Part 23

"Then be very careful. You know as well as I do how peculiar she is; if she had a suspicion that my mamma objected, she would spoil the whole business, and I should never consent to set my foot in this house again."

One evening, after quite a number of days had passed, the _caballero_ came with his face brighter than it had been for some time. Instead of sitting down near the piano, the lovers went and stood in the bay-window. After painting things in very black colors as usual and lamenting a long time, Don Alfonso said to his cousin:--

"As I have been thinking of nothing else than this all day and all night, certain means of escaping from this difficulty have occurred to me. I have not told them to you, for they are very absurd. Still, as last night I was walking up and down my room without being able to sleep, one scheme came into my head, and this one is very sure but very bold ... so much so that I am afraid to tell it to you."

"Is it so bad as all that?"

"Bad, no; but bold. It requires you to disregard certain social conventions and to show a great will power."

"Come, then, tell me. I am very curious to hear about it."

"Very well then, Julia; mamma, though you imagine her to be a hard woman, because of your childish recollections and because in reality she has a cold and serious exterior which prejudices against her, has a heart that is in reality very warm. She has given me unequivocal proofs of it, oftentimes forgiving me almost too quickly for very serious faults. Her character is as haughty as your mamma's; but these natures are easy to overcome; to make them yield it needs only that you humiliate yourself.... This is what I was thinking of last night:--If Julia had the courage to make a decided stroke and elope with me to Seville and present ourselves before her, I am certain that she would not hesitate to forgive us and grant us her blessing. No woman, however bad she is, would consent to let the daughter of her own cousin be dishonored."

"This scheme is madness. I cannot believe that you would propose to me such an atrocious thing!"

"I do not propose it. All I do is to report to you a thought which occurred to me. If I cannot tell you what my heart feels and what passes through my mind, whom shall I tell it to, Julia _mia_?"

"This is the last thing that you ought to have conceived!"

"I have thought so much that it is not strange if it were the last thing that I did conceive. The project would be very audacious, violent, and repugnant to you, but not a piece of folly as you say; it is a certain, infallible means of attaining what we desire."

"Well, then, even if it is certain and infallible, I will not hear to it, do you understand?"

Don Alfonso did not give up conquered. He continued to argue the point, not losing his calmness, adducing reasons, mentioning various examples which he had already prepared, and in a thousand skilful ways overcoming Julia's scruples. But even when the girl found herself cornered, captured in the net of her lover's sophistries, she suddenly grew angry and exclaimed, "Well, even if it be as you say, still I don't like it, I don't like it, and that is sufficient!"

Julia, though endowed with a rash and impetuous nature, had an undisturbed conscience; she was a good girl and that was the very reason why this scheme deeply wounded her sense of propriety. Nevertheless, Saavedra kept constantly tormenting her with the hope of shaking her.

The afternoon was now declining; the boudoir began to fill with shadows. Don Alfonso had at last exhausted all the powers at his command, and was still far from attaining his end.

"Very well," said he after a long silence, doing his best to hide his scorn and giving his words a peculiarly melancholy intonation, "I have eagerly tried to find some way of escaping from the painful situation in which we are. I propose to you the only practicable and certain method. You yourself have seen that it was so and you have comprehended the necessity of adopting some energetic plan. And yet you refuse to accept it. I respect the scruples which you entertain in regard to it, but you will permit me to tell you that the woman who really and truly loves will rise above them. If the love that you had for me were as great as you say...."

"Alfonso!"

"I know well that you love me--don't go to protesting.... But the fact is, that though we love each other very much, we are very unhappy and we find no way of escaping from it. What is left for us to do? Nothing but to part and never see each other again."

"O Alfonso!"

"Yes, Julia, yes; it must be: we must separate, and forever. Here all that we do is to torment ourselves cruelly. It is an infernal life to have happiness before our eyes and not be able to touch it. Before proposing this last recourse,--which is very harsh to be sure,--but absolutely indispensable,--I firmly decided to leave the country, in case you did not accept it. So to-morrow I take the train for Paris. I confess frankly I have not the strength to endure this tormenting situation."

The astute _caballero_ ceased speaking. Julia likewise was silent: a melancholy pallor spread over her lovely face; her eyes were fixed wildly on a point of space, and she sat motionless as a statue. Don Alfonso left her in this situation a long time without disturbing her eager and anxious thoughts, though he kept looking at her. Her pallor kept growing more and more pronounced.

When he felt that the right moment had arrived, the wily seducer went to take his hat which he had laid on the piano, and returning to the girl, and holding out his hand, he said in a trembling voice:--

"_Adios_, Julia!"

She retained it a moment, and then, giving him a desperate look, her face being now livid, said:--

"Don't go, Alfonso. Do with me what you please. I am ready to follow you."

The _caballero_, after assuring himself that his aunt could not see them, long held her tightly enfolded in his arms.

XXV.

"Boy, bring me a glass of _limon_.... Bring me two, do you hear?"

The banker was choking. He was a short, stout man, with extremely red cheeks. He unbuttoned his shirt collar and went on shuffling the cards, all the time snorting furiously, as though he were threatened by some apoplectic attack.

"Game."

The players made their play, laying their stakes beside the cards. A gloved hand placed a package of bills on one of them.

"How much of that do you bet, Saavedra?" asked the fat gambler, lifting his eyes which were full of terror and seemed to ask for mercy.

"All," replied the Andalusian _caballero_ dryly.

"How much is there?"

"I don't know."

His tone was depreciative enough. However, the banker seemed not to mind it: he took the package and began to count it under the watchful eyes of the group of players who were gathered around the table, some seated, some standing.

"There are forty-one thousand reals."

"There is not enough in the bank," said one player, stretching out his hand for his stake.

"My credit is good for it," replied the banker, growing redder and redder; it seemed as though he were going to burst. While the banker was distributing the cards, absolute silence reigned. Don Alfonso's was a seven.

"That is the end of it," said the banker, with ill-concealed dismay, throwing the pack down on the table.

Immediately he began to pay the smaller stakes, leaving Saavedra's till the last. When he came to him there were left only twenty-nine thousand reals.

"I shall owe you twelve thousand," said he, handing over all that he had.

Don Alfonso took it and thrust it into his pocket angrily. The game was over. The banker, mopping the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief, went over to the Andalusian, who had taken his seat on a sofa, and was calmly reading a newspaper.

"You have fifteen thousand duros in your pocket, my boy."

"I don't know," replied Don Alfonso, without looking up.

"But I know: Villar and Gonzalez lost nine thousand, and we more than twelve thousand. All the rest put together did not take six thousand."

"Pish! it is quite possible," replied the _caballero_.

"Any one to see your face would say that what you carried in your pocket was fifteen thousand stones. See here, lend me thirty thousand reals, and that will put you in good humor."

Don Alfonso, without saying a word, took out his pocket-book, and gave him a handful of bills.

"Saavedra, you are on the downward track. The other evening I saw you in a box at the theatre making love to a mighty pretty girl. Be careful! on the day least expected you will be getting married."

Don Alfonso took out his watch, and, after looking at it, smiled coldly, saying:--

"At this very moment I am going to run away with that same little girl. I am going abroad with her."

"I would not sell myself cheap," replied the other, without once thinking that it might be true. "But you would soon get tired of it. You and I are just alike; we are too old for such escapades."

"Good by, Gubells."

"Good by, my boy. Don't fail to be on hand to-night, for there is going to be a game of golfe."

"Haven't I told you that I am going to run away with that little girl?" rejoined the _caballero_, at the door, with the same cold smile on his lips.

"A nice little piece!... Come back as soon as you can ... won't you? and don't fail to bring the marquis if you meet him."

Saavedra slowly descended the carpeted staircase of the Circulo. As he went into the street it was already growing dark. His _berlina_ was waiting for him at the door.

"See here, Julian! take me now to the Calle de Carretas, stop there, and wait near the mail-box. A senora will come, she will open the door, and get in with me. As soon as this occurs, without a moment's delay drive like an arrow for Jetafe. You are well acquainted with the road, aren't you? Good! then it will be necessary, even though you wind the horses, to get us there in a jiffy. I want to catch the train that leaves there at half-past eight. Don't you be troubled at the adventure; it is a ballet girl from the Real who wants to go with me to Seville, and I cannot break my word. When we reach Jetafe I will give you further instructions about what you are to do."

The carriage reached the Calle de Carretas, and drew up where its owner had commanded. Don Alfonso leaned back in one corner so as to avoid the glances of the passers-by, and waited.

Julia had been spending the afternoon at her sister-in-law's, for that day she happened not to have a piano lesson; she was all the time in a state of nervous excitement, which Maximina was not slow to notice.

"What is the matter? Do you feel ill?" she asked.

"No. What makes you ask? What do you see in me that is strange?" she demanded, full of alarm.

"Nothing, nothing! don't be disturbed. You are a trifle paler than usual, and there are circles under your eyes, nothing more."

"Oh, I think that I am a little nervous to-day."

Maximina smiled good-naturedly, supposing that she might have had some falling out with her lover, and so she ordered some _tila_ to be made for her.

In spite of the deep antipathy which she felt for Don Alfonso and the strong reasons that she had for considering him a miscreant, she saw that Julita was so desperately in love with him that she could not bring herself to say a word against him.

As the afternoon wore on, her restlessness increased. The youngest offshoot of the race of the Riveras was many times on the point of suffering in some slight degree in consequence of his noble aunt's nervous condition. She hugged him to her heart tighter than was necessary; she tossed him up into the air and caught him again; she gave him hundreds of kisses on the same spot in his face until it burned brighter than a coal, and even--horrible thing--bit his nose. There is no need of saying that the illustrious baby, swelling with indignation, protested against such treatment.

The young girl likewise showed herself more tenderly affectionate toward Maximina than usual.

"Maximina, how good you are! how good you are!"

And she almost squeezed her to death in her arms.

"I wish I were. I should like to be good," replied the young wife, blushing.

"How much I would give to be like you, Maximina!"

"If you weren't better, you would be a pretty poor specimen."

"Oh! I am bad, Maximina, very bad!... But you will forgive all my failings, won't you?"

And struck by a sudden inspiration, she jumped up, saying:--

"I am going to the study to write a letter."

"Aren't you going to drink your _tila_?"

"Certainly I will take it; I will finish it afterward."

She went to her brother's writing-room, and began in all haste to pen the following note:--

"My dearest Maximina, my soul's sister: When you receive this, poor Julia will already have committed a great sin. I am going to Seville with Alfonso to beg his mother's permission for us to marry. Try to pacify ..."

"Julia, your _tila_ is getting cold," said Maximina, laying her hand on the girl's shoulder.

Julia uttered a cry, and covered the paper with her hands.

Maximina stepped back in consternation.

"Excuse me; dear, you took me so by surprise," said Julia, smiling and very rosy.

"I am the one to ask pardon for having come in without knocking.... I did not think.... Go on, go on...." she added, with a mischievous smile that signified: "I know whom the letter is for!"

How far the innocent young woman was from suspecting the truth!

After she left the room, Julia finished her letter: ...

"Try to pacify mamma, and Miguel when he comes back. I think that in the end all will be satisfactorily arranged. Alfonso, though he is a little cold, is a perfect gentleman. Pardon and love your sister who takes her farewell of you alone.--_Julia._"

Don Alfonso had charged her again and again, and with great forethought, not for anything in the world to leave a written letter giving an intimation of where she was going. But by an impulse of her heart,--one of the many that are inexplicable,--it occurred to her to write to her sister-in-law, in whom she had perfect confidence.

"I am going now," she said, putting on a hat which had a thick veil to let down over her eyes. "It is dinner time already, and mamma will be expecting me. Just think! I have not seen her since last evening. I shall be back here again at ten o'clock."

They said good by at the door. Maximina gave her a kiss on her cheek as usual; she repaid it with a dozen so eager and affectionate that the young wife could not help exclaiming with a laugh:--

"How crazy you are!"

"Crazy? yes! and very crazy," she replied, as she went down the stairs, not turning her head.

Her kisses and the accent of those last words somewhat surprised Maximina, but she did not give much thought to them, and shut the door.

Juana was to accompany the young girl to her mother's. When they reached the street, it was almost night. On coming to the Calle de Carretas, the senorita said:--

"Juana, do me the favor to go into that tobacconist's and get a stamp and drop this letter into the box.... Can you read?" she added, fearing that she might notice to whom it was directed.

"No, senorita," replied the maid,[59] abashed. She went into the tobacconist's, and Julia made her believe that she would wait for her at the door; but as soon as she saw her approach the counter, she ran down the street, and on reaching the carriage, the horses of which she knew, she opened the door and slipped in. Immediately a man's voice was heard to say:--

"Drive hard, Julian, drive hard!"

The horses, lashed by the coachman, dashed along the avenue; they soon left behind them the centre of population, and galloped half frantically down Andalucia Avenue.

When they reached Jetafe, the train was already whistling in the distance. Don Alfonso bought tickets, and calling Julian aside, said:--

"To-morrow, if you should be asked, say that you drove me to Pozuelo for the train on the Northern Line; do you understand?"

"Depend upon me, senorito."

"Here," said he, giving him some bank-notes. "Take good care of the horses. I will shortly write you what you are to do."

The train rapidly carried the fugitives away, not toward Seville, but to Lisbon. At midnight, the _caballero_ having stepped out a moment, came back with a look of annoyance, saying that he had made a mistake, that they ought to have changed cars farther back. The girl was stupefied and dismayed.

"Don't be so much alarmed, dear. Now instead of staying in some large town on this side where they might get knowledge of us by telegraph, it would be better for us to go into Portugal, and from there go directly to Seville."

Although the girl protested violently, she had no other remedy than to consent.

When they reached Lisbon, they took rooms at one of the best hotels. Don Alfonso promised his cousin to take her the next day to Seville. But a day passed, and then a second and third, and they did not depart. The _caballero_ found one special pretext for postponing the journey. And this was that he had lost his luggage. He was waiting for the arrival of the telegram that he sent about it.

Julita during these days found herself in a state of great excitement, so that she passed instantly and alternately from noisy and unreasonable gayety to deep and extravagant melancholy. Sometimes she grew angry with her cousin and overwhelmed him with taunts and threatened to escape alone or to inform the police; then she would throw herself into his arms and ask his pardon. In the midst of the deepest sadness her lover would begin to mimic in grotesque fashion the accent of the maid who served them, and the girl would laugh like a lunatic. At other times she grew enthusiastic at the view of the bay and the royal palace of Cintra.

The wily _caballero_ humored her with the most delicate and affectionate attentions. When she lost her temper, he would allow her to recover from it without saying a word; when she was sad, he would do everything to enliven her; when finally he saw that she looked contented, he would take advantage of such moments to go out to walk with her, giving her his arm as though they were husband and wife. They were regarded as a newly married couple by the people at the hotel.

Nevertheless, on the fourth day of their visit, as they were in their sitting-room after breakfast, Don Alfonso leaning back in an easy-chair, smoking his cigar, she standing in front of the mirror getting ready to go out, the _caballero_ said, accompanying his words with an ambiguous smile:--

"Do you know what I am thinking, Julita?"

"No; what?"

"That I am greatly delighted with this way of living with you!"

"But I am not," replied the young girl, dryly.

"Why, what objection do you have to it?"

"I object to living in a state of mortal sin; I wish to ask mamma's pardon and to be married to you."

"Now the very thing that I enjoy most is living in this extra-legal way. We are two birds flown from the nest and winging our flight through the air. How jolly it is to be so alone and so free! Could we possibly be happier because a dirty and ignorant priest had jabbered a few Latin words before us?"

