piece of bad news; but I trust that God will grant you patience and
endurance to enable you to hear it without feeling too much anger or
bitterness. Luisito has been writing me strange letters for some days
past, in which he reveals, in the midst of his mystical exaltation, an
inclination, earthly and sinful enough, toward a certain widow,
charming, mischievous, and coquettish, who lives in your village. Up to
the present I had deceived myself, believing Luisito's vocation to be a
true one; and I flattered myself with giving to the Church of God, in
him, a wise, virtuous, and exemplary priest. But his letters have
dispelled my illusions. Luisito shows himself, in them, to have more of
poetry than of true piety in his nature; and the widow, who must be a
limb of Satan, will be able to vanquish him with but a very slight
effort. Although I write to Luisito admonishing him to flee from
temptation, I am already certain that he will fall into it. This ought
not to grieve me; for, if he is to be false to his vocation, to indulge
in gallantries, and to make love, it is better that this evil
disposition should reveal itself in time, and that he should not become
a priest. I should not, therefore, see any serious objection to
Luisito's remaining with you, for the purpose of being tested by the
touchstone and analyzed in the crucible of such a love, making the
little widow the agent by whose means might be discovered how great is
the quantity of the pure gold of his clerical virtues, and how much
alloy is mixed with that gold, were it not that we are met by the
difficulty that the widow whom we would thus convert into a faithful
assayer, is the object of your own addresses, and, it may be, your
sweetheart. That your son should turn out to be your rival would be too
serious a matter. This would be a monstrous scandal, and, to avoid it in
time, I write to you to-day to the end that, under whatever pretext, you
may send or bring Luisito here--the sooner the better."
Don Luis listened in silence, and with his eyes cast down. His father
continued:
"To this letter of the dean I answered as follows:
* * * * *
_Don Pedro's Answer._
"DEAR BROTHER AND VENERABLE SPIRITUAL FATHER: I return you a thousand
thanks for the news you send me, and for your counsel and advice.
Although I flatter myself with not being wanting in shrewdness, I
confess my stupidity on this occasion; I was blinded by vanity. Pepita
Ximenez, from the time that my son arrived here, manifested toward me so
much amiability and affection that I began to indulge in pleasing hopes
on my own account. Your letter was necessary to undeceive me. I now
understand that in making herself so sociable, in showing me so many
attentions, and in dancing attendance on me, as she did, this cunning
Pepita had in her mind only the father of the smooth-faced theologian. I
shall not attempt to conceal from you that, for the moment, this
disappointment mortified and distressed me a little; but, when I
reflected over it with due consideration, my mortification and my
distress were converted into joy. Luis is an excellent boy. Since he has
been with me, I have learned to regard him with much greater affection
than formerly. I parted from him, and gave him up to you to educate,
because my own life was not very exemplary, and, for this and other
reasons, he would have grown up here a savage. You went beyond my hopes
and even my desires, and almost made of Luisito a father of the Church.
To have a holy son would have flattered my vanity; but I should have
been very sorry to remain without an heir to my house and name, who
would give me handsome grandchildren, and who, after my death, would
enjoy my wealth, which is my glory, for I acquired it by skill and
industry, and not by artifices and tricks. Perhaps the conviction I had
that there was no remedy, and that Luis would inevitably go to convert
the Chinese, the Indians, and the blacks of Monicongo made me resolve on
marrying, so as to provide myself with an heir. Naturally enough, I cast
my eyes on Pepita Ximenez, who is not, as you imagine, a limb of Satan,
but a lovely creature, as innocent as an angel, and ardent in her
nature, rather than coquettish. I have so good an opinion of Pepita
that, if she were again sixteen, with a domineering mother who
tyrannized over her, and if I were eighty, like Don Gumersindo, that is
to say, if death were already knocking at the door, I would marry
Pepita, that her smile might cheer me on my death-bed, as if my guardian
angel had taken human shape in her; and for the purpose of leaving her
my position, my fortune, and my name. But Pepita is not sixteen, but
twenty, nor is she now in the power of that serpent, her mother; nor am
I eighty, but fifty-five. I am at the very worst age, because I begin to
feel myself considerably the worse for wear, with something of asthma, a
good deal of cough, rheumatic pains, and other chronic ailments; yet the
devil a wish have I to die, notwithstanding! I believe I shall not die
for twenty years to come, and, as I am thirty-five years older than
Pepita, you may calculate the miserable future that would await her,
tied to an old man who would live forever. At the end of a few years of
marriage she would be compelled to hate me, notwithstanding her
goodness. Doubtless it is because she is good and wise, that she has not
chosen to accept me for a husband, notwithstanding the perseverance and
the obstinacy with which I have proposed it to her. How much do I not
thank her for this now! Even my self-love, wounded by her scorn, is
soothed by the reflection that, if she does not love me, at least she
loves one of my blood; she is captivated by a son of mine. If this fresh
and luxuriant ivy, I say to myself, refuses to twine around the old
trunk, worm-eaten already, it climbs by it to reach the new sprout it
has put forth--a green and flourishing offshoot. May God bless them
both, and make their love prosper! Far from taking the boy to you again,
I shall keep him here--by force, if it be necessary. I have determined
to conspire against his vocation. I dream already of seeing him married.
