WHAT HAPPENED AT DINNER
The magnate came down to dinner in the orthodox evening dress. Cosio did
the same. Don Rosendo had changed the Spanish hour of dinner for the
French. Seeing him enter in evening dress, the Belinchon family were
much upset. It was evident that Belinchon, his son, and his son-in-law
had made a mistake in not dressing. Venturita mentioned the fact in a
cross, low tone to her husband, but he only shrugged his shoulders and
moved his lips in a scornful way. He was out of temper, for when asking
his wife why the table had been laid without a place for the child, she
had rudely said:
"But, Gonzalo, don't be silly! Do you want the child to dine to-day with
us?"
"Why not?"
Venturita was shocked, and then she laughingly asked him if he had
learned those fashions in the regatta clubs in England. This had so put
him out that he did not feel inclined to show the duke the respect and
deference due to him. His wife, on the contrary, had been busy for days
preparing for the reception of the illustrious visitor.
The staff of servants had been increased at her suggestion and under her
directions, and the menservants were put into livery.
When Gonzalo saw Pachin, an old retainer, in his uniform, he burst out
laughing, which greatly excited the ire of his wife. She also instituted
a new, aristocratic arrangement of Belinchon's table, with the
introduction of dessert knives and forks, fish knives, and lithographed
cards for the menu, besides other innovations hitherto unknown at the
meals of the house. The foreign element also modified the healthy,
patriarchal, abundant fare which we saw at the beginning of this story.
Ventura appeared in the drawing-room with a low-necked blue silk dress
and bare arms. She had learned, we know not where, that at formal
dinners ladies should wear low-necked gowns. Dona Paula did not go so
far as that, but she was gorgeously dressed in bright-colored materials
that formed a sad contrast to her thin face, wasted by illness. The only
guests were Alvaro Pena and Don Rufo. Pachin, the good Pachin, in his
new livery, opened the door and said, with a sonorous voice, in which he
had been drilled by Ventura:
"Dinner is served!"
The duke offered his arm to Dona Paula, and they all repaired to the
dining-room. The hostess took the chief place, in accordance with her
daughter's previous injunction. The duke sat at her right hand, Don Rufo
at her left, and the others took their seats as they liked. Venturita
had her place set at the right hand of the distinguished guest, then
came Alvaro Pena, Cosio, Pablito, and Don Rosendo, while Gonzalo sat by
the side of Cecilia.
Then the dinner began with stiff ceremony and long intervals of silence.
They were all oppressed and overwhelmed with the grandeur of the guest.
The thin hair on the back and the side of the duke's shiny bald head was
still black in spite of his forty-six years. His slightest movements
were the object of the company's admiring attention, and his remarks
were received by the company with smiles of delight and adulation.
The first words that fell from his lips after a few conventional
courtesies expressed his admiration of the suburbs of the town.
"I only know the provinces in the north," he said in a slow, drawling
tone. "I find this much superior to that in the way of scenery; it
offers more variety, richer coloring, and there are lovely spots in the
district we have traversed, comparable to the most enchanting scenes in
Switzerland. Then on arriving at the coast there is the same softness of
outline, the same sweetness of atmosphere as in the south of Italy."
"Oh, Senor Duke, you are too flattering! Pure kindness, Senor Duke. In
the summer this country is all very well, but in winter!"
Don Rosendo, Alvaro Pena, and Don Rufo, overwhelmed with joy and
gratitude, blushed, and disclaimed the encomiums as if they had been the
objects of them. The duke continued speaking, as if he had not heard
their exclamations.
"It is more hilly than the northern provinces, the tones are more
marked. I saw from the Lancian road, looking eastward, a group of
mountains with the summits still covered with snow, which was truly
beautiful. It only wants a few lakes, and foreigners would resort to
it."
"We have a lake in the west of the province," said Pena.
"A lake?" queried the duke, as he raised his eyelids to look at the
interlocutor.
"Yes, senor; the lake is called Nordon."
Then the duke kept his glassy gaze fixed upon the officer until he grew
confused, and after bringing each person at the table into the focus of
that gaze, he continued:
"In my gallery at Bourges I have a landscape, by Backhuysen, with a
background very similar to that of these mountains. Only in the
foreground there is a lake surrounded with briers. On the right there
are some swans swimming on the water, and on the left there is a boat
with two young peasants. I bought it merely for the delicacy of the
coloring."
"The senor duke seems to like good pictures," said Don Rufo, stretching
his mouth from ear to ear to speak with a befitting smile.
"And who does not like them?" returned the magnate, looking at him with
his squinting eyes.
