious character; but in addition to
his air of dejection there was an indefinable something, a darker
gloom on his face than usual, a cloud pregnant with storm. Nieves,
observing that he did not approach the child's bed, cast down her
eyes and affected to be occupied in smoothing her hair with the ivory
comb.
"How do you feel, child? Have you recovered from your fright?"
asked her husband.
"No; I am still a little----I have asked for some lime tea."
"You did well. See, Nieves----"
"Well--well?"
"See, Nieves, we must go to Madrid at once."
"Whenever you wish. You know that I----"
"No, the thing is that it is necessary, indispensable. I must put
myself seriously under treatment, child; for if things continue as
they are now it will soon be all over with me. I had the weakness to
put myself in the hands of that ass, Don Fermin. God forgive me for
it! and I fear," he added, smiling bitterly, "that I have made a
fatal mistake. Let us see if Sanchez del Abrojo will get me out of
the scrape--I doubt it greatly."
"Heavens, how apprehensive you are!" exclaimed Nieves, breathing
freely once more and availing herself of the resource offered to her
by Don Victoriano's illness. "Anyone would think you had an incurable
disease. When you are once in Madrid and Sanchez has you under his
care--in a couple of months you will not even remember this trifling
indisposition."
"Bravo! child, bravo! I don't wish to hurt your feelings or to
seem unkind, but what you say proves that you neither look at me, nor
care a straw about my health, nor pay any attention to me whatever,
which--forgive me--is not creditable to you. My disease is a serious,
a very serious one--it is a disease that carries people off in fine
style. I am being converted into sugar, my sight is failing, my head
aches, I have no blood left, and you, serene and gay, sporting about
like a child. A wife who loved her husband would not act in this way.
You have troubled yourself neither about the state of my body nor the
state of my mind. You are enjoying yourself, having a fine time, and
as for the rest--a great deal it matters to you!"
Nieves rose to her feet, tremulous, almost weeping.
"What are you saying? I--I----"
"Don't distress yourself, child; don't cry. You are young and
well; I am wasted and sickly. So much the worse for me. But listen to
me. Although I seem to you dry and serious, I loved you tenderly,
Nieves, I love you still, as much as I love that child who is
sleeping there, I swear it to you before God! And you might--you
might love me a little--like a daughter--and take some interest in
me. The trouble would not be for long now--I feel so sick."
Nieves drew near him with an affectionate movement and he touched
her forehead with his parched lips, pressing her to him at the same
time. Then he added:
"I have still another observation to make, another sermon to
preach to you, child."
"What is it?" murmured his wife smiling, but terrified.
"That boy García--don't be alarmed, child, there is no need for
that--that boy looks at you sometimes in a very curious way, as if he
were making love to you. No, I am not doubting you. You are and you
have always been an irreproachable wife--I am not accusing you, nor
do I attach any importance to such folly. But, although you may not
believe it, the young men here are very daring; they are shyer in
appearance than those of the capital, but they are bolder in reality.
I spent my youthful years here, and I know them. I am only putting
you on your guard so that you may keep that jackanapes within bounds.
For the rest of the time we are to remain in this place, avoid those
long walks and all those other rusticities which they indulge in
here. A lady like you among these people is a sort of queen, and it
is not proper that they should take the same liberties with you as
with the Señoritas de Molende or others like them--but I have already
told you that such a thought has not even crossed my mind. It is one
thing that this village Swan should have fallen in love with you, and
have given you his hand to help you over the rocks, and another that
I should insult you, child!"
Shortly afterward Mademoiselle entered with the steaming cup of
tea. And greatly Nieves needed it. Her nerves were in a state of the
utmost tension. She was on the verge of a hysterical attack. She even
felt nausea when she took the first few spoonfuls. Mademoiselle
offered her some anti-hysterical drops. Nieves drank the remedy, and
with a few yawns and two or three tears the attack passed off. She
thought she would go to bed, and went into her bedroom. There she saw
something which renewed her uneasiness--Victorina, instead of being
asleep, lay with eyes wide open. She had probably heard every word of
the conversation.