The poor fellow had no idea that many of those who were applauding him had all ready a howl for the "first night" of his play, in vengeance for the forced applause that they had given him.
After this the ladies went to the library, where supper was served. The gentlemen took their places in the rear, and there began that buzzing of flat and conventional phrases between both sexes, which constitutes what has been called the "witchery of the salon."
At that moment, after Gómez de la Floresta's drama, nothing that was said could fail to seem clever or to excite the mirth of the guests; something, and it is not extravagant to say much, was contributed to this desirable state of things by the sight of the well-laden and decorated table, which in its final state was the work of Uncle Manolo.
Saavedra had been sitting the whole evening behind Julia, whispering clever things in her ear, while Utrilla, seated not far from them, and suffering as though they were roasting him on a gridiron, gazed at them fiercely, and planned how he might call his rival to one side, and demand an explanation as soon as the chance presented itself. We already know that in the matter of explanations he was no amateur.
It is befitting that we say a few words in regard to the state in which Julia's relations with her cousin and the ex-cadet were placed.
Don Alfonso had spent a few days at the Astillero with his aunt and cousin, and during this time he had settled his love-affair with Julia on a firm basis.
Then he went to Paris, intending to arrange his business, and return to Spain for good. In the first days of September he really returned to Madrid, but he did not lodge at his aunt's; reasons of delicacy, which he explained to Julia, compelled him to this.
While he was in Paris he wrote few letters, and these in the fluent terms of cousinly rather than lover-like affection. Julia's pride forbade her asking any explanations; but when he returned he hastened to give them, telling her in rather obscure terms that he wanted to keep his relations with her secret for a time, so as conveniently to settle his affairs, and announce their engagement to his family at the earliest possible moment, and thus realize the union which he so eagerly desired.
This secret and somewhat underhanded conduct, instead of dampening Julia's ardor, each day made her more and more her cousin's slave.
Don Alfonso, when he was not sleeping, spent almost all the hours of the day at his aunt's house; he was often there to dinner, and likewise often went to drive or to the theatre with them.
As for our bizarre cadet, his fate could not have been more desolate. Julita had broken off entirely with him; and on this account he had fallen into such a decline that it was pitiful to see him: his sallow complexion had turned green; his bones could be counted even at a long distance; only one thing had grown in his body, and that was his Adam's apple; this had reached really fantastic proportions.
As Miguel was going along the vestibule, he felt that some one touched his shoulder.
It was Utrilla.
"Don Miguel, I want to ask a favor of you."
"You shall, my dear boy."
"It is absolutely necessary that you and some other friend this very moment carry my challenge to this Señor Saavedra. I thought of doing it myself, but I am rather excited, and I do not care to let myself cause a scandal in your house."
Miguel remained a moment undecided, and then said:—
"My dear fellow, you must understand that as Señor Saavedra is my sister's cousin, and as the motive of the trouble is for her sake, I could not possibly mix myself up in such an affair.... But as you are my very dear friend, and as I would desire to save you annoyance, I will do what I can for you. It is necessary, however, that you promise not to take any step in this business, and to leave the entire direction of it to me."
"I promise you."
Miguel wanted to gain time and save the poor lad, and his own family as well, a serious unpleasantness.
"I ought to warn you," he said afterwards, with a smile, "that Saavedra is one of the most famous of marksmen."
"That makes no difference to me," rejoined Utrilla, making a gesture worthy of Roland or Don Quixote.
The brigadier's son looked at him surprised at such valor, at once ridiculous and heroic.
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 blasé 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, Señor 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 Señor de Ramírez 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, señorito; 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...."
"Señorito, 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.
"Señorito, 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, señorito; 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, señorito!" 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, señorito?"
"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.
"Señorito, 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?"
"But, señorito, they have only just gone out!"
"Come now, stop talking, and go after the stove."
Juana left the room, utterly dumfounded; the señorito had suddenly changed his character; he acted like a madman! He walked up and down through the house, with long strides; he gave more orders now in a moment than in a month before, and was vexed at everything that was said to him. From time to time he would go to his wife, and ask her anxiously:—
"How are you feeling now?"
More than a hundred times he had been to the door and listened; but no one came. In desperation he again began his agitated walk. At last he thought that he heard steps on the stairs.... Could it be!... Nothing; it was only the janitor carrying up a telegram to the third story. The mischief take it! Another spell of waiting! "How wretched! Where can that miserable Plácida have gone? Surely she must be gallivanting with that young sergeant of engineers. How little humanity these servants have! As soon as the crisis is over, I will give her a walking ticket! I would much better have sent Juana, who, at least, hasn't any lover....