"Oh, yes, senor--it is true--you are very right! Everybody likes them.
But it is an expensive taste--only great people like the senor duke can
allow themselves the luxury."
Don Rufo here became confused, thinking he had said something
disrespectful.
"The senor duke has many pictures of the best painters from what I
hear," said Don Rosendo, coming to his friend's assistance.
"I have a few," returned the nobleman, pouring some water into
Venturita's glass. This act overwhelmed the girl with gratitude, and the
blood rushed to her face.
"The duke's is one of the first galleries in Europe," said Cosio in a
low voice to Pena.
"I like painting because it is the national art," continued the magnate.
"It is the only one in which we have really advanced; it is the only one
in which we distinguish ourselves in the present day--because, although
I have spent a great deal of my life abroad, I am very fond of my
country," he added in a patronizing tone, with a slight smile.
If the country could have heard those fine words it would doubtless,
like Venturita, have trembled for joy.
"I love it notwithstanding I acknowledge its backward condition. Nature
has endowed us liberally with rich gifts. A fertile country--not so much
so as is commonly believed, but, in short, fertile--admirably situated
at one side of Europe, stretching her hand to America across the seas; a
sky--oh, the sky! There is not another like it. The air has here, above
all in the south, a transparency--oh, an infinite transparency! The
despair of painters. Then this transparency gives greater purity to the
outlines; nowhere do points stand out as they do here. In Castile the
towers are visible many miles off, and as distinct as if they were only
a few steps distant. It is quite evident this is due to its being above
the level of the sea."
"The countries which lie much higher than the level of the sea are the
least intelligent," remarked Don Rufo, glad to air his physiological
mania.
The duke turned his head to look at the speaker, and then went on as if
he had not heard him.
"Then the great power of the sun throws up the contrast between the
light and the shade, and gives a distinct outline even to the distant
mountains. Only here in the north the vapors floating in the atmosphere
rather blur and confuse the contours, and make them misty. But, on the
other hand, the tones are richer; in the south the shades of the ground
are lost in the excessive brilliance of the sky, in the universal sense
of light. But here what an immense variety of shades! Oh, infinite
beauty! Then what power, what changes! In the south the tone is
stationary; the immutable light of the sky keeps it the same for many
hours, and the same one day as another; but in these provinces, where
the light changes every minute, the color varies, too; the composition
is perfect, the gradations of color are slight, and its general tone is
transformed into strong reliefs."
The duke, having begun enumerating the advantages possessed by the
Spaniards, could not leave the subject of contour, light, and color, and
lost himself in disquisitions on landscape, to which the company
listened without understanding, with open eyes and idly moving lips.
But without ceasing talking he attended to Venturita, anticipating her
wishes, pouring water into her glass, handing her the condiments, the
bread, or anything she might want, signing to the servant to give her
wine when he noticed that her glasses were empty, and all with the easy,
polished ways of a man accustomed to society. Venturita accepted these
attentions shyly and smilingly, and trembling with gratitude, without
understanding that at that moment she was nothing to the magnate but the
lady on his right.
Gonzalo, not feeling well disposed to the egregious guest, became tired
of the monologue on painting, and exchanged a few whispered remarks with
his sister-in-law, joking her as usual on her small appetite.
"Come, bag of bones, another cutlet. Don't be ashamed because the senor
is here. We told you that he will not be astonished at the quantity you
eat. Constitutions like yours require a little fat."
Cecilia, smiling, replied with broken words, with respectful glances at
the duke; and he, having noticed that they had spoken, raised his eyes
and gave them a vacant, contemptuous look. The second time, particularly
as Gonzalo and Cecilia put their table-napkins to their mouths to stop
the sound of their laughing, the glance of the nobleman was longer,
colder, and more abstracted than ever. Venturita showed her annoyance
with her eyes, but Gonzalo, either from a wish to avenge his wife's
former slighting remarks, or because he really did not feel the shyness
and awe with which the personage inspired the others, did not desist
from joking with his sister-in-law and making her laugh.
The affectionate feeling between the brother and sister-in-law had not
decreased. Gonzalo and his children were the especial care of Cecilia.
Her beneficial, sweet influence was felt every moment of their lives.
The eldest little girl, Cecilita, now two years and a half old, and the
other, Paulina, who was eight months old, throve under their aunt's
maternal warmth of affection: she washed them, she dressed them, she
took them out to walk, she was the first to teach them to pray. The
mother, fond as she was of her children, soon wearied of them; their
crying worried her; and when it was a question of keeping them quiet she
was ignorant of any method of doing so, and only ended by half
suffocating them with caresses.
