THE JOKES OF PACO GOMEZ
In spite of all the efforts of Paco Gomez, Garnet could not be made to
believe that he was acting in good faith. His jocose nature and the
practical jokes he had been known to perpetrate had made an unfavourable
impression on the Indian. It was in vain that he put on a grave and
circumspect manner and held long conversations on the rise and fall of
stocks, besides praising his house above all modern buildings, and
giving him valuable hints in the game of _chapo_, the dandy of Lancia
saw that there was no dissipating the look of distrust in the old bear's
bloodshot eyes. In this dilemma he appealed to Manuel Antonio for help,
for he had such a delightful joke in his head that any assistance seemed
better than giving it up.
"Don't be so foolish, Santos," said the Chatterbox to him one evening,
as he was walking through the Bombe with Garnet. "You see that as you
have passed the half of your life behind a counter you don't understand
these Lancians. I won't say Fernanda is deeply in love with you, but she
is going the way to be so. I tell you, and I say the same everywhere,
for I have remarked it for some time. Women are capricious and
incomprehensible; they reject a thing one day, and want it the next,
when they are then disposed to stretch a point to get it. Fernanda began
by snubbing you----"
"In every possible way, in every possible way," returned the Indian
sullenly.
"Pure fancy, my man; she is a very proud girl who will never make
herself cheap. But proud as she may be, she will marry either the Conde
de Onis or you, the only two matches there are in Lancia for her: the
count with his nobility and you with your money. But Luis is a strange
sort of man; I think he is quite incapable of marrying, and I am sure
she thinks so too. You are the only one left, and you will be the one to
get the prize. Besides, whatever women may say, they admire great strong
fellows like you; why you are a perfect oak, my man," he added with a
look of admiration.
Garnet gave vent to a grunt of assent, and the Chatterbox passed his
hands over his body, as if he were a learned connoisseur of the human
masculine form.
"What muscles, my boy! What shoulders!"
"Yes, these shoulders have earned many thousand pounds."
"How? Carrying sacks?"
"Sacks!" exclaimed Garnet smiling scornfully. "They are for the common
herd. No, great cases of sugar like waggons."
The Bombe was deserted at that hour. It was a large promenade in the
form of a drawing-room, which had been recently built on the site of the
famous wood of San Francisco, from which there was a fine view. This
wood of large, old twisted oaks, some of which formed part of a primeval
forest, was where the monastery was founded which gave its origin to
Lancia, and it served as a place of recreation and amusement to the town
until the first houses were built there. Then it fell into a state of
neglect, until the last municipal corporation carried out certain
improvements which won the hearts of all reforming spirits. They made a
promenade with little rustic gardens and a road among the trees that led
to the town. On weekdays there was no one there but a few priests in
long black cloaks and large felt hats; the secular element was
represented by two or three little parties of Indians discussing in
loud voices the price of shares, the value of certain plots of ground in
the Calle de Mauregato just opened, or some valetudinarian come to get
an hour's sunshine before the chill of the afternoon.
And where were the ladies?
Oh! the ladies of Lancia know perfectly well what is due to themselves,
and they had far too great a regard for the laws of good form to appear
on days that were not fete days; and even then they did not do it
without taking proper precautions.
No lady of Lancia would think of being so vulgar as to go to the Bombe
on a Sunday before the arrival of others of her class; and it was a
superhuman effort to arrange for all to appear simultaneously. So after
three o'clock in the afternoon they were waiting about, gloved and
bonneted, peeping at each other out of the windows.
"The Zamoras are coming now!"
"There go the Mateos!"
And so they finally sallied forth in due dignity to the promenade where
the band had been performing different fantasias on airs from "Ernani"
or "Nabuco" for the edification of the children and a few appreciative
artisans. It must not be thought that the distinguished society of
Lancia went with one rush to the open-air salon. Nothing of the kind.
Before putting foot there, they took a few turns in a little walk a
short way off. From thence they took a survey, and ascertained whether
anybody had yet ventured as far as the promenade.