"Do you feel worse, Maximina? A little tea would not do you any harm.... I will go and make it myself.... Courage!"
"You need it more than I, poor fellow!" said the young wife, smiling.
As he crossed the passage-way, the door-bell rang.
"At last!"
Deceived again! It was the Countess de Losilla, who came to offer her services "for everything." The young ladies did not come down for reasons easy to imagine.
"But, Rivera, how pale you are!"
"Señora, there is no small reason for it," he replied peevishly.
"But why, my son?" she demanded. "If there is no complication, as we have reason to hope, there is nothing more natural and harmless."
Miguel, in his turn, had to use strong efforts to repress his indignation. "Natural for me to have a son! How stupid the aristocracy are!" he said to himself.
Maximina received this visit gratefully, but with some feeling of embarrassment. The countess began to take the direction of affairs, like a consummate strategist, calmly and unhesitatingly giving every order.
From this moment Miguel remained entirely eclipsed; the maids paid absolutely no heed to him, and he found himself obliged to wander like a lost soul up and down the corridors. Once when he attacked Juana to bid her take the tila in a glass, and not in a cup, she told him to leave her in peace, that he knew nothing about such things. And he had to put up with it!
At last the midwife came. Miguel followed her, more dead than alive, to the room, but the countess shut the door in his face. Then after a little she opened it again, and by the smile on the face of all he saw that all was going well.
"Señorito, it is all right," said the comadre.
"What! is there no need of calling the doctor?"
"Not in the least, thank God! I will answer for it."
He became calm, as though a divinity had spoken from the clouds. But in the course of ten minutes he suddenly lost faith; that woman might be deceiving him or deceiving herself; who could have any confidence in such people? He cautiously approached the chamber, and said, putting his head in at the door:—
"It seems to me that I had better call in the doctor.... For safety's sake—nothing more," he added, timidly.
"As you please, señorito," replied the comadre, dryly, and with a scornful gesture.
"Rivera, for Heaven's sake! Haven't you heard her say that she would be responsible?" said the countess.
"Well, well, if she will be responsible," he replied, somewhat abashed. And then he asked with affected coolness:—
"How soon?"
The women all laughed aloud. The midwife replied in a condescending tone:—
"Señorito, don't worry. It will be when God wishes, and all will be well!"
He began to wander again like a shade through the corridors, not a little disgusted and anxious. The result was that every one found him ridiculous on this occasion and even laughed in his very face, and yet he could not persuade himself that it was right for him to intrust his happiness and his very life in the hands of an ignorant woman. He would have been more than glad to call a counsel of all the eminent physicians of the court. "If there is the least complication, I will choke her to death!" he said to himself, in a perfect fury. And with this consolatory threat he felt relieved.
After a little while his step-mother arrived, and she also immediately began to give orders. She was followed by the señora of the third floor, the wife of an employé of the Tribunal de la Rota.[38] Behind her came a maid bringing an enormous picture of San Ramón Nonnato, and this she placed in Maximina's room, with two lighted candles at the side of it. This lady likewise began to give directions as soon as she arrived. It really seemed as if everybody had the right to issue orders except the master of the house, toward whom all those ladies, and even the maid-servants, took delight in showing a profound and no less unjustified contempt.
"Why, however you look at it," he said to himself, with eminent truth, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking gloomy and annoyed, "I am the husband, and, besides, I am, or, at least, shall be, the ... the ... which is the same thing."
The poor fellow did not open his month unless to make some blunder, worthy at least of a disdainful smile.
Once, catching sight of his wife standing up and leaning on Juana and the comadre, it occurred to him to suggest that she would be better off in bed. The representatives of the female sex, like one body, fulminated such a terrible look at him that we cannot possibly explain why it did not reduce him to ashes. La brigadiera, striving to contain herself and soften her voice, said to him:—
"Miguel, you are disturbing us. I beg of you to leave us, and we will send for you in good time."
He obeyed in spite of himself: as he left the room he saw such a sad and loving look in his wife's eyes, that he was on the point of opening the door again and saying:—
"Ladies, see here! I am the master, this is my wife, and you depart whence you came!"
But he came to the conclusion that the dispute might annoy Maximina, and he swallowed his chagrin.
Now, absolutely condemned to ostracism in the corridors, he walked up and down in them for a long time, listening to all the noises in the bedroom. He was anxious to hear his wife's voice, even though it were in tones of anguish; but there was nothing: he could hear all the others, but not hers.
"How is it going?" he asked of the countess, who was starting for the kitchen.
"Very well, very well. Don't you be troubled."
