A STRANGE CIRCUMSTANCE.
Don Mariano's guests were amusing themselves with the game of forfeits.
The evening was thoroughly disagreeable, and only the most courageous
had ventured out. When this happened (and it was not very infrequent)
music and dancing were forbidden and games of cards, of commerce[51], or
of forfeits were substituted, or at times merely a pleasant, bright
conversation. On the evening of which we are speaking, the feminine sex
was represented by three Misses de Ciudad, two Delgados, the Señorita de
Morí, and one more who, together with those of the family made a
sufficiently respectable nucleus; in the masculine part figured the
family physician, Señor de Ciudad, Don Serapio, the engineer Suárez, and
four or five other young fellows who, being simple and insignificant,
deserve no special mention. The tertulia occupied only one corner of the
parlor, although on occasions when the game required, it was scattered
about over the whole of it. Don Mariano, surrounded by the _solemn
fathers_, walked up and down, and enjoyed his discussions, frequently
stopping to lay down some intricate logic, and then continuing his walk
with hands behind his back.
It fell to Don Serapio's lot to say _yes_ and _no_ three times each, and
consequently he retired to one of the corners, gazing at the wall. The
ladies and gentlemen once more gathered together in one group, and
began to whisper with the greatest animation, each one proposing some
question. At last they agreed to ask him if he enjoyed _bisogné_.
"Eeeeeh?" shouted the chorus, dwelling on the vowel.
"Yes," replied the unhappy Don Serapio.
The reply was received with tumult and delight, making the proprietor of
the canning factory tremble in his shoes. Next they agreed upon asking
him if he had any intention of getting married. "No" was his
unhesitating reply. "Bravo, bravo!" shouted the men.
"What a stony-hearted man!" cried the women.
One of the young fellows proposed that they should ask him if he still
had a fondness for chamber-maids. The ladies wanted to oppose this, but
there was no remedy.
"Eeeeeh?"
"Yes."
Great laughter and applause in the group. The same malevolent young
fellow proposed something even worse: "to ask him if he intended to give
any of his children a profession." The ladies seriously objected to this
question, and another was given in its place. And thus they continued
until he had said the three _yeses_ and the three noes required by the
game, and then, greatly despondent, he came to find out what the
questions had been.
It came next to Amparito Ciudad to give a favor to all the gentlemen of
the party, and she began to perform the duty with the greatest
discretion and grace, beginning with the young fellows, except the
engineer Suárez, who roundly declared that he was not satisfied with any
of her propositions, and whispered to her very softly what the only
thing was that would satisfy him. Amparito blushed a little, and replied
with a gentle look of reproach, at the same time casting a glance at
her father, who fortunately had his back turned while promenading with
Don Mariano.
Isidorito's turn came next, and it unfortunately fell to him to be put
"in Berlina"; and what a chance this was for the Señorita de Morí!
Isidorito, though not attractive at all, inspired general respect on
account of his reputation as a studious, sensible young man: thus the
majority of the girls and boys contented themselves with criticising
him[52] as "too serious," as "having too little hair," as "dancing very
badly," as "studying to excess," as "wearing too long coat tails," etc.,
etc.; but when it came to the Señorita de Morí, who was impatiently
waiting her turn, she put him _in Berlin_ with unconcealed satisfaction
as "very heavy in brain and light in stomach." Isidorito, noticing the
reasons for their criticisms, recognized with grief the source of that
envenomed dart; but he did not care to show that he did, and preferred
to preserve in this respect a noble, and at the same time, a prudent
silence.
The eldest daughter of the family, as usual, took no share in the game.
She was sitting by her mother's side, totally oblivious of all that was
going on around her, with her eyes fixed on vacancy. A strange, intense
pallor covered her somewhat emaciated but always lovely face, and her
whole body showed signs of uneasiness and anxiety. She scarcely answered
the questions which Doña Gertrudis asked her from time to time, and if
she did, it was with such curtness that it took away all the worthy
lady's desire to repeat them. Four or five times already she had got up
from her chair and gone to the balcony, remaining a long time in it with
her forehead leaning on the glass, without any one knowing what she was
looking at. The plaza of Nieva, just as on the first night when we saw
it, was dark and checkered with pools of water, wherein were reflected
the melancholy beams from the kerosene lamps burning in the corners. Not
a soul was crossing it that night. She strained her eyes in vain to
penetrate the darkness under the arcades: the neighbors had all
withdrawn into their houses, perfectly convinced that dampness is the
cause of many infirmities. The windows of the Café de la Estrella were
the only ones that were lighted. The air was filled with a gentle murmur
of rain which barely made itself audible through the panes to the young
girl's ears.