At last, by the time the shadows were falling amid the old oaks, and the
fog was gathering from the mountains, and getting up the nostrils, in
the throats, and down the bronchial tubes of the people of high degree,
all the local beauties had assembled in crowds at the promenade. What
was a catarrh, a cold, or even inflammation of the lungs compared to the
disgrace of being the first at the Bombe!
What a wonderful example of fortitude! What an instance of the power
that self-respect exercises over the minds of superior beings!
This exquisite sense of duty which Nature has written in indelible
characters on the hearts of the worthy, was shown in a still more
remarkable fashion at the private balls given by the Casino of Lancia
every fortnight during the winter.
It will be easily surmised that none of the high-born senoritas who
demurred at appearing at the promenade when it was empty, were likely to
be the first to arrive at the salon of the Casino. But as there was no
side walk here, from whence they could take a bird's-eye view, and they
could not keep a watch from the windows at night, these clever young
ladies, as high-born as they were ingenious, hit upon a means of saving
their honour.
Soon after ten o'clock, when the ball was supposed to begin, they sent
their papas or brothers on a little voyage of discovery. They went in in
a careless sort of way, sat down in the armchairs, cut a few jokes with
the raw youths in buttoned up frock-coats who were impatiently standing
about, fastening each other's gloves, and then, making some excuse, they
soon retired to tell their families that nobody had arrived yet.
Ah! how often did those young men in the frock-coats wait the whole
night in vain for the arrival of their beautiful partners!
The candles burnt low, and the orchestra, after futilely playing two or
three dances, became quite demoralised; and the musicians laughed and
joked in loud tones, walked about the room, and even smoked.
The maids and men-servants yawned and made allusions to the blessing of
sleep, and at last the president gave the sign of dismissal, and the
youths retired to their respective homes as sad as they were
conventional.
That was indeed a touching spectacle to see those heroic young girls
sacrifice their great desire to go to the ball rather than outrage the
fundamental principles on which the happiness and comfort of society are
founded!
Paco then came in with the Pensioner.
"They will tell you the same as I," continued Manuel Antonio, shading
his eyes with his ivory white hand.
In the distance Paco really looked like a perch crowned with a cucumber,
for his head was so unusually small that all his hats came down over his
ears. Walking by his side was Senor Mateo with his enormous white
moustachios and proud military bearing, although we know he was the
greatest civilian that Lancia had known for centuries.
Garnet gave a few grunts to express the profound contempt with which the
two persons inspired him, the one for his want of conventionality, and
the other for not having even a paltry investment in the Three per
Cents.
"Come, my dear fellows, and do me the favour of making this stupid
fellow believe that he is a good match for any girl, although he will
not believe it."
"Certainly; for if Don Santos is not a match with five or six million
reales, I don't know who is," exclaimed Mateo feelingly, as befitted the
father of four marriageable daughters who did not marry.
"Draw it mild, Don Cristobal; draw it mild!" said the Indian, with a
stern look.
"What? Have you more, then? I am glad of it. I only speak according to
report."
"I have five hundred thousand dollars, and not a _lapiz_[J] less."
The three friends exchanged a significant look, and Manuel Antonio, not
being able to keep from laughing, embraced him, saying:
"All right, Santos, all right! But this about the _lapiz_ quite affects
me."
Garnet was a man who was continually tripping in his vocabulary. He
really was ignorant of the proper way of expressing many colloquial
terms, and the result was often very funny. Doubtless it was due to his
not hearing well; it was some years since he had left America, and
consorted with people of culture. His dreadful solecisms were quite
proverbial in Lancia.
"But this unhappy fellow surely does not think," continued the
Chatterbox, regardless of Garnet's resentful look, "that because
Fernanda Estrada-Rosa is a bit coquettish, that he is not taken with her
little set-up airs like every other man! Fool, fool, more than fool!"
and so saying he gave him a few taps on the large red nape of his neck.
"Besides she is a daughter of Don Juan Estrada-Rosa, the greatest Jew in
the province!"
