It is impossible to describe what took place in that house upon the
death of Emilio. Everybody adored him; to all he was like a loving
father, ready to sacrifice his own wishes for those of others.
The grief and woe of Cristina were so great that we feared for her life.
After a few days, however, it was necessary to think about business
matters. Those of Marti were so much entangled that his unfortunate
family was likely to become quite destitute. The only one to call upon
in regard to his affairs, as the nearest relation, was Sabas; but this
profound person, for whom the human heart had no hidden corners,
despised the prosaic details of existence. He lived like a god in a
state of perpetual joy, removed from the toils and anxieties that
afflict mankind. It was necessary that I grasp the reins. I begged
permission to do this, and took hold of the work with little knowledge,
but with illimitable interest and good will. At the end of six months of
hard work, struggling with creditors, lawyers, and clerks, I succeeded
in disentangling the snarl. The debts were all paid and a small income
was rescued for Cristina, sufficient to enable her to live comfortably
but without any luxuries. I breathed freely again, and enjoyed my
success as much as if I had brought through successfully some gigantic
undertaking.
The gratitude of Cristina was my sweetest reward. In a grave and
reserved way, as she did all things, she made me understand it
constantly. This gratitude, joined to the innocent caresses of my
god-daughter, who now began to prattle, calling me "Uncle Ribot," as if
I were of her own blood, fully repaid me for all my endeavors. All that
troubled me was to note with what scrupulous care Cristina reduced the
expenses of her house, and the straits she endured. I told her this care
was exaggerated--her income would permit her a little more leeway, but I
did not succeed in making her see it. After a while I came to understand
that her economy did not cause her the slightest pain. I thought she
rather enjoyed it, and by this means was saving up to add to the small
inheritance of her little daughter. Later I found out, not without
indignation, that these savings served to support the household of her
elegant brother. He had gone on applying the scalpel to all of our
actions. Persuaded after a while that neither the kindness of his sister
nor my business ability would henceforth provide him with means
sufficient to make the conquest of even one single chorus girl, he
decided at last to go to work, watching the bank in a gambling club.
None of her ancient splendors seemed to be missed by Cristina, as far as
I could ascertain, neither handsomely furnished rooms, nor carriages,
nor servants. The property at Cabanal alone excited in her a melancholy
regret. Only when we mentioned that did she become sad and pensive. This
was very natural. Her passion for the country, for a free and peaceful
life was strengthened now by the gentle memories that that estate kept
for her heart. There had fleeted the happiest hours of her life. After I
had observed this on a number of occasions, the thought was born in my
brain to try to buy the place. I quickly thought over the state of my
property. As I was a man of few wants, I could part with a third of what
I had, and there would still be enough left me to live upon. As soon as
I was convinced of that, every hindrance got on my nerves. I could not
rest until I had gone to Barcelona, where lived the banker to whom the
estate had been assigned, and had had a talk with him. Cabanal had gone
at auction for eighteen thousand duros. I soon saw that its present
owner would like to get it off his hands for the same money, then his
profits would not all be eaten up in the expense of keeping up the place
as it had formerly been. At last, after several conferences and enough
bartering, we agreed upon the contract and the deeds were passed, I
making him promise to keep the transaction a secret. Then I made a deed
of gift to my god-daughter of the property. With both documents in my
pocket and with my heart light with joy, I returned to Valencia. Before
taking possession of the country house it was necessary to buy, and
instal there, furniture as nearly as possible like that which the house
had had before. It cost me some labor, but I performed it with
inexplicable enjoyment. It is needless to say that where I laid myself
out to have everything perfect was in Cristina's own room--her
_tocador_. By means of untiring search I was able to find some of the
same pieces of furniture that had been there before, and I bought them;
others I ordered copied, and they turned out very like. As soon as all
was ready I took possession of the place, cautioning all persons who had
served me, and the gardener, too, not to let the matter get noised
abroad before it was time to open the house.
The birthday of my god-daughter arrived. Several days before, I had all
the furniture put in place in the country house, and I took pains to see
that all was placed as nearly as possible as it had been formerly. I
knew so well every arrangement of that house that it was not difficult
for me to make it look very homelike. Cristina's room took a good deal
of time, for I aspired to have it lack not one detail. The furniture,
the curtains, the articles on the dressing-table, even the coverlet on
the bed, had been restored or copied with utmost exactness. On the
birthday I carried my god-daughter a fine toy in the morning, promising
her another for the afternoon. And for the afternoon I invited her, with
her mamma and Dona Amparo, to take an excursion into the country, to
picnic in some secluded spot, to celebrate that memorable date. The
coachman, previously instructed by me, drove us about for a time, then
brought up in the neighborhood of Cabanal. There I made him stop and
said:
"Senoras, I don't know whether I have committed an indiscretion. If I
have, I beg your pardon beforehand. Knowing Cristina's passion for
Cabanal, I have had our picnic prepared there. I am a friend of Puig,
who bought it, and when I was in Barcelona he gave me permission to go
into the house, and to take as many people with me as I liked. I repeat,
you must forgive what I have done, if you do not approve of it."
Dona Amparo declared it very nice, and was joyful to the soul at
visiting once more the place that had always pleased her. But Cristina's
face was something to behold. She had never let me see it so forbidding.
She controlled herself, however, in silence; and I, taking no notice of
her annoyance, ordered the coachman to go on. The gardener and his men
played the drama of receiving us as guests, and conducted us to a
glorieta where I had had the table spread. Before our picnic, I invited
them to take a little walk, but Cristina refused emphatically, affirming
that she had hurt her foot. As Dona Amparo did not care to leave her
alone I went with my god-daughter; the little one and I amused ourselves
by running and frolicking about in those shady avenues. When we returned
I observed that Cristina's eyes were red and that her mamma was drooping
with evident intentions of popping off.