Julita, on hearing this and noticing the somewhat mocking tone in which Don Alfonso spoke, felt a cold chill run down her back, and she dropped her arms which she had raised to arrange her hair. She stood a moment or two in suspense, and then turning her pale face toward him, she said deliberately, in an unnatural voice:--

"It seems to me that I could not have heard such coarse and vile words come from your mouth."

"Why do you call them vile, child? All that I did was to give you my opinion without taking the trouble to consider whether it was good or bad," replied the _caballero_ laughing.

"Hush! hush! Alfonso.... There are moments when my imagination is filled with ideas so horrible that if they stayed long I am certain that I should go mad and throw myself out of the window."

As she said this, she flung her hat on the toilet table and came and sat down on the sofa, remaining with her head sunk low and her hands crossed in meditative attitude. Great tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"Crying?" asked the _caballero_, approaching her.

The girl raised her eyes gleaming with fury and looked at him.

"Crying! yes!" she said in an exasperated tone. "And why not? What do you care for my tears? I wish to go home immediately! do you hear? I wish to go now ... this very instant."

"Calm yourself, Julia."

"I do not wish to calm myself. Why am I here with you, I should like to know? Do me the favor to take me home again. Though my mother should kill me, I wish to go to her instantly, do you hear?"

Don Alfonso made no answer; he wisely allowed a few minutes to pass so that she might recover a little. Then he said in a muffled and melancholy voice:--

"Well then, if you are already tired of me I will take you back to Madrid again.... I supposed that your love was a little more substantial.... I made a mistake. Patience.... My conscience does not reproach me in the least. Since we left Madrid I have done all that I could to treat you in a straightforward manner. Circumstances brought us here and have retained us against my will.... However, we will start as soon as you like. The truth is, we have waited long enough for that miserable luggage.... Now I am going to tell you something," he added in a broken voice. "If in any respect during these last days I have done anything to hurt your feelings, forgive me. I love you and regard you as my lawful wife, because you are in the sight of God and you will be very soon before men ... that is, if you accept me as a husband and do not return."

Julia, likewise moved, gave him her hand which he hastened to kiss.

They became reconciled.

"Is it your wish that we go to-day?" asked Saavedra, after a moment, in an indifferent tone.

"We will wait till to-morrow.... Perhaps the luggage will come to-day," replied the young woman, anxious to make him forget her severe words.

"Come on, then, let us have a walk along the bay. It is a lovely afternoon. We will engage a felucca."[60]

"Oh yes, yes, Alfonso! I am dying for a sail!" cried Julia, clapping her hands.

"On the way you can buy the clothing that you need."

Julia, now gay as a lark, once more went to the mirror to arrange her hair.

"You can't imagine, Alfonso, how I enjoy sailing in a boat. And if there is a little swell, all the better. I am never seasick. Three years ago, mamma and I went from Santander to Bilbao...."

Just as she said those words she uttered a terrible cry, one of those that make the hair stand on end and freeze the blood of those who hear it; her comb fell from her hands; her eyes, fastened on the mirror, expressed terror and dismay.

She had seen in the mirror the door of the room open, and her brother Miguel come in.

XXVI.

On reaching Madrid, and learning what had happened, Miguel's heart was wounded by the cruellest dart that fate had hurled at him since his father's death. He found his step-mother in a state of desperation bordering on imbecility. That proud and indomitable nature had at last been bent. And as always happened when he saw her in the depths and silently weeping, he felt a double compassion. "Poor mamma!" he said, folding her in his arms. "The stroke is severe, but still all is not yet lost. The affair may yet be arranged, with God's aid."

"No, Miguel, no; my heart tells me that it cannot be arranged. This man is a villain. I did not heed your warning, and God has punished me."

Maximina was greatly upset to find that her husband was going to start that same evening for Seville. "No, no; I do not want you to go," she exclaimed, clinging convulsively to him.

"Maximina, this is not worthy of you," replied Miguel gently. "My sister has been abducted, and aren't you willing for me to go in search of her?"

"And if that man should kill you? You see he is capable of doing anything!"