Part 11

"Come now, leave me, for I am going to get dressed."

And he would make believe shut the door; but she would respond with such beseeching eyes:--

"For Heaven's sake, don't drive me out of your room, Miguel," that he could not help smiling, and, taking her by the hand, he would put her down in a chair as though she were a child, saying:--

"Very well; but don't you move from there."

When he was away from home, he was never for a single instant absent from her thoughts; when she had to talk with the maid-servants, she would always manage to refer to him directly or indirectly. If she gave orders to have the mirrors washed, it was so that _he_ might not notice that they were soiled; if she consulted her cook book, it was to learn how to make some dish that _he_ liked; the clothes that she was mending were _his_, and _his_ was the chain that she cleaned with powder, and the silk handkerchief which she sent her maid to wash, and the shirts which she sent out to be done up, because she did not feel that she was able to rival the laundryman, though her will was good.

The only little clouds that crossed the horizon of her happiness was her husband's unreasonable fretfulness, which seemed to increase. Sometimes she would say, with tears in her eyes:--

"I was worried about to-morrow, because for the last five days you have been scolding me!"

Miguel, grieved as always to see her weep, fondled her, and would return to his usual serenity and content.

Nevertheless, there was one cloud larger and blacker than the others, and the cause of it was the fact that on the second floor of the same house lived the widowed Countess de Losilla with her two daughters of twenty-three and twenty-four years old, six and seven years older respectively than Maximina. Cards, bows on the stairway, and smiles from the balcony brought about an exchange of calls, and finally there sprang up a very cordial friendship between the young ladies and the bride.

If not exactly pretty, they were rather handsome, to say the least: the older, Rosaura, a brunette with coarse features, and handsome though too prominent black eyes; the other daughter, Filomena, was very slender, and had a pale complexion, green eyes, a strange and mischievous look, and reddish gray hair. This young lady had a certain amount of forwardness unbecoming her sex and education, and this pleased the men even more than her figure.

Miguel enjoyed keeping up a glib conversation with her, and it amused him to see with what unrestraint and ease the girl slid over all obstacles, and what skill she displayed in making retorts, and giving her phrases the meaning that she desired.

And it must be said that when they came on dangerous ground they several times narrowly escaped a conversation of exceedingly questionable taste. When such a skirmish of wit began, Maximina used to walk up and down the balcony with Rosaura; although she smiled, it was evident that she did not approve. When she and her husband were alone afterwards, she said nothing about it, but the way in which she spoke of Filomena showed that she felt no great esteem for her.

"Well, in spite of her boldness and her masculine ways," Miguel used to say, "she is a nice girl ... much better than her sister, according to my way of thinking."

Maximina said nothing, so as not to contradict him, but she had her own very decided opinion. A vague feeling of jealousy, for which she could not fully account, contributed toward making her feel an antipathy to her.

Thus matters stood, when, one morning Miguel, lying back in an easy-chair in his study, was tranquilly listening to Maximina, who, seated on a stool at his feet, and leaning her shoulder against his knees, was reading aloud from _Adventures of the Squire Marcos of Obregon_, written by Vicente Espinel. While the young wife was reading, he was playing with the braids of her hair, which she wore loose in the house for his special pleasure.

The reading could not have been much to Maximina's taste, judging by the careless and inattentive way in which she modulated her voice.

The novels which she liked were not those where everything that takes place is commonplace and prosaic, but another sort, the plot and extraordinary action of which piqued her curiosity.

Thus almost all the books brought by her husband for her to read made her tired and sleepy, and it surprised her that he praised these, and called those that she liked pestiferous.

She had just finished reading one chapter, terribly heavy for her, when suddenly, turning her head around and giving him a look which was half innocent and half mischievous, she asked:--

"Do you like this?"

"Very much indeed."

"I thought so; when a book does not please me nowadays, I always say to myself: 'How fine it must be!'"

She said these words with such ingenuousness and such a graceful resignation that her husband, laughing heartily, took her head between his hands and kissed her enthusiastically.