But I did not care to go into any of that. Joyful and merry as I had
never been, I began to open the baskets and distribute their contents,
aided by the little girl and the man who had brought them from the
hotel. By a great effort, and to conceal her suffering, Cristina took a
few, but very small, mouthfuls. Dona Amparo, however, ate heartily. But
Julianita, the little one, and I knew how to do our duty. To finish off,
I opened a bottle of champagne. Then, standing up and taking my
god-daughter on one arm, I swung the glass high with the other,
exclaiming:
"To the health of Julianita! To the health of my little girl!"
I drained the glass, then gave the baby the drops in the bottom.
"I promised thee a present for this afternoon, and thou shalt see that I
keep my promise. Thy present is this estate, of which thou hast been
despoiled. I bought it for thee some days ago. Receive it, my daughter,
with this tender kiss which I place upon thy cheek, and may heaven bless
thee with many and happy days!"
Cristina rose up from the bench, pale and trembling.
"Captain Ribot! It cannot be!" she cried in a choking voice.
"Here is the deed of the property, and here is the deed of gift," I
answered, presenting the documents.
"But my daughter cannot accept such an enormous sacrifice!"
"I have few necessities and no near relations. The law gives me the
right to choose my heir. I have already chosen her," I added, placing my
hand on the curly little head of my god-daughter.
She remained quiet with her eyes fixed upon the ground. At last she went
out of the glorieta, and without opening her lips started towards the
house. I followed her at a distance, leaving the fainting form of Dona
Amparo to the care of the child and the servant. I observed that she
walked faster and faster. When she reached the door she was almost
running. She paused a moment, kissed the wall, and entered.
I followed her as she went about the rooms; I heard her exclamations of
delight, and even saw her go into her own room. At sight of that, a cry
escaped her, and she fell sobbing upon the white-wood bed.
I went over to her and said:
"This room holds yet within its walls the perfume of a sacred and
peaceful life. The furniture had been scattered through the city; and
these pieces, that could claim nobody as one master, on finding
themselves together again will speak to you, Cristina, in the sweet and
mysterious language of their souvenirs. I consider myself happy in
having restored them, and happier yet in having worked for so many days
to arrive at this moment."
She rose from the bed, and, holding out her hand, said to me in a
trembling voice:
"Thank you, Ribot, many thanks. You are indeed a faithful friend to us.
God will reward you for all the good you have done, for I can never
repay you."
I was moved to the depths of my soul by those simple words.
"Cristina," I replied, "I accept the title that you so nobly bestow upon
me. I have been a loyal friend to you and to Emilio; I have watched over
his interests and his honor with ceaseless care. But I have watched over
my thoughts with even more diligence; because thoughts are restless
things, and might, against my will, go straight away and annoy you. I
have nothing to reproach myself with. I have always loved you as I love
you now, with the respect that divine beings inspire. But in spite of
all my efforts to stifle it, a strong desire lifts itself in my soul,
and I feel that I shall never find peace if I do not suffer it to live,
or at least need not kill it. Forgive me, Cristina, for the question I
am going to ask. But may I not hope that some day you will call me by
another name than friend?"
She remained grave and silent, looking down at the floor. Then she sat
down in a chair near the candle-stand, leaned her elbow on the little
table, and her head in her hand, and there she sat in a thoughtful
attitude. I knelt down beside her and let myself hope.
"Get up, Ribot," she said, giving me a sad and affectionate glance. "It
causes me pain and almost shame to see at my feet the man who sweetened
the last hours of my husband, who has sacrificed himself for me, and his
fortune for my daughter. My heart tells me that this man should not be
refused my very life if he asks it. But do you not think, Ribot, that
there is something between us that ought to stop us, something that
would overshadow the happiness that you have a right to? Remember the
circumstances when we first knew each other. Examine the secret impulses
that brought you to this place, those that you have felt since, your
struggles, your thoughts, your joys and pains during these three years
and a half. And tell me frankly if you do not imagine that conscience
would not whisper to us that we had not acted with perfect delicacy. I
believe it would; and I think I know you well enough to know that it
would be enough to disturb the serenity of your life. This is what I
hear speaking within my secret heart. While it is there, do you not
think that if we were united there might rise in our world an infamous
suspicion that would wound, even in his grave, our cherished one?"
I understood the truth of these words and my heart sank. The tears
rushed to my eyes. I hid my face in my hands to conceal them.
"What? Do you weep, Ribot?" she exclaimed, leaning her head upon mine.
"No, in God's name! no, do not weep, my friend! I have no right to cause
you the slightest pain. I will do as you wish."
I shook my head and answered:
"Let me weep for a moment. It will pass."
My tears fell abundantly. When I lifted my head I saw that they were
also streaming down her cheeks. I stood up and, drawing out my
pocket-handkerchief, said smiling:
"Do you see! It's over! Sadness and I were never very constant friends."
Then she took my hands and, pressing them warmly, looked into my eyes,
exclaiming:
"Yet, truly, I would not hurt you! After my husband, no man has ever
inspired me with so deep an affection!"
"These noble words not only give me strength to live," I answered, "but
they make life lovely to me. How many times, leaning on the bridge of my
ship, I have felt happy gazing at the shining stars! And why not now,
when I can see these sweet eyes, so frank and so serene? Let me see them
all my days, and I promise you I will always live in joy and peace!"