An hour passed, and, worn out by his incessant walking up and down, he went to the parlor and threw himself upon a sofa. He sat there for some time, with his eyes wide open, trying to conquer the drowsiness that was taking possession of him in spite of himself. But at last he yielded: he stretched out his feet, settled his head comfortably, yawned tremendously, and soon was sleeping like a log.
It was broad daylight when three or four women precipitately invaded the parlor, shouting at the top of their voices:—
"Don Miguel!... Rivera!... Señorito!"
"What is the matter?" he cried, looking up in alarm.
"Nothing, except that you have a son! Come, come!"
And they pulled him with them to the chamber, where he saw his wife, still seated in an easy-chair, her face pale, but beaming with celestial happiness. At the same instant he saw Juana in one corner with a something in her hands that was squalling horribly! He could not bear to look at it for an instant, but turned his face to his wife and kissed her tenderly.
When Miguel left the room, his heart was in his mouth.
When he found himself alone he began to weep like a child.
"Poor little wife!" he murmured. "She suffered without a complaint, and there I was sleeping like a brute! I shall never forgive myself for such selfishness as long as I live!... Still, it was the fault of those women," he added, with a sudden wrath; "those meddlesome persons who drove me out of the room."
His remorse quickly subsided, and gave way to a thousand pleasant emotions of paternity. He wanted to go in a second time; but the women! always those women!—they blocked his way, saying that the infant was not yet washed and swaddled, or his wife put to bed.
When all this was accomplished, he went into her room; his wife was lovelier than ever as she lay in bed, with a lace cap adorned with blue ribbons on her head, and wearing a clean white night-dress. He sat down at the head of the bed, and the two looked at each other in amazement; under the pretext of feeling of her pulse, he pressed her hand long and tenderly. La brigadiera then presented him a bundle of clothes, saying:—
"Here you have your son."
Miguel took the bundle and lifted it close to his eyes, and saw a little round red face without a nose, its eyes shut, and its forehead depressed, and from its comparatively enormous mouth issued sounds that were farthest from melodious.
"How ugly it is!" he said aloud.
A cry of indignation escaped from every one of the women, even his wife.
"What an atrocious thing to say, Rivera!"—"How can you imagine such a thing!"—"What makes you think that it is ugly, señorito?"—"It is certainly one of the loveliest babies that I ever saw, Rivera."—"Do you expect it at this time of its life to have perfect features?"
"Give it here, give it here!" said la brigadiera, snatching it from his hands.
"That is the kind of flowers that you give the poor little creature!"
"I should like to know what kind of a thing you were two hours after you were born, señorito," exclaimed Juana.
Miguel, not feeling any indignation at this lack of respect, replied:—
"Most beautiful!"
"How you must have changed for the worse since then!" retorted the countess, laughing.
"Not so very much, señora, not so very much; I am certain that my wife will quite agree with me."
"Not at all," said Maximina, making a face to express her vexation.
"Maximina!"
"Then why did you call him ugly?"
"I see that this young gentleman has wholly driven me out of my place!"
Meanwhile the bundle was passing from hand to hand, not without all the time emitting more and more energetic protests against such an unwelcome journey. But this same helpless desperation was the very thing that gave the most delight to those excellent women; they died with laughter to behold that poor little mouth open even to the throat, and that expressive and desperate waving of little hands filled with threats.
"Come, come! what lungs you have, child!"
"It is perfectly delightful! cheer up, man alive, cheer up! What a waste of genius, little pet!"
"What a monkey-face it makes when it cries!"
To tell the truth, it was horrible.
"Oh! it is stopping, señora! oh! it is stopping!" cried Plácida.
All the women gathered around it, in affright.
"What do you mean, it is stopping?" demanded Miguel, leaping from his chair.
"It has stopped crying, señorito!"
The baby, with its face drawn up and its mouth open, made no sound. The countess shook it with all her might till she almost murdered it: finally the infant emitted a scream more excruciating than ever, and all the women breathed a sigh of relief.
"Come now; we must give this little rascal to his mamma; if he does not get something to eat, he will be angry with us."
"How can that baby know enough to be angry?" thought Miguel.
They put it in the bed, and held its mouth to the maternal fount, but it refused, we cannot tell under what pretext, to take the breast, and this conduct the women found very extraordinary. Maximina looked at him with stern eyes, mentally giving him most terrible denunciations. The countess asked for sugar and water, and with that anointed the breast; then the child, won by this most delicate attention, no longer hesitated to yield to the desires of all the señoras, and began to suckle with little haste—like an apprentice, in fact—in the operation.
"Just see what a cunning little rascal he is!"
"Ave María! it seems incredible that it can have such a temper!"
"Such a thing as that you never saw in your life before, woman!"
