"You aren't vexed with me, Maximina, are you? The idea of leaving you
alone all day!" he said, as he came to his wife's bed.
"Pshaw! If you did so, it must have been for some good reason," replied
she, kissing the hand which was smoothing her cheek.
On the next day they received a call from Aunt Martina and her daughter
Serafina. The worthy lady had grown visibly more feeble. 'Such a life
she led with her husband! Don Bernardo kept growing more and more crazy
with his foolish jealousies!' As she told what went on at home, she wept
aloud.
"After forty years of married life, how could I possibly be unfaithful
to your uncle, Miguel? Don't you think that I have proved that I am
virtuous? And if I had to fall, moreover, it would not be with a
_carcamal_[41] who smells of drugs for a mile! Isn't that so? You
understand!..."
Miguel nodded assent, with difficulty repressing a smile, for it was as
good as a play to find his aunt imagining that any young man would flirt
with her.
"I am an honest woman.... Serafina, don't come in here; take the baby
into the dining-room," she said, interrupting herself on seeing her
daughter come into the bedroom with the sweet little thing in her arms.
"I have been all my life long. Never even in thought have I been untrue
to my husband. In return for this, he puts me to shame before the
servants, treating me little less than if I were a public woman. I
cannot longer endure this martyrdom, Miguel. I am dying, dying daily.
The other day he made a perfect scandal because he found the end of a
cigar in my room. As neither Vicente nor Carlos smoke, he took it for
granted that Hojeda had been there; he even went so far as to insist
that it was a cigar such as the apothecary smokes, although he always
smokes cigarettes! It made me faint away; they had to call the doctor.
Finally, in the night, a little fifteen-year-old servant boy whom we
have, seeing the serious trouble there was in the house, confessed to
the maid that it was he who had left the cigar-end there, and he went to
tell your Uncle Bernardo. Then, though he instantly dismissed him, he
did not remain calm. The servants don't stay with us more than a
fortnight; he imagines that they are all the apothecary's pimps.... Day
before yesterday the newsboy came along and handed me the paper as I
happened to be walking along the corridor. My husband sees it, takes it
into his head that this too is an emissary, and dashes out of the
window. Simply because Hojeda passed by a little while before! I can't
tell all that goes on; it is madness, a catastrophe! If it were not for
Vicente, I would blow my brains out with a revolver.... I cannot go out
without having my daughter with me, and then leaving on a piece of paper
where I am going.... He has ordered all the mattresses in the house to
be ripped open, so as to find some of the letters which he says that I
have hidden.... Finally,--but do you want to hear more? He has sent and
had an iron grating put in the fireplace, for he has an idea that Hojeda
comes in that way...."
"_Ave Maria!_ How crazy poor uncle must be!" exclaimed Miguel.
"Don't you believe it; he speaks as reasonably as you or I, and his
memory is as good as ever."
"Aunt, phrenopathy is not your strong point. Madmen have made progress
like every one else in this world. Nowadays, they discuss and talk like
all the rest of us. To distinguish an insane person from one in his
senses you must depend upon a specialist; consequently, you must not
meddle in things that you don't understand; however, my uncle is
certainly showing symptoms that seem very suspicious, even to the
ordinary intelligence."
"Sane or insane, I want to separate from him, for my life is a hell. But
when once this subject came up, he became frantic, declaring that I
wanted a divorce so as to marry my lover, and that he would empty his
six-shooter into me if I did any such thing...."
"Poor aunt!" said Maximina, with tears in her eyes.
"How does my life seem to you?... But it is not this alone. I have still
another cause for tribulation. Eulalia's little maid is almost blind!"
"What of?" asked the young mother.
"What do you suppose, child? Of her eyes, of course!"
"No; I meant of what disease!"
"Ah! I don't know what name the doctor gives it. Then, besides,
Encarnacion the maid, who you must know has been my hands and feet, got
married last Monday. You can't imagine the state of the house since she
left us! It is a republic, children! I can't be in half a dozen places
at once. For a dozen years I have depended wholly on her.... She had the
keys to the linen closet; she kept account of the washing; she took out
the chocolate and the _garbanzos_[42]; she looked out for the
wine-closet when the wines were getting low; she ironed Carlos' and
Enrique's shirts (for Vicente sends his out to be done up). Finally, I
hardly had to trouble myself about what the servants got to eat, she had
them so under her control.... Now, whom can I put into the house? Whom
could I put in her place, the service being so turned topsy-turvy?
Thursday the lackey came to me saying that Modesta was not willing to
mend the sleeve of his livery-coat, which he had torn...."
"And Enrique? How about him?" asked Miguel, fearing that his aunt, in
talking about the servants, would never finish, as was her custom.
"That is another thing! Bent on marrying the _chula_! There is no way of
getting it out of his head. His father will not hear his name mentioned,
and has already declared that, if he continues his relationship with
her, he will send him out of the house. Vicente and Eulalia are also
just as set against him. The one who 'pays for all the broken glass in
the house' is myself, because I sympathize with him; don't you see?"