"But, man, Fernanda is quite different," said the Pensioner, who was not
in the plot. "She is a very rich girl, and there is no need for her to
marry for money."
Then the others came down upon him with a vengeance: Where there is
money more is wanted. Ambition is insatiable. Fernanda was very proud,
and she would never stand being outdone in show by any other girl in
Lancia. Now if Don Santos chose a wife in the town she would find her
such a formidable rival that it would be a continual annoyance to her.
The only person Don Santos had to fear was the Count of Onis, but he
seemed to have gone off, for his eccentric character, and the strange
attacks to which he was frequently subject, had ended by disgusting the
young girl.
Won over by these arguments, backed up by nods of intelligence from
Paco, the Pensioner saw the wisdom of the idea, and went over to their
side, and then the three tried their best to persuade the Indian that no
young girl would hold out long against him, if he once laid siege to
her.
Paco alluded mysteriously to certain information in his possession,
which was the strongest evidence that the girl's treatment of him was
nothing but little airs of vanity put on to make herself more valuable.
But it was a secret, he said, which could not be revealed without a
breach of the confidence and regard due to the friend who had revealed
it.
In spite of all this Garnet would not give in. He was like a mastiff
under the caresses and turbulent treatment of children, for he only cast
angry looks at his tormentors, and every now and then gave vent to
ominous growls.
Manuel Antonio repeated the list of his subtle arguments, enforcing them
with sundry embraces, pats, and pinches, for he was eloquent and
plausible to a degree. Paco let Manuel go on, taking care to give him
many a sly corroborative wink, for he was certain that Garnet had no
confidence in his remarks. But he came in with the final stroke. After
having had himself implored and entreated by his two allies, who
promised eternal secrecy by the nails of Christ, he finally drew a
letter from his pocket. It was from Fernanda to a friend at Nieva. After
casually explaining how it came into his hands, Paco read with the bated
breath of mystery:
"There is no foundation in what you say of Luis. I have not renewed, nor
do I wish to renew, my relations with him, and this for reasons too many
to be given, and some of which you know. The suit of Don Santos, as
there is nobody else, has a far better chance. He is certainly old for
me, but very conventional and affectionate. I should not be surprised if
I ended by having him."
Garnet listened with great attention, opening his eyes unusually wide
with astonishment. When Paco finished, he said in a deep voice, "This
letter is _ipocryphal_."
The three friends turned round in surprise, and great was their
difficulty to keep from laughing, whilst Manuel Antonio improved the
occasion by giving Don Santos another embrace and saying:
"Go to, you rude, mistrustful thing! Show him the letter, Paco. Do you
not know Fernanda's writing? Emilita is constantly having letters from
her. You are too modest, Santos. I will not say you are a perfect
gentleman, but you have a certain grace and a certain _je ne sais
quoi_."
"Yes, I should think so!" exclaimed Paco; "and you take what Manuel
Antonio says, for he is a judge."
"There are some who can tell at once, my dear fellow," continued the
latter, in a quick voice. "They have only to cast their eyes on a face
and they know whether it is handsome, ugly, or mediocre."
But not wishing to waste any more breath in forwarding Paco's plans they
left Garnet in peace, and the Chatterbox changed the conversation.
"Ah! here come some friends of yours, Don Cristobal!"
And raising his head the Pensioner saw eight or ten soldiers
approaching. They were officers of the battalion of Pontevedra, which,
to his disgust, had recently arrived for the garrison of the town.
Mateo gnashed his teeth, and gave utterance to sounds indicative of his
hatred of the armed force, and then exclaimed in an ironical tone:
"How delightful to see warriors in time of peace!"
"You are quite cracked about them, Don Cristobal. Soldiers are very
useful."
"Useful!" exclaimed the Pensioner, in a rage. "What use are they I
should like to know? How are they useful?"
"They keep the peace, man."
"They keep war, you mean. The Civil Guard can keep us from rogues, but
they foment dissensions and cause the ruin of the country. Directly they
see the enemy appear, they take care to go off in another direction, and
then they get appointments, crosses, and pensions. I maintain that as
long as there are soldiers, there will be no peace in Spain."
