The next evening, Ventura brought with him to their reunion a small
black water-dog, called Tambor. Never before had a strange dog been
permitted at one of those meetings, so that he had hardly entered,
wagging his tail, well washed, well combed, and with all the
confidence of an exquisite, when Melampo, who held these graces to be
of very little consequence, and an idler in lowest estimation, flew at
him with might and main, and with a single blow of his paw flattened
the creature; but without the remotest ambition to affect in this
action, either the attitude or the air of the lion of Waterloo.
"In the first place," said Perico, "will you tell me, Ventura, how you
managed to appear here yesterday, as if you had leaked through the
roof, without any one's opening the door to you?"
{666}
"Well, it is difficult to guess," answered Ventura. "When I arrived I
went to the house, and Aunty Curra, to whom my father gives a home for
taking care of him, opened the door, and to get here sooner, and take
you all by surprise, I jumped over the wall of the yard, as I used to
when I was a boy."
"I was sure last night," observed Maria, "that I heard the door of the
enclosure, and some one walking in the yard."
"Now,"' said Perico, "tell us what has happened to you. Have you been
wounded?'
"He has been wounded," cried Uncle Pedro. "Look at his breast, and you
win see a hole, which is the scar left by a ball that he received
there, and that did not lay him dead, thanks to this button which
deadened its force. See how it is flattened and hollowed out like the
pan of a fire-lock. Look at his arm; look at the wound--"
"And what matter, father," interrupted Ventura, "since they are cured
now?"
"When I ran," he continued, "I took my course down river, reached
Sanlácar, and embarked for Cadiz. There I enlisted in the regiment of
guards commanded by the Duke del Infantado. I struck up a friendship
with a young man of noble family, who was serving as a private, and we
loved each other like brothers. We soon embarked for Tarifa, for the
purpose of approaching the French in the rear, while the English
attacked them in front. The result was the battle of Barrosa, from
which the French fled to Jerez, and we took possession of their camp.
"In the midst of the fight, I said to my friend, 'Come, let us take
from that Frenchman the eagle he carries so proudly, it is continually
vexing my eyes, come;' and without recommending ourselves to God, we
threw ourselves upon the bearer, killed him, and took the ugly bird;
but as we turned we found ourselves surrounded by Frenchmen, friends
of the eagle. 'Comrades,' said we, 'it's of no use; as for the bird,
he is caged and shall not go out even if Pepe Botellas [Footnote
169] or Napoleon himself, the big thief, should come for him.'
[Footnote 169: Pepe Botellas, Bottle Joe; Joseph Napoleon was so
called by the people, because, they said, he used to get drunk.]
"We set it up against a wild olive, and placed ourselves before it,
and now, we said, Come and get him--and they came, for those demons,
the worse the cause the more impetuous they are. They killed my poor
friend, and had nearly killed me, for they were many. What I felt at
the thought of losing the bird! but it was the will of heaven that it
should never sing the _mambrui_ [Footnote 170] in French, for our
men came and drove them back. They conducted me with my trophy before
the colonel, who said that I had behaved well, and should receive the
cross of San Fernando, for having captured the eagle. 'I did not
capture it, my colonel,' I answered, 'it was my friend, the young
noble, who is killed. And I fainted. When came to, I found myself in
the hospital and without the cross."
[Footnote 170: Mambrui, a humorous military song, popular among the
Spanish soldiers.]
"That was your own fault," said Rita. "Why did you tell the colonel it
was not you?"
Ventura looked at her as if he could not comprehend what she was
saying.
"You did your duty," said Pedro.
A tear ran down Elvira's cheek.
"I was hardly convalescent when we embarked for Huelra, and I found
myself in the battle of Albuera against the division of Marshal Soult.
I was soon after taken prisoner; made my escape, and joined the army
of Granada, commanded by the Duke del Paryne, in which I remained,
pursuing the enemy beyond the Pyrenees. Then I returned to Madrid,
where I have been waiting until now for my dismissal."
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"Goodness! Ventura," said Maria, in astonishment, "you have been
further than the storks fly!"
"I--no," answered Ventura, "but I know one, and he indeed, he had been
with General La Romana, far in the north, where the ground is covered
with snow so deep that people are sometimes buried under it."
