I do not know whether the desire to get away from Tejo or to seek
greater solitude, induced me to stroll toward the beach. Night had
fallen. The moon had risen red and angry, but was resuming her serene
appearance as she mounted into the sky. The murmuring waves broke
against the rocks, when I seated myself with a dull sense of pain and an
inclination to give myself up to all the dreams and chimeras of an
imagination heated by the after effects of the champagne. The soft
ripple of the placid estuary, the tremulous glimmer of the moon on the
water, and the mysterious effusiveness inspired by nature, predisposed
me to the following monologue: “If she and I had been married to-day, I
would get rid of these troublesome people, and would lead her here on my
arm; I would sit close to her on this very rock, which seems made on
purpose for an experience like that, which one never could forget.
Encircling her waist with my arm, resting her head against my breast,
without startling her, without offending her delicacy, I would gently
prepare her to share with me the full rapture of passion, to yield
herself joyfully to the fated unfolding of human love. And these would
be the most joyous, most delicious moments in our whole life. We would
be wrapt in silent and profound bliss. How sweet our silence would be!
Perhaps such joy would be too great for our hearts to bear. It might be
so intense that we could not endure it. For that reason it lasts but a
short time, and is rarely found. And,” I went on in my soliloquy, “the
fact is, such happiness will never be yours, my boy. Auntie Carmen is
like all women, and only possesses one innocency. She will lose it
to-day. To-day another man will pluck the lily. To-day, what you respect
more than anything else in the world, is given over to profanation. No
matter how many years may pass, or how many favors you may obtain from
that woman, you will never be able to bring her to this beach in the
moonlight, through paths overgrown by honeysuckle, to taste emotions
never felt before, to enter into life through the gateway of illusion.”
This was the substance of the wild fancies which floated through my
brain during the paroxysm of my grief, while I struggled against the
depression caused by my partial intoxication. A vague idea floated
through my mind dominating all the rest: “If Carmen’s lord were not my
uncle, I should not be so given over to misery and rage. My romantic
fancy for _her_ is only my everlasting prejudice against _him_, taking
on another form.”
I went up to Tejo feeling more desperate than if I were suffering under
some real and terrible affliction. I believe that on my way there I
threw down and trampled on the spray of orange blossoms I had so eagerly
begged her to give me that morning. I endeavored to control myself so as
not to commit greater acts of folly, and when I entered the house I
avoided meeting anybody and went directly to my room, longing to throw
myself on my bed, to fall to cursing, or to toss around until I should
fall asleep, overcome by fatigue.
As I ascended the stairs leading to the tower, I recollected that I had
the key of Serafín’s room in my pocket, and that I ought to find out how
he was getting on. He must be snoring by this time, I thought, as I
opened the door. I shaded the candle with my hand, and peered in to see
what the poor drunken creature was doing. As I looked at his bed, where
I thought he was lying, the acolyte arose from the floor at my feet,
where he was crouched, laughing and showing his ugly teeth like an ape.
“You little beast, what are you doing there?” I said. “A nice mess
you’ve made of it to-day. You ought to be whipped. Were you praying on
account of your sins? Come, get into bed at once, or I’ll--give you a
good one!”
He rose up. His small eyes gleamed with a cat-like phosphorescence; his
face was still distorted, and his stiff red hair put the finishing touch
to his wild and impish appearance.
“I don’t want to go to sleep,” he cried, grating his teeth. “I am
enjoying a free performance, and I have a private box to myself.”
“What do you mean, you toad?”
“It’s true. Look for yourself.”
His meaning flashed through my mind, and I kneeled down quickly to look
in the direction in which the acolyte was pointing. The bridal chamber
was directly underneath the tower. I knew it, and quickly recalled that
fact before I looked. The ceiling was not plastered, but the beams were
left bare, and through a crack in the floor of our story, as the room
underneath was lighted, we could see perfectly all that was going on.
I shuddered as I became convinced that I was actually looking into the
bridal chamber. It was true! I could see it! I could see it! What a
dreadful discovery! I restrained myself so as not to cry out, and so
that I might remain there motionless, instead of scraping the floor and
rattling its boarding in my insane fury. Fortunately, by chance, by the
will of God, there was nothing going on in the room. It was entirely
empty. At either side of the toilet table a pink-colored candle was
burning in a brass candlestick. There was another one, in a porcelain
candlestick, on a stand behind the large bronze bed. Flowers, roses
especially, were scattered around everywhere; on the tables, on the
desk, on the toilet table, even in hanging-baskets. What a profanation
of nature! Roses for such a nuptial night! The very solitude of the
place, the strange silence, worked on my imagination to such an extent
that I even fancied I could smell the roses which impregnated the
atmosphere of the room below. I seemed to hear through the open window
the notes of the nightingale, which usually sang in the orange tree at
that hour of the night, and also its fluttering about in the climbing
plants in the court. The whiteness of the half-opened bed, the quiet of
the room, the graceful toilet table with its vaporous lace folds falling
to the floor, all excited me, rendered me wild, and increased the tumult
which raged in my heart. My temples throbbed, and I seemed to feel
something like the singing of the sea in my ears, for as I stooped down
the blood rushed to my head, and I felt like roaring.
The acolyte touched me on the shoulder.
“Look here, monsieur comrade, that is not fair,” he growled. “I also
have eyes to see with.”
“If you don’t keep quiet, I’ll smash you to atoms,” I answered,
fiercely.
“Well, at least tell me what you see.”