"Yes; Enrique has always been your favorite!"
"The whole family have always declared this to be the case, but it is
not true; as you see, he is the least favored.... On the other hand, he
treats me worse than a shoe!"
The entrance of Serafina with the baby again interrupted the
conversation; behind her came all the maids, evincing a lively
excitement:
"What is the matter?"
"Why! the baby smiled!" said Serafina.
"Smiled! He smiled, as sure as there is a God in heaven, senorita," said
one of the maids, adding her testimony.
"Go along with you! you are all crazy!" said Dona Martina. "Why, he is
only two days old!"
"It cannot be," insisted Maximina, although she flushed with joy at the
thought.
"But he did; he did!" exclaimed all the servants.
"This is the way it happened, senorita," said one maid, scarcely able to
get her breath. "The Senorita Serafina was this way with the baby; do
you see? And I looked and took hold of him by the shoulder, do you see?
and lifted him up, and began to move him up and down, and to say:
'Little chicken![43] rosebud! pink! do you want to be called Miguelito,
like your papa?' The baby didn't do anything. 'Do you want to be called
Enriquito like your uncle?' He didn't do anything this time either. 'Do
you want to be called Serafin after your aunt?' And then he opened his
eyes just a wee bit, and made up a little mouth with his lips. Oh, so
cunning!"
Maximina smiled as though she had been listening to a revelation from
heaven. She, and her aunt also, were instantly convinced, but Miguel
still doubted.
"When it comes to the smiling of infants not more than fifty-seven hours
old," said Miguel, "I must confess to an unyielding scepticism. I am
like Saint Thomas: seeing is believing."
"But he _did_ smile, Miguel. Don't you have any doubt of it; I assure
you he did, ..." said Serafina.
"You do not offer me sufficient guarantees of impartiality."
"Very good! then he is going to do it again; now you shall see for
yourself."
Serafina took the child and lifted him above her head, with great
decision, at the same time asking him if he wanted to be called Serafin;
to which question the child did not find it expedient to reply, perhaps
from an excess of diplomacy, because it would not have been strange if
the name had seemed absurd to him.
Maximina, meantime, hung on his lips as though the child were passing
through a college examination.
"You try it, Placida," said she, trying to hide her affliction.
Placida stepped out of the group like one of the "artists" of Price's
circus, coming forth to perform his great feat. She lifted the child
with surprising skill, swung him from north to south, then from east to
west, and with impetuous voice put the sacred questions: "Little
chicken, sweetie! rosebud! pink! do you want to be called Miguelito,
like your papa? Do you want to be called Enriquito like your uncle? Do
you want to be called Serafin after your aunt?"
A lugubrious silence followed these words. All eyes were fastened on the
young candidate, who, instead of showing a liking for any of the names
proposed, made it very clear, though in an inarticulate way, that he
could see no reason why, for a mere question of names, these
hypochondriacs should bother him so much.
"Do you see?" said Miguel.
"The reason is, he isn't in humor for laughing," protested Maximina,
very much dissatisfied. "_You_ won't laugh either when you are told to!
Besides, he must be hungry by this time. Give him to me! Give him to me!
Joy of my life! Sweetheart mine!"
And the child-mother snuggled her little son under the sheets, and put
him to her breast.
On the third day baptism took place. With the melancholy resignation
usually manifested by mothers in such circumstances, Maximina let them
carry her baby away.
"He is a Christian already, senorita," said the maid, taking possession
of him.
The young mother kissed him fondly, and pressed him to her heart,
saying, in a whisper, "Thou shan't be taken from me again, child of my
bosom!"
On the fifth day she was sitting up. In a week she was about the house;
in a fortnight she was out of doors as usual. Enrique and Julita were
the child's god-parents, and he was named after the former.
The pleasure which Miguel found in all these things was embittered by
the serious danger threatening his fortune. All the time this thought
haunted him to such a degree that it was a great effort for him to seem
happy in his wife's presence.
He wrote to the general, but he replied in such an ambiguous and
suspicious manner that it left no room for doubt that in this quarter no
help was to be expected. From that time he deliberately made up his mind
that his salvation depended on his election to Congress, in gaining
influence in the majority and with the ministers, and in making the best
of it at a given moment by getting from the reserve funds the money
which he had compromised.
But Eguiburu had already made him three or four more calls, and was
pressing him to guarantee the rest of the money; finally, after many
circumlocutions and periphrases, he began to threaten him with a legal
summons. Then he saw that it was necessary to risk the whole for the
whole. If he did not take the additional guarantee his ruin was sure;
Eguiburu would sell his houses by auction, and though some money would
remain, as they were worth more than the amount of the debt, it would
not be very much. On the other hand, it would bring about a scandal;
everybody would look upon him as a ruined man, if not a swindler, and
would turn their backs on him; he knew the world well enough to see that
clearly. He would have to give up all thoughts of his election: poverty
hath everywhere an evil savor.
