DON ROSENDO'S EXAMPLE
After his glorious duel the gallant Belinchon wore the laurels of his
well-earned fame with becoming modesty. There are chroniclers who are
not of this opinion, but then their dissent is grounded upon the
discovery of certain annoyances to which the worthy gentleman subjected
some of the townsfolk, while ignoring the fact that such annoyances did
not take place simultaneously with the reported duel, but some time
later.
Chronology is always an important element of history, and in this
particular instance it gives a satisfactory explanation of the acts of
our hero. During the first excitement of the event he was accorded the
marks of admiration indisputably due to him; even his enemies regarded
him with respect mingled with admiration when they saw him pass. Then
Don Rosendo, instead of abusing his recognized superiority, as any other
man of less force of character and modesty would have done, preserved
his same stately, quiet demeanor, and walked along the streets as
gravely and unpretentiously as hitherto--a noble example of
magnanimity, which, however, instead of redounding to his credit, only
exposed him to attacks.
The Cabin soon began to make light of the affair, and malignant stress
was laid upon the exaggerated accounts of the backward jumps given by
the founder of "The Light of Sarrio" in the duel. These jokes, of which
it can well be supposed Gabino Maza was the originator, did not stop in
the precincts of the Club, for they soon spread through the whole place,
so that at the end of a few days the majority of the townsfolk smiled
ironically when the duel of honor was mentioned.
Don Rosendo became conscious of this state of things, not only by his
ears, but also by his eyes, for he noticed that the respectful,
courteous glances of his neighbors were gradually exchanged for a rude
sort of behavior, shown in turning their heads away when he approached,
or in ill-suppressed laughter when they passed him in a narrow street.
What was he to do in such a case? Indisputably it was time to lay aside
modesty and make rude fellows feel the dignity of his noble art of
self-defense.
The first sign he gave of the scorn and contempt in which he held his
enemies was to spit upon the ground when any of the party passed him, to
demonstrate his loathing for them. As soon as the reason of this act
dawned upon the faction, the more timid, fearing that lightning might
follow the rain, took care to avoid him; the braver ones, however,
passed him without heeding the scornful act, but they dared not look him
in the face. At the end of some time several took it calmly as a joke,
and said to one another with a laugh:
"I say, I have just met Don Rosendo."
"Well, did he spit at you?"
"I should think he did!"
Thus the Cabin party made fun of our great patrician, and rude practical
jokes were played on him.
In one of these it was arranged that all the members of the Cabin should
pass by him in single file, at a certain distance from each other, which
was such a strain on Don Rosendo's power or desire to spit that his
throat became quite sore and unequal to the continual effort. But Gabino
Maza, who took the whole matter quite seriously, said he would see if
that ox (the word is strong, but it is textual) would dare spit when he
passed. And, in fact, Don Rosendo had always abstained from doing it at
him, as he thought that a certain amount of consideration was due to the
head of the opposite party.
But one evening, when he was carrying his head rather high, being
somewhat excited after reading the account of a certain duel between two
Yankees, it suddenly occurred to him to spit, in a provocative way, as
he came across Gabino Maza, close to the Cafe de la Marina. Whereupon
Gabino became white with rage, and, seizing him by the wrist, he said,
in a tone of fury:
"Listen to me, you great fool, you shan't spit at me like that; no, not
if you were in the last stage of phthisis, do you hear?"
As a conventional man, well versed in affairs of honor, Don Rosendo said
nothing at the moment, but on the following day he did not leave the
house, as he waited for Maza's challenge, which, happily for him, did
not come.
In spite of everything Don Rosendo's dueling energy excited emulation in
the town. Thanks to our hero, there arose a great taste for the exercise
of arms, and many of the most distinguished townsfolk went in
enthusiastically for the art of fencing.
Not only the staff of "The Light" and the members of the Club practised
the science of Monsieur Lemaire, but the members of the Cabin,
recognizing the importance of the art, established a fencing academy in
a warehouse near by, and put at its head a retired cavalry officer who
had wielded the foil in Madrid. The immediate consequence of this step
was that all the disputes that now arose between the Club and the Cabin
were formally settled with all the ceremonious etiquette of the code of
honor.
Hardly a week went by without the town being excited at the going and
coming of seconds, meetings held in corners of cafes, while the
proceedings were published in "The Light" and in the Lancian papers. But
out of twenty disputes nineteen would end in an amicable agreement,
drawn up and signed by the seconds.
So that, although these affairs of honor were conducted in accordance
with the usual procedure, they involved nothing more serious than the
blow or insult which gave rise to the quarrel.
