"Of my station?"
"Yes; only women of the common people will be there: fish-wives,
fruit-women, tavern keepers' wives, etc."
"What difference does it make to me who comes? I will be _madrina_ if
you wish. Do you take me for some princess?"
"An angel is what you are!" exclaimed Enrique, instantly losing his
senses: as proof of it, his hat, which just before he had dashed to the
floor, he now flung to the ceiling, then he immediately sprang after it
into the air, making three or four portentous pirouettes; quickly
realizing the enormity of his behavior, he took Maximina's hands, and
began to kiss them in a perfect frenzy.
"You will forgive me this sudden freak, won't you, Miguel? Your wife is
better than if she were made of gold and diamonds!"
"I suppose so; what could I do with a wife made of gold and diamonds?"
"Man alive! don't be so literal; that is a saying! Maximina, every one
speaks so well of you ... even my sister Eulalia, which means a great
deal, as you can imagine. But no one knows what your worth is! As soon
as I take part in another _corrida_, I will present you the bull."
"No, no, Enrique," protested Maximina, laughing.
The young man's face darkened.
"That is a fact; a bull killed by me has little value. But I assure you
that I am going to, or at least I can get Lagartijo, the great Lagartijo
himself to present you one in a benefit fight."
"You misunderstood me; I said no, because I never go to bull-fights."
"What! doesn't Miguel take you? Shameless wretch! Never you mind, child;
leave it to me, and at the first _corrida_ that takes place, you shan't
fail of a private box, or at least two front seats."
The _padrino_ chosen to stand with Maximina was a cavalry captain, an
old comrade of the bridegroom's.
"I am afraid that he may not be to your mind, Madrina" (from that moment
till the end of his days, Enrique never called Miguel's wife anything
else); "for though he is a very distinguished man, he is rather a
misogynist,[47] do you see?"
"I don't understand you...."
Miguel burst into a laugh.
"That is, he does not enjoy ladies' company."
"Ah, very good," rejoined the young wife; "I will promise not to trouble
him."
"How could you trouble him, star of the morning?" exclaimed Enrique,
losing his balance again; "It is worth more to hear you talk than
Tamberlik, in the _credo_ of '_Il Poliuto_'! What I fear is, that he
will not hold his tongue."
The time set was Wednesday, and the hour seven in the morning. The day
broke clear and magnificent; in the Madrid streets not a speck of mire
could be seen; that which soiled the good name of the Rivera family was
purely metaphorical. Miguel and Maximina went to the bridal apartment,
which was the third-story room on the same Calle del Bano, not facing
the street.
Enrique had rented it after consultation with his lady-love, and had
furnished it little by little, bringing every day, like a goldfinch, his
bit of straw in his bill: one day the wardrobe; another, a table;
another, a couple of cane-seated chairs; and then again, a few dozen of
dishes; and so on. The nest was plain and small, but pleasant, like all
that is new and prepared for and by love.
Enrique had not told a falsehood: no _lady_ was present or gentleman in
dress-coat, except the _padrino_, who had one on, though it was the
worse for wear, to be sure. On the other hand, the worthy women who were
present, and the handsome young _chulas_, showed in their dress a
picturesque magnificence very pleasant to see,--rich mantles of
_burate_, brocaded in a thousand colors, and reaching almost to the
floor; over that lace or plush mantillas, unlimited shoes of patent
leather; in their ears huge pearl pendants; on their fingers enormous
diamond rings. The arrangement of the hair was in almost all cases the
same--parted in the middle, the hair on the crown bunched up behind, and
little corkscrew curls at the temples.
The men for the most part wore a short coat and narrow-brimmed hat; but
there were quite a number of _toreros_, friends, all of them, of the
bridegroom; and they wore well-girdled jackets of velvet or broadcloth,
according to their standing in the art, tight-fitting pantaloons, and
embroidered shirts with huge brilliants in the bosom.
Miguel was the only member of the family that graced the occasion.
Julita, who had been told of it by her brother, wanted to go, but her
mother forbade it. Enrique likewise did not invite his friends in his
own rank of society, for the reason that he gave Maximina; that is,
because he did not want to mortify them.
When Miguel's wife made her appearance, a murmur of respect and
admiration went round among the guests; some among them were polite
enough to take off their hats. Manolita, who, be it said
parenthetically, was exquisite in her black merino dress and velvet
mantilla, when she saw her come in, was as confused as though it had
been the queen, and went to meet her, trembling and with her face
aflame.
"Senorita.... I am much obliged.... How do you do?"
"But," our readers will say, "have we not insisted that Manolita was a
bold and redoubtable _chula_, if there are such?"
Now then, you shall see; the majority of these _chulas_ are really, to
use the vulgar expression, 'unfortunates'; their exterior is the only
terrible thing about them.
The strange thing in this case was that Maximina was as confused and
flushed as Manolita was. Instead of having a haughty look or affecting a
condescending expression as many ladies would have done to find herself
among a set of plebeians, our little matron acted as though she were
just making her appearance in an assembly of princes.
The procession started on its march to San Jose's.
