Part 6

"And what has the algebra professor done to you? Made you fail in your examination? Now if you had studied, as your father told you to do, this would not have happened."

"Senora," cried Jacobo, in a stentorian voice so fiendish that Dona Adelaida in affright took a step or two backward, "don't you dare to speak about what you do not understand! I cannot get over my vexation that I ever had anything to do with algebra. What the professor did was to sneer at me, and this, my father's son cannot put up with! Do you understand?"

"Come, calm yourself, Jacobito; you have been very much disturbed since yesterday. Perhaps it is not as bad as you think. It may be that this gentleman did not sneer at you on purpose."

"He may not have done it intentionally, but the fact is, he insulted me, and I will not stand it; I never have yet, and I never intend to let any one insult me with impunity. You know very well that in this respect I am a peculiar man."

"I know it, Jacobito; you have the same disposition as your grandfather (peace to his soul!). What a man he was! He was as quick to flare up as gunpowder! Just think; one time when he was shaving, he heard a cry in the court; he turned his head so suddenly that he gave himself a tremendous cut in the nose.... But it is necessary, my son, to have self-restraint, and repress one's nature a little, if one would live in this world. It is my idea that if this professor made sport of you, what you ought to do is to make sport of him!"

With slight variations, such was the advice that in the early days of Greece, Minerva, the goddess of the glorious eyes, gave the divine Achilles in his famous quarrel with Agamemnon, the son of Atreus.

We are obliged to confess that this hero of ours did not show himself so amenable to the goddess's commands as "Peleus' godlike son"; instead of immediately sheathing his sword and yielding, he refused to make use of any other measures than those of force.

The only concession that Dona Adelaida could obtain after many prayers was to postpone the professor's destruction till another day.

That same morning, however, he put into effect his energetic decision of going to the factory and working there all day long "like a dog," whereby it is to be supposed that he quite put his father and brother to shame and confusion, though they succeeded in hiding it perfectly.

The greater part of the difficulties due to his exceptional position having been thus overcome, thanks to his incredible boldness and _sang froid_, the only thing that troubled him now was lest Julita would not take in good part this premature retirement from the military service. So it was that he delayed for several days telling her about it; but it was not altogether that he was afraid of annoying her; the fact was that for some time he had not seen his sweetheart as frequently as formerly. It was ominous that Julita nowadays appeared but seldom on her balcony, and it was not less significant that she was putting obstacles in the way of his sending letters regularly.

Still Utrilla wrote informing her that, "owing to family reasons, and for the purpose of attending to his pecuniary interests, he had retired from the service."

This was the only dignified way that he could find of saying that he had been dismissed.

Contrary to his expectations, this information did not produce any great effect. On the other hand, she waited five or six days before she answered it, and at the end she wrote:--

"That if he had given up his career because it was convenient, he did perfectly right; but that henceforth he would do her the favor not to send letters to her through the door-maid, since she had certain reasons for objecting to it, and that he should wait until she told him to whom he should entrust his letters."

It happened that Miguel during these days twice met the ex-cadet. The latter was so glad to see him, and showed him so much affection and friendliness, that Rivera could not help reciprocating it, carrying his magnanimity to such an extent as to call him once or twice his future brother-in-law.

"If there is no way of preventing my sister from marrying a rascal, it would be better to have you, friend Utrilla," said he.

The former cadet swelled with delight until he almost burst, not only at the prospect of marrying Julita, but also to hear himself called a rascal in such a genial way.

At both interviews he urged Rivera warmly to come and visit his factory, because he was very anxious to show it to him, and to explain the great improvements that he was planning to make in it, if his father and brother, both whom were very conservative, did not make too strong opposition. He expressed his desire so eagerly that finally one afternoon Miguel decided to take a carriage and drive to Cuatros Caminos, from which it was easy to reach the candle factory of Utrilla and Company.

"Is Senor Utrilla here?"