Thus it came about that "auntie" was the refuge to which they ran, and
for which they cried in any distress. Sometimes Ventura, wounded at this
preference, grew jealous, and made them stay with her by force, but this
only resulted in making them afraid of her.
As to Gonzalo, he had in Cecilia a sister and a mother, ever ready to
save him discomfort and to remove all thorns from his path; she always
had a soothing effect upon him, and he would go to her like a great
spoiled child, annoyed if his wishes were not immediately complied with,
and not sparing her in any way.
But the bond between him and his wife remained firm and unchanged; his
passionate admiration, which had made him commit the first sin of his
life, had not abated in spite of everything; she was still the orbit of
his life. Ventura kept her hold over him by the power of her beauty,
which continued to fascinate his senses. Cecilia understood it all, and
when the young man, wounded by some neglect or some unkind word of his
wife, broke out in complaints against her, she smiled sadly, and tried
to calm him, while she was sure that her brother-in-law would soon lower
himself by going to his wife in contrition and shame to kiss her very
feet.
When the nobleman had finished his monologue a few minutes' silence
ensued. Then, as if recollecting he had been remiss, he assumed a
benevolent interest in his companions' affairs.
"So Senor Don Rufo Pedroso is a doctor, eh? The practise of medicine is
arduous, especially in the provinces where, as a general rule, it does
not meet with due compensation. Senor Pena is a sailor, is he not? Oh,
the naval profession has always been brilliant. It is a pity that our
war material is not equal to the bravery and skill of the officers. They
have a hard time of it. Does the command of a harbor give much to do? I
thought of bringing before the Senate a motion asking for the
construction of two ironclads. And Pablito, does he have a good time in
Sarrio? What resources does the town offer to young men?" Had he been in
Madrid? He was fond of horses. Ah, riding was a grand exercise! The duke
could well sympathize with that taste. Were his horses Spanish or
foreign? He asked all these questions in an abstracted way, with an
artificial smile, as if he were reciting a lesson. In fact, the most
trying point of his code of manners was the necessity of recollecting
that one has to make one's self agreeable to people with whom one is
conversing, and to take an interest in their affairs.
He cast a cold glance at Gonzalo and Cecilia, but he directed no
questions to them. When the unpleasant task of conventionality was
accomplished the magnate resumed his eternal monologue. This time it was
not on painting, but on archeology. In Lancia he had seen a Byzantine
chapel, which had excited his attention by its purity, not having at
present been at all restored. The cathedral was not bad, only the tower
was too wide; evidently it was originally higher, but its dimensions had
doubtless been changed when rebuilt after its destruction by lightning.
He understood that Sarrio had a very beautiful church in the florid
style of architecture. While the duke continued this drawling, learned,
endless disquisition, Don Rosendo evinced by his eyes and gestures that
he was consumed with an anxiety which he vainly strove to conceal. Three
times he had asked a question of the servant in a low voice, and three
times he had received the answer also in a low voice.
The duke having concluded his archeological monologue, with the
perspicacity of the conceited, who know whom they fascinate and whom
they do not, then addressed his conversation to Venturita. The remarks
were now made with a little more animation, and the illustrious guest
occasionally deigned to smile, and to do his fair interlocutor the honor
of raising his drooping eyelids to give her a look of curiosity and
admiration. The girl was filled with pride at this mark of favor, and
with crimson cheeks and bright eyes she talked so naively and prettily
that the duke was quite delighted with her. They seemed to be talking of
painting, for Cecilia and Gonzalo, who were still joking together, heard
her say:
"Oh, Rubens! What flesh-painting! Rubens is the Cervantes of painting."
Gonzalo turned his head as if he had been struck, while his face
expressed his astonishment.
"Cecilia, where did my wife learn all that?" he asked his sister-in-law.
A shrug of the shoulders was the only reply. But Venturita had noticed
Gonzalo's movement, his surprise, and the remark he made to Cecilia. She
colored, and lowered her voice; then seeing her husband's mocking
expression, returned it with a quick, angry look.
In the meanwhile Dona Paula talked to Don Rufo about her heart
complaint; Cosio took pride in describing to Pena and Pablito all the
grandeur and luxury of the Castle of Bourges, where the duke had his
famous picture gallery. Only Don Rosendo remained silent, getting more
restless every minute, and making little balls of bread with his nervous
fingers. Suddenly his fine features expanded into a benevolent smile,
for all heads were simultaneously raised at the sound of a loud trumpet
in the street--it was the band from Lancia, arrived at last.