The young wife, encouraged by this caress, joyfully began to read another chapter.

She must have been about half through it, when she suddenly paused and uttered a slight _ay!_ in such a peculiar intonation that Miguel was surprised; he started up and could see that his wife's face was flushed and full of an almost mystic joy.

"What is the matter?"

"I just felt ... as though something ..."

"What was it?" he asked, although he knew perfectly well what it was.

"As if a little, wee foot gently touched me."

"That is nothing strange."

Maximina did not care to read more; she laid the book on a chair and knelt down in front of her husband: they began to talk eagerly about their child.

"See here! how do you know that it is going to be a boy, and not a girl?"

"Because I want it to be a boy."

"But now _I_ want it to be a girl, and like you.... But do me the favor to get up, because, if any servant should come in and surprise you in this attitude, it would be very ridiculous...."

"No, no; I don't want ..."

At that moment steps were heard at the door, as Miguel had feared, and a voice, that was not a servant's, called out:--

"Can I come in?"

Maximina was on her feet in a flash.

"Walk right in!"

Filomena entered in her morning gown, with her hair in studied disarray, and her body _submerged_, if such an expression be permitted, in a magnificent blue silk morning gown trimmed with white lace.

Miguel had never been able to persuade his wife to dress in such an elegant and sumptuous fashion at home; the poor child did not enjoy putting on dresses that were for ornament rather than use, because, as she said, it made her feel bad to wear a new suit merely to go in and out of the kitchen.

"I am afraid that I am disturbing you," said the young lady, casting a malicious glance at Maximina's confused and blushing face.

"No, no; not at all," she replied, growing still more confused.

"One has to act with great circumspection toward newly married people.... But then, you are not among the softest. I came in without ringing, because the servants had left the door open. But if I am disturbing you I will go.... I have known the eleventh commandment this long time."

That light and slightly insolent tone amazed and wounded the little provincial girl more and more each day.

"On the contrary, at that very moment, we were talking about you," said Miguel, in the same light and jesting tone, perfectly intended to convey the idea that he was prevaricating.

"Man alive! what are you telling me?" she rejoined, ironically. "Well, I have come," she added, sitting down in an easy-chair and crossing her legs, "to ask you if you will let Maximina go with us to the opening of the Royal; we have a box...."

Maximina gave him a look, signifying that he should say _no_; but either because he lacked the wish or the courage, he replied:--

"A thousand thanks.... There she is."

Filomena looked at Maximina, and she, not having the strength to refuse or to make an excuse, made an ambiguous gesture, which the countess' daughter interpreted as an acceptance.

"Very good; at eight sharp we will call for her. You can come to our box, also, if you like; or, perhaps you may like to improve the opportunity for a little dissipation."

"Filomena! for shame!"

"Yes, yes; how virtuous you are! Any one who trusts in you must be fresh!"

And jumping up, she began to play with the paper-cutter, the paper-weight, and all the objects that lay on the table, among others a box of cigars.

"To see what cigars you smoke!... Man! what little bits of ones! what cunning ones! Are they mild?"

"Rather."

"Come now, I should like to try 'em."

And without any hesitation she took a "puro," and bit off the end. Miguel laughed, and handed her a lighted match.

"I have a very clear head," she replied, giving a bold stare at Maximina.

But after four puffs she threw away the cigar, saying:--

"Horrors! What detestable cigars you smoke! They taste as if they were from Cordova!"

"You little hypocrite! It makes you squeamish!"

Filomena shrugged her shoulders, and began to run over the books in his library, naming them aloud:--

"_Works of Moliere_ ... _Descartes_; _Discourse concerning Method...._ Method of what?... _Gil Blas de Santillana!_ Ouf! how dull that book is! I could not get half through it. Haven't you any of Octave Fueillet's novels? No? Then you show very poor taste.... _Plato: Dialogues._ _Goethe: Faust._ I should like to take this book, Miguel, because I only know the opera, and I am very much interested in the argument.... _Stuart Mill: Logic...._ _Saint Thomas: Theodicea._ _Lope de Vega: Comedias...._ _Balzac: Physiology of Marriage...._ I have read that book; it has some very delicate and true observations.... Haven't you read it, Maximina?"

