A WOMAN'S SACRIFICE FOR HER BROTHER-IN-LAW
At last the poisoned arrow so much dreaded by Gonzalo pierced his heart;
it was not a paragraph, it was a story, supposed to have taken place in
Scotland, in which he, his wife, Don Rosendo, and other well-known
people were made atrocious objects of ridicule. Among other things, it
was said that while the sheriff (evidently Gonzalo) was assiduously
fulfilling the duties of his office, Lord Trollope (the duke) undertook
for him the duties of husband to his beautiful wife.
Gonzalo felt the same sense of rage and misery as before; but this time
he decided to control himself and find out if there were any truth in
the malignant insinuation, and if unfortunately there should be, he
would take full and complete revenge.
It cost him great trouble to hide the feelings which preyed upon him,
unaccustomed as he was to dissimulation, but he was greatly helped by
his strong desire to put an end to his doubts. The only thing noticeable
about him was that he seemed rather sad and preoccupied. He devoted
himself for some days to watching his wife, never losing sight of her
for an instant; but he discovered nothing to confirm his suspicions. At
the same time, he watched to see if and how the duke might have access
to her. The result of his investigations was that he found that this
could only be the case when he went to the municipal sessions. This was
impossible by day, as the duke was not a person who could go unobserved;
it must then be in the hours of the night when he slept in town.
He determined to know the truth at once. To that end he announced to his
family a few days in advance that a meeting of the Town Council would
oblige him to sleep in Sarrio on Friday, for the meeting was an
important one, as it was to decide nothing less than the appointment of
one of the two doctors of the place, paid by the municipal corporation.
The Maza party had their candidate, and that of Don Rosendo theirs, and
the contention was most bitter, not about the votes, which had been
perfectly counted the previous day, but because the Cabin party, who had
been defeated, had prepared a petition to Parliament to nullify the
election of the enemies' candidate, by saying he had not had the months
of practise considered necessary by the corporation to make the
candidate eligible. The day of the great test found Gonzalo very upset.
He had craftily tried to find out if any servant of the house was a
party to the matter, or at least if he knew anything; but he found out
nothing which could make him think so. He breakfasted without appetite,
and after swallowing his coffee he went off with his father-in-law. The
meeting of the Town Council lasted till ten o'clock at night. Then he
went home with Don Rosendo, who noticed that his son-in-law was
preoccupied and abstracted. Gonzalo excused himself by saying that he
was much irritated by the spleen and behavior of Maza's friends. They
retired to rest at eleven o'clock, and then, when all was silent, our
young man secretly left the house, and took the road to Tejada on foot.
The night was cloudy, but not very dark; the light of the moon shone
through the clouds, revealing objects at a short distance off. Gonzalo
walked swiftly, with a thick sword-stick in his hand, and carrying a
pistol in his pocket.
He felt very sad, and the test he was about to make filled him with
mingled fear and remorse. If his wife were guilty, what a tragedy was at
hand! And if she were not, he was acting a low part to suspect her
honor. He continued his course as furtively as if he were a robber about
to break into a house, hiding under the walls along the road when he
heard steps, and trembling when he heard a voice, far off as it might
be. The idea that an acquaintance might see him on foot at that time
made him ashamed, feeling quite certain that his object would be
guessed.
The fresh air seemed to pierce his very bones, although he so rarely
felt cold. There was a soft, melancholy sound from the rustling of the
wind in the tops of the trees which lined the road like black phantoms.
Under one of these he thought he saw a figure, and, fearing to meet
anybody who might know him, he jumped into the field; but, looking over
the little wall, all that he saw was ruminating and recumbent cows. Then
passing a workman's cottage, a window was suddenly thrown open and a
woman appeared, which made him take to his heels under the shadow of the
trees. As he proceeded on his way he felt a weight at his heart, and a
thousand different ideas warred in his mind. He recollected the many
delightful details of the first months of his married life: the sweet
words and the ostensible proofs of love given him by his wife--his wife
whose defects were those of all girls who are too much spoiled--and he
began to think that he must be under some cursed hallucination, one of
the thousand infamies invented by the enemies of his father-in-law to
injure him, and he was on the point of returning to Sarrio and going
back to bed when, on thinking over and weighing his grounds for
suspicion, the recollection of the duke's departure from the house of
his wife's parents, Ventura's frivolity and flirtations and the veiled
yet persistent attack of the inimical journal, fired his blood and urged
on his steps. Oh! shame on them if it were true! Better for them if they
had never been born! And his hand tightening on the stick, he drew out
the sword to make sure it was ready for use. The revolver did not
suggest itself to him; he wanted to see and feast his eyes on the blood
of the traitors.