It came Rosarito's turn to act the sultana. The dandified young fellow
with the hair over his forehead, placed a chair in the middle of the
room and seated her in it: then he spread before her a velvet cushion.
The young men of the tertulia, like genuine Moors, began to march before
her, bending their knees in her presence and waiting humbly for her
choice. Rosarito, with the notable ability which all women have for
playing queen, rejected them one after the other with a gesture of
sovereign disdain. Only when the young fellow of the mazurkas came by,
and tremblingly bent low at her feet, the beautiful but ferocious
sultana deigned to hand him the handkerchief which she held in her hand
and to select him as her lover, as a just reward for his most
distinguished neckties and his no less exceptional _chaquets_! Then the
two marched in a triumphal procession to the harem; or, what amounts to
the same thing, they walked twice around the parlor, and sat down on the
sofa where they had been before.
The little tertulia, after exhausting the not very varied resources of
the game of forfeits, remained inactive and comfortable in the corner of
the parlor, engaging in a low but very lively conversation, broken by
bursts of laughter and exclamations, as the brilliant young men of the
party found occasion to amuse them at the expense of some unfortunate,
whom they flayed pitilessly. Those who had not this talent contented
themselves with smiling and stupidly applauding the others' repartees,
and occasionally trying to put their fingers in the pie with little
success. They made interminable jokes on the girls about their suitors,
and the girls defended themselves as usual with the classic replies: "I
don't know why you should say so." "You have been very ill-informed."
"He comes to see me as a friend and nothing more," etc., etc. The
mischievous smiles and the expression of something hidden accompanying
these replies, told very clearly that the girls did not object to be
chaffed in that way.
Doña Gertrudis had gone to sleep. Don Mariano and his proselytes were
still promenading from one end of the parlor to the other, involved in
deep disquisitions on the probable fall of real estate. Maria was again
standing with her forehead leaning against the panes, apparently
absorbed in one of her long and frequent meditations to which her
household were accustomed, but in reality exploring with anxious eyes
the shadows which enwrapped the plaza of Nieva. She paid little heed to
the frivolous conversation kept up by the guests. She soon heard a
strange noise in the distance and trembled. She abstracted herself as
much as possible from the confusion in the room, and lent a deep and
uneasy attention to that distant rumble which gradually grew louder and
louder in the silence of the night, each moment becoming clearer and
more definite. It was not a confused, fantastic noise, like those
caused by the wind or the sea, but solid and well-defined, perfectly
clear in Maria's ears. Soon it grew into the measured and characteristic
sound of a multitude marching in step. The young woman's astonished eyes
could distinguish by the street lamps the points of bayonets and the
varnished caps of the soldiery. All the guests on hearing the noise,
hurried to the balconies, and saw with surprise two companies marching
by the house, crossing the plaza, and disappearing from sight in the
cross-streets of the town.
Don Mariano's friends looked at each other in amazement.
"What are those soldiers going to do at this time o' day?" asked one
lady.
"I don't understand where they are going," replied Don Mariano. "To get
to the interior of the province, even though they came from the West,
there is no need of their going through here; they have the valley of
Cañedo, and that is a much shorter road."
"This very day I was calling on the captain," said Don Maximo, "and he
did not say a single word to me of the coming of these companies."
"I didn't know it, either," said the Señor de Ciudad. "The most likely
thing is that they are on the march, and are only going to spend the
night here, and start off again in the morning."
"It's a strange thing," added Don Mariano, "but of course it may be--it
may be."
The young people returned to their places, and quickly forgot the
incident, as they gayly took up the broken thread of conversation. Their
elders continued their promenade, making interminable comments and
endless hypotheses about the unexpected visitation. Maria still stayed
obstinately at the window, shielded from the eyes of her friends by the
great damask curtains.
A very heated discussion about music had been set on foot in the group
of _young_ people, among whom figured the sensitive Señorita de Delgado,
in spite of the vehemently expressed protests of Rosarito, who declared
on her word that the said señorita had often held her in her arms, and
that, when she as a child was going to confession, and the Señorita de
Delgado was at her house, she had kissed her hand, as an _elderly
person_.[53] One of the most elegant of young men, who had been educated
in Madrid for five different professions in succession, upheld the
superiority of the German composers, declaring that there were no operas
like _Roberto_, _Les Huguenots_, and _Le Prophète_, and that no
symphonies could be compared with those of Beethoven and Mozart. The
ladies, powerfully supported by the rest of the men, stood up for the
advantages of Italian music.