I shall grow young again, contemplating the handsome pair, joined
together by love. And how will it be when they shall have given me a
couple of grandchildren? Instead of going as a missionary, and bringing
back to me from Australia, or Madagascar, or India, neophytes black as
soot, with lips the size of your hand, or yellow as deer-skin, and with
eyes like owls, would it not be better for Luisito to preach the gospel
in his own house, and to give me a series of little catechumens, fair,
rosy, with eyes like those of Pepita, who will resemble cherubim without
wings? The catechumens he would bring me from those foreign lands I
should have to keep at a respectful distance, in order not to be
overpowered by their odor; while those I speak of would seem to me like
roses of paradise, and would come to climb up on my knees, and would
call me grand-papa, and pat with their little hands the bald spot I am
beginning to get. What would you have? When I was in all my vigor, I did
not think of domestic joys; but now, that I am approaching old age, if I
have not already entered on it, as I have no intention of turning monk,
I please myself in thinking that I shall play the _rôle_ of patriarch.
And do not imagine, either, that I am going to leave it to time to bring
to a happy close this incipient engagement. No! I shall myself set to
work to do this. Continuing your comparison, since you transform Pepita
into a crucible, and Luis into a metal, I shall find, or rather I have
found already, a bellows, or blow-pipe, very well adapted to kindle up
the fire, so that the metal may melt in it the more quickly. Antoñona
has an understanding with me already, and through her I know that Pepita
is over head and ears in love. We have agreed that I shall continue to
seem blind to everything, and to know nothing of what passes. The
reverend vicar, who is a simple soul, always in the clouds, helps me as
much as Antoñona does, or more, and without knowing it, because he
repeats to Pepita everything Luis says to him, and everything Pepita
says to him to Luis; so that this excellent man, with the weight of
half a century in each foot, has been converted--O miracle of love and
of innocence!--into a carrier-dove by which the two lovers send each
other their flatteries and endearments, while they are as ignorant as he
is of the fact. So powerful a combination of natural and artificial
methods ought to give an infallible result. You will be made acquainted
with this result when I give you notice of the wedding, so that you may
come to perform the ceremony, or else send the lovers your blessing and
a handsome present."
* * * * *
With these words Don Pedro finished the reading of his letter; and, on
looking again at Don Luis, he saw that he had been listening to him with
his eyes full of tears.
Father and son gave each other a long and close embrace.
* * * * *
Just a month from the date of this interview, the wedding of Don Luis de
Vargas and Pepita Ximenez took place.
The reverend dean--fearing the ridicule of his brother at the
spiritual-mindedness of Don Luis having thus come to naught, and
recognizing also that he would not play a very dignified _rôle_ in the
village, where every one would say he had a poor knack at turning out
saints--declined to be present, giving his occupations as an excuse;
although he sent his blessing, and a magnificent pair of ear-rings as a
present for Pepita.
The reverend vicar, therefore, had the pleasure of marrying her to Don
Luis.
The bride, elegantly attired, was thought lovely by every one, and was
looked upon as a good exchange for the hair shirt and the scourge.
That night Don Pedro gave a magnificent ball in the court-yard of his
house and the contiguous apartments. Servants and gentlemen, nobles and
laborers, ladies and country-girls were present, and mingled together,
as if it were the ideal golden age--though why called golden I know not.