When he had covered half the distance to Tejada he suddenly heard behind
him the gallop of a horse. Without knowing why, his heart gave a
terrible jump, and he quickly leaped into the adjoining fields and
anxiously waited, looking over the wall, for the horse to pass by.
Before two minutes were over it went by like a flash. He was perfectly
able to recognize the duke's chestnut steed; he could not distinguish
the grandee himself, as he was enveloped in a cloak, with a large hat
drawn over his face; but if his eyes did not see him, his heart saw him
with perfect clearness. He stood stunned, rooted to the ground, and he
felt a peculiar failing of the legs as if they were going to give way.
But the blood soon resumed its healthy circulation in his athletic
frame, his iron muscles quickly reasserted their strength, and, without
touching it with his hands, he cleared the six-foot wall which enclosed
the field. He sprang into the middle of the road, and without an
instant's delay he pursued the horse at a mad, wild speed as if he were
silly enough to try and catch up to it. Although he was long-winded, he
was out of breath long before he reached the estate, and he had to stop
three or four times to recover himself. At last he arrived at the
shrubbery and entered by the iron gate, which was only latched. Casting
a glance round, he saw the duke's horse tied to a tree. He hastily
continued his course, carefully avoiding making any noise, by one of the
paths lined with coniferas leading to the house, and, as he knew all the
approaches, he did not go to the door--of which he had the key with
him--for fear that some servant would hear him, but he climbed by a vine
up to the window of his father-in-law's room, which was always left open
when he did not sleep at home. Unfortunately, it happened to be closed.
Then he drew out his sword, and, putting it in the crack of the window,
he raised the latch and thus effected an entrance.
He was, however, seen by one person--Cecilia. On one of the preceding
nights she, occupying a room next to that of her sister, thought she
heard a noise, and got up. She looked through the window toward the
garden and saw Pachin, the servant, with another man she could not
recognize. Nevertheless, an awful suspicion filled her with horror. The
gait of the man, of whom she could only see the figure, was not that of
a peasant. Gonzalo was sleeping that night at Sarrio; besides, her
brother-in-law was much taller. Dreadfully upset by a terrible idea, she
retired to rest again, but not to sleep. All the following day she was
sad and preoccupied, and she inwardly determined to watch her sister to
know for certain if her thoughts were chimerical or real. So she kept
her eye on Pachin, and she noticed that on the very day that Gonzalo was
to sleep at Sarrio he was given a commission by Ventura, although he was
not the one to make the house purchases. When he returned she wanted to
see what he had brought. It was a French novel, which she could not take
into her hand, as Ventura seized hold of it and went off to her room.
She then had no doubt but that there was a letter between the leaves,
and she determined to watch that night and ascertain the truth.
After dinner she sat sewing, while Ventura read by the light of the
lamp; and when it struck ten both sisters retired to their respective
rooms.
Cecilia threw a cloak over her shoulders, put out the light, and sat by
the window. She waited--one, two hours. When it was nearly twelve, she
noticed two shadows among the trees, and, albeit with difficulty, she
recognized Pachin and the man of the previous night, whom she now saw
was the duke.
The two shadows quickly disappeared among the trees round the house. She
stood petrified with horror; a wave of indignation rose in her heart
and burst from her lips in the words:
"How infamous! How infamous!"
