Our way that afternoon lay towards the cottage of Tonet, where some
refreshment was prepared for us. This Tonet, a regular Moor according to
his eyes, his complexion, and his teeth, was a wonder at preparing
_paellas_ and playing on the flute. Whenever it occurred to us to go and
visit him, he received us with the gravity and courtesy of a feudal
senor. Scarcely opening his lips, he made himself understood to his wife
and children by signs, had chairs brought for us under the arbor, and
soon afterwards he used to serve us figs, dates, chufas, and fresh
cinnamon cakes, with which his pantry was always provided. When we had
let him know we were coming, as on the present occasion, he offered us
ice cream, rich with vanilla and filberts. He was a meek, sad man,
seeming careless of all things. He was never joyful, but liked to see
joyousness in others. On Sundays and on many afternoons when his work
was done early, he would come out and sit down alone in front of the
cottage and play softly for a while on his flute. He did not do it for
his own pleasure; it was a lure, nothing more. Little by little he drew
to his own cottage the young people from all the cottages round about,
and a dance was improvised. His eldest son, a boy of fourteen years,
played on the taboret and was almost as grave and silent as he. Both
passed hours, one blowing and the other beating his instrument, serious,
melancholy, with eyes fixed on space, and heeding neither much nor
little the noisy dance that their music evoked.
Sabas, who was of the party this afternoon, marched abreast with me as
we were making our way across the fields of high Indian corn, already
bursting into ears. The first subject that he proposed for my
consideration, sucking his pipe and spitting at regular intervals, was
of a nature essentially critical. Why did his brother-in-law persist in
keeping up this estate with so little of it under cultivation, and at so
much expense, when by so little effort it could be made productive?
Every one of the constituent elements of this proposition was separately
examined by a rigidly mathematical method. To do so he formulated in the
first place certain definitions, clear, distinct, and luminous. What is
an estate for recreation? What is a productive estate? What is an estate
of combined pleasure and utility? After this he laid down certain axioms
as profound as they were indisputable. All that is productive ought to
produce. To attain an end one ought to employ means. Man is not alone in
the world, and ought to consider his family. Vanity should not
influence human actions. One-sided propositions immediately followed
with their premises and corollaries; then he would go on to the end
gently, but with invincible logic to prove the proposition on which hung
the following corollary: Emilio is an active and enterprising man, but
at the same time a careless fellow.
Satisfied, with good reason, by the method and intuition and the logic
wherewith the Supreme Being had so highly favored him, Sabas continued
sucking and spitting with dizzying rapidity. The second subject which
this lucid soul attacked this afternoon directly concerned me.
"Come, tell us, Ribot, have you never thought of getting married?" he
asked me after a long pause, taking out his pipe and fixing a
scrutinizing gaze upon me.
I confess I felt disturbed. I understood that the depths of my soul were
next to be sounded, and trembled, perceiving that this transcendent
critic was disposed to exercise his scalpel on me.
"Tss! Sailors think little of that. Our life is incompatible with family
pleasures."
"Sailors, when they arrive at a certain comfortable condition and have
reached an independent position like you, have the right to retire
peacefully and enjoy a comfortable life," he replied with the gravity
and firmness which marked every utterance that came out of his mouth.
How did he know that I had reached an independent position? Solely by
his marvellous intuition, for I had given nobody an account of the state
of my affairs. I admired such tremendous penetration from the bottom of
my heart, and was humbly disposed to find out how much more he knew
about me.
Sabas meditated several minutes. And while he meditated, sucking his
pipe, his cheeks sunk in a supernatural manner. The energy that he
expended upon that tobacco smoke was such that I was persuaded he must
be swallowing it.
At the same time the intensity of his reflections influenced in like
manner the secretion of his salivary glands.
"Why should you not marry my cousin Isabelita?" he said to me suddenly,
with that brusque and peremptory accent which characterizes men who rule
their kind by their power of thought.