"Don Manuel does not often come to the factory; he lives at forty-six Sacramento Street."

"I want to see his son."

"Ah! Don Rafael," said the door-keeper. "Yes, sir; he is here. Walk in."

"It is Don Jacobo whom I want to see."

"Don Jacobo," repeated the door-keeper, hesitating and smiling. "Ah yes, sir, Jacobito; I had forgotten. He is here too. Walk in."

Jacobo was writing in the same room with his elder brother, who, when he saw that it was a friend of Jacobo, scarcely deigned to lift his head, and gave a slight nod. Utrilla, however, colored to the ears, and came to greet him with great eagerness.

"Don Miguel! You here? How glad I am!... Rafael," he added, addressing his brother, "I am going to show the factory to Senor Rivera."

Rafael without looking up, said:--

"Very well."

They went out of the office and passed slowly through the shops, stopping to examine the mechanism of each process, which Utrilla explained in a loud voice. From time to time he would say in an imperious tone:--

"Jose, run this mould!... Enrique, lift this lid!"

The workmen were in no haste to obey these orders, and he had to repeat them in a voice which any operatic basso would have envied.

The ex-cadet's factory garb could not have been more appropriate,--trousers of drilling, red shirt, shoes, and an old coat with the collar turned up. Although it was very warm, Utrilla, both on the street and at home, always wore his collar this way, which gave him the appearance of being a very dissipated man, and this was something that delighted him.

In the rooms where the women were working, Utrilla allowed himself to take some liberties with the operatives, such as winking at them, twitching at their handkerchiefs, and making this or that dubious little witticism.

"You will excuse me, Don Miguel; these are the bad habits of military life. Though one were going to be shot, one couldn't help saying some nonsense to the girls."

"All right, all right, friend Utrilla; don't incommode yourself on my account."

"Man alive, you are going now to see something very original which I happened to think of doing the other day. You will be surprised.... The foreman of the shop said to me, 'What you don't think of, the Devil himself would not, think of!'"

"Let us see it."

He then took him to the storeroom, and opening a closet, showed him a number of packages of candles with lithographed labels, which read:--

+--------------------+ | JULIA | | (Bujia Extrafina). | +--------------------+

"How is that?" he demanded, with radiant and triumphant face.

"Very pretty! very delicate!" replied Miguel, smiling.

"Take a package!"

"My dear fellow, no, thank you!"

"Nonsense! take one. If you don't, then I shall send one to you."

From there he took him to a room that was a sort of incommodious private office, with a wretched straw-stuffed sofa, a few chairs, and a table with a writing-desk on it; on the wall hung a panoply with the cadet's military outfit,--sword, belt, spurs, and a couple of foils and a fencing-mask.

Utrilla confessed to his friend that he could not look at this panoply without sadness, recollecting "the happy days in the service."

"What life is so happy as the military! Believe me, Senor Rivera, that in spite of the strictness of the rules, I miss it immensely."

Afterwards he offered him a cigar, and taking out a huge meerschaum mouthpiece, he began calmly to color it, calling up at the same time, with a veteran's satisfaction, various anecdotes of his academy life.

"That cigarette-holder is very pretty: what does it represent?"

"A cannon on a pile of projectiles; I beg of you to take it, Don Miguel."

"I do not need it," replied Rivera, handing it back.... "It is in very good hands."

"But I should be much better pleased to have you keep it, and I won't take it."

"Come now, friend Utrilla, don't be so lavish."

"Throw it down if you please, but I will not take it."

There was nothing to be done but keep it.

Then the former cadet brought the conversation round to Julia, and besought her brother's intercession, as he had written her four letters and had received not a single answer.

"You will understand, my dear Utrilla," said Miguel, becoming serious, "that this is a very delicate matter, and that I have no right to mix myself up in your affairs."

"The trouble is," rejoined the ex-cadet, with a sigh, "with the passionate nature which God gave me, I sent her a letter to-day, telling her that if she persisted in her conduct, she would do me the favor never to write to me again, ... and I am afraid that she is really offended."