But before we forget it, let us say that among the guests was dexterous
Jose Calzada (a) _el Cigarrero_, with his band, which unfortunately
missed the congenial Baldomero. The famous bull-slayer respectfully
shook hands with Maximina, and she, who had shed tears when Miguel
described the death of Serranito, gave him a look that spoke louder than
words the admiration which his noble conduct had inspired in her.
Manolita also introduced her father to her, that awe-inspiring Cyclops
whose acquaintance we have already made; fortunately he had not as yet
had a chance to get tipsy; to greet her he doffed his _sombrero_, which
must have weighed half an _arroba_,[48] and emitted a series of such
odious grunts that Miguel's wife was frozen with terror.
The house in the Calle del Bano was all in commotion with this wedding.
The procession escorting the pair made an infernal noise clattering down
the stairs; the neighbors opened their doors to watch them pass. In the
street, also, the people stopped, and shouts, "A wedding! a wedding!"
and the questions of the passers-by were heard.
"Who are they," demanded an old shopkeeper.
"A milkmaid marrying a senorito: look; that's him in front," replied a
_chula_, who had stopped in front of the shop.
"And the bride?"
"There she goes in the middle of 'em all, walking with a senorita!"
"Handsome piece! The senorito shows good taste. I would not object to
marrying her myself."
"Aha! That would be a good one, wouldn't it!"
"Well, I'd take you, Barbiana!"
"Ay! You'd see me die first! My dear old fellow, 'Young sheep and old
bell-wether never get along together.'"[49]
"Senorita," Manolita was meantime saying to her _madrina_, "I can never
repay you for the honor which you are doing me. Enrique was right in
praising you!"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake don't call me senorita; I am your cousin; I want
you to call me Maximina; say 'thou' to me."
"Oh, I could never do that! What I am going to ask you as a special
favor is, that when we get home, you will let me give you a dozen
kisses."
Maximina smiled, and pressed her hand affectionately.
The priest blessed the union of the couple in the sacristy; then they
went into the church and heard mass and took the sacrament.
When they went out into the street, the clock was just striking eight.
The procession had greatly increased; there were more than sixty people
surrounding the bridal couple. As it was impossible for so many to drink
chocolate in the rooms in the Calle del Bano, it had already been
decided days before that they should go to the Cafe de Cervantes, which
is near the church. They accordingly went in there, and almost
completely filled it. A most animated conversation sprang up on all
sides, so that soon no one could hear himself talk.
Enrique, flushed with emotion, sat down at one table with Miguel, and
began to unburden himself with remarkable verbosity:--
"I know well enough, Miguel, that I might have married a senorita, but
don't you see, I have never cared at all about senoritas? They say the
trouble is that I haven't any conversation. It may be so. We shall see;
Miguelillo, isn't my flamingo worth all the sugar-paste senoritas of the
upper ten? And besides, she knows how to work, and that is more than any
of these high-flyers know how to do; and she can live on two _pesetas_ a
day, and she can put a shawl on her head--do you understand? and take
her place in the Plaza de la Cebada,[50] where vegetables are the
cheapest; and when we go to the theatre, we shan't have to get a box or
seats in the parquet. From the gallery we can see the play well enough,
and be well satisfied; and if it is necessary, she can cook the dinner,
and there is no need of going with her every day making calls. That
comes in handy, my boy! You see, I am going to have forty-three duros'
pay now that I am in the active service; my rooms will cost seven; that
leaves thirty-six. We shall get along, Miguel; we shall get along!
Besides, my mother has promised to help me; she will give me _garbanzos_
and chocolate, and some little thing 'under the rose,' do you see? We've
got our rooms all fixed up. It cost me a good deal of work. For nearly a
year I have not taken coffee, nor gone to the theatre, nor smoked
anything except cigarettes; everything so as to save for this furniture!
Man! I tell you that I have gone with one hat all the year, and that I
have had my boots tapped three times! But I have done it all with
delight for my darling _chulilla_, who is worth all Peru! Just look,
look at her! See what eyes she is making at us!"
Enrique's happiness was so contagious that Miguel always felt happy to
be with him.
This lad had often made him think that to be happy in this world one
needs only to believe that one is.
They had not yet finished taking their chocolate, when the doors of the
cafe were flung open, and six or seven street-musicians appeared on the
scene, and they with their brass instruments made a discordant and
unsanctimonious band. They immediately began to set up a waltz or
something of the sort. Now, instead of escaping, and hiding in the
garret, these people received the band as though it were the _Sociedad
de Conciertos_, and began to accompany the music with their voices, and
with their spoons, enough to scare away Mephisto himself.
Maximina got up, not on account of the noise, but because she was
anxious about her baby, who was probably getting hungry. Manolita looked
at her with timid eyes, as though reminding her of her promise. Miguel's
wife threw her arms around her and kissed her tenderly, whispering in
her ear:--
"Come and see us, and I will show you my baby: you will, won't you?"
When husband and wife left the cafe, they were in a happy frame of mind.
Hearing from a distance the noise of the band and voices, Miguel
exclaimed:--
"What a jolly wedding this has been! No toasts were given, and no poems
were read!"