Isabelita was walking on with Matilde in front of us. I grew pale,
fearing she might have heard these serious words, and frightened and
confused, murmured some incoherent words.
"Yes," proceeded the critic, "my cousin is a very nice girl, very
modest, and more, she admires you extremely."
"Admires me!" I exclaimed, amazed. "And for what does she admire me?" I
asked candidly.
Sabas laughed noisily, coughed, and got rid of his nicotine.
"She will tell you that when you are alone with her, hand in hand."
"You do not understand me," I returned, nettled. "What I wish to say is
that I do not see anything in myself to be admired by anybody. And as
for Isabelita, I have always believed that she had dedicated all of her
admiration to Castell."
"That is nothing special. A man with eight million pesetas is an
admirable being. But the admiration, in this case, will not bring any
practical result. All the world knows that Castell keeps the mother of
his children, and no young lady of good family thinks of him. With you
the case is different; it would be possible for it to be quickly carried
to a satisfactory solution; and my opinion is that you ought to leave
your steamboat and try at once for this elegant craft. Isabelita is
sensible, modest, well-educated, diligent; she is accustomed to the
strict economy of a house where they turn a dollar over a hundred times
before parting with it; an only child, and heiress of all her father's
money. And my Uncle Retamoso owns more than people imagine. Who ever can
tell exactly how much money a Galician has? Probably while he lives you
would not have a right of five centimes; but what does that matter to
you? In the first years of marriage you can keep yourself well enough on
your capital, and when necessities grow greater, and certain additional
things become necessary, you can make a raise on your prospects as his
son-in-law, enough to carry you over until a certain joyful event----"
Other wise reflections poured like busy and knowing bees from the mouth
of that extraordinary man. In my life seemed gathered together all the
loose ends of existence, all its aims fulfilled, and the quintessence of
human relations extracted.
While my future was thus being discussed, although I found myself
embarrassed by the new perspective offered to my view, I had, none the
less, enough largeness of mind to admire the logic of his discourse, his
surprising wealth of figures, richness of diction, turns of expression,
subtle and logical distinctions, and the perfect links of his chain of
reasoning. The breathing world, I believe, held no secrets from this
man, and the mechanism of his reasoning worked with the exactness of a
chronometer.
When we reached the cottage and were seated to partake of the
refreshment that had been prepared for us, Emilio, who was near me,
asked me in an undertone:
"Then it is decided that you are going to leave us to-morrow?"
"There is no help for it. The boat is due any moment now."
"What a pity!" he exclaimed in a melancholy tone; and placing one hand
affectionately on my shoulder he added: "Do you know, you rascal, that
we are getting used to you!"
I was moved by his words, and more yet by the cloud of sadness that
darkened his cheerful, sympathetic face. I kept silence. He did the
same. Throwing himself back in his chair, he remained unlike himself,
thoughtful and melancholy. At last he turned to me and said, almost in
my ear:
"If you would take my advice you would give up your sea-faring life,
which, say what you will, is a little risky, and marry and settle down.
Why be always alone? Do you never think of old age, and how sad it would
be to pass the last years of your life in the power of self-seekers,
without children to make bright your home, without a wife who of herself
brings order and comfort?"
"But I am an old fellow already," I answered smiling, but sad in the
depths of my soul, "I am thirty-six years old."
"That is a good age for a man. And then, by your looks and strength and
suppleness, you are only a boy. I know," he added, casting a mischievous
glance towards the place where Isabelita was, "a girl of eighteen Aprils
who would marry you in preference to all the young bucks of the city."
"Bah! this girl would laugh if you should propose to her a man double
her age."
"Don't you believe it! Because you know it already, I will tell you in
confidence that Isabelita admires you."
"But, man----"
"No, no. I know particularly that she admires you."
The thing was serious. This unexpected admiration made me anxious and
timid. I could not see my face in a mirror, because there was none
there; but a glance at my shaggy, brown hands and at my feet, neither
small nor especially well-shod, made me unable to divine the nature or
extent of my charms.
