One Sunday morning Señora de Pardiñas awoke her son with the following
intimation: “To-day we must make some visits; there is no help for it;
we owe visits to everybody. I sent to Augustin’s livery stable for the
landau; he says it will be at the door punctually at two o’clock. Ah,
and what do you think? I shall go dressed so that if I look at myself in
the glass I won’t know myself. The dressmaker brought me my black velvet
gown, trimmed with jet and lace, yesterday; the hat to match is ready,
too. I shall put on all my finery. You must stop in at the barber’s
after breakfast; your hair needs cutting.”
Rogelio grumbled not a little; he declared that he had two or three
indispensable tasks to perform that day, but all in jest, for he saw
very well that Señora Pardiñas was resolved not to go to bed that night
without having laid a grand sacrifice on the altar of social duty. At a
quarter before two Rogelio had finished fastening the first row of
buttons of his English frock-coat, before his bureau glass. Fortunately
it was Sunday, when the neighborhood of the University is of all places
the one where a student is least likely to be met with. For a pretty
teasing he would have to stand if any of his college companions should
chance to meet him in his present guise, dressed like a _gentleman_,
with gloves and a silk hat. Accustomed to the cloak and the low,
broad-brimmed hat, he felt at first as if to wear a frock-coat were like
going disguised. There lay the silk hat, shining and resplendent, on the
table of the study, and beside it the gloves, the cane, the Russian
leather card-case and the handkerchief with its handsome embroidered
initial. He took note of all these articles, placed his hat a little to
one side, over his carefully smoothed hair, and was proceeding to draw
on his gloves with the ill humor that was habitual to him when
performing this operation, when his mother entered.
“Heavens! _mater admirabilis!_” he exclaimed. “How magnificent you look!
Ho! for our handsome women, our stately and aristocratic dames.”
What Doña Aurora really looked was very uncomfortable, with all this
finery, which only on state occasions could she bring herself to wear.
She never wanted anything better than her comfortable mantle, her merino
gown, and her large fur cape. All this frippery was enough to put one
out of temper. The weight of the hat, with its high bows, obliged her to
bend her head; the steels of the skirt impeded her movements. But there
was nothing for it but to submit to this tyranny of fashion at least
twice a year. She, like Rogelio, carried a card-case, and a list of the
houses where she owed visits. Peeping out from her mink muff was a
handsome lace handkerchief, perfumed with some delicate extract, and in
her ears were two fine solitaires--the modest elegance of a lady who
aspires only to dress in a style suited to her station. And yet such is
the power of the arts of the toilet and of dress that Doña Aurora seemed
to have left ten of her fifty odd years inside the door of her
dressing-room; her face glowed with pleasurable animation, and in her
bearing there was an unaccustomed dignity.
Esclavita stood behind with her wrap, which she was to take in the
carriage lest the afternoon should turn cold, busying herself--with that
admiring interest which attached servants display when they see their
masters or mistresses in gala dress--in giving a touch here and there to
her gown, smoothing out its folds and brushing off some almost
imperceptible speck of dust from the bottom of the flounce. Suddenly the
girl raised her eyes and exclaimed, casting a glance of frank admiration
at Rogelio:
“Our Lady of the Hermitage! how fine the Señorito is!”
“He looks like a fashion-plate, does he not? Turn round, Rogelio, turn
round--so. The coat looks as if it grew upon you.”
“Mamma!” protested Rogelio. But he was obliged to allow himself to be
examined and re-examined by Esclavita, and even to consent to her giving
the collar of his coat a touch with the brush. The girl’s eyes told him
with innocent speech that he looked _well_. She arranged his cuffs and
when they were going downstairs, she even called after him:
“There! There is a bit of the wool of the carpet on the right leg of
your trousers.”
The first visit was to the house of Don Gaspar Febrero, to see the
daughter of the worthy dean, who was on the eve of her departure for the
Philippine Islands with her husband, a staff-officer, who had been
ordered to Manilla. They talked about the voyage, the climate, the
hurricanes, the clearness of living there, and of the old gentleman, who
was to be left behind alone. Fortunately, he had never been in better
health, never more animated nor more gay. Only a moment before, taking
advantage of the pleasant weather, he had gone out, leaning on his
crutch, for a little walk in the sun. Gratified by this satisfactory
account, they left the abode of Nuño Rasura, and proceeded to make
other visits more or less of the same ceremonious nature. At some of the
houses they merely left cards, and these were the most pleasing visits
for Rogelio, who, as he approached each door, repeated under his breath
the customary aspiration: “I pray the saints they be not in!”
But his desperation reached its height when his mother announced to him
that they were now going for a moment to the house of the Señoritas
Pascuala and Mercedes de Romera.
“Mother mine, if it be possible, spare me this sacrifice!” he cried.
“_Carapuche_, as our friend of the ear-trumpet says, don’t you know that
I shall be obliged to pinch myself to keep from falling asleep at that
house?”
“So nice as you look and you don’t want to make a good impression on
the pretty girls? Come, come, give the direction--Calle del Barquillo.”