"I am afraid," said Miguel, laughing, "that your command will be fulfilled to the letter."

The cadet remained for several moments pensive and gloomy. Then shaking himself from his melancholy stupor, and passing his hand over his forehead, he said:--

"By the way, Don Miguel, you have not washed your hands."

Rivera looked at him in surprise.

"One always gets dirty in the factory," continued the cadet. "Here is a bowl and soap for you."

"Thank you; my hands are not dirty."

But Utrilla at the same time offered him a china bowl filled with clear water, and the soap-dish, in such a way that Miguel rather than appear the enemy of cleanliness yielded and washed his hands. The soap was strongly scented with orange.

"Do you know this soap is very fine and pleasant?" said Rivera, so as to say something.

"Do you like it?... Then I am going to give you a cake of it."

"My friend, I beg of you!"

Utrilla, without heeding his protests, got the soap out of the desk, wrapped it up in a piece of paper, and almost by main force thrust it into his pocket. From that time forth Miguel took care not to commend anything which he happened to touch.

As he was going, the ex-cadet shook his hand ardently, and said in a voice full of emotion:--

"Don't fail to speak to her. If you knew how sad and desperate I am."

The truth of the matter was that he had good reason to be, as will appear in the next chapter.

VI.

"If your son were to put up at a hotel while I have a house in Madrid, I should be seriously vexed with him, and with you too," _la brigadiera_ Angela had written to her cousin Maria Antonia.

And her cousin replied:--

"I have sent a copy of your letter to Alfonso, and assured him that he would enjoy much staying with you. Although he always rebels against my advice, I hope that this time he will gratify me. But I am afraid, my dear, that his visit may cause you a good deal of trouble, for I don't know what kind of habits he has contracted in Paris; but you have asked for it, and you can try it."

_La brigadiera_ caused the rooms that Miguel had occupied to be put in order with so much care and nicety, worried her daughter Julia so desperately in the details of the appointments, the curtains, etc., that the girl when she spoke of her cousin always spoke of him as "_el nino de la bola_."[16]

Before she made his acquaintance, she conceived a violent antipathy to him. This was caused in no small measure, because the visitor twice disappointed them about coming. The reports that she had heard about him were not very favorable either.

Alfonso Saavedra had lost his father when he was very young: he was the inheritor of a considerable fortune; his mother had not had sufficient energy or ability to train him properly; he had not chosen any definite career; his only occupation was amusement, and allowing free course to his passions, which, according to what people said, could not have been more violent. Very amusing stories were told about him, and some that were extremely displeasing: he had been living in Paris almost constantly since he was a young lad, and there he had largely squandered his estate, but as he had still large expectations from his mother's property, which was even larger than his father's, he lived without apprehension of the future, and spent his money lavishly.

Finally, a telegram was received announcing the departure from Paris of _el nino de la bola_.

And on the morning of the following day he arrived. When Julia heard the bell ring, feeling disturbed, she went to the sewing-room and began to jest with the maid about the style which her cousin affected; then there was heard in the corridor a great commotion of moving luggage.

"What room has he been shown into, Inocencia?" she asked of the girl who came in at that moment.

"He is in the library with your mamma."

In a few moments a powerful ring at the bell was heard.

"The senora is calling," said Inocencia, running.

"Senorita will please come immediately to the library, says your mamma," she announced, on returning.

"Very well," the girl replied, in bad humor. "Are they sitting down?"

"Yes, senorita."

"Then they can wait without hurting them any."

But in a few minutes the pull at the bell was repeated with more violence, and the girl, foreseeing her mother's vexation, arose with a very bad grace, and dropping her sewing, exclaimed with a scornful accent:--

"There now, we are going to see Don Alfonso, Prince of Asturias!"