Well, well, the least that a man can do when, with reason or without, he
finds himself admired by a girl, is to pass her the plate of olives and
ask her if she likes them. This is exactly what I did a little after I
had had it brought to my notice that I had fascinated Retamoso's
daughter. She pricked one with her fork, and at once her lovely face was
covered with blushes, as if she had pricked my heart. I was not sure,
but I figured that the next thing after this was to serve her a bit of
sausage. The same blushes dyed her brow for this hash as for the olives.
The consecutive repetition of this physiological phenomenon filled my
spirit with alarm. My gallant sentiments grew so animated that I did not
stop offering her entertainment at very short intervals for some time. I
think that if she had taken all I offered her that afternoon, medicine
would have been powerless to counteract the effects of my attention, and
that angelical being would have spread her wings for heaven, the victim
of an indigestion.
Once started on the downward path of soft nothings, I did not hesitate
to sit down beside her and let her know that she had wonderful eyes,
indescribable; cheeks that were smooth, rose-colored, indescribable;
hands little and shapely and charming and--also indescribable. The
knowledge of these facts caused her profound surprise, to judge by the
look of incredulity that appeared upon her countenance. She told me that
truly I knew very well how to go on, and that only a rascal of a sailor,
accustomed to flatter women all along the coast, could find such a
proceeding possible. Saying this, she grew redder than a cherry.
The conversation went on for some time in this sweet and pleasant
fashion, as if we were playing at fencing in a comedy, and while it
lasted the blood ebbed and flowed constantly in the face of Isabelita. I
outdid myself, as the critics say of bad actors in the journals; that
is, I was jolly, smart, full of chaff, and absolutely stupid. Our chat
attracted the attention of the rest, and I could see that they looked at
us with curiosity and glanced mischievously at one another.
I don't know now what fatuity made me do it, but I begged Tonet to play
on his flute, and I proposed that, when the company came, we should
dance together. She accepted readily, and laughed a good deal (was it at
me?) when we were thus matched. I invited Isabelita, that's sure, and I
began jumping about with her like a rattle-pated student, and I was not
long in discovering that in a little while everybody was watching us
attentively. My agitation was not calmed by this. However, I went on
hopping about at a great rate, while everybody applauded, crying
_vivas_, and looking at us with laughing eyes. Only the silent Tonet and
his immobile son fixed theirs upon us as grave and melancholy as if they
wished to remind us of the nothingness of all things human, and the
brevity of existence.
Cristina, who until then had been quiet, and on whose brow I could see
the lines marked by the scene of the morning, now began quickly to wake
up a bit. Her face was so lively that everybody admired it. They had not
seen her like that in years. Dona Amparo declared that since she was a
little girl, when her playfulness and tricks had caused her mother more
than one start, Cristina had not frolicked in such fashion. We
encouraged her, applauded her, threw her _chufas_ and almonds until she
began to show a wish to dance also. Emilio and her mother would not let
her, on account of her condition. But nonsense and witticisms kept on
issuing from her mouth, splitting everybody's sides with laughter. She
had a lively wit, and she got her words off with a brusque naturalness
that gave them a great effect. Some things that she said seemed to me a
little dashing, but I admired her so much that I did not mind them. When
anyone talks a great deal of nonsense, it is almost impossible to keep
within strictly prudent limits.
"This is all right," said Sabas in my ear, seating himself beside me.
"Now you have a chance to strike while the iron is hot. Get in with my
uncle. Talk to him about the subject that will butter your bread."