Four skillful, or if not skillful at least indefatigable guitar-players
played a _fandango_. Two gypsies, a man and a woman, both famous
singers, sang verses of a tender character and appropriate to the
occasion; and the school-master read epithalamium in heroic verse.
There were tarts, fritters, jumbles, ginger-bread, sponge-cake, and wine
in abundance for the common people. The gentry regaled themselves selves
with liquors, chocolate, orange cordial, honey, and various kinds of
aromatic and delicate punches.
Don Pedro was like a boy--sprightly, gallant, and full of jests. It did
not look as if there were much truth in what he had said in his letter
to the dean in regard to his rheumatism and other ailments. He danced
the _fandango_ with Pepita, as also with the most attractive among her
maids and with six or seven of the village girls. He gave each of them,
on reconducting her, tired out, to her seat, the prescribed embrace, and
to the least serious of them a couple of pinches, though this latter
forms no part of the ceremonial. He carried his gallantry to the extreme
of dancing with Doña Casilda, who could not refuse him; who, with her
two hundred and fifty pounds of humanity, and the heat of July,
perspired at every pore. Finally, Don Pedro stuffed Currito so full, and
made him drink so often to the health of the newly married pair, that
the muleteer Dientes was obliged to carry him home to sleep off the
effect of his excesses, slung like a skin of wine across the back of an
ass!
The ball lasted until three in the morning; but the young couple
discreetly disappeared before eleven, and retired to the house of
Pepita. There Don Luis re-entered, with light, pomp, and majesty, and as
adored lord and master, the room which, little more than a month before,
he had entered in darkness, and filled with terror and confusion.
Although it is the unfailing use and custom of the village to treat
every widow or widower who marries again to a terrible _charivari_,
leaving them not a moment's rest from the cow-bells during the first
night after marriage, Pepita was such a favorite, Don Pedro was so much
respected, and Don Luis was so beloved, that there were no bells on this
occasion, nor was there the least attempt made at ringing them--a
singular circumstance, which is recorded as such in the annals of the
village.
EPILOGUE.
LETTERS OF MY BROTHER
The history of Pepita and Luisito should, properly speaking, end here.
This epilogue is not necessary to the story; but, as it formed part of
the bundle of papers left at his death by the reverend dean, although we
refrain from publishing it entire, we shall at least give a sample of
it.
No one can entertain the least doubt that Don Luis and Pepita, united by
an irresistible love, almost of the same age, she beautiful, he brave
and handsome, both intelligent and full of goodness, would enjoy during
a long life as much peace and happiness as falls to the lot of mortals.
And this supposition, which, for those who have read the preceding
narrative, is a logically drawn deduction from it, is converted into a
certainty for him who reads the epilogue.
The epilogue gives, besides, some information respecting the secondary
personages of the narrative, in whose fate the reader may possibly be
interested. It consists of a collection of letters addressed by Don
Pedro de Vargas to his brother the dean, dating from the day of his
son's marriage to four years later.
Without prefixing to them the dates, although following their
chronological order, we shall transcribe here a few short extracts from
these letters, and thus bring our task to an end:
* * * * *
Luis manifests the most lively gratitude toward Antoñona, without whose
services he would not now possess Pepita. But this woman, the accomplice
of the sole fault of which either he or Pepita had been guilty in their
lives, living as she did on the most familiar footing in the house, and
fully acquainted with all that had taken place, could not but be in the
way. To get rid of her, then, and at the same time to do her a service,
Luis set to work to bring about a reconciliation between her and her
husband, whose daily fits of drunkenness she had refused to put up with.
The son of Master Cencias gave his promise that he would get drunk
_hardly ever_; but he would not venture on an absolute and
uncompromising _never_. Confiding in this half-promise, however,
Antoñona consented to return to the conjugal roof. Husband and wife
being thus reunited, it occurred to Luis that a homeopathic principle of
treatment might prove efficacious with the son of Master Cencias, in
curing him radically of his vice; for, having heard it affirmed that
confectioners detest sweets, he concluded that, on the same principle,
tavern-keepers ought to detest whisky; and he sent Antoñona and her
husband to the capital of the province, where, at his own cost, he set
them up in a fine tavern. Both live there together happily; they have
succeeded in obtaining many patrons, and will probably become rich. He
still gets drunk occasionally; but Antoñona, who is the stronger of the
two, is accustomed at such times to give him a good trouncing, to help
on his cure.