"Don't nauseate us with your Germans, Severino! What kind of music do
they make! It sounds to me like a pack of dogs barking."
"That is only at first; if you should continue to hear it, you would
acquire the taste for it; the same thing happens with olives and ale."
"Then if one has to go through such wretched moments to get used to it,
surely the thing isn't worth the trouble, you see! This does not happen
with Italian music; you enjoy it from the very first."
"Of course, for the most part of Italian music is only a melody
accompanied by four guitars."
"Silence, man, silence! Don't speak blasphemies. Would you think of
comparing rubbish, which they themselves don't understand, with the sublime
finale of _Lucia_, or with the soprano aria of La Favorita which begins, _Oh
mioooo--Ferna--a--a--an--do--riii--raaa--ri--ro--ra--riii--ira--_"
"Ah, if you had heard the fourth act of _Les Huguenots!_ What dramatic
music! How expressive! It makes the hair stand on end! How magnificent
this duet is:
_La--sciami--paar--tiiir--la--sciami--paar--tiiiir--riira--riri--riri--ra
--rooo--riri--ra--roo--laaa--to--rii--ro--ra--_"
"But could you ever hear anything sweeter than the concerted piece in
_Somnambula_ beginning,
_Tooo--ra--ri--ro--ra--roooo--laa--riii--roo--raa--rora--rooo,--rii--ra
--ri--roo_?"
"Impossible! impossible!" said several at once.
"Above all, Italian music stirs the heart, while German music only
deafens you," added the Señorita de Delgado.
"That's true," affirmed her sister, the widow.
"I believe," continued the señorita, "that the object of music is to
move ... to elevate the soul ... to cause us to shed tears ... to
transport us to ideal regions far away from the prosaic world in which
we live.... For the truth is that prose is getting such control over
society that soon it will seem ridiculous to speak of things which are
not material and sordid."
"Certainly," affirmed the widow again.
"Music follows the road of prose like everything else.... Don't you hear
what silly things they sing nowadays? what insipid, popular airs? And
you are lucky if it isn't some indecent piece from some opera bouffe! In
songs love is not mentioned; there are only phrases with double meanings
hiding some nastiness."
"I believe that you know some very pretty romantic ballads, and sing
them admirably," said the youth with the banged hair, ready, as always,
to provide the tertulia with a new enjoyment.
"No, señor ... don't you believe it.... In days gone by I used to sing
some ... but I have forgotten them...."
"For my part," persisted the youth, with a deeply diplomatic
smile,--"and I think the same may be said of all these people--it would
give the greatest pleasure if you would search into your memory and let
us listen to some.... Isn't it so, friends?"
"Yes, yes, Margarita, sing something, for Heaven's sake!"
"But supposing I don't remember anything!"
"Nonsense! it will come back to you.... If you once begin, you will find
yourself gradually remembering it."
"It seems to me impossible.... Besides I always accompanied myself with
the guitar."
"Isn't there a guitar in the house?" quickly asked the youth, jumping up
from his chair.
The guitar which Marta brought lacked two or three strings, and they had
to be put on, in which operation some time was lost. Then there was
delay in getting them in tune. When it was once tuned the Señorita de
Delgado declared up and down that she would not sing, for she did not
remember anything. The tertulia was deeply grieved, and with reiterated
entreaties endeavored to inspire her to recollect some delicious melody.
But as the singer did not put up the instrument, and continued to thumb
the strings softly, all became silent and waited eagerly for the song.