Maximina was dumfounded.

"That is one of the books that Miguel has forbidden me to read."

Filomena fixed her eyes on him, and smiled in a peculiar way, as though to say, "I understand you."

Then suddenly, with the vivacity and ease which marked all her movements, she left the bookcase, opened the parlor door, and went in. Maximina and Miguel followed her. She sat down at the piano and began to give a powerful rendering of a polka. Before she had played it through she jumped up, and went to the _entredos_, where there were two great pots of flowers, and buried her face in them again and again, breathing in the fragrance with ecstacy.

"Oh, what lovely flowers! Did you buy them?"

"No; my sister-in-law Julia sent them to me."

"I am going to give you a slip," said Miguel.

"No; it is a shame to mutilate a growing plant."

"It won't mutilate it. I am going to make you a little bouquet. Maximina, bring me some thread and a pair of scissors."

The young wife went for what he wanted, and handed them to him gravely, without saying a word. Then she went and sat down on the sofa, and from there watched the arrangement of the bouquet.

While this was proceeding, Miguel and Filomena kept up a constant warfare of repartees, in which the young lady showed sovereign freedom, and he very little respect for her.

Maximina listened to what they said, perhaps without understanding a word; but the expression of her sweet eyes kept growing more and more grave and thoughtful.

Finally Miguel handed the young lady the bouquet, with a gallant smile. She accepted it with a smile of thanks.

"For this gallant action I forgive you for all the saucy things that you have said to me. _Caramba!_ it is already eleven o'clock!" said she, consulting the clock that stood in front of the mirror, "and mamma told me to make haste! _Adios_, Miguel! see you later, Maximina!"

And she flew from the room like a rocket, and opened and shut the outer door herself. The keen and somewhat mocking glance which she gave Maximina as she went out showed that she had an inkling of what was passing through her mind at that moment.

The young wife started to rise; but when she saw how swiftly Filomena was taking her departure, she sat down again, and remained there with her arms by her side, her head bent over, and her eyes on the floor. Miguel was looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, and understanding perfectly what that attitude signified: he hesitated for several minutes before he threw his arm around her.

"What is the matter?" he asked, drawing nearer and sitting down by her side.

"Nothing," she replied, lightly lifting upon him her sweet eyes dimmed with tears.

"Oh, what a little goose! Jealous of that impudent creature!"

"No, no! I am not jealous," rejoined the girl, forcing herself to smile. "Only I somehow felt a pain without knowing why.... I was so happy till a moment ago!"

"And you are now just the same as you were, sweetheart!" he said, embracing her. "Isn't it true that you are?... Tell me yes!... A few jokes with that shameless girl--are they sufficient to destroy all your happiness? That isn't common sense...."

It needed a few more words to banish his wife's painful impression; and then, wiping her eyes, she exclaimed with a trembling voice torn from her very heart:--

"If you knew, Miguel, how I loved you!"

After their reconciliation they went out of the parlor with their arms about each other.

XII.

Julita often visited her brother and sister, but her presence was not as pleasant for them as it used to be. The young girl's character had notably changed during the last few weeks; she rarely gave way to that hearty and contagious laugh which used to fascinate all who heard it; nor did her conversation any longer sparkle with the piquante and ready wit which formerly entranced every one. She had grown more reserved and thoughtful; the smile that from time to time hovered over her lips was melancholy; she had become irritable and peevish; in the course of a few days she had three quarrels with her brother on the most trifling subjects: such a thing in days gone by had rarely happened.

"What a pity, Julita!" exclaimed Miguel at the close of one of them. "You are following in mamma's footsteps."

Her physical appearance had also undergone some change, and not for the better; the roses of her cheeks had paled a little; there were blue circles under her eyes; and though this made them more lustrous, it took away in large measure that sweet and picturesque expression that was characteristic of them.