"But, Don Cristobal, supposing a foreign nation attacked us?"
The Pensioner gave an ironical smile and shook his head several times
before replying.
"Get along, silly; why the only country that could attack us by land is
France, and if France should ever do so, what good would these stupid
little officers in uniform be to us?"
"Well, apart from that, soldiers are good for trade. The shops profit by
them, and the hotel-keepers benefit also."
Manuel Antonio only defended the military to aggravate Mateo, but there
was a shade of irony in his present remarks that was excessively
aggravating.
"That is just what it is! And it is that which annoys me so, for where
does the money come from that they spend, you foolish fellow? Why, from
you and from me, and from that gentleman; in fact, from every one who
pays anything to the State in one form or another. The result is that
they spend without producing, and so set a bad example in the towns; for
idleness is a corrupting influence to those that are inclined to be
lazy. Do you know what the army costs? Why, the naval and military
Ministers take between them half of the national grant. That is to say,
justice, religion, the expenses of the maintenance of our relations with
other countries, and the working of all material interests, do not take
as much to keep as these scarlet trousered young gentlemen. If other
nations of Europe have a great army, what is that to do with it? Let
them have it. Besides, they can allow themselves this luxury because
they have money. But we are a poor little nation with only outside show.
Besides, in other countries there are international complications, from
which we are fortunately free. France is too afraid of the intervention
of other countries to attack us, but if perchance it did attack us, it
would conquer us just as much with an army as without one."
The Pensioner was very emphatic in his arguments, which, with his eyes
blazing with anger, he enforced with vehement gesticulations of the
hands.
Manuel Antonio was delighted at seeing him get into a rage; and at that
moment the little company of officers passed near with a polite
"Good-day," which they all returned excepting Don Cristobal, who took no
notice of the greeting.
"I really think you go too far, Don Cristobal. Now what do you think of
Captain Nunez who has just gone by? Is he not a perfect gentleman with
courteous, pleasant manners?"
"He would be better with a pickaxe in his hand, and more useful to his
country," returned the Pensioner crossly.
"But what is the good of putting yourself out when, according to report,
he is going to be your son-in-law, as he is going to marry Emilita?"
said the Chatterbox with mischievous delight.
Paco and Don Santos burst out laughing, for Don Cristobal was quite
crushed, and with great difficulty he said:
"Whoever heard such nonsense!" and then relapsed into silence, for the
news was a dreadful blow, as it put him in the most awkward position.
The silence was noticed by the others, who winked and smiled behind his
back.
But Paco was also pre-occupied, for when he had a practical joke in that
little knob of a head of his, he was as restless and full of thought as
a poet or painter with some great work on hand; and it was only after
working hard for some days, that he all but won over the Indian to his
plan; and the question of his going formally to ask Don Juan
Estrada-Rosa for his daughter's hand in marriage was actually under
discussion. According to Paco and his supporters, that was considered
the most direct way, and best calculated to succeed, for any other
seemed round-about. The day that Don Juan should see him come forward
with his ten millions and an offer of marriage, he would spare no means
to make his daughter consent, and she herself would not be averse. For
as they could not have the Conde de Onis, who could she marry better
than a man so rich, so proper, so robust, so _illustrious_? This last
epithet, gravely suggested by Paco, nearly spoilt the whole thing, as he
was splitting with suppressed laughter. Garnet noticing this fact cast
an angry glance at him, and as his confidence was again shaken, a delay
of some days ensued.
Nevertheless, the moment arrived when the Indian gave credence to his
words through overhearing him from a neighbouring room speak plainly to
the Conde de Onis. From that day he put faith in him, and consulted him
as to how to bring about his purpose. Paco said it was better not to
mention it first to the girl.
