Chapter III.

The general had learned that the house in Chiclana was for sale from his secretary, who was the son of Don Iago's housekeeper. A few words will explain this.

The general, when young, had for many years an orderly whom he loved well. The Spanish orderly is the model domestic, the ideal servant. He is wanting in nothing, has always more than enough, and does whatever is asked of him unquestioningly and with pleasure. If he were bidden, he would, like St. Theresa, plant rotten onions through the same spirit of blind obedience. He has the heart of a child, the patience of a saint, and the attachment of that type of devoted affection, the dog. Like him he loves and cares for all that belongs to his master, and, most of all, for his children, if he has any. And to such a degree does he carry this devotion, that one of our celebrated generals has said that "an orderly makes the very best of dry nurses." He has no will of his own, does not know what laziness is, is humble and brave, grateful and obliging. And in the household, where his coming may have occasioned the natural irritation and repulsion caused by whatever invades the domestic circle, his departure is always sincerely felt.

Before he left Spain the general, then a captain, had lived for a long time with his orderly in the greatest friendship, without the latter having lost the least grain of his respect for his chief. When the general went to America, his orderly, to the great grief of both, left him, and returned to his native town of Chiclana to marry the bride who, with a constancy not unusual in Spain, had waited for him fifteen years. A few years later the orderly died leaving one child, a son, to the care of his disconsolate widow. The poor woman, accompanied by a little niece she had adopted, took service with Don Iago O'Donnell. As for the boy, who was godson to the general, the latter sent for him, had him educated under his own care, and afterward made him his secretary. In this capacity he brought him back to Spain. Lázaro--so he was named--was one of those beings who are sealed by nature with the stamp of nobility, and who, aided by circumstances, become unconscious heroes by simply following their natural instincts.

Having learned from his mother that the house in which she lived was for sale, he had informed the general, who bought it, and with it his young and beautiful wife.

A beautiful woman she was; as fair and delicate as an alabaster nymph; as cold, also, and as void of feeling; a being who had never loved anything but herself; insipid and without sweetness; a jessamine flower that had never felt the rays of the sun.

Later in the afternoon, an attendant called Nora entered the room in which we found Ismena, to open the windows. Nora had been Ismena's nurse, and had never left her. She was a proud and cunning woman, and had done much to develop the perverse dispositions of the girl.

"Always weeping," she said with a gesture of impatience at the sight of Ismena's tears. "You will lose your good looks, and when your husband dies, all you have beside will be gone, youth, consideration, and wealth. You will then have no recourse but to turn pious and spend your days dressing up the holy images."

"I know too well that I shall lose everything, that is why I weep," replied Ismena.

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"And who says that your lot may not be different?" answered Nora. "It is not your sister-in-law that has the disposition of your future; you yourself can do more to make your fortune than she to unmake it. Hope is the last thing lost, but then one must not cross one's arms while they can be of use."

"Idle talk," returned Ismena. "You know that my hopes are as vain as my marriage is sterile."

"It will amount to the same thing," said Nora, "whether you give birth to a son or adopt one."

The lady fixed her great blue eyes upon the woman as she exclaimed, "The count would never consent!"

"He need not know it," replied Nora.

"A fraud, a crime, a robbery! Are you beside yourself?"

"All that sounds very lofty, yet in reality you will only be doing some poor wretch an act of charity. Your nieces are well married; your sister-in-law has a rich jointure, and does not need the count's money. If they desire to have it, it is through ambition, and that you may not enjoy it."

"Never! never!" said Ismena. "Better to lose rank and position than become the slave of a secret which may bring us to dishonor. Never!" she repeated, shaking her head as if she wished to shake the fatal thought from her mind.

"I only shall know the secret, and I alone will be responsible. So it will be more secure in my breast than in your own."

"You will have to employ another person."

"Yes, but without confiding in him. I have already found the person. Your husband is about to embark for Havana. When he returns, be will find a son here."

"Nora, Nora! there is no wickedness of which you are not capable!"

"I am capable of anything that may result in benefit to you."

"But to deceive a man like the count would be the most unpardonable of crimes!"

"Ismena, I have often heard you sing:

'Deceit, a faithful friend art thou; 'Tis truth that is our bane. Pain without sickness she doth give; Thou, sickness without pain.'

But to-day you appear to be more high flown than the poets themselves."

"But the text alludes to love quarrels."

"It is very applicable to everything else in life. As if you had never known the case I have suggested to be put into practice; and is it not a thousand times worse when combined with infidelity?"

At this moment the count entered. "Ismena, my child," he said, approaching his wife, "I have come to take you out, your friends are already waiting for you in the Cañada. How is it that these lovely spring afternoons do not inspire you with a desire to go out and enjoy the free, balmy air?"

"I dislike to walk, and people worry me," answered Ismena, who had lost color at sight of her husband.

"You look pale, my child," replied the count with tenderness, "and for some time past you have seemed low-spirited. Are you not well?"

"There is nothing the matter with me," answered Ismena.

"At most," said Nora, "your sickness is not one that requires the attention of a doctor." And she glanced at the count with a meaning smile.

Irritation and shame sent the hot blood mounting to Ismena's face.

"Nora," she exclaimed, "are you crazy? Be silent!"

"I will be silent, sir count, for, as the saying is, 'the more silent the coming the more welcome the comer.'"

In the general's benevolent face glowed the light of a pure paternal hope.

"Is this certain?" he said, looking tenderly at his wife.

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"Sir," said Nora, "have you not noticed for some time past her want of appetite and her general languor without apparent cause? _She_ does not believe it, and will not be convinced, but I who have more experience am sure."

"Nora, it is false!" exclaimed Ismena, appalled.

"Time will show," replied Nora, with perfect composure.

"Time!" repeated Ismena indignantly.

At this moment they were interrupted by six deep measured strokes of the clock.

"That fixes the time for the event," said Nora, with an affected laugh; "six months from now, it says."