The house of the old maids had a surprise in store for the student, in
the person of the sprightly girl who came out to receive the visitors
and show them into the parlor, saying that her aunts would come
immediately. In saying this she practiced a thousand witcheries with her
features and her eyes, which were black, small, sparkling, and very
expressive. The niece of the de Romeras wore a rather short dress, a
token that she had not yet reached the dignity of the mantilla, and an
apron with a bib, with a bright-colored embroidered border. A blue
ribbon, tied in a bow, fastened the end of her short braid, and her
shoes, worn at the toes, gave evidence of the restlessness of the small
feet with their arched insteps within. Pascuala, the elder of the old
maids, soon came into the parlor, sniffling and coughing, declaring that
her sister was unable to leave her room, as she was suffering from a
cold still worse than her own, which made it necessary for her to avoid
a change of temperature. “And to keep my sister in-doors is like giving
her a stab,” she added. Presently she presented her niece as she might
have presented a frisky little dog who disturbed the drowsy quietude of
that peaceful abode. “This is my god-daughter, Inocencia, the second
eldest girl of my brother Sebastian, who resides in Loja. He has left
the poor thing with us because she requires to have her teeth attended
to; she has a tooth growing over another, and it will have to be
extracted. She is very lively and can’t remain still for a moment; there
is no kind of shoe that is strong enough for her; that is why you see
her so badly shod.” These explanations being made, it was in order to
speak of Esclavita; and in view of the fact that the matter could not be
discussed before a child, and as Mercedes, besides, wished to enjoy the
society of Doña Aurora, the two ladies went into the dressing-room,
leaving Rogelio and Inocencia alone. “Go show him the albums and the
views of Granada, child,” was the order the girl received from her aunt
as the latter left the parlor.
Inocencia obeyed--playing off all her coquettish arts as she walked over
to the table--and cried precipitately and with an affected lisp:
“Come here, come here, and look at the pictures Aunt Pascua told me to
show you! They are lovely!”
Although the idea of looking at pictures was little to the taste of the
_gentleman_ with frock-coat and silk hat, ashamed to refuse, he went and
seated himself beside the girl who, as she opened the album, darted at
him, with all the boldness of fourteen, an incendiary glance--a glance
impossible to be misunderstood. When he found himself alone with the
girl, it occurred to the student that there could not be a more
propitious occasion to provide himself with a sweetheart than the
present one. His vanity was a little piqued, it is true, at the thought
that she was so young; a sweetheart of eighteen or twenty would have
done him some credit, while this would look like playing at lovers; but
when he was beside her, and looked at her more closely, with her
well-formed little figure, developed with Southern precocity, and her
full upper lip, slightly raised by the projecting tooth, she seemed to
him a woman in miniature, and he thought to himself:
“I will declare myself now!”
He declared himself accordingly, without further preamble or preface,
with high-sounding phrases culled from farces and comedies, magazines
and college jests. The girl, without manifesting the slightest
surprise, listened with a serious air, rolling between her thumb and
finger an end of the ribbon tying her braid, which she had brought
forward to show off the beauty of her hair, putting in practice at the
same time all the airs and graces of a finished coquette. The student
raising his voice a little, the girl whispered:
“Hshh! They are in the dressing-room there!”
Rogelio lowered his voice and redoubled his entreaties, although he
began to feel a strong inclination to burst out laughing. After making
three or four gestures in the negative, the girl all at once, and
without further preface, said yes.
“Give me a token of your love!” implored Rogelio; and without waiting
for permission he bent his head and kissed her on the cheek, feeling as
if he were kissing the painted cheek of a doll--smooth, rosy, and
insensible. Inocencia betrayed no emotion whatever--neither pleasure nor
coyness--at receiving the kiss; on the contrary, seizing the student by
the lapel of his coat, she declared, with an air of conviction:
“I think we ought to say _thou_ to each other. All my girl friends and
their sweethearts do.”
“Very well, I will say _thou_ to _thee_. See, I am doing so now!”
She continued, with the same decision and eagerness:
“We ought to write to each other every day, too; every day, without
missing a single one. My sister Lucia’s sweetheart writes a letter that
long to her every morning; and another, every afternoon, that is longer
still.”
“Very well; we will write to each other, too. I will make arrangement
with the servant to carry our letters.”
“And you must give me your likeness. Have you a photograph? My parents
would not let me have mine taken until I have my tooth drawn, but I can
give you some of my hair for a locket. Shall I cut you some now?” she
added, playing with the curly ends of her braid.
“No, it will be time enough when I give you my likeness.”
The girl rose quickly and walked on tiptoe to the door of the room where
the grown people were chatting. She returned with the same caution, a
look of satisfaction on her face.
“I thought god-mother was coming,” she said. “But I was mistaken; they
are having a great chat.”
She resumed her seat beside the student, and three or four minutes
passed without either speaking. The girl waited, surprised that her
lover should have nothing to say to her; but the young man, ransack his
brain as he would, could not find a word to say. All he felt was a wild
desire to laugh, and to keep from doing so he covered his mouth with his
handkerchief. His _sweetheart_, looking at the handkerchief, observed
the richly-embroidered initial, and asked quickly:
“What letter is that?”
“R. My name is Rogelio.”
“I was going to ask you what your name was. How shall I address your
letters? Señor Don Rogelio----”
“Pardiñas.”
“Pardiñas, Pardiñas, Pardiñas.” The girl repeated the name several times
to herself as if afraid of forgetting it, and then, looking the student
straight in the face, she said to him, in solemn accents:
“Are we to be married?”
Here Rogelio could no longer restrain his hysterical inclination to
laugh. He laughed with his mouth, with his eyes, with his whole body,
holding his sides, that ached with the violence of his laughter; and
throwing himself back in his chair, he sighed:
“Ah, I shall die! I shall die!”
“What are you laughing at?” asked the girl, a little offended. “You act
like a fool. Tell me whether we are to be married or not.”
“Of course we are to be married. Only I can’t help laughing. Let me
laugh or I shall become ill.”
As soon as his laughter had exhausted itself, Inocencia whispered in his
ear:
“Will you pass by the house to-morrow at nine? I will be at the window.
At that time I always stand at the window to see the mounted artillery
pass. It is a very pretty sight. What are you going to be?”
“A lawyer.”
“That’s a pity; then you won’t wear a uniform.”