As good generals surprise the enemy and conquer by a bold, unexpected
stroke, it was the unanimous opinion that the best course would be to
call on Don Juan, ask for a private interview and go straight to the
point. There was no fear but what the banker would jump at the idea; the
girl would probably be somewhat surprised, but under the influence of
her father she would soon give in. The important things of life were
generally decided by a bold stroke--"nothing venture nothing have."
Finally, Garnet gave in, and commenced proceedings with all due
solemnity. The first thing to be considered was the hour at which it
would be best to call, and twelve o'clock was finally decided on. His
costume was also a subject of deep discussion; and Paco maintained that
he would look most imposing in uniform, such as that worn by an honorary
chief of the civil administration. It would not be difficult to get a
nomination if he paid handsomely for it, but it could not be done under
a month's delay, so the uniform had to be given up, and it was settled
he was to wear a black frock-coat with his medal as town-councillor;
the day was the last thing to be arranged, which was fixed for Monday.
In the meanwhile the traitor Paco lost no time in letting out in
conversation with Don Juan Estrada-Rosa that Garnet was hoping and
wishing to be accepted as his son-in-law. Don Juan, who was rich as well
as proud, and so adored his daughter that he thought a duke at least
would come from Madrid to ask her hand in marriage, was furious, called
him an impudent fellow, and swore that sooner than let her marry such a
boor he would rather she remained unmarried.
"Well, then, take care, Don Juan," said Paco smiling maliciously, "for
the day will come when least expected when he will appear at your house
to ask for Fernanda's hand."
"He will do nothing of the sort," returned the banker, "he knows too
well that he would be kicked downstairs."
Having taken all these precautions, the terrible practical joker of
Lancia felt he was quite secure. With the exception of the three or four
friends who helped him to persuade Don Santos, nobody knew about his
plot. But the Sunday afternoon preceding the event, he and Manuel
Antonio went round and told people about the joke, and said that they
had better be at the Cafe Maranon the next day if they wanted to see it
out. In the provinces, where there are not many amusements, these
practical jokes are made quite a business, and much time and thought are
given to their conception and organisation.
The youths of Lancia were delighted at Paco's project, for it presented
especial attraction, the victim not being a poor fellow whom they might
feel for, but a rich man; and in the depth of every heart there is
always a grain of hatred for any one who has much money. So the news got
bruited about, and on the following day there were more than fifty young
fellows at the Cafe Maranon. But they did not make themselves
conspicuous until Garnet appeared. The cafe was situated on a first
floor (for the ground floors were never used at that time for such a
purpose) in the Calle de Altavilla, almost opposite Don Juan
Estrada-Rosa's house, which was large and sumptuous, although not so
much so as the one that Don Santos had recently built, and that where
the cafe was, was old and dilapidated. The resort of customers was a
room, where there was a billiard-table, and two little side rooms
furnished with little wooden tables for refreshment, all dirty, murky
and shabby. How different were those times to the magnificent Cafe
Britanico of today in the same street, with marble tables, colossal
mirrors and gilded columns like the finest in Madrid!
Spying through the little windows the gay assembly of youths, eager for
excitement, saw Garnet pass by correctly dressed, balancing his colossal
body on legs that looked too small for it. They saw him enter
Estrada-Rosa's house, and heard the sound of the door being shut upon
him. Nothing more was seen, but the windows of the cafe were
simultaneously opened and filled. Those who could find no place got up
on seats behind their companions. Every eye was fixed on the opposite
door, and thus they waited for a quarter of an hour. At the end of that
time the purple face of Garnet reappeared. It was indeed a fearful
sight. It looked just as if the man had been nearly strangled, and his
ears were the colour of blood. A perfect storm of coughs, shouts and
howls greeted his appearance. The Indian turned his head and gave an
astonished look at the excited crowd who were laughing for some unknown
reason at him. But he was not long before he saw that he was the victim
of a practical joke. His eyes glared fiercely round, and he burst out in
a fit of intolerable rage:
"Liars!"
And he then fled like a wild boar pursued by a pack of hounds, amid the
hisses and laughter of the youths, only turning his head from time to
time to repeat the strong expletive.