* * * * *
Currito, anxious to imitate his cousin, whom he admires more and more
every day, and seeing and enjoying the domestic felicity of Pepita and
Luis, has looked up a sweetheart in haste, and married the daughter of a
rich farmer of the place, health, fresh, red as a poppy, and who
promises soon to acquire proportions as ample as those of her
mother-in-law Casilda.
* * * * *
The Count of Genazahar, after being confined to his bed for five months,
is now cured of his wound, and, according to what they say, is very much
improved in respect to his manners. He paid Pepita, a short time ago,
more than half of his debt to her, and asks for a respite in the payment
of the remainder.
* * * * *
We have had a very great grief, although one that we had foreseen for
some time past. The father vicar, yielding to the advance of years, has
passed to a better life. Pepita remained to the last at his bedside, and
closed his eyes with her own beautiful hands. The father vicar died the
death of a blessed servant of the Lord. Rather than death, it seemed a
happy transit to serener regions. Nevertheless, Pepita and all of us
have mourned him sincerely. He has left behind him only a few dollars
and his furniture, for he gave all he had in alms. His death would have
made orphans of the poor of the village, if it were not that Pepita
still lives.
* * * * *
Every one in the village laments the death of the reverend vicar; and
there are many who regard him as a real saint, worthy of religious
honors, and who attribute miracles to him. I know not how that may be,
but I do know that he was an excellent man, and that he must have gone
straight to heaven, where we may hope to have in him an intercessor.
With all this, his humility, his modesty, and his fear of God were such
that he spoke of his sins in the hour of death, as if he had in reality
committed any, and he besought our prayers to the Lord and to the Virgin
Mary for their forgiveness.
A strong impression has been produced on the mind of Luis by the
exemplary life and death of this man. He was simple, it must be
confessed, and of limited intelligence, but of upright will, ardent,
faith, and fervent charity. When Luis compares himself with the vicar,
he feels humiliated. This has infused into his soul a certain bitter
melancholy; but Pepita, who has a great deal of tact, dissipates it with
smiles and caresses.
* * * * *
Everything prospers with us. Luis and I have some wine-vaults than which
there are no better in Spain, if we except those of Xeres. The
olive-crop of this year has been superb. We can afford to allow
ourselves every species of luxury; and I counsel Luis and Pepita to make
the tour of Germany, France, and Italy, as soon as Pepita is over her
trouble, and once more in her usual health. The children may, without
improvidence or folly, throw away a few thousands of dollars on the
expedition, and bring back many fine books, pieces of furniture, and
objects of art, to adorn their dwelling.
We have deferred the baptism for two weeks, in order that it may take
place on the first anniversary of the wedding. The child is a marvel of
beauty, and is very healthy. I am the godfather, and he has been named
after me. I am already dreaming of the time when Periquito shall begin
to talk, and amuse us with his prattle.
In order that nothing may be wanting to the prosperity of this tender
pair, it turns out now, according to letters received from Havana, that
the brother of Pepita, whose evil ways we feared might disgrace the
family, is almost--and indeed without an _almost_--about to honor and
elevate it by becoming a person of eminence. During all the time in
which we heard nothing from him, he has been profiting by his
opportunities, and fortune has sent him favoring gales. He obtained
another employment in the custom-house; then he trafficked in negroes;
then he failed--an occurrence which for certain business men is like a
good pruning for trees, making them sprout again with fresh vigor--and
now he is so prosperous that he has formed the resolution of entering
the highest circles of the aristocracy, under the title of marquis or
duke. Pepita is frightened and troubled at this unexpected turn of
fortune, but I tell her not to be foolish: if her brother is, and must
in any case be, a rascal, is it not better that he should at least be a
fortunate one?
* * * * *
We might thus go on making extracts did we not fear to weary the reader.
We shall end, then, by copying a few passages from one of the latest
letters:
* * * * *
My children have returned from their travels in good health. Periquito
is very mischievous and very charming. Luis and Pepita come back
resolved never again to leave the village, though their lives should be
longer than were those of Philemon and Baucis. They are more in love
with each other than ever.
They have brought back with them articles of furniture, a great many
books, some pictures, and I know not how many other elegant trifles,
purchased in the countries through which they have traveled, and
principally in Paris, Rome, Florence, and Vienna.
