Part 14

On returning to the parlor, after giving a few directions, he casually fell in with Filomena, who was coming from the dressing-room with a box of rice-powder in her hand.

"I was anxious to meet you so as to whisper in the tenderest, tenderest voice that you are angelic, maddening!" said the heathen, approaching her with an insinuating smile, and bringing his mouth close to her ear.

"Come now, none of your nonsense, you bad boy! With such a young and lovely wife, aren't you ashamed to be making love to the girls?"

He suddenly grew serious; but quickly coming to himself, he retorted with a laugh:--

"The priest's benediction was not able to rob me of my innate qualities, and one of them was the love of the beautiful."

"You men are all alike; _art! beauty!_ Little words by which you try to conceal your lack of shame!"

"Thanks, Filo, for at least having used the plural. It is to be understood under all circumstances that I reserve the right of admiring you."

The girl shrugged her shoulders, and made a disdainful face, and suddenly taking the powder-puff, she dabbed it upon his cheek.

"Hold on, hold on!" said Miguel, catching her by one arm; "you don't escape me without wiping it off!"

"What! do you imagine that I am afraid to do it?" she asked, giving him a provoking smile.

And without further delay she began to rub it off with her handkerchief.

Miguel's eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, and as his lips were not far from the girl's head, he bent over quickly and touched them to her forehead.

Filomena straightened herself up with equal rapidity, and giving him a look that was half severe and half mischievous, said:--

"You had better be a little careful!"

When she had finished, Miguel said:--

"To reward you for this good deed I am going to offer you my arm to take you back to the parlor."

The girl took it without saying a word. After the kiss she had grown serious.

When they went in, everybody was there before them. Maximina, who was sitting on a sofa talking with Saavedra, looked at them with a mixture of surprise and desolation which would have touched Miguel if he had taken time to think about it.

A girl was seated at the piano and playing the first strains of a waltz. Uncle Manolo came very politely to invite Maximina, and she allowed herself to be taken out for the dance. Then Miguel, after a moment of hesitation (caused either by remorse or because he knew how jealous his wife was of Filomena), finally asked the girl to waltz.

"You dance very well, niece," said Uncle Manolo, stopping a moment to rest. "Who taught you?"

"Miguel."

"I am not surprised then; Miguelito has always been a famous dancer."

Maximina had present proof of it, and to her sorrow, for her husband at that moment floated by them, scarcely touching the floor, and holding in his arms his light burden. The young wife did not for a moment lose them from sight. The next time that they crossed in front of her, they were promenading, and the girl had his arm. Miguel looked at his wife, and she replied with a forced smile.

"How does my wife dance, uncle?"

"Admirably! She excels Lola Montez."

"So I see. She has turned you into a watering-pot!"

In fact, great drops of sweat ran down the worthy _caballero's_ brow, and he tried to arrest them to prevent them inundating his side-whiskers.

Maximina soon grew weary, and expressed her desire to sit down. As soon as she had taken her place, Saavedra came and sat by her side; and Uncle Manolo went off to invite some other young lady.

Ever since the beginning of the party the Andalusian gentleman's eyes had persistently followed Maximina, and by a slight trembling and closing of the eyelids had expressed perfect approval of her. Don Alfonso was a most intelligent connoisseur of the female sex; he never failed to be fascinated either by brilliancy, by far-fetched originality, or by adornments; he appreciated in women genuine beauty and grace, winsome innocence and freshness; like every one who for long years has cultivated any art _con amore_, he had come to hate all things that savored of affectation, and to worship only simplicity; the conversation of coquettes amused him, but did not conquer him.

Thus it was that Maximina had always been extremely pleasing to him, and he had shown it more than once at his aunt's house. He said of her that her modesty and innocence did not belong to this day, but to the golden age; one time when he addressed a guarded bit of flattery to her, in the presence of _la brigadiera_ and Julia, the child grew so crimson that Don Alfonso resolved not to do so again, for fear it should be suspected that he was making love to her.

This evening she struck his fancy more than ever. As Maximina did not usually care much for the adornment of her person, the elegance which she now displayed made her look truly brilliant. The Andalusian _caballero_ with the boundless audacity characteristic of him, made up his mind to try a little gallantry, without any meaning in it, of course.

He was too skilful not to know that in this case he must lay aside his usual tactics as useless and dangerous. Nothing about flowers and flattery; still less, significant looks. A fluent talk about the ball, about the preparations which the young wife had been obliged to make; questions, and more questions, always being careful to repeat her name many times, since Don Alfonso had learned by experience that every woman enjoys this repetition.

Maximina replied amiably, but in few words; her face showed a peculiar absent-minded expression which vexed the Andalusian, and disconcerted him a little. Instead of holding himself firmly in the attitude which he had proposed he began to allow himself to yield, and soon found himself giving signs of the interest which she inspired in him.

Meanwhile, Miguel, after stopping and talking with two or three ladies for a little while, returned and sat down by Filomena. She received him with a look that was half severe and half quizzical.

"Why have you come here?... Get you gone!"

"So as to count the patches that you have on your left cheek: I have made out that there are seven on the right cheek, distributed in conformity with the precepts of art."

"Ah! have you come to insult me?"

"In what chronicle have you read that a Rivera ever insulted a Losilla?"

"Never till this moment; but in the centuries to come it will be known that a Rivera had the discourtesy to tell a Losilla that she wore patches."

"As Heaven is my witness, how that chronicler who reported such thing would lie! El Rivera has said it and stands ready to support his statement in the lists that La Losilla has lovely patches on her face, and that they are of such and such a kind, and applied in such skilful sort that the most ingenious artificer could not have placed them with more neatness."

"Let us drop fables; the main thing now is that I do not wish you to approach me under this appearance of a _blase_ ladykiller! Do you hear? The people will be thinking that you are making love to me."

"Very well; I will not make love to you: what do you want me to do, then?"

Filomena cast another look of feigned anger at him.

"How graceful! Do you know, Senor de Rivera, that in spite of your audacity, I imagine that you are a person who has not yet got all your wisdom teeth?"

Miguel smiled without replying.

Maximina, who was sitting directly opposite, kept directing timid glances toward them.

Meanwhile, Julia, who had very quickly noticed the persistent attention which her sister-in-law was receiving from Saavedra, and the eagerness that he showed in talking with her, began to grow nervous and irritable, so that her annoyance showed in her face. She endeavored vainly, by a rather inopportune gesture, to bring him back to her side. Finding herself defeated and humiliated, blind with jealousy and anxious to have revenge on Saavedra, she began to flirt with Utrilla. O fortunate cadet! and who could have predicted that in one instant thou wouldst be enabled to pass from those unendurable torments to the summit of all bliss and felicity? For as soon as Julita and he drew near each other, it was as though the poles of positive and negative electricity were brought into contact: the flash of love was visible to everybody.

Julita smiled, blushed, prattled, gave him her fan and her gloves, and the flowers from her bosom, and devoured him with her eyes; but this did not prevent her from now and then looking surreptitiously at her cousin and sister-in-law and casting angry glances at them.

Maximina was endeavoring with all the power of her soul to divine what her husband was saying to Filomena: the affected gravity with which they both spoke did not help to calm her; she knew from experience that Miguel was apt to put on a serious face when he was going to say to that young lady any piece of impudence that came into his mind.

"Don't you have any longing for Pasajes?" Saavedra was asking.

"A little, yes, sir; but here I am very happy."

"How long is it since you were married?"

"It will be nine months on the fourth."

Don Alfonso said nothing for several moments and seemed to be thinking; then he said sadly:--

"How many times I have passed by Pasajes and seen those cottages stretching along the shore of the bay, without ever having thought of stopping there!"

"You have not lost much; everybody says it is a very ugly village; except the church, which is rather fine, Don Joaquin's house, Arrequi's, and a few in the Ancho, there is nothing much to see."

"Now, of course, it can't amount to anything ... but before...."

Maximina looked at him in surprise.

"It was formerly not as good as now; the best houses were built about five or six years ago."

"Before, it was worth infinitely more, because you were there."

"Mercy! what difference did it make whether I were there or not?" exclaimed Maximina, innocently.

"Because here or there, or wherever you happened to be," replied the _caballero_, piqued by the young matron's ingenuous indifference, so absolutely free from coquetry, "you would always be something so precious as to attract every one's attention. And what makes you more precious still, and more worthy of admiration, is that you have not the remotest idea of your value: you are a beautiful, fresh, fragrant, aromatic flower, which is absolutely unconscious of itself...."

Maximina had not heard Don Alfonso's last words, perceiving that her husband had just given Filomena an intense look--we cannot tell what she saw in it--that congealed her with terror: she grew as pale as wax, and suddenly conceiving an idea that she thought might be her salvation, she got up without replying to Saavedra, and going straight to Filomena, she said in a hoarse voice, trying to smile:--

"Filomena, do you want to see that edging that I was speaking about yesterday?"

Miguel and Filomena looked up in amazement. Miguel was more ashamed than surprised.

"With great pleasure, dear," said the young woman.

Maximina started to go toward the door. Filomena paused a moment to give a retort to Rivera's last jest.

"Are you coming or not?" asked the young wife, halting in the middle of the parlor, and giving her a look barbed with hatred.

Miguel had never seen in his wife's eyes such an expression, nor imagined that her voice could have such a ring.

"Yes, yes; I am coming, Maximina!" said the young woman, hastening to rise.

And at the same time, making a little face at Miguel, she said in a low voice:--

"Do you see? Your wife is already jealous!"

Miguel watched them go out, not without a feeling of vexation.

Saavedra, seeing his partner get up so unexpectedly, and thus casting such a slur on his reputation as a ladykiller, frowned darkly and bit his lips in vexation. Julia, who in spite of her apparent absorption in conversation with Utrilla, had not lost the slightest detail of this scene, burst into a harsh laugh. Saavedra gave her an angry and malignant look, the meaning of which she was very far from suspecting at that time.

The party was brought to an end by Senor de Ramirez taking out his watch and announcing in a loud voice that it was half-past two in the morning. Various mammas arose as though moved by springs; the girls reluctantly followed their example; a great group was formed in the centre of the parlor; numberless farewells were heard, a clatter of kisses, and ripples of feminine laughter.

The young couple took their place at the stairway door, and bade good night to their guests, at the same time adding their assistance to that of the servants in the putting on of wraps. They were overwhelmed with thanks and congratulations. Then everything relapsed into silence.

Miguel and his wife returned to the parlor. Maximina was extremely pale, as her husband could see out of the corner of his eye; he also noticed that she flung herself down upon a sofa.

He, pretending to be absent-minded, put out the candles that were burning in the candelabra on the mantel-piece, and set some of the furniture in place. On returning from the other room one time, he saw his wife with her face buried in a pillow and sobbing. He went to her and said with affected surprise:--

"Crying?"

The poor child did not reply.

"What are you crying for?" he added, with cruel coldness.

Still Maximina made no answer.

Miguel waited an instant, still standing; then he went and sat down at the other end of the sofa.

The lights in the chandeliers burned silently; nothing was heard but the noises made by the servants in the dining-room and kitchen; the atmosphere of the parlor was filled with the penetrating odor compounded of all the perfumes which the ladies had brought with them. Brigadier Rivera's son, bending forward with his elbows resting on his knees, was playing with his glove.

At the end of a long silence Maximina exclaimed in the midst of her sobs:--

"_Madre mia!_ how unhappy I am to-day!"

Miguel's face was violently contracted into an expression of anger; after a while, trying to soften his voice, but still letting it sound very harsh, he said:--

"I had not the slightest idea of such a thing. I did not think that you were so badly married!"

"No, Miguel, no," she hastened to say; "you are very good to me, but this evening you have greatly tortured me ... perhaps without being aware of it."

Miguel gave an ironical laugh.

"I am not the one who tortures you ... it is your own self. You insist on seeing visions, you lose your wits, and when it is least to be expected, _zas!_ you are committing some solecism!... What you just did, getting up in a state of anger and calling Filomena, ... and the severity with which you spoke to her, might have compromised us in everybody's eyes.... Fortunately she is a talented girl who knew how to dissemble...."

"Yes, yes; dissemble because it suited her convenience. Indeed, I believe that she dissembles!"

"Come now, don't talk nonsense, Maximina."

"I am telling the truth, and everybody saw it.... This woman either loves you or wants to torment me. This whole evening long she has not ceased to look sneeringly at me...."

"Do you realize how ridiculous you are with your jealousy? Why should Filomena look at you in such a way? You know her character too well, that she is always joking, and that this saucy expression is habitual to her eyes."

"That is right; take her part, take her part!" exclaimed the young wife, in a tone of deep pain. "She is the good saint, the talented woman! I am the fool, the absurd, the ridiculous!"

Miguel jumped up, gave his wife an angry look, and shrugging his shoulders, exclaimed:--

"What stupidity!"

And he slowly walked toward his study. When Maximina heard her husband's steps, she quickly raised her head and cried in supreme anguish, her eyes swimming With tears:--

"Miguel! Miguel!"

But he, without even turning his head, replied with affected disdain:--

"Go to the deuce!" And he left the room.

Foolish Miguel! cowardly Miguel! Years will pass, and when you remember those words, you will feel your heart torn within you and the tears wet your cheeks. But at that instant, excited by anger, he had no thought of his injustice and cruelty nor of the havoc which they might cause in his wife's sensitive and tender soul. He sat down by his table, opened a book, and began to read: but he could not regain his calmness; at the end of a few minutes his conscience began to prick him; the letters blurred before his eyes so that he could not make out a sentence. He closed the book, got up, and returned to the parlor with an earnest desire for reconciliation.

Maximina was no longer there.

He went to the library and her sleeping-room, but failed to find her; he went to the dining-room and the inner apartments; still no Maximina. He asked the servants, but they could give no tidings about her. Then imagining that in her grief she had gone to hide somewhere, he began a regular search; but as he was passing near the stairway door, he paused anxious and dumfounded, with consternation painted on his face:--

"Have any of you opened the door?"

"No, senorito; we have not moved from here."

Pale as death, he snatched his hat that was hanging on the rack, and leaped down the stairs, which were still lighted. He found the janitor just in the act of putting out the lights.

"Remigio, have you seen my wife go out?"

The janitor, the janitor's wife and mother-in-law looked at him in amazement. Perceiving the imprudence of such a question, he added:--

"I don't know but what she may have gone home with my mother and sister. Mother felt ill, and my wife did not want to let her go...."

"Senorito, we cannot tell you anything with certainty. Many ladies went out ... we could not distinguish."

"Just a few minutes ago," said a six-year-old girl, "I saw a lady go out alone...."

"We have been to the court to carry a few flower-pots from the stairway," explained the janitor's wife.

Miguel, without any further words, darted out of the door.

"Senorito, are you going out that way? You will surely get your death a-cold!"

In fact, he was in his dress-suit. Stopping, and making a great effort to appear calm, he replied:--

"That is a fact; do me the goodness to run up and get my overcoat."

When they brought it to him, he said, as he put it on:--

"Thank you much. Please not lock up until I come; I shall not be long."

"Don't trouble yourself, senorito; we will wait for you."

As soon as he was in the street, he knew not whither to direct his steps; his heart beat violently; he was so anxious that his clearness of mind entirely deserted him.

After hesitating a few moments, he started to go along the Plaza del Angel without any reason for it; but there was just as little for choosing any other direction.

He quickened his steps as soon as he could, without seeing any one beside the watchman on the corner.

He entered the Calle de Carretas, and saw only a group of young men going along discussing literature.

When he reached the Puerta del Sol,[37] he made out in the distance, near San Jeronimo Avenue, a woman's form; he felt a strong emotion, and without thinking that he might be taken for an evil-doer, he started to run after her. She was a _desgraciada_, who, as she turned around to see who was following her in that way, met the young man's astonished and startled eyes.

"See here, senorito!" she cried in a coarse voice.

But Miguel had already dashed by her down the Calle del Principe. And suddenly he found himself again in the Plaza de Santa Ana. Then he stood still, and clutching his temples with his hands, exclaimed aloud, in a voice of anguish:--

"My God, what has happened to me!"

He looked in every direction, in discouragement, and seeing no one, he made his way into the gardens in the centre, so as to reach his house as soon as possible, and ask the janitor's assistance. But just as he was near home, he saw a woman's dress gleaming on one of the benches there. It did not take him many steps to make certain that it was his wife.

"Maximina! Maximina!"

The child, who was sobbing with her head leaning on the back of the seat, instantly lifted it. Miguel took her by the hand, gently lifted her to her feet, with the same gentleness made her lean upon his arm, and silently crossed the distance that separated them from his dwelling. As they entered the doorway, he said, naturally, so as to be heard by all: "Why didn't you tell me, wife? You gave me a great fright."

The janitor and his wife bowed.

"Can we shut up now, senorito?"

"Whenever you please."

They mounted the stairs in the same silence as before. They entered their apartment, and after giving suitable orders for all the lights to be put out, Miguel took his wife to her room; he locked the door, and going to the little wife, who was looking at him full of fear and even anguish, he made her sit down in a chair; then kneeling at her feet, and kissing her hands tenderly, he said:--

"Forgive me!"

"Oh, no, Miguel!" she cried, in the height of confusion and mortification, and making desperate efforts to kneel down, and make her husband rise. "Don't put me to shame, for Heaven's sake! I am the one, indeed I am, who ought to ask your forgiveness for the atrocity which I have just committed, for the pain I have given you.... Let go of me! Let go of me!... Do you forgive me?... I was mad, perfectly mad.... I thought that you did not love me, and my better judgment deserted me. I wanted to die, and nothing else."

"Hush, hush!" he replied, by main force keeping her in her seat. "To-morrow do whatever you please; to-night it is my right to ask your forgiveness, and to swear before God that I will never again as long as I live give you cause for jealousy, either with the girl up stairs or any other."

And the report goes that he fulfilled his vow.

XVI.

It happened that one clear, cool February evening, as they were walking along the street, Maximina said to her husband:--

"I feel very tired. Don't you want to go home?"

"Is it only weariness," he asked, looking at her with interest. "Don't you feel ill?"

"A little," she said, leaning somewhat heavier on his arm.

"I will call a carriage."

"No, no! I am perfectly able to walk."

In spite of her willingness, however, Maximina found walking each moment more difficult; her husband perceiving it, quickly stopped, and considered for a moment; then taking her hand, said:--

"I am sure that I know what the trouble is; I am going to call a carriage."

The young wife hung her head as though detected in some crime. They stopped the first Simon that passed without a fare, and rode home. As soon as they were in doors, Miguel put on the bearing of a general on the eve of battle; he began to give curt and peremptory orders to the maids. In a short time nothing was heard but hurried steps and whisperings; women appeared bringing bed linen, dishes, bottles, and other articles. There was a call at the door; it proved to be the janitor and his wife, and they with the servants held a long and anxious council, everybody speaking in a whisper.

Miguel presided silently and solemnly over the making of the great nuptial couch, while Maximina, seated in one of the easy-chairs in the library, watched them, her face pale and anxious.

"How much trouble you take for my sake, Miguel!"

"For your sake?" exclaimed he, half surprised and half disturbed. "I certainly should be a fine fellow not to put myself to some trouble for my wife on such an occasion."

The poor child repaid him with a loving smile.

The bed was very quickly made. Juana looked at it enthusiastically.

"Senorito, it is like an altar! Would the queen's be finer?"

"There is no queen any longer, woman. Do me the favor not to stand there like a post. Take the alcohol stove and put it on the dressing-table.... Quick! quick! And the other girls--what are they doing in the kitchen?"

"Both of them have gone on errands."

"What! haven't they got back yet?"