“I can’t see anything, you owl,” I replied. “Nothing at all, nothing!”
“Haven’t the actors arrived yet? Hasn’t the curtain risen? Isn’t the
orchestra playing yet?” he inquired.
“I told you to keep still!” I shouted, angrily.
From that moment the persistent fellow kept quiet, although afterward I
discovered that his silence was neither due to his discretion nor
goodness.
I still kept on watching, without paying further attention to him. The
bridal chamber remained deserted, suggestive, alluring.
I could see the smallest details with exasperating clearness. There were
several hair-pins on a small glass tray, and pins stuck into a cushion;
the pillow cases had a shield embroidered in the center, and a branch
of southern wood was placed in the small font of holy water. I counted
the moths which flew in through the window, singeing themselves in the
lights; I counted the crystal prisms on the candlesticks.
I thought that my heart would burst when I heard voices in the doorway,
a confused murmur of farewells; the latch was raised, and a person
entered with a light and somewhat timid step, and alone. It was Carmen.
Oh, Heavens! I prayed for strength not to scream, not to faint. In her
white bridal robe, somewhat crumpled by having been worn all day, she
was bewitching. The first thing she did was to go up to the window, as
though she felt the need of fresh air. She remained there a few moments,
and I could perceive the beautiful curve of her neck, and fancied I
could read her thoughts. Then she came away from the window and looked
at herself an instant in the glass, as it seemed to me with more
curiosity than vanity. Her object in consulting the mirror seemed to be:
“Let me see how I look since the great event which took place this
morning.”
Then, with a quickness which showed that she was accustomed to doing
without a maid, she began to take off her ear-rings, bracelets, pins,
and clasps, carefully placing them on the glass tray, with the deftness
which always characterized her purely mechanical movements. Then,
raising her arms, she began to take out her hair-pins, one by one. I
gazed upon that splendid ornament of a woman, her loosened hair, in all
its beauty. Uncoiled, it fell in heavy, black waves down to her knees. A
painful restlessness took possession of me. That loosening of the hair
seemed to me a prelude to other freedoms of the toilet, which I was
about to witness; and the mere thought made my blood boil in distressing
fury. Fortunately--and I could have given thanks on my bended knees for
that--I perceived that she had loosened her hair only to make herself
more comfortable, for she simply combed it out and gathered up the whole
mass in a loose knot. After this, she leaned her elbow on the table,
rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, compressing her lips and
slightly moving her head up and down, like one struggling with
perplexing thoughts. I noticed a painful contraction in her face; she
had the appearance of one who when she finds herself alone, abandons
herself to meditation, and allows the countenance to express the
feelings of the heart. Her eyes partly closed; she bowed her head on her
breast, let her hands fall into her lap, and--I clearly heard it--she
sighed, a deep sigh, drawn from the depths of her heart. Then she raised
her head, and remained for some moments with her eyes fixed on empty
space. Suddenly she breathed heavily, and rose like one who adopts a
firm and decided resolution. And just at that moment--
Oh, I will not look, I do not want to see! A man entered the room,
stealthily, with a beaming face, but yet with somewhat irresolute and
constrained bearing. If my eyes had had the power of a basilisk’s, the
bridegroom would have dropped down dead, annihilated by my look. The
silhouette of the deicide stood out against the window frame, and I saw
the gleam of his white shirt-front. The light fell full on his face,
more repulsive than ever; on his copper-colored beard; his hard eyes,
which I could have torn from their sockets.
I heard a silly and mocking laugh behind me. I turned, arose, and saw
the acolyte crouched down, looking through another crack in the floor.
He still held in his hand the razor with which he had widened it.
A murderous impulse ran through my veins, and, trembling with rage, I
clutched Serafín by the throat, choking him while I cried:
“I will cut you in bits, I will strangle you this minute, if you dare to
look again. Do you hear, you toad? It will be the worse for you if you
dare to peep through that crack again. I’ll kill you without a shadow of
remorse!”
“But, you were peeping, too--nuts and old Nick!” squeaked the poor
youth, still hiccoughing, after he had somewhat recovered his breath.
“What a way you have! The old Nick! You have driven your fingers through
my throat!”
“I shall not look any more--nor you, either. We were both brutes. If we
had any decency, we should not have thought of looking. Serafín, we are
not beasts--we are men! No, you shall not look again.”
“Now you are crying--you are half crazy, I declare!” exclaimed the
theological apprentice.
“You are the one who is crazy and possessed with the devil,” I answered,
making a heroic attempt to repress the senseless tears which were
burning between my eye-lids. “I am not crying; but if I did, it would be
out of shame for having kneeled down there. I am going to bed; but as I
am not sure that you will not get down again on all fours, I shall tie
you to the bed-post.”
“Don’t do it, Salustio, don’t,” cried the terrified rebel. “Don’t tie
me! I give you my word of honor not to look.”
I fastened his hands with a handkerchief, and his body with a towel. He
might have released himself by the slightest movement, but he was so
terrified and subdued that he did not even stir. He only groaned from
time to time.
I stretched myself on the bed. Who could have slept in such
circumstances? The endless night passed on, and I kept twisting and
turning, hiding my face in the pillows, covering my eyes and ears with
my hands, as though to shut out the images and sounds which jealousy
presented to my mind.
At daybreak I arose from my bed of torture, washed and dressed myself,
and without releasing Serafín, or taking leave of anybody, or seeing a
single soul, went off to San Andrés, and thence to Pontevedra and
Ullosa, like one who flees from the spot where a terrible crime has been
committed.