"Maria Santissima! said Maria, shuddering.
"But they are good people, they do not carry knives."
"God bless them!" exclaimed Maria.
"In that land there is no oil, and they eat black bread."
"A poor country for me," observed Anna, "for I must always eat the
best bread, if I eat nothing else."
"What kind of _gazpachos_ [Footnote 171] can they make with black
bread, and without oil?" asked Maria, quite horrified.
[Footnote 171: Gazpacho. Dish made of bread, oil, onions, vinegar,
salt and red-pepper mixed together in water.]
"They do not eat gazpacho," replied Ventura.
"Then what do they eat?"
"They eat potatoes and milk,", he answered.
"Much good may it do them, and benefit their stomachs."
"The worst is, Aunt Maria, that in all that land there are neither
monks nor nuns."
"What are you telling me, my son?"
"What you hear. There are very few churches, and those look like
hospitals that have been plundered, for they are without chapels,
without altars, without images, and without the blessed sacrament."
"Mercy, mercy!" exclaimed all, except Maria, who remained as if turned
to stone with surprise. But presently crossing her hands, she
exclaimed, with satisfied fervor.
"Ah my sunshine! Ah my white bread! My church! My blessed Mother! My
country, my faith, and my God in his sacrament! Happy a thousand
times, I, who have been born, and through divine mercy, shall die
here! Thank God, my son, that yon did not go to that country, a land
of heretics! How dreadful!"
"And is heresy catching, mother, like the itch?" asked Rita
ironically.
"I do not say that, God forbid," answered the good Maria; "but--"
"Everything is catching, except beauty," said Pedro, "and one is
better off in his own country. I will bet my hands that those who have
been there, will bring us nothing good."
"What do not the poor soldiers have to pass through!" sighed Elvira.
"That must be the reason why I have always been so fond of them,"
added Maria. "That, and because they defend the faith of Christ. And
therefore, I am also very devoted to San Fernando, that pious and
valiant leader. I have him framed in my parlor, and around him on the
wall, I have stuck little paper soldiers, thinking it would be
pleasing to the saint, who all his life saw himself surrounded by
soldiers. When Rita was about twelve years old, I went to Sevilla, and
she gave me a shilling to buy her a little comb. I passed by the shop
of an old man who had a lot of little paper soldiers exposed for sale.
What a guard for my saint, I thought; but my quarters were all spent.
I had nothing left but Rita's shilling. The price of the set was a
shilling. Go along, said I to myself, it is better that Rita should do
without the bauble than my saint without his guard; and I bought them.
I told Rita, and it was the truth, that my money did not hold out. The
next day when I was taking them out to stick them up around the
picture of the king, Rita came into the room. 'So then,' she said,
'you had money enough to buy these dirty soldiers, and not enough for
my little comb,' and she snatched them from my hands to throw them out
of the window. 'Child,' I screamed, 'you are throwing my heart into
the street with the soldiers!' And seeing that she paid me no
attention, I caught up the broom and beat her. The only time I ever
beat her in my life."
{668}
"It would have been better for you," said Pedro, "if you had left the
marks of your fingers upon her sometimes."
"Who can please you, Uncle Pedro?" said Rita. "My mother erred in not
chastising her child, and I err in not spoiling mine."
"Daughter!" replied Pedro, "neither Hei! till they run away, nor Whoa!
till they stop short."
"But since you like soldiers so much, mother," proceeded Rita, "why
did you take such trouble to prevent my cousin Miguel from becoming
one?"
"I love soldiers because they suffer and pass through so much, and for
the same reason, I wished to save my nephew."
"How I laughed then!" continued Rita, directing her conversation to
Ventura. "Her grace burned lights to all the saints while the lots
were being drawn. As she had not candlesticks, she stuck empty shells
to the walls with cement; put wicks in them; filled them with oil, and
began to pray. While she was praying, in came Miguel's mother, and
told her that he had been drafted. My mother, on hearing that, put out
the lights, as if to say to the saints, 'Stay in the dark now, I need
you no longer!'"
"How you talk, Rita," answered the good Maria. "I trust that God does
not so judge our hearts. I resigned myself, my daughter. I resigned
myself, because he had made known his pleasure, and when God will not,
the saints cannot."