Don Alfonso was a man of about thirty-five, a gay bachelor, with regular features, with shaven cheeks, and mustaches twisted in the French style; in his wavy, black hair gleamed here and there a thread of silver; otherwise, his fresh and ruddy cheeks, his white and carefully brushed teeth, and his easy, graceful gestures, made him seem like a boy; his travelling-costume was affectedly elegant, with certain Parisian refinements unknown in Madrid. Julita took all this in at one rapid glance. He was not at all the man that she expected to meet. Having heard her cousin spoken of as a spendthrift, she had always imagined him as jaundiced, lean, scrubby, and inflicted with a cough, like some hair-brained Madrilenos whom she knew by sight.

When he saw the young lady, he arose hastily to his feet.

"Oh, what a pretty cousin!" he exclaimed, at the same time taking her hand in a frank and affectionate manner. "You will forgive me for having disturbed you in what you were doing, will you not?"

"I was not doing anything.... Won't you sit down, sir?"

Don Alfonso remained a moment in a state of uncertainty, and then as he sat down, he exclaimed with a gesture of resignation:--

"What a terrible blow to my illusions, aunt! Your daughter has not dared to say _thou_ to me.... These cursed gray hairs!"

Julita flushed a deep crimson.

"That is not the reason!"

"Then it is because you have been prejudiced against me; confess it!... But it is not my fault either that I am old, or that your mamma has disturbed you on my account."

Julita, flushing deeper and deeper, did not know how to defend herself; her mother came to her aid.

"It is neither the one thing nor the other, Alfonso; the trouble is that, as having never met you before, she is confused."

"Is that so?" he asked his cousin, at the same time looking at her with a bright smile.

Julita gave an affirmative gesture, and returned his smile.

"That is not so bad.... But I still feel a keen sense of remorse. It will be very gratifying to me if you will tell me that I am forgiven."

Julita, with difficulty overcoming the timidity that choked her, said in a low tone:--

"I have nothing to forgive you for."

"Thanks, little coz," pursued Don Alfonso, rising, and with an elegant and graceful gesture again shaking hands with her.

Then he began to talk with his aunt about family affairs; asking her many questions about his whole circle of relatives, and learning many particulars of which he had been ignorant.

Then the conversation turned on the customs of Paris, which he described pleasantly and attractively, taking pains to extol Spain, instead of depreciating it as the majority of travellers are in the habit of doing. This appealed to _la brigadiera's_ sympathies. Don Alfonso spoke easily and naturally, but without conceit; on the contrary, in the midst of his talk, he would correct any idea that seemed at all pretentious, and was evidently anxious to show that he had no wish whatever to make himself out a remarkable man.

If he spoke of women, all had "given him the mitten"; if he spoke of art, or gave his opinion about museums and singers, he protested that he had little or no knowledge of painting or music; if by chance he was obliged to refer to any quarrel in which he himself had taken part, he passed over it lightly, and did not fail to have it understood that he had done everything possible to avoid it, and at the same time he made sport of the duel and of duelists.

As Don Alfonso had the reputation of being lucky in love affairs, and many of his adventures had made considerable talk, as he played the piano pretty well, and was accounted one of the crack marksmen of Paris, and had fought more than a dozen duels, this modesty of his in conversation was a refreshing contrast, sure of bringing success in society. These accomplishments were rendered still more attractive by the slight foreign accent which made his words all the more insinuating and suave.

Julita listened to him, gazing at him with that intense and conjuring look by which young girls in an instant analyze all a man's physical and moral nature.

Her cousin made a very favorable showing as the result of the analysis; she had no idea that he was such an amiable and attractive man; the incidents of his life which she had heard before gave him the reputation of being haughty and violent in character, if not even coarse and shameless.

One evening in Seville he was engaged in playing ombre, and because he was not very successful, he became so much excited that he said all sorts of impudent things, and finally told the ladies present that he was going to ride into the parlor on his nag. No one placed any credence in what he said, and he went out without any one noticing it; but in a few minutes he made his appearance on horseback, to the amazement and terror of all, especially the ladies, who began to scream, while he, striking the spurs into his horse, roared with laughter.

