Part 7

"As for politics, Señor Don Victoriano, it seems to me that you ought not to speak ill of that. It has treated you well; you have no cause of complaint against it. For you politics has not been a stepmother."

Don Victoriano's countenance changed, showing plainly the ravages disease had made in his organism; and rising to his feet a second time, he threw away his cigar and, walking up and down the room with hasty steps, he burst forth passionately, in words that rushed from his lips in a sudden flood, in an impetuous and unequal stream, like the stream of blood gushing from a severed artery:

"Don't touch that point. Be silent about that, boy. How do you, how does anybody know what those things are until he has thrown himself headlong into them and is caught fast and cannot escape! If I were to tell you--but it is impossible to tell one's whole life, day by day, to describe a battle which has lasted for years, without rest or respite. To struggle in order to make one's self known, to go on struggling to keep one's self from being forgotten, to pass from law to politics, from a wheel set with knives to a bed of live coals, to fight in Congress without faith, without conviction, because one must fight to keep the place one has won; and with all this not to have a free hour, not a tranquil moment, not have time for anything. One achieves fortune when one no longer has the inclination to enjoy it; one marries and has a family and--one has hardly liberty to accompany one's wife to the theater. Don't talk to me. A hell, a hell upon earth is what politics is. Would you believe" (and here he uttered a round oath) "that when my little girl was beginning to walk, I proposed to myself one day to have the pleasure of taking her out walking--a caprice, a whim. Well, I was going downstairs with the child in my arms, very contented, when lo, I found myself face to face with the Marquis of Cameros, a candidate for representative from Galicia, who had come to ask me for fifteen or twenty letters--written in my own hand so that they might prove more efficacious. And I was such a fool, man, I was such a fool, that instead of throwing the Marquis down the stairs, as I ought to have done, I walked back my two flights, gave the child to her nurse, and shut myself up in my office to prepare the election. And it was the same thing always; tell me, then, have I reason or not to abominate such folly, such humbug? Ah, what pains we are at to make ourselves miserable!"

There could be no doubt of it; in the voice of the statesman there was the sound of repressed tears; in his throat smothered curses and blasphemies struggled for utterance. Segundo, to do something, threw open the window leading to the balcony. The sun was low in the heavens; the heat had grown less intense.

"And worst of all--the consequences!" continued Don Victoriano, pausing in his walk. "You strive and struggle without pausing to reflect what will be the effect upon your health. You fight, like the knights of old, with visor down. But as you are not made of iron, but only of flesh and blood, when you least expect it, you find yourself sick, sick, wounded, without knowing where. You do not lose blood, but you lose the sap of life, like a lemon that is squeezed." And the ex-Minister laughed bitterly. "And you want to stop, to rest, to get back health at any cost, and you find that it is too late; you have not a drop of moisture left in your body. Well, keep on until there is an end to you. Much your labors and your triumphs have profited you! You have drawn down on yourself a doom from which there is no escape!"

He spoke with gesticulations, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets in an outburst of confidence, expressing himself with as little reserve as if he had been alone. And in reality he was talking to himself. His words were a monologue, the spoken utterance of the gloomy thoughts which Don Victoriano, thanks to heroic efforts, had hitherto been able to conceal in his own breast. The strange malady from which he suffered gave rise to horrible nightmares; he dreamed that he was turning into a loaf of sugar and that his intellect, his blood, his life, were flowing away from him, through a deep, deep channel, converted into syrup. In his waking moments his mind refused to accept, as one refused to accept a humiliation, so strange a malady. Sanchez del Abrojo must be mistaken; his was some functional, transitory disorder, an ordinary ailment, the result of his sedentary life, and Tropiezo's old-fashioned remedies would perhaps after all prove more efficacious than those of science. And if they did not? The statesman felt a cold chill run through him that made his hair stand on end and constricted his heart. To die when he was scarcely past forty, with his mental powers unimpaired, with so many things begun, so many accomplished! And no doubt this consuming thirst, this insatiable voracity, this debilitating sensation of melting away, of fusion, of dissolving, were all fatal symptoms.