Miguel and Maximina noticed these things, and had many times commented on them with sorrow; but there was one thing that attracted their attention above all and was the subject of long discussion between them: this was the invincible antipathy which Julia showed to her cousin Don Alfonso, and the eagerness with which she tried to bring him into the conversation, so as to blacken his character.

There seemed to be no defect which the Andalusian gentleman did not possess in his cousin's eyes, and she took a malicious delight in enumerating and exaggerating them. In this respect, she every day made some new discovery which she was sure to bring to her brother and sister.

At one time it was that he had brought a great lot of neckties, which to her mind proved that he squandered his money; then, again, she made all manner of ridicule of him, on account of the perfect battery of perfumes which he had on his toilet table; at times she called him lazy, because he never opened a book; at others, she ridiculed him for curling his mustache with the tongs; then she would complain of him because he would not take her to walk. But what made her most indignant and beside herself was his habit of not going to bed till two or three or even four o'clock in the morning, and because two or three times he had not done so till daylight.

"What does this man do after he leaves the theatre? Where does he go? The best way would be not to think about it. He is every way disgusting, repugnant!"

"It is too bad!" Miguel rejoined. "But there is no reason for you to be so exercised about it. Mamma invited him to spend a while at her house. When she does not receive him any longer, it will be all over."

Julia made no reply to this; but the next day she was again going assiduously out of her way to get her cousin "on the carpet," or, more accurately speaking, in the pillory.

"Do you know it seems to me that Julia is in love with Alfonso?" said Maximina to her husband, one night as they were going to bed.

"It seems to me so too," replied Miguel, with a deep frown; "and I am sorry for it, because Saavedra is a heartless, bad man, who would not marry her, and if he did marry her, would make her wretched.... And the worst of it is," he added after a pause, "mamma is as much in love with him as she is! Yesterday I tried to give her a hint about the impropriety of keeping him so long at her house, and she gave me one of her violent, impertinent replies, so that I have no more desire to touch on that subject, and yet I feel that it is very necessary."

There was a moment of silence, and Maximina exclaimed:--

"Poor Julia!"

"Yes, poor Julia! God grant that you may have no more reason to say that than now!"

During the two months that Don Alfonso spent in Madrid he amused himself to the utmost of his ability; his name, his figure, his money, and his notoriety as a fighter, which was in curious contrast to his smooth and peaceable character, gave him entrance into the most select society; he immediately became intimate with the most fashionable young ladies, and the houses where he called were the most aristocratic in the court circles.

When he was at his aunt's, instead of making parade of this, he never said where he was going nor where he had been, nor did he ever mention any episode that would betray it. On the contrary, he took particular pains to avoid speaking of high society, in which they did not move, so as to spare them the petty mortification which for some women is apt to be really painful.

He was the same extremely respectful gentleman toward his aunt, affable and gallant toward his cousin, although in all that he did he managed to show a peculiar haughty coolness, which is the quality best adapted for assuring success with the ladies.

One evening Julia, on entering the theatre, saw her cousin in the box of a duchess famous at that time for her beauty, her discretion, as well as her conquests.

The position which the two occupied, in the rear of the box, and bending toward each other until their cheeks almost touched, the insinuating smile on his face, and the flattered vanity which was expressed in hers, all made on the young girl such an impression that, for the moment, she was afraid of falling, and it was by mere force of will that she managed to reach their seats. When she had recovered from that painful surprise, she said to herself: "But what folly! Why should I feel such an impression if I have absolutely nothing in common with him? And even if he were my fiance, what would there be peculiar in his talking with that lady?"

At that moment Saavedra gracefully waved them a salute with his hand. Julia replied with a forced smile.