On rare occasions, when a great deal of feeling was excited, a meeting
was arranged. Delaunay called out Don Rufo for a paragraph in "The
Future" in which it was stated that the doctors did not go the round of
the hospital at the prescribed hours, and some sword-strokes were
interchanged. The printer Folgueras also had an encounter with Marin's
son-in-law for having omitted to bow to him.
In both cases nothing worse than a few sword-cuts was administered.
The most noteworthy affair was that between Don Rudesindo and Don Pedro
Miranda, who, after vacillating for some time, finally joined the Cabin
party.
The origin of the quarrel was the slaughter-house problem, the occasion
the following: Don Pedro was heard one day to say that Don Rudesindo
only remained on Belinchon's side because he did not want the
slaughter-house built on the Plaza de las Meanas, as it would affect his
house property there.
The cider manufacturer, hearing of this remark, spoke insultingly of Don
Pedro at the Club, and appeared exceedingly angry at the imputation,
although, in fact, he was not so much so as he pretended to be.
Alvaro Pena, who was never so happy as when he had a duel on hand,
hastened to say in a loud voice, with his characteristic arrogance:
"Look out, Don Rudesindo, Miranda must give you satisfaction. Would you
like to leave it to me to settle?"
The good manufacturer felt as if he would willingly have eaten the words
he had let drop, but Pena was such an impetuous fellow. Why the devil
had he said he would like to kick Don Pedro downstairs, when, in truth,
he had just met him as he was leaving home, and had passed him without
uttering a word! But more than twenty people were now present, and he
was in the wretched position of being obliged to reply to the officer in
the least aggressive tone he could command:
"Very well, you may do so if you think it is worth the trouble."
"But it is not a case of worth. Do you think you are only on our side to
be exposed to such low remarks? Why, they are an insult to you. I say,
Don Feliciano, a word with you."
Don Feliciano and he then conferred together in a corner for a few short
minutes, and then sallied forth into the street. Don Rudesindo remained
apparently calm, but inwardly much incensed against Pena, against the
Club, against himself, and against the mother who bore him. What
necessity was there for him to embroil himself, a married man with
children, whose whole life had been spent in working like a slave to
amass a little capital? And now that he had got it--for this fellow's
humbug--it was a fine thing! And the manufacturer could hardly swallow
the sips of cognac with which he was regaling himself.
The affair was quickly arranged. Don Pedro Miranda was quite taken aback
at the visit of Pena and Don Feliciano. He said that he had no
recollection--that he had no spite whatsoever against Don Rudesindo, on
the contrary--But Pena interrupted him by saying:
"Very well, Don Pedro, we can't listen to all that. Just name two
friends, who will arrange with us."
The poor proprietor suggested Gabino Maza and Delaunay, and as one of
these was a choleric, fiery man, and the other a bad-hearted fellow, no
pacification was possible. All explanations were refused. The duel was
arranged to take place in the early morning, and swords were the
weapons to be used.
When Don Rudesindo heard it, he cursed the day he saw the light, and his
adversary threw himself onto a sofa and asked for a cup of lime juice.
However, there was nothing to be done but to obey the call of honor, and
we dare not say whether they were impelled thereto by their own free
will or by extraneous circumstances.
At six in the morning Pena and Don Feliciano on one side, and Maza and
Delaunay on the other, dragged them from their homes to the old
cemetery. What lugubrious fancies passed through Don Pedro Miranda's
head as he journeyed thither! They were only comparable to those that
assailed Don Rudesindo on the same journey. Before arriving, Pena said
to him:
"I am quite sure, Don Rudesindo, that you will settle him, and I feel
primed with courage. Don't push yourself, but you have a difficult part
to play, very difficult!"
The manufacturer would have sacrificed all his property at that moment
to have found it not only difficult but impossible.
"Don Pedro is not firm on his legs; besides, he is short in the arm.
But, as you know, in fighting there is nothing certain, and it is always
the unexpected that happens. If you have any last requests to make, make
them before we arrive."
Don Rudesindo shuddered. He remained silent for some time as he walked
along, and finally, drawing some papers from his pocket, he gave them to
his friend, saying in a stifled voice:
"If I perish give these to Senor Benito."
Two tears then gathered in his eyes.
"Do you mean Senor Benito the Rat?" asked Pena.
Don Rudesindo did not hear him. He had walked quickly on to hide his
emotion. Why the name of his clerk should upset him so much at that
moment we can not explain. Perhaps in the great crises of life we are
suddenly apprised of the existence of strong, deep feelings hitherto
unsuspected.
The old cemetery, to be put in order a short time later, was then
overrun with grass and briers.
The wooden crosses had rotted away, and the only evidence of its being
the home of the dead lay in the two skulls encrusted in the wall on
either side of the gate.