However, just as the sensitive señorita was about to utter the first
note, she made a fresh and categorical protestation to the same effect
as before, and this so grieved the tertulia and particularly the youth
with the banged hair, that they would gladly have granted the singer all
the memory at their disposal, on condition that she would not leave it
in any bad place. At last the señorita fixed her eyes on the ceiling,
and in a quite dulcet though quavering voice, she struck up the
following song, the music of which I would transfer to paper with great
pleasure, if I knew how to write the score. Unfortunately, in my
philharmonic studies I never went beyond the key of G with even moderate
success:--
"_Hope that art so flattering to my inmost feeling,_
_Thou dost all my bitter sorrow calm._
_Ay! thou art no creature of imagination._
_To the heart thou bringest welcome balm._
_If a cruel fate remove me from the presence_
_Of my loved one many leagues away,_
_Then 'tis Hope alone that soothes my deep affliction,_
_Promising a brighter, happier day._"
"Bravo, bravo!"--"How pretty!"--"How sweet!"--"How melancholy!"--"Go on,
Margarita, do go on!" The Señorita de Delgado continued in this way:--
"_If at solitary midnight I am thinking_
_Of my sweetheart's ever blessed name,_
_And before my spellbound memory slowly rises_
_Her enchanting features limned in flame,--_
_Then 'tis thou, O Hope, that softly prophesyest_
_That my loved one will not say me nay;_
_Then 'tis Hope alone that soothes my deep affliction,_
_Promising a brighter, happier day._"
Just as this point was reached, and when the audience was getting ready
to enjoy the unspeakable sweetness of a new strophe, even more
passionate and more pathetic than the last, when the Señorita de
Delgado was languorously laying her pudgy fingers on the strings of the
instrument, and drooping her head still more languorously on her bosom
in testimony of her bitter grief, there occurred one of those strange
and terrible events, more terrible still from being unexpected, and
therefore overwhelming, that suspend and for the time being cut short
the use of speech: an extraordinary scene, occurring with such rapidity
that it allowed no time for reflection, and left the spectators in the
deepest consternation without power of interference.
The parlor door was thrown violently open, and the eyes of the
bystanders turned toward it, saw with surprise the pale face of a
servant, who addressed his master, saying,--
"Señor! Señor!"
"What is the trouble?" asked Don Mariano, in the energetic tone
customary to high-strung natures, when they suspect danger.
"The soldiers are here!"
"And what have I to do with soldiers, you dolt!" replied the master in
an angry voice.
"Th-they're c-come to arrest you!"
"It isn't true!" cried a voice from the hall.
And at the same time six or eight figures filled the doorway behind the
servant. The first to be seen were a very young officer in undress
uniform, and a caballero, not very well favored, in a tight-buttoned
great-coat, and holding in his hand a staff with tassels. Behind them
were seen the caps and the muskets of several soldiers. The man with the
staff, who was apparently the one who had spoken, advanced two steps
into the parlor, and without removing his hat asked Don Mariano
sharply,--
"Are you Don Mariano Elorza?"
The old gentleman's eyes sparkled with indignation.
"First of all, take off your hat!"
The man with the staff, somewhat bluffed by Don Mariano's attitude and
the looks of the company, took off his sombrero.
"Now, what is your business?"
"Are you Don Mariano Elorza?"
"No! I am the _excelentísimo señor_ Don Mariano Elorza!"
"It's the same thing."
"It is not the same thing!"
"Well, let us drop discussions; I have orders to arrest your daughter,
Doña Maria."
All the Señor de Elorza's energy suddenly vanished like a shadow, at
hearing those portentous words. He stood a few moments bewildered and
petrified, with his face crestfallen, like one who has just beheld a
miracle and has no faith in his own eyes. Then suddenly recovering
himself, he sprang at the man with the staff, and shaking him violently
by the lappel of his coat, he said to him in a voice of thunder,--
"And who are you, insolent man, to dare think of such a thing?"
"I am the chief of police[54] for this province, and I warn you that if
you offer the least resistance I shall make use of the force which I
have with me."
"Are you perfectly sure that it is my daughter whom you come to arrest?"
"Yes Sir; I have orders to arrest the Señorita Doña Maria Elorza. I
request you to hand her over to me without delay."
"Here I am," said Maria, issuing from the hollow of the balconied
window, and advancing toward the chief of police.
"But it cannot be," thundered Don Mariano again, holding his daughter
back. "This man is crazy or has come to the wrong place."
"Are you ready to go with me?" asked the _comisario_ of the young woman.
"Yes, señor," was her firm reply.
"Then come along."
"Don Mariano hid his face in his hands, and exclaimed with a cry of
agony,--
"Daughter of my heart, what have you been doing?"
"Nothing that dishonors me or dishonors you," replied the girl proudly,
lifting her lovely face and hastening from the room. Don Mariano was
held back by all his friends who clustered around him, but quickly
finding himself alone, as all, warned by a cry from Marta, hastened to
the assistance of Doña Gertrudis who had fainted, he darted like a flash
from the room.