I laughed, but took no further notice. I went on paying court to
Isabelita with everybody's good will. I mistake--Dona Clara looked at us
now and then with eyes whose expression was a trifle more severe than
usual, and she sniffed her Roman nose when we chanced to take a little
luncheon of _chufas_. I do not know but I may be wrong, but two or three
times I had a notion that I heard her murmur the English word,
"Shocking!" This would have been nothing strange, for in difficult
places this illustrious matron preferred the Anglo-Saxon language to her
native idiom. That which I can fearlessly affirm, and nobody will
contradict, is that I saw her eat more than a kilo of chocolates, and
that this operation, however vulgar in itself, did not make her lose one
atom of her majesty.
The hour arrived for us to go back to the house for our carriages, to
return to the city. But at the moment of starting to walk, Cristina felt
very badly. I saw that she grew pale and put her hand several times to
her head and heart. The sal-volatile of Dona Amparo was of no avail;
neither was the orange-flower water nor the Melisa water, nor other
remedies that, like faithful friends, accompanied this nervous lady
everywhere. Cristina begged us to leave her alone a moment with Tonet's
wife, who would bring her a cup of _tila_. A quarter of an hour later
she came out of the cottage, serene, but with reddened eyes. The nervous
crisis had ended in tears.
The sun had already disappeared when we started on our walk through the
fields of Indian corn and the little fruit orchards. Calming my dashing
gallantry and stifling the gush of vanity that had burst forth in my
spirit at the supposed admiration of Isabelita, I remained silent and
sad. As I was walking apart in company with her and Matilde, I did my
utmost to hide it; but seeing that this was impossible, and fearing that
they would notice my mood, I made a feint for the purpose of falling
back to walk alone. I was displeased with myself. The gallantry of that
afternoon seemed to me a treason to my true sentiment, to the sweet and
delicate love that I guarded like a treasure in the depth of my heart. I
could not but think with disgust that I had descended to the most
trivial cheapness. I was afraid, with good reason, that Cristina, whose
regard and esteem for me had seemed increasing, would despise me from
that hour, and this thought hurt me deeply.
Since her indisposition she had not turned towards me or looked at me,
nor spoken a word to me. Luck made it so that she could not help
speaking. She had forgotten her watch and left it in the cottage and
wished to go back for it. I quickly anticipated her. When I returned
with it, she waited for me, a little apart from the others.
"Thank you," she said, with a hard, cold face, and tried to rejoin the
rest.
Whoever has experienced the pangs of love will believe me when I say
that that gloomy countenance gave me inexpressible joy.
"Listen to me a moment, Cristina; I have something to say." I spoke with
a voice not quite under control.
"You may say it," she replied, looking over my head at the horizon, and
in a glacial tone that, for a like reason, warmed instead of chilling
me.
"I wish to beg advice of you and I scarcely dare. Did you notice that
this afternoon I paid a little more attention to your Cousin Isabelita,
as if I were courting her?"
"No. I have noticed nothing," she answered, more sharply still.
"Because this is the truth--and I venture to say it, it is only because
of the great difference in age between us--I only did it because
Isabelita admires me."
She gazed at me stupefied, as if she suspected that I had gone mad.
"At least this is what I have been informed in turn by Sabas and
Emilio."
"What idiots!" she exclaimed, her lips smiling, understanding my
meaning. "They are capable of making sport of everything. Fortunately
you are a man of sense, and take no stock in such nonsense; and if not,
you would stop at my poor cousin."
"In this case, I have, after all, taken certain steps towards winning
her good will, and before going farther I wish to obtain your approval."
"My approval!" she exclaimed, agitated, and with a choking voice. "But
what need have you of my approval? I have no part in the matter. Beg it
of her parents."
"Before begging it of her parents I desire it from you. I know that you
have no direct interest in the matter, but it has to do with your
cousin, of whom you appear to think a good deal, who has distinguished
me with her esteem, however little merited. Nobody can give me true
counsel in this case better than you; so I beg it of you, in the name of
our good friendship, as a favor which I shall appreciate all the days of
my life."
She remained silent for some time.
We walked on together through the high-growing corn which made even
dimmer the fading twilight.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed to me that I
could detect slight, almost imperceptible, changes sweep over her face.