The duchess turned around to see whom her friend was saluting, and levelled her opera-glass in a most impertinent fashion. Julia, being conscious of the stare, became so serious that it was pitiful to see her. And from the corner of her eye she noticed that the duchess, laying down her glass, bent toward her cousin and said a few words, to which he replied, looking toward her again. Then the lady said something more with a half-jesting smile, which caused Saavedra to reply with a cold smile and a gesture of displeasure.

"That woman has just been saying something about me," thought Julita; and she trembled to see Don Alfonso's gesture. A hot gust of anger flared up into her face, and giving them a proud and scornful glance, she murmured: "Say whatever you please; you will see how much I care for you!"

And during the whole evening she did not once again even accidentally direct her eyes toward the box.

Between the second and third acts Saavedra came to speak with them, and sat down behind them in an empty seat. A pale young man with spectacles came along to do the same, and sat down in another seat. Julia introduced them with perfect composure:--

"My cousin Alfonso Saavedra ... Senor Hernandez del Pulgar."

Then she showed herself unusually jolly and gracious. The conversation turned on the drama of the evening, which was more terrible and melancholy than usual with the romantic school. Julita, with no little cruelty, parodied the most touching scenes.

"That man makes me nervous who gets angry and is always in a fury and always saying that he is going to fight. I wish he would hurry up about it, and leave us in peace; ay! how stupid! I don't envy that pedantic, detestable young lady her lover! The only thing enviable about her is her facility in fainting away. Tell me, Hernandez, what is the name of that senor who is so furious and 'hopelessly given to Barabbas'?"

"Don Marcellino.... What I don't understand is this: why does Mercedes dismiss Fernando as soon as her father dies?"

"Man alive! because the tender sweetheart does not wear full mourning. And what is the young lady going to do without father or mother or watch-dog? Die? I should like to see it!... Tell me; wasn't it very improper for Dona Elvira and Don Marcellino to be alone together so long?"

The young men laughed, and exchanged significant glances.

"Girl! what nonsense are you stringing together now?" exclaimed the _la brigadiera_, sharply.

Julita blushed, perceiving that she had gone too far; but still she did not cease to be gay and talkative, though it was so manifestly put on that it escaped neither Don Alfonso nor her mother. Hernandez del Pulgar left, perfectly carried away by her amiability and wit.

In the third act Saavedra returned to his place beside the duchess, without Julita appearing to notice it at all. When they left the theatre, it was raining, and Don Alfonso went down and put them into a cab.

When he reached home half an hour later, he found Julia taking a cup of lime juice in the dining-room.

As their eyes met, Don Alfonso smiled not very openly. Julita had a very high color. Don Alfonso's smile seemed to say: "I know why you are drinking that _tila_."

Julita's blushes proclaimed in a loud voice: "You have caught me in the very act!"

At the beginning of summer Saavedra determined to go and make his mother a visit before returning to Paris. Julia heard the news with indifference; she even started to sing some Malaga songs at the piano, leaving her mother and cousin to talk about the journey.

_La brigadiera_ begged him to stay a few days longer; Don Alfonso refused gently but obstinately, declaring that he had given his mother notice, and had named the day on which he should reach Seville.

_La brigadiera_ urged him persistently, like a woman accustomed to have her own way, and Don Alfonso resisted no less persistently, like a man whose determinations, though expressed politely, are irrevocably fixed.

Julia suddenly stopped singing, and half turning round, said, in a dry and impatient tone:--

"Mamma, you are annoying him; do cease!"

"I am not going for my own pleasure, Julia," returned Don Alfonso, blandly; "you know too well that nowhere in the world am I more contented than I am here, and that I am perfectly satisfied to be with Aunt Angela and you; but I have duties toward my mother that I must fulfil, and I am obliged to be in Seville."

Julia listened to these words with her back turned, and once more began to play and sing, without making any reply.

The day set by Don Alfonso for his departure was a Wednesday; the two or three days preceding, Julia had been smiling and indifferent as before; but the circle under her eyes was darker and wider, and from time to time she would remain looking into vacancy.

Saavedra had determined to start in the morning, on an early train, with the idea of spending the day at Aranjuez with a friend who had a country place there.