Then she seated herself on the window-sill, with her face pressed
against the pane, as overwhelmed with confusion, shame, and distress as
if she were the culprit. At the end of some minutes, standing with her
terrified gaze fixed on the park, she saw another figure running with
strange swiftness toward the house. She could not repress a cry of
horror, and sprang to her feet as if she were worked by a spring; then
stumbling in the dark through the furniture, she reached her sister's
room, but it was all in darkness. For a moment she thought of calling
her, but then she recollected that Ventura could not sin so close to her
and her children. A few steps further, on turning the corner of a
passage, she saw a light, and ran toward it. In the Persian chamber, of
rotunda form, somewhat isolated from the rest of the house, there was a
light; and she gave two little knocks at the door, saying through the
keyhole:
"It is I, Ventura. Open! Gonzalo is here."
The door was then opened, and Ventura appeared, paler than death. The
Duke of Tornos was at the other end of the room, and was turning to the
window, with intent to jump out of it. But Cecilia ran toward him, and
catching him by the arms, she cried:
"No, not that! It will be no use--Ventura, escape--To the kitchen!
Gonzalo climbed up by papa's room."
The girl spoke in an imperious falsetto tone, with her eyes flaming.
Ventura required no repetition; for she precipitately left the room.
Then Cecilia forcibly dragged the duke to one of the sofas, and said:
"Sit down."
The magnate looked at her in stupefaction, and asked:
"Why?"
"Sit down, I tell you," said the girl in a fury, and at the same time
putting her hands on his shoulders she pushed him down.
The duke at last sat down, and then Cecilia placed herself on his knees,
and, throwing her arms around his neck, she put her lips on his cheek.
At that moment quick steps were heard in the corridor, the door was
violently thrown open, and Gonzalo appeared with his drawn sword-stick.
Cecilia, turning her head, uttered a cry; and the young man recognizing
his sister-in-law, sheathed the arm which he carried, and, hastily
reopening the door, he repaired in surprise and confusion to his old
bridal chamber.
There Ventura was quietly reading by the light of a lamp. On seeing her
husband before her she rose in surprise, saying:
"What is it? How is it you are here?"
An actress would gladly have bought from her that movement and tone of
voice.
Gonzalo was taken aback, and knew not what to say; but he got out of the
difficulty by exclaiming:
"Don't you know what scandal is going on in the house?"
"What is going on?" returned the girl, with a face so discomposed that
if Gonzalo had been more observant by nature he would have seen that it
could not have been solely due to his presence. He shut the door, and
said in her ear:
"Your sister is in the Persian chamber with the duke! Don't you know
anything about it? Tell the truth," he added, seizing her by the wrist.
Ventura was confounded; she hesitated; she trembled; she lowered her
eyes admirably well, and finally said:
"Why should you want me to know, Gonzalo?"
"Don't lie, Ventura!" he exclaimed with a furious gesture; but his heart
was filled with immense and infinite relief.
"I am telling you the truth--I know nothing about it--but I suspected
something. That is why I was alarmed. When you came in I was thinking
of going to Cecilia's room to see if she were there."
"How shameful! How scandalous! But this infamy! Some course must be
taken--this must be put an end to without anybody hearing of it."
"Yes, yes; but what do you want us to do?"
"I don't know. I will speak to your father--No, not to your father--it
would be a fearful blow to the poor man. I will speak to the duke, and
we'll see if he resists!"
At that moment they heard a noise in the adjoining room.
"Cecilia has gone to her room," said Ventura. "I will go now and speak
to her myself. It will all be put a stop to, and remain a secret. I
don't wish you to compromise yourself, Gonzalo mine," she added,
throwing her arms around his neck. Gonzalo made a gesture of scorn.
"No, no; I don't want to. It is better for me to speak to Cecilia--wait
a minute."
Her husband stopped her as she was leaving the room, and said in a low
voice:
"Don't speak cruelly to her. Try and be prudent. It is infamous of him
to have thus abused his friendship with the family. What a wretched
creature!"
Ventura left the room, and repaired to that of her sister, trembling
with alarm. The heroic girl was standing in the middle of the room, with
her arms by her side and her eyes fixed on the ground. Ventura
carefully closed the door, and embracing her, she murmured in a
tremulous voice:
"Oh, my sister! thank you, thank you!"
But Cecilia roughly repulsed her with a gesture of scornful pride,
exclaiming:
"I did it for him, and not for you!"