Suddenly Don Victoriano remembered the presence of Segundo, which he had almost forgotten. And laying both hands on his shoulders a second time, and fixing on the poet's eyes, his dry eyes, scorched by repressed tears, he cried:

"Do you wish to hear the truth, and to receive good advice? Have you ambitions, aspirations, hopes? Well, I have had disappointments, and I desire to do you a service by recounting them to you now. Don't be a fool; stay here all your life; help your father, take up his practice when he lays it down, and marry that blooming daughter of Agonde. Never leave this land of fruits, of vines, whose climate is so delightful. What would I not give now never to have left it! No, my boy, remain quietly here; end a long life here surrounded by a numerous progeny. Have you observed how healthy your father is? It is a pleasure to see him, with his teeth so sound and perfect. I have not a single tooth that is not decayed; they say that it is one of the symptoms of my malady. Why, if your mother were living now you would be having little brothers and sisters."

Segundo smiled.

"But, Señor Don Victoriano," he said, "to act out your ideas would be to vegetate, not to live."

"And what greater happiness than to vegetate," responded the statesman, looking out of the window. "Do you think those trees there are not to be envied?"

The garden, indeed, seen in the light of the setting sun, had a certain air of voluptuous bliss, as if it were enjoying a happy dream.

The lustrous leaves of the lemon trees and the camellias, the gummy trunks of the fruit trees, seemed to drink in with delight the fresh evening breeze, precursor of the vivifying dews of night. The golden atmosphere took on in the distance faint lilac tints. Innumerable noises began to make themselves heard, preludes to songs of insects, to the concerts of the frogs and toads.

The pensive tranquillity of the scene was broken in upon by the quick trot of a mule, and Clodio Genday, out of breath, flung himself out of his saddle, and reeled into the garden. Gesticulating with his hands, with his head, with his whole body, he called, screamed, vociferated:

"Oh, I have a nice piece of news for you, a nice piece of news! I will be there directly, I will be there directly!"

They went to the head of the stairs leading to the garden, to meet him, and when he rushed upon them, like an arrow shot from a bow, they saw that he wore neither collar nor cravat, and that his dress was in the utmost disorder.

"A mere bagatelle, Señor Don Victoriano--that they are playing a trick upon us; that they have played it already, that unless we take prompt measures we shall lose the district. You would not believe it, if I were to tell you of all the plans they have been laying, for a long time past, at Doña Eufrasia's shop. And we simpletons suspecting nothing. And all the priests are in the plot; the parish priests of Lubrego, of Boan, of Naya, and of Cebre. They have set up as a candidate Señorito de Romero of Orense, who is willing to loosen his purse-strings. But where is Primo, that good-for-nothing, that scarecrow, who never found out a word of all this?"

"We will look for him, man. What do you tell me, what do you tell me? I never thought they would have dared----"

And Don Victoriano, animated and excited, followed Clodio, who went shouting through the parlor:

"Primo! Primo!"

A little later Segundo saw the two brothers and the ex-Minister going through the garden disputing and gesticulating violently. Clodio was making charges against Primo, who tried to defend himself, while Don Victoriano acted as peacemaker. In his fury Clodio shook his clenched fist in Primo's face, almost laying violent hands upon him, while the culprit stammered, crossing himself hastily:

"Mercy, mercy, mercy! Ave Maria!"

The poet watched them as they passed by, remarking the transformation that had taken place in Don Victoriano. As he turned away from the window he saw Nieves standing before him.

"And those gentlemen," she said to him graciously, "have they left you all alone? The pines must at this time be singing. There is a breeze stirring."

"Undoubtedly they will be singing now," returned the poet. "I shall hear them as I ride back to Vilamorta."