The affection they entertain for each other, and the tenderness and
cordiality with which they treat each other and every one else, have
exercised a beneficent influence on manners here; and the elegance and
good taste with which they are now completing the furnishing of their
house will go far to make exterior culture take root and spread.
The people in Madrid say that in the country we are stupid and uncouth;
but they remain where they are, and never take the trouble to come and
reform our manners. On the contrary, no sooner does any one make his
appearance in the country who knows or is worth anything, or who thinks
he knows or is worth anything, than he makes every possible effort to
get away from it, and leaves the fields and provincial towns behind him.
Pepita and Luis pursue the opposite course, and I commend them for it
with my whole heart. They are gradually improving and beautifying their
surroundings, so as to make out of this secluded spot a paradise.
Do not imagine, however, that the inclination of Pepita and Luis for
material well-being has cooled in the slightest degree their religious
feelings. The piety of both grows deeper every day; and in each new
pleasure or satisfaction which they enjoy, or which they can procure for
their fellow-beings, they see a new benefaction of Heaven, in which they
recognize fresh cause for gratitude. More than this, no pleasure or
satisfaction would be such, none would be of any worth, or substance, or
value in their eyes, were it not for the thought of higher things, and
for the firm belief they have in them.
Luis, in the midst of his present happiness, never forgets the
dethronement of the ideal he had set up for himself. There are times
when his present life seems to him vulgar, selfish, and prosaic,
compared with the life of sacrifice, with the spiritual existence to
which he believed himself called in the first years of his youth. But
Pepita hastens, solicitous, to dispel his melancholy on such occasions;
and then Luis comprehends and acknowledges that it is possible for man
to serve God in every state and condition, and succeeds in reconciling
the lively faith and the love of God that fill his soul, with this
legitimate love of the earthly and perishable. But in the earthly and
perishable he beholds the divine principle, as it were, without which,
neither in the stars that stud the heavens, nor in the flowers and
fruits that beautify the fields, nor in the eyes of Pepita, nor in the
innocence and beauty of Periquito, would he behold anything lovely. The
greater world, all this magnificent fabric of the universe, he declares,
would without its all-seeing God seem to him sublime indeed, but without
order, or beauty, or purpose. And as for the lesser world, as we are
accustomed to call man, neither would he love it were it not for God;
and this, not because God commands him to love it, but because the
dignity of man, and his title to be loved, have their foundation in God
himself, who not only made the soul of man in his own likeness, but
ennobled also his body, making it the living temple of the Spirit,
holding communion with it by means of the sacrament, and exalting it to
the extreme of uniting with it his uncreate Word. In these and other
arguments, which I am unable to set forth here, Luis finds consolation.
He reconciles himself to having relinquished his purpose of leading a
life devoted to pious meditations, ecstatic contemplation, and apostolic
works, and ceases to feel the sort of generous envy with which the
father vicar inspired him on the day of his death; but both he and
Pepita continue to give thanks, with great Christian devoutness, for
the benefits they enjoy, comprehending that not to their own merit do
they owe these benefits, but only to the goodness of God.
And so my children have in their house a couple of apartments resembling
beautiful little Catholic chapels or oratories: but I must confess that
these chapels have, too, their trace of paganism--an
amorous-pastoral-poetic and Arcadian air, which is to be seen only
beyond city walls.
The orchard of Pepita is no longer an orchard, but a most enchanting
garden, with its _araucarias_, its Indian fig-trees, that grow here in
the open air, and its well-arranged though small hot-house, full of rare
plants.
The dining-room in which we ate the strawberries on the afternoon on
which Pepita and Luis saw and spoke with each other for the second time
has been transformed into a graceful temple, with portico and columns of
white marble. Within is a spacious apartment, comfortably furnished, and
adorned by two beautiful pictures. One represents Psyche, discovering,
by the light of her lamp, Cupid asleep on his couch; the other
represents Chloe, when the fugitive grasshopper has taken refuge in her
bosom, where, believing itself secure, it begins to chirp in the
pleasant hiding-place from which Daphne tries, meanwhile, to take it
forth.
A very good copy, in Carrara marble, of the Venus de' Medici occupies
the most prominent place in the apartment, and, as it were, presides
over it. On the pedestal are engraved, in letters of gold, these words
of Lucretius: