And in effect, before twenty-four hours had passed, Señora de Pardiñas
had arranged an interview between her son and Esclavita’s rival. The
place of rendezvous was the abode of the aforesaid rival, an obscure
abode and not a very odorous one, as is apt to be the case with the
dwellings of individuals of her class; for which reason, in order that
Rogelio should make himself acquainted with the bearing and the figure
of his new sweetheart, she was brought out into the yard unadorned, her
graceful form was covered only by an old blanket, which Augustin Cuero,
the proprietor of the livery stable, hastened to take off, so that not a
single one of her charms should remain hidden from view.
She was a beautiful Andalusian pony, sorrel, with black feet, with a
small, thin head, sinewy legs, curved and shining hoofs, a coat
dazzlingly bright, dilated and sensitive nostrils, and an eye full of
fire and sweetness; she was young, gentle, graceful, spirited, one of
those animals which do honor to the race of Spanish horses by the beauty
of their appearance, by their intelligence, and by their noble and
generous natures. Augustin Cuero was lavish in his praises of the
animal, affecting to be grieved at parting from so precious a treasure.
“I assure you, Señora, that a finer horse is not to be seen to-day on
the Castellana. She has not a single blemish. And she is a saint--a
skein of silk; an infant could manage her. Spirited as she is, she is
incapable of playing a trick. So that a man becomes attached to her, and
when one sells her, it is like parting, one might almost say, with one
of the family.”
[Illustration: “I assure you, Señora, that a finer horse is not to be
seen to-day on the Castellana.”]
“Yes,” answered Señora Pardiñas, who had an eye for a bargain, “but you
won’t attempt to deny that this kind of horse is not now in fashion. The
horses that are in style now have a neck a mile long, and are shaped
like a tooth-pick.”
“Yes, the English horses; a ridiculous fashion, like a great many
others. And those are for a certain kind of young gentlemen and certain
circumstances. For the hippodrome and that sort of nonsense. A pony
like this will always be of use. Anxious enough the _Baraterin_, is to
buy her from me; only we can’t come to an agreement about the price. The
Señorito there can tell you so.”
“That is true, mamma,” affirmed Rogelio, stroking the silky coat of the
gentle animal. “I can bear witness to it. Augustin asked him the same
price that he has asked you, and the bull-fighter offers him two ounces
less; he is wild about her; he is all the time hanging around her; he
makes her more visits!”
“Let him give up hanging around her then, for she is yours,” exclaimed
the mother, with decision, enjoying the sight of the happiness depicted
on the countenance of her son, who, on hearing those heavenly words,
with a spontaneous movement threw his arms around the neck of the pony
and planted a hearty smack on her soft black nose.
The price and the time of payment being agreed upon, Doña Aurora
proposed to leave the pony in the care of Augustin for the present. But
Rogelio, almost wild with delight, would not hear of this or of any
other definite arrangement being made. “You know nothing about it,
mamma,” he cried. “I will take charge of that, leave it all to me.
Likely, indeed, that I should spend a whole day without knowing how my
pony goes! Every morning and evening I must have a look at my lady pony.
Leave it all to me, I say.” Doña Aurora ended by acceding to his wishes,
and investing him with full powers in the matter, saying, “Very well,
arrange it to suit yourself, then.” When the question arose as to a name
for the pony, the young man said, smiling, “I will call it ‘Suriña.’”
The cardinal affections of the human soul are at times marvelously
clear-sighted counselors. Señora de Pardiñas had divined, enlightened by
maternal affection, that with a young man of twenty--and one young for
his age--a woman can have no more dangerous rival than a fine horse. The
horse is not merely a distraction for a couple of hours daily, but an
occupation and a preoccupation from sunrise to sunset. To make
investigations with regard to what it has eaten, and whether it has been
robbed of its feed; to see if it has been rubbed down, and if all the
operations of its toilet have been performed--and the toilet of a fine
horse occupies almost as much time as the toilet of a beautiful woman;
then the affectionate understanding that establishes itself between the
horseman who for the first time enjoys the possession of a horse, and
the animal; the tenderness that springs from ownership, the exchange of
caresses, the sugar robbed from the breakfast table to take to it; the
fresh bread put away in the waistcoat pocket, the pleasure produced by
the joyful whinny of the animal when its keen sense of smell and its
delicate perception tell it that its master is approaching with the
dainty. Then the anxieties regarding its health--a horse gives as much
anxiety in this respect as a child. “Señorito, I don’t know what is the
matter with the pony, it hasn’t eaten its feed to-day. I notice that its
eyes look dull--” “Señorito, to-day the pony has not--” But who can
enumerate the ailments from which a pony may suffer. With all these
cares, there are others of a different order, having relation to what
may be called the wedding-finery of horsemanship--the saddle of the best
pig-skin, small, fanciful, that crackles at the touch; the saddle-cloth
of handsome felt, adorned with English ciphers; the steel stirrup, the
fine head stall that gives free play to the graceful movements of the
slender head; and for the rider, the whip with its chased silver handle,
the Tyrolese gloves, the cravat with white horseshoes on a gray ground.
All is excitement, all is delight in the enchanting honeymoon of the
young man and his pony. And what emotion when it is brought out of the
stable! What pride in displaying it before his friends! What ineffable
joy to ride up and down the shady walks of Moncloa, seated on its back;
to see a carriage approach in which some black-robed beauty reclines,
and under the fascinating gaze of the beautiful unknown to make it rear
and prance and show off its grace and spirit until it is covered with
foam and sweat! What delight to put it through all its paces,--passing
from the measured pace to the quick trot, then to the fiery gallop, and,
as he strokes with his palm the neck of the obedient brute, to hear it
snort with pleasure, thrilling through all its sensitive nerves and its
vigorous and sinewy muscles like a young girl when the arm of her agile
partner encircles her waist as he leads her to the dance!
There was not a doubt but that the idea of the pony had been a happy
one, suggested as it was by experience, and infinitely superior to that
commonplace artifice of taking a sweetheart, which had suggested itself
to the innocent mind of Rogelio as a sovereign remedy against his
incipient love-sickness. His mother did not need now to ask him to
accompany her on her expeditions or to invent excuses to get him out of
the house. Of his own accord the young man spent his time between his
house and the stall of his favorite. The weather was now growing milder.
The closing days of March, notwithstanding the bad reputation of that
variable month, were clear, calm, and pleasant, and every afternoon, at
three o’clock, Rogelio rode out to enjoy the first warm airs of spring,
now alone, again with some friend, and again with the riding-master, to
return home at dusk healthily tired, intoxicated with the pure air,
strengthened and exhilarated, and his mind free from enervating
thoughts. Between this vein of activity which his mother had discovered,
and study no longer to be avoided, as the examinations were approaching
with alarming swiftness, how or when could he find time to devote to
Esclavita?
His mother did not on this account relax her vigilance, however, or
abandon her well-considered plan of defense. One day Don Gaspar Febrero,
having gone somewhat earlier than usual to Doña Aurora’s, found himself
alone with her, and, according to his custom, turned the conversation on
Esclavita, praising her so extravagantly that his companion at last
began to grow impatient.
“Now that you speak of the girl,” she said, when the old man allowed her
to get in a word, “I wish to say something to you about her. But promise
me first that you will answer me with the frankness due to our
long-standing friendship.”
“Can you doubt it? Why of course I shall, my dear Aurora. In what way
can I serve you?”
“You shall hear. It is something that I have been thinking of sitting
here alone in the mornings when the boy is at college. As you will be
very lonely, no doubt, when Felisa starts on her long voyage to the
Philippines, I have thought--so that you might not miss so greatly the
attentions to which you have been accustomed--what do you think?”
“Let us hear--let us hear. Since the idea is yours--you always reason
very judiciously, my dear friend----”
“As you have often told me that you thought Esclavita so excellent a
servant----”
The sprightly old man made a quick movement of delighted surprise,
settled his spectacles on his nose, and eagerly and tremulously, in
disjointed phrases, exclaimed:
“My dear friend! my dear friend! what is it you are saying? what is it
you are saying? Have you considered well before speaking? To part with
that treasure! that treasure! You overwhelm me with this proof of your
goodness. Yes, indeed, but in conscience no, I cannot accept. Now I see
of what friendship is capable, Aurora! No, it would be too selfish on my
part. You have not thought well over the matter. Are you speaking in
earnest? in earnest?”
Señora de Pardiñas felt the pricking of remorse at this spontaneous
effusion of gratitude, and hastened to add:
“Listen and you will see that it would be for my own advantage as well
as for yours. There is something of selfishness in the offer, too, Don
Gaspar, it is not all a kindness. As I am thinking of taking Rogelio on
a visit to our native place this year----”
“A reason the more, my friend; a reason the more. You cannot dispense
with the services of such a girl, traveling. The times are bad. With the
Higinias that are going, who would part with an Esclavita? And an
Esclavita of that stamp! Have you thought seriously over the matter, I
mean _seriously_?”
As he spoke thus, Nuño Rasura jumped up and down in his chair, twirling
his crutch between his palms. His eyes sparkled, his form straightened
itself like a boy’s, and his breast rose and fell with his agitated
breathing.
“Heaven help us!” thought Doña Aurora, “I shall have to lift the man up
from the floor with a spoon.” And as she remained silent, affecting to
be considering the good man’s arguments, the latter added quickly and
energetically, like a child who pretends to be yielding to persuasion in
accepting a toy:
“That is to say--of course I know from the very fact of your proposing
it to me that you have thought well over it. I see that you are right in
what you say; very right, very right, Aurora. Traveling, one is better
alone; the boy and his mother, of course, of course. As for me, it is
enough that you should propose it; I accept, I accept; do you hear, my
friend? I accept.”
“It is true,” reflected Doña Aurora, “that that slippery Don Nicanor,
who is stuffed full of malice and who is capable of thinking evil of his
own mother, irritates one at times; but these simpletons, too, who can
never understand a hint--well, there are days when they keep one’s
nerves on the stretch like the strings of a guitar.”
Don Gaspar’s scruples being thus vanquished, he himself arranged a plan
of action, which he laid before Doña Aurora--as soon as his daughter
should go away, he would take Esclavita as his housekeeper. The
octogenarian added, rubbing his hands:
“Don’t let Candás know anything about the matter. I don’t want to be
made the subject of annoying jests.”