On another occasion, being deep in an intrigue with a young woman of the middle class, he went in full dress to the house of her parents, and told them that he wished to speak with them on a very private and serious matter. The father, who was a humble government employe, imagining, as any one might have supposed, that he was going to ask his daughter's hand, received him trembling with emotion; then after many periphrases and circumlocutions, Saavedra ended by asking him to give him a favorable report on a certain matter that he had in his department.

This hateful piece of drollery was noised over the whole town, and put that poor innocent senor in a most ridiculous light.

But Julita, as she saw and listened to him, forgot these and other escapades; unquestionably this young man, who in her presence was so refined and modest, was an entirely different person.

Saavedra after showing such gallantry to his cousin, waited a long time before he addressed her, or even looked at her; he seemed to be absorbed in his conversation with her mother. Thus it was that she had an abundance of time to make a careful scrutiny of his appearance: his shirt-collar, his cravat, his watch-chain, his boots, all were elegant, and proved by their style that they came from the other side of the Pyrenees.

"You will feel like getting the dust off and having a wash, Alfonso," said _la brigadiera_. "Come; we will show you to your room: it is the one which my son Miguel used to occupy."

Don Alfonso could not praise it sufficiently: he found everything to his taste.

"I shall be just like a fish in the water here. You will have trouble in getting rid of me, I assure you!"

"I will warn you," said Julia, "that it was I who made the bed myself. Don't you dare say that you have not slept well."

As soon as she had said these words, which by their mischievous spirit were perfectly proper, she repented having said them, and blushed. Don Alfonso turned his face upon her, and looked at her with some friendly curiosity.

"That is the very reason that I shall not sleep well. You were unkind to tell me."

Julita blushed more than ever, and to hide her confusion began to straighten the bottles on the dressing-table, and then she left the room. Finally her mother also went, leaving him to himself, and shortly afterward he again appeared in the parlor, in another costume of the latest and most elegant style.

"Julita," said her mother, "tell them to put on the breakfast; you must feel weary, Alfonso."

"No, aunt; I feel hungry, though. The word is more prosaic, but it is nearer the truth."

_La brigadiera_, with a laugh, accepted the arm which her nephew offered her as they went to the dining-room. During the meal he entertained the ladies in the same agreeable fashion, telling them a thousand curious incidents, giving them minute descriptions of the _soirees_ in the fashionable society of Paris. They were most interested in what he had to say about the ladies' dresses and the decoration of the salons.

During the conversation he never once forgot those gallant and thoughtful attentions which were demanded by his situation. By intuition he discovered when Julita's wine-glass was empty; he offered his aunt the olives; he passed her the mustard, cut the bread for her, etc.

Julia was merry, and perhaps rather more talkative than usual; but when she made use of any expression that was a little more piquante than usual, she would feel her cheeks flush under her cousin's steady, smiling, and somewhat ironical gaze.

It was the first time that she had ever forced herself to be witty and sharp and say sharp things. When she said anything that was particularly clever, Saavedra would look up, and his smile would seem to say, "This little girl is bright."

Julia was rather humiliated by his smile at first, but then she read under it an expression of scornful protection, or at least of absolute indifference, scarcely masked by the extreme courtesy which he showed in all his words and gestures. For in this respect Don Alfonso did not weary a single instant; he did not miss a single opportunity of showing them his subordination, and of giving both his aunt and cousin to feel how agreeable he could be to them.

In the days that followed, his gallantry did not in the least relax. _La brigadiera_ wrote her cousin, assuring her that "she would keep her nephew not merely a month, but all his life in her house; that he was a perfect gentleman, and that young men could not in Spain possibly acquire such an admirable education and such manners as he possessed."

A hearty and perfect confidence quickly grew between him and Julia; the girl amused him with her lively and picturesque chatter which recalled to the exile his years of childhood and youth.