Soon her brow contracted and her lips moved several times before a sound
escaped them. At last she said in a trembling voice:
"It makes me very happy that you have made your choice at last. Men
ought not to live alone, and especially those who, like you, have an
affectionate, indulgent temperament, and know how to appreciate the
delicate heart of a woman. Isabelita is almost a child; I can tell you
little about her character. You will take it upon yourself to form her.
But I can assure you that she knows how to fulfil the duties of a
housewife. She is industrious, careful, economical; and under these
qualities are hid others that will show themselves. She is very pretty,
too."
"You have forgotten the one which makes her dearest and most attractive
to me."
"What?"
"That of being your cousin."
Her beautiful face darkened; she frowned and replied in a sharp tone:
"If you do not care for my cousin for herself, if you would take her as
a toy to distract you from other illusions, or, which would be worse, to
follow and nourish them in secret, you would commit a great sin; and I
should in such case advise you not to think of her, but to leave her in
peace."
Uttering these words, she hastened on and joined the others, leaving me
alone.
When we got into the carriages to return to the city, I was melancholy,
too wrapped up in serious meditations to go on playing the boy with
Isabelita. Under pretext of a headache I found a place alone at the
back, and to support my pretext I did not go up to Marti's house, but
retired to my hotel.
At eight o'clock in the morning I heard the cheerful voice of Emilio,
who came into my quarters like a hurricane, threw open the windows, and
sat down on my bed.
"You can't go to-morrow, Captain!" he cried, laughing, and pulling my
beard to finish waking me.
"Why?" I asked sleepily.
"Because to-morrow you are going to be god-father to a little girl more
beautiful than the morning star."
"What! Cristina----?"
"Yes; Cristina was taken ill after you left us. We thought that it was
to be like her afternoon indisposition; but she, who ought to know,
begged us to send for the woman she had engaged for the case. I was
afraid she might not succeed, and sent for the doctor; but Cristina
would not consent that he should come into her room. When the woman took
charge of her, the poor--Oh, what courage, what suffering, Captain! Not
a groan, not a moan. I walked about dead, torn to pieces, praying God
that she would scream. I don't understand suffering without a sound. I
am appalled by temperaments like Cristina's, that not one complaint
escapes in the worst of pains. At two o'clock in the morning my brave
little woman came through her trouble, making me father of the
prettiest, healthiest, cleverest little one the sun of Valencia ever
shone on. I'm sure of it, although I have not yet seen it."
He got up from the bed, took several turns in the room, came back and
sat down, got up again, and went through a series of evolutions that
showed the delightful agitation of his spirit. I felt deeply moved too,
and congratulated him with hearty words. When he stopped at last, I
asked him:
"So you do me the honor of being god-father?"
"It will give me great pleasure if you will accept. To tell the truth, I
thought first of Castell. You don't mind, do you? Enrique is more than a
friend and brother to me. It would be the natural thing. But I will tell
you privately, Cristina opposed it. Religious scruples, do you see?
Enrique professes such upsetting ideas and declares them with such
excessive frankness, the ladies cannot forgive him. It is all because he
is not a practical man. He might hold all the notions he liked if he
would keep them a little more to himself when he is among women. As for
me, I laugh at his materialistic ideas. Enrique a materialist, when
there is not a more generous man in the world! Because, in spite of his
great talents and his wonderful powers of illustration, do you know,
Enrique is a child, a heart of gold!"
As he uttered these words with an accent of conviction, he shook his
black, curly head in a way that made me want to laugh and to weep at the
same time.
"And what does Cristina say to the substitute?"
"When I proposed your name, she was delighted."
I was delighted too, hearing this. I dressed hastily and marched off to
make the acquaintance of the new star. The next day we went to church,
and I performed my duty with emotion, yes, bursting with pride. Later I
took the train for Barcelona, promising my friends to return soon to
visit them, and to make the visit permanent by settling my camp in
Valencia.