He finally decided to endorse the I. O. U. of the twelve thousand duros,
and he made an appointment with his creditor for the business. With
emotion natural to one who is going to burn his ships, he presented
himself one afternoon at Eguiburu's house. He was in his office talking
with two individuals. Miguel wanted to wait until these had gone before
he introduced his business; but the money lender immediately began to
speak aloud, and as he noticed that the young man kept giving anxious
glances at the intruders, and showed some reserve in replying, he
said:--
"You can talk with perfect freedom; these gentlemen are friends, and our
affairs are nothing to them."
Miguel immediately perceived what this meant.
"This miserable wretch is afraid that I shall try to get out of it by
declaring my name a forgery, and has brought a couple of witnesses."
With this thought his pride revolted; he could have wished that he were
not burdened with a family, so as to fling the thirty thousand duros
through the window, at the same time slap this vile wretch in the face.
He with difficulty restrained himself, and began to discuss the
business with the fierce money lender, whose voice kept growing louder
and louder as he brought to light all that had gone before. Miguel
answered his questions curtly. Finally, when he had satisfied him on
them, and was about to sign his name to the I. O. U., the money lender
said:--
"Here a difficulty arises, friend Rivera. It is a painful matter for me
to mention to you because it will be a hard thing for you; but there is
no other way out of it. Above and beyond the 246,000 reals which I have
furnished for the support of the paper, I have also accommodated now the
general, now Senor Mendoza, now the business manager of the daily, with
some considerable funds amounting to 111,000 reals.... Here are the
receipts. In them it is stipulated that these various sums were intended
for the aid of the _emigrados_, though really they were for the
intrigues of the revolutionists.... As you will easily understand, I do
not intend to lose this money...."
"And you expect me to pay that also, do you?"
"I might exact it of the general and Senor Mendoza, who have signed the
receipts; but it would cost me the trouble of lawsuits...."
"Yes, yes, it would be better for me to guarantee also these five
thousand duros," said Miguel, in a sarcastic tone, "and thus free you
and them from a little trouble."
"Senor de Rivera, I feel that I am causing you a great deal of
annoyance...."
"Nonsense! you feel nothing of the sort; when one has a man by the
throat he ought to squeeze him.... Let me see! where is the I. O. U.?
Put on the other too."
Eguiburu, flushed with triumph, spread out a paper, and Rivera endorsed
it with a nervous hand. His face was changed, and his voice sounded
strange; but he preserved a serious and cool mien.
"Have you not added the item of the additional 111,000 reals?" asked
Miguel, dryly.
"I am going to immediately," replied the banker, without being able to
hide a certain confusion, which showed that he had not yet entirely lost
his shame.
When he had filled it out, Miguel endorsed it, flung down his pen with a
haughty gesture, and bade him farewell, bending his head.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
He left the room without shaking hands with any one.
His cheeks were on fire when he found himself in the street. The first
thing that he did was to go to the editorial rooms of _La
Independencia_, and announce to the editors and employes that the paper
was to cease publication. He wrote a valedictory article, and left
affairs half settled. On the days that followed everything was
completely cleared up.
_La Independencia_ being dead, his mind was more at ease, and he could
devote himself entirely to "work for his election." On this he placed
all his hope; if he entered Congress, he felt that he should soon become
known among the majority; he was a ready speaker; he was accustomed to
debate; finally, he was gifted with better judgment than most of those
who at this time represented the country. Consequently, he devoted
himself with ardor to asking recommendations, not only at first, but
even at second, third, and fourth hand; he wrote numerous letters, and
made various calls. Nevertheless, he was careful not to call upon the
President very soon; he had sufficient cunning or tact to understand
that he ought not to show too much eagerness, lest he should be
despised; the best way was to work for himself first, and then remind
the minister of his word.
Mendoza did not approve of the death of _La Independencia_.
"That was a bad move, Miguel; it may cost you dear," said he, with a
gesture of disgust.
"What would you have," replied Miguel impetuously, "that I should meet
out of my pocket all the expenses, besides carrying the bond that I have
given?"
"Even though you had made a sacrifice, it would have been wise if you
had kept up the daily at least till after the election."
Miguel tried still to maintain the opposite; but at bottom he saw
instantly that his friend was right, and that he had acted rashly.
A month or more having passed since his first visit to the President, he
determined to make a second. He went at the time at which he was usually
in his office. The usher informed him that his excellency was very much
engaged in talking with a committee of Catalanian deputies, and had
given orders that absolutely no one should be permitted to enter.
"I must speak with him; he himself invited me to come here."
The door-keeper looked at him with that indifferent and weary
expression, really at bottom full of scorn, peculiar to those who
constantly listen to the same things, and know that they are telling
lies.
"If you wish to wait, you can sit down." Which was equivalent to saying:
"What a double fool you are, friend! Do you suppose that I care to hear
absurdities?"
Miguel flushed, and went and sat down on a sofa in the anteroom, where
there were six or seven other persons waiting.
In a short time a gentleman in an overcoat came in very pompously; the
door-keeper made a reverent bow before him, and opened the screen of the
presidential chamber. It was evident that the order "to let absolutely
no one in" was the door-keeper's manufacture.