The tram carried on and, strange to relate, I in turn continued to
think about the unknown countess, of her cruel and suspicious consort
and above all of the sinister man who, according to the doctor's
emphatic expression, was on the point of causing a disaster in the
house. Consider, reader, the nature of human thought: when Cascajares
started to relate those events to me, I was annoyed at his importunity
and heaviness, but my mind wasted little time in taking hold of that
same subject, turning it upside down and right side up, a psychological
process which did not cease to be stimulated by the regular motion of
the tram and the dull and monotonous noise of its wheels polishing the
iron of the rails.
But in the end I stopped thinking about what was of such little interest
to me and, scanning with my eyes the inside of the tram, I examined
one by one my travelling companions. What distinctive faces and what
expressions! Some appeared not to be bothered in the least about those
who were next to them. Some were happy, some were sad, this one was
yawning, that one was laughing, and in spite of the journey's shortness,
there was not a single one who did not want it to be over quickly, for
among the thousand and one annoyances of our existence, none exceeds
the one that consists in being a dozen people gazing at one another's
faces without saying a word and mutually musing over their wrinkles,
their moles or some anomaly noticed in a face or in clothing.
It is strange this short acquaintance with people that we have not
seen before and will in all likelihood not see again. We already meet
someone on entering and others arrive while we're still there.
Passengers get off leaving us alone and finally we too alight. It's
a mirror of human life itself in which birth and death are like the
entrances and exits I've just mentioned for new generations of
passengers come to populate the little world that lives inside the tram.
They get on, they get off; they are born and they die. How many have
passed through here before we have! How many more will succeed us!
And for the resemblance to be even more complete there is also a small
world of passions in miniature inside that big box.
Many go there that we feel instinctively to be excellent people and
their appearance pleases us and we are even upset to see them go.
Others, on the contrary, annoy us as soon as we look at them. We
examine with a certain rancour their phrenological characteristics
and feel a real pleasure when we see them go. And meanwhile the
vehicle, an imitation of life, keeps going, always receiving and
letting go, uniform, indefatigable, majestic, oblivious to what is
happening inside it, without being moved very much by the barely
stifled passions of dumb show. The tram is running, always running
over the two interminable iron tracks, wide and slippery as centuries.
I was thinking about this while the tram was going up the calle de
Alcalá until the noise of my bundle of books falling on the floor
pulled me back from the gulf of so many mixed up ruminations. I
picked it up immediately and my eyes focused on the sheet of newspaper
that was serving as a wrapper to the volumes and mechanically took in
half a line of what was printed there. All of a sudden my curiosity
was well and truly aroused. I had read something that interested me
and certain names scattered through that scrap of a newspaper serial
affected both my vision and my memory. I looked for the beginning
and did not find it: the paper was torn and I could only read, with
curiosity at first and afterwards more and more eagerly, what follows:
The countess felt indescribably agitated. The presence of Mudarra,
the insolent butler, who had forgotten his humble beginnings to dare
to cast his gaze on such a noble personage, was a continual source of
anxiety to her. The scoundrel never stopped spying on her, watching
her as a prison guard watches a prisoner. He already showed no
deference to her and nor were the sensitivity and delicacy of such
an excellent lady an obstacle to his entrapment of her. Mudarra made
an untimely entrance into the private quarters of the countess, who,
pale and agitated, feeling at one and the same time both shame and
terror, did not have the strength to dismiss him.
"Don't be frightened, Your Ladyship," he said with a forced and
sinister smile, which made the lady even more alarmed. "I haven't
come to do you any harm."
"Oh my God! When will this agony be over?" the lady exclaimed,
dropping her arms in discouragement. "Leave. I cannot accede to
your desires. What infamy! To make use in this way of my weakness
and the indifference of my husband, the source of so many of my
misfortunes!"
"Why so surly, countess?" the fierce butler added. "If I did not
have in my hands the secret that could lead to your perdition, if
I could not apprise the count of certain particulars with reference
to that young nobleman. But I will not use these terrible weapons
against you. One day you will understand me and know how selfless
is the great love that you have been able to inspire in me."
As he said this Mudarra moved a few steps nearer to the countess
who distanced herself with horror and repugnance from that monster.
Mudarra was a man of around fifty, dark-skinned, thickset and
knock-kneed, with rough, untidy hair and a big mouth full of teeth.
His eyes, half hidden behind the luxuriant growth of wide, black
and very thick eyebrows, expressed at moments like these the most
bestial concupiscence.
"Ah porcupine!" he angrily exclaimed on seeing the lady's natural
reticence. "How unfortunate I am not to be a dapper young chap!
Such prudery knowing full well I can tell the count and have no
doubt that he'll believe me, Your Ladyship: the count has so much
trust in me that he takes what I say as gospel and he'll be full
of jealousy if I show him the paper."
"Scoundrel!" shouted the countess with a noble display of righteous
indignation. "I am innocent and my husband will not give credence
to such vile slanders. And even if I were guilty I would prefer a
thousand times over for my husband and the whole world to despise
me than to buy peace of mind at that price. Leave here at once."
"I too have a temper, countess," said the butler swallowing his
rage. "I too can lose it and get angry and since Your Ladyship
is making a big thing of this, let's make a big thing of it. I
already know what I have to do and I've been until now far too
affable. One last time I put it to Your Ladyship that we should
be friends and don't make me do something you'll regret, and so
my lady."
On saying this Mudarra contracted the parchment-like skin and the
rigid tendons of his face making a grimace like a smile and took
a few more steps as if to sit down on the sofa next to the countess.
The latter jumped up shouting: "No! Leave! Scoundrel! And not
to have anyone here to defend me. Leave!"
The butler then was like a wild animal that lets go of the prey it
was holding a moment before in its claws. He breathed heavily,
made a threatening gesture and slowly left with soft footfalls.
The countess, trembling and out of breath, having taken refuge in
a corner of the room, heard the footfalls which faded away on the
carpet of the room next door and finally breathed when she judged
him to be far away. She closed the doors and tried to sleep, but
sleep eluded her, her eyes still full of terror at the image of
the monster.