Nieves' movement of surprise did not pass unnoticed by Segundo, who, looking her steadily in the face, added coldly and proudly: "Unless you should command me to remain."

Nieves was silent. She felt that courtesy required that she should make some effort to detain her guest, while at the same time to ask him to remain, they two being alone, seemed to her inexpedient and liable to misconstruction. At last she took a middle course, saying with a forced smile:

"But why are you in such a hurry? And will you make us another visit?"

"We shall see each other later in Vilamorta. Good-by, Nieves, I will not disturb Don Victoriano. Say good-by to him for me and tell him he may count upon my father's services and upon mine."

Without taking Nieves' outstretched hand or looking at her he descended into the courtyard. He was settling his feet in the stirrups when he saw a little figure appear close beside him. It was Victorina, with her hands full of lumps of sugar, which she offered the nag. The animal eagerly pushed out its under lip, which moved with the intelligent undulations of an elephant's trunk.

Segundo interposed:

"Child, he will bite you; he bites."

Then he added gayly:

"Do you want me to lift you up here? You don't? I wager I can lift you!"

He lifted her up and seated her on the saddle-cloth, before him. She struggled to free herself and in her struggles her beautiful hair fell over the face and shoulders of Segundo, who was holding her tightly around the waist. He observed with some surprise that the girl's heart was beating tumultuously. Turning very pale Victorina cried:

"Mamma, mamma!"

At last she succeeded in releasing herself and ran toward Nieves, who was laughing merrily at the incident. Half-way she stopped, retraced her steps, threw her arms around the horse's neck and pressed on his nose a warm kiss.

XI.

Eight or ten days intervened between Segundo's visit to Las Vides and the return of Don Victoriano and his family to Vilamorta. Don Victoriano desired to drink the waters and at the same time to take measures to frustrate the dark machinations of Romero's partisans. His plan was a simple one--to offer Romero some other district, where he would not have to spend a penny, and thus removing the only rival who had any prestige in the country he would avoid the mortification of a defeat through Vilamorta. It was important to do this before October, the period at which the electoral contest was to take place. And while Genday, García, the Alcalde and the other Combistas managed the negotiation, Don Victoriano, installed in Agonde's house, drank two or three glasses of the salubrious waters every morning, after which he read his correspondence, and in the afternoon, when the sultry heat invited to a siesta, he read or wrote in the cool parlor of the apothecary.

Segundo frequently accompanied him in these hours of retirement. They talked together like two friends, and the statesman, far from insisting on the ideas he had expressed in Las Vides, encouraged the poet, offering him to endeavor to obtain a position for him in Madrid which should enable him to carry out his plans.

"A position that will not take up much of your time, nor require much mental labor--I will see, I will see. I will be on the lookout for something."

Segundo observed unmistakable signs of improved health in the wrinkled face of the Minister. Don Victoriano was experiencing the transitory benefit which mineral waters produce at first, stimulating the organism only to waste it all the more rapidly, perhaps, afterward. Both digestion and circulation had become more active, and perspiration, even, entirely suppressed by the disease, had become re-established, dilating the pores with grateful warmth and communicating to the dry fibers the elasticity of healthy flesh. As a candle flares up brightly before going out, so Don Victoriano seemed to be recovering strength when in reality he was wasting away. Fancying health was returning to him, he breathed with delight the narrow atmosphere of party intrigues, taking pleasure in disputing his district inch by inch, in winning over adherents and receiving demonstrations of sympathy, and secretly flattered by the absurd proposal made by his parishioners to the parish priest of Vilamorta, that incense should be burned before him. In the evening he amused himself patriarchally among Agonde's visitors, listening to the comical stories told of the clique at Doña Eufrasia's shop and enjoying the ripple of excitement occasioned by the proximity of the feasts. Little by little the innocent tresillo table of Agonde had become transformed into something much more wicked. Now, instead of four persons being seated at it, there was only one, around whom, their eyes fixed on his hands, the others stood grouped. The banker's left hand grasped the cards tightly while with the ball of his thumb he pushed up the last card until first the spot could be descried, then the number, then the knob of a club, the point of a diamond, the blue tail of a horse, the turreted crown of a king, and other hands took up stakes or took money from the pocket and laid it down on the fateful pieces of cardboard with the words:

"On the seven! On the four! The ace is in sight!"