These skulls were certainly not conducive to raising Don Rudesindo's
spirits. We do not know about Don Pedro, but we suspect that the effect
was no more pleasant upon him.
Some time was spent in finding a convenient spot, as the nettles and
briers rendered it impossible for the combatants to take their places.
While Pena and the seconds of the other side busied themselves about
this most solemn task, good Don Feliciano Gomez committed the
indiscretion (God bless him for it!) of going up to Don Pedro Miranda,
who, with his white face, frightened eyes, and his inside upset by the
fabulous amount of lime juice he had imbibed that night, was leaning
against the wall, waiting for the seconds to finish their task, and
looking like a criminal condemned to death.
"Hello, Don Pedro! Cold, eh? Caramba! what a morning! Look here; fancy a
man leaving his bed for this! Goodness gracious! [_Silence, interrupted
by a few groans from the unhappy Miranda._] I would have given my little
finger, not to have had to assist at such an atrocity! But they say it
was a favor that can not be refused. Well, I suppose it can not when it
is a matter of a serious offense. But what is the serious offense in
this case? Come, let us see, let us hear. What is it? Would to God!
would to God! [_Fresh silence and fresh groans from Don Pedro, who
finished by dropping his head resignedly upon his breast as if he were
putting it upon the block._] How much better it would be to be in bed
taking chocolate, eh, my boy?" continued Don Feliciano, putting his hand
upon his shoulder with great familiarity. To this remark Miranda uttered
an almost inaudible guttural sound of assent.
"Yes, I should think so," said the merchant. "For whatever they say, I
can not believe that you want to kill Don Rudesindo, a neighbor who has
been your friend up to a little while ago, who has grown up with you and
went to school with you."
"I do not want--at all," murmured Don Pedro, as if his head were still
upon the block.
"That's right!" exclaimed Don Feliciano, giving him a hearty slap on the
shoulder. "I said so, and Don Rudesindo feels the same. Then who wants
to kill whom? Come, let us hear." And he cast his eyes around, seeking
for an answer to his question.
Pena, Maza, and Delaunay were at some distance, hidden among the
cypresses. Don Rudesindo, also leaning against the wall, was about fifty
paces off.
Then the merchant, filled by a sudden and heavenly inspiration, made a
sign for him to approach.
Don Rudesindo came slowly toward him with a timid, hesitating step.
"Tell me, dear fellow, have you any desire to kill Don Rudesindo?" asked
the merchant of Miranda.
"None whatever," he murmured.
"Have you any wish to wound him?"
"Hardly. I have always esteemed Don Rudesindo," stammered the man of
property.
"Eh? What? What do you say?" cried Don Feliciano in a tone of triumph.
"That you have always esteemed Don Rudesindo? Eh, my dear fellow? You
said so?"
"Yes, senor."
"Tell me, Don Rudesindo" (taking a few steps toward the cider
manufacturer), "do you wish to kill Don Pedro, a neighbor who has
hitherto been your friend, who has grown up with you, and who went with
you to Don Martia's school?"
"I? Why should I?" said the merchant, opening his eyes wide in distress.
"Would you wish to wound him?"
"No, nor do him the least harm. I have always considered him a real
friend."
"How is this, eh? A real friend, eh? Then, in my humble opinion, I think
you ought both to embrace each other."
Hardly had Don Feliciano uttered these words than Miranda and Don
Rudesindo, by a simultaneous impulse, rushed into each other's arms, and
embraced with such effusion that the bones in their bodies were all but
broken.
Don Feliciano at the same time bared his bald, retreating forehead, and,
waving his hat wildly for some minutes, he shouted:
"Hurrah!"
I do not know to whom this hurrah was addressed if not to the astute
spirit to whom he owed his brilliant idea.
At that moment the seconds approached and gazed with surprise at what
was going on.
They tried to look pleased at the turn the affair had taken, and soon
went their different ways. But that evening at the Club Pena sharply
reprimanded Don Feliciano for his conduct, going so far as to say that
he had put him in a ridiculous position, and that, did he not look upon
him as a friend of long standing and older than himself, he would ask
satisfaction.
"Satisfaction?" exclaimed the optimistic Don Feliciano. "What next will
you ask, you exacting creature?"
"Would you refuse to fight me?" asked the officer in a ringing voice.
"What should we fight about?"
"What you like."
"I for dancing a fandango or a bolero, my dear fellow," he returned, as
he proceeded to dance up and down the room, and snap his fingers until
his hat fell off and exposed his bald head to view.
The members of the Club rolled on the sofas with laughter, and Pena,
after giving vent to some contemptuous remarks, retired from the scene
in vexation and disgust.