Through respect for Don Victoriano, Agonde refrained from dealing the cards when the latter was present, bridling with difficulty the only passion that could warm his blood and excite his placid nature, giving up his place to Jacinto Ruedas, a famous strolling gambler, known everywhere, who followed the scent of the gaming-table as others follow the scent of a banquet, a rare type, something between a swindler and a spy, who made low jests in a hoarse voice. The chroniclers do not state whether the civil authorities, that is to say, the judge of Vilamorta, made any attempt to interfere with the unlawful diversion in which the visitors to the pharmacy indulged, but it is an ascertained fact that, the judge having one leg shorter than the other, the pounding of his crutch on the sidewalk gave timely warning of his approach to the players. And as for the municipal authority, it is known to a certainty that one day, or to speak with more exactness, one night, he entered the apothecary's back shop like a bomb, holding in his hand money which he threw on a card, crying:

"Gentlemen, I am queen!"

"Be an ass, if you like!" responded Agonde, pushing him away with marked disrespect.

This year Don Victoriano's presence and the open hostilities waged between his partisans and those of Romero gave a martial character to the feasts. The Combists desired to render them more splendid and brilliant than ever before and the Romerists to render them a failure, as far as it was possible. In the main room of the townhall the monster balloon, which occupied the whole length of the apartment, was being repaired; its white sides were being covered with inscriptions, figures, emblems, and symbols, and around the floor were scattered tin kettles filled with paste, pots of vermilion, Sienna, and ochre, balls of packthread and cut paper figures. From the giant balloon sprung daily broods of smaller balloons, miniature balloons, made with remnants and fancifully decorated in pink and blue. At the meetings at Doña Eufrasia's they spoke contemptuously of these preparations and commented on the audacity of the inn-keeper's son, a mere dauber, who undertook to paint Don Victoriano's likeness on one of the divisions of the large balloon. The Romerist young ladies, compressing their lips and shrugging their shoulders, declared that they would attend neither the fire-works nor the ball, not if their adversaries were to offer novenas with that purpose to every saint in heaven.

On the other hand, the young ladies of the Combist party formed a sort of court around Nieves. Every afternoon they called for her to take her out walking; chief among these were Carmen Agonde, Florentina, the daughter of the Alcalde, Rosa, a niece of Tropiezo, and Clara, the eldest of García's daughters. This latter was running about barefooted, spending her time gathering blackberries in her apron, when she received the astounding news that her father had ordered a gown for her from Orense, that she might visit the Minister's lady. And the gown came with its fresh bows and its stiff linings and the girl, her face and hands washed, her hair combed, her feet covered with new kid boots, her eyes cast down and her hands crossed stiffly before her, went to swell Nieves' train. Victorina took Clara García under her especial protection, arranged her dress and hair and made her a present of a bracelet, and they became inseparable companions.

They generally walked on the highroad, but as soon as Clara grew more intimate with Victorina she protested against this, declaring that the paths and the by-ways were much more amusing and that much prettier things were to be met with in them. And she pressed Victorina's arm saying:

"Segundo knows lovely walks!"

As chance would have it, that same afternoon, returning to the town, they caught sight of a man stealing along in the shadow of the houses, and Clara, who was on the other side of the way, ran over to him, and threw her arm around his waist, crying:

"Hey, Segundo; you can't escape from us now, we have caught you."

The poet gave a brotherly push to Clara, and ceremoniously saluting Nieves, who returned his salutation with extreme cordiality, he said to her:

"The idea of this girl--I am sure she has been making herself troublesome to you. You must excuse her."

They sat down on one of the benches of the Plaza, to enjoy the fresh air, and when, on the following day the party walked out after the siesta, Segundo joined them, studiously avoiding Nieves as if some secret understanding, some mysterious complicity existed between them. He mingled among the girls and, laying aside his habitual reserve, he laughed and jested with Victorina, for whom he gathered, as they walked along the hedges, ripe blackberries, acorns, early chestnut burrs, and innumerable wild flowers, which the girl put into a little Russian leather satchel.

Sometimes Segundo led them along precipitous paths cut in the living rock, bordered by walls, supporting grapevines through which the expiring rays of the sun could scarcely penetrate. Again he would take them through bare and arid woods until they reached some old oak grove, some chestnut tree, inside whose trunk, decayed and split with age, Segundo would hide himself while the girls hand in hand danced around it.

One day he took them to the stone bridge that crossed the Avieiro, under whose arches the black water, cold and motionless, seems to be dreaming a sinister dream. And he told them how in this spot, where, owing to the water being deeper there and less exposed to the sun's rays, the largest trout gathered, a corpse had been found floating last month near the arch. He took them to hear the echo also, and all the girls were wild with delight, talking all together, without waiting for the wall to repeat their cries and shouts of laughter. On another afternoon he showed them a curious lake regarding which innumerable fables were told in the country--that it had no bottom, that it reached to the center of the earth, that submerged cities could be seen under its surface, that strange woods floated and unknown flowers grew in its waters. The so-called lake was in reality a large excavation, probably a Roman mine that had been flooded with water, which, imprisoned within the chain of hillocks of argillaceous tophus heaped up around it by the miners' shovels, presented a sepulchral and fantastic aspect, the weird effect of the scene being heightened by the somber character of the marsh vegetation which covered the surface of the immense pool. When it began to grow dark the children declared that this lugubrious scene made them horribly afraid; the girls confessed to the same feeling, and started for the highroad running at the top of their speed, leaving Segundo and Nieves behind. This was the first time they had found themselves alone together, for the poet avoided such occasions. Nieves looked around uneasily and then, meeting Segundo's eyes fixed, ardent and questioning upon hers, lowered her gaze. Then the gloom of the landscape and the solemnity of the hour gave her a contraction of the heart, and without knowing what she was doing she began to run as the girls had done. She heard Segundo's footsteps behind her, and when she at last stopped, at a little distance from the highroad, she saw him smile and could not help smiling herself at her own folly.

"Heavens! What a silly fright!" she cried, "I have made myself ridiculous. I am as bad as the children! But that blessed pool is enough to make one afraid. Tell me, how is it that they have not taken views of it? It is very curious and picturesque."

They returned by the highroad; it was now quite dark and Nieves, as if wishing to efface the impression made by her childish terror, showed herself gay and friendly with Segundo; two or three times her eyes encountered his and, doubtless through absent-mindedness, she did not turn them aside. They spoke of the walk of the following day; it must be along the banks of the river, which was more cheerful than the pond; the scenery there was beautiful, not gloomy like that of the pool.

In effect the road they followed on the next day was beautiful, although it was obstructed by the osier plantations and canebrakes and the intricate growth of the birches and the young poplars, which at times impeded their progress. Every now and then Segundo had to give his hand to Nieves and put aside the flexible young branches that struck against her face. Notwithstanding all his care, he was unable to save her from wetting her feet and leaving some fragments of the lace of her hat among the branches of a poplar. They stopped at a spot where the river, dividing, formed a sort of islet covered with cats-tails and gladioli. A rivulet running down the mountain-side mingled its waters silently and meekly with the waters of Avieiro. At the river's edge grew plants with dentated leaves and a variety of ferns and graceful aquatic plants. Segundo knelt down on the wet ground and began to gather some flowers.

"Take them, Nieves," he said.