"He is a perfect little villain!"
After this performance, the baby proposed to do all in his power to confirm this favorable opinion that had been formed of his genius. In fact he opened his right eye just the least wee bit, and immediately shut it again, to the great astonishment and delight of all present; then accidentally getting his own hand into his mouth, he began to suck at it with all his might. Not satisfied with this gallant exhibition of his talents, he proved it still more completely when Plácida put her finger into his mouth; in an instant he was furiously sucking at that also; but quickly becoming aware of the deception practised upon him, he became furiously angry, and gave it to be understood, with sufficient clearness, that whenever there was any attempt to lower his dignity, they would see him always protest in the same or similar fashion.
When he was put back into bed again, he fell asleep in a moment, and "slept like a bishop" (that was Juana's simile), while his mother from time to time lifted the coverlid to look at him, with not only tenderness, but also childish curiosity. Miguel having rather carelessly leaned on the bed, she thought that he was going to hurt the child.
"Look out! look out!" she cried in choleric tone.
And she gave him such an indignant look that the young man was amazed, since it was beyond the power of his imagination to conceive those sweet eyes having such an expression.
Instead of being grieved, he began to laugh like a madman. Maximina was mortified, but smiled, and her innocent face regained the expression of lovely calm so peculiar to it.
Unfortunately, her calm was quickly disturbed in a most unexpected way. It happened that after the "bishop" had waked up, the feminine council conceived certain suspicions that his illustrious highness needed some attention, and an ocular inspection was forthwith ordered. The countess found that it was even as they had thought. Then with admirable grace and no little satisfaction she began to change the infant.
But at this juncture, la brigadiera, who had been steadily growing jealous of the countess for some time and had solemnly, though in an undertone, declared in the hearing of the maids that "that worthy señora was a tiresome busybody," now declared in a rather peevish tone that the bandage ought not to be put on as tight as the countess had put it on.
"Let me alone, Angela, let me alone! I know well enough how to do it," said the countess, with a certain accent of self-sufficiency, continuing in her task.
"But if it is left that way, the little thing won't be able to breathe, countess."
"There is no need of any one teaching me about dressing infants: I have had six children, and, thank God, they are all alive in the world, safe and sound."
"Well, I have never had but one daughter, but I should never have consented for her to be swaddled in that way!"
"But I tell you that I do not need lessons from you, not in this nor in anything else...."
The words which had passed were beginning to be very sharp, and the angry glances which the two ladies gave each other made it apparent that there would soon be a crisis. Those who were present at the scene grew very grave; Maximina, startled, looked as though she were going to cry. Then Miguel, vexed by the whole proceeding, interfered, saying, gently but firmly:—
"Ladies, please have some consideration for this poor girl, who now needs calm and rest."
The Countess de Losilla arose stiffly, handed the infant to a maid, and sailed out of the room, without saying a word. Miguel followed her, but in spite of all his entreaties, she utterly refused to return; on the other hand, her anger grew more and more violent as she went toward the door, and there she said "adiós" very curtly, and went up to her room, apparently with the intention of never coming down again.
"This mamma of mine always has to put her foot into it! What a lack of tact she has!" he exclaimed, when he was left alone.
But all his annoyance quickly vanished from his mind, owing to the happy and exceptional circumstances in which he found himself.
It was God's design, however, that a few drops of gall should be mingled in the cup of his happiness. In the evening, when, wearied by the commotion of the day, he was just preparing to go to bed, leaving Plácida to watch with his wife, he heard an importunate ring at the door-bell.
"Señorito, there is a gentleman here who is anxious to speak with you."
"Confound the impertinent visit! Have you shown him into the study?"
"Yes, señorito."
Our new papa went there, taking his own time, and perfectly resolved that it should not be a long call. But on entering the study, he had a not altogether agreeable surprise in finding Eguiburu, the "white horse" of La Independencia.
The relationship which he enjoyed with this gentleman was not very intimate. Since he had given his endorsement, guaranteeing the thirty thousand duros which had been spent on the newspaper, he had seen him only twice, to receive from his hand two sums amounting to twelve thousand, which had not been wholly spent on the paper, but had also been used in assisting the emigrados. This unseasonable visit therefore reminded him of these things, and made him anxious and suspicious.
Eguiburu was a tall, lean man, with pale and wrinkled face, small blue eyes, thinnish red hair, and very inelegant in his whole person. The clothes that he wore—tight-fitting trousers of black serge, large vest, and an enormous gray overcoat reaching to his very heels—did not tend to give any additional elegance to his appearance.
Miguel greeted him courteously and gravely, and asked him to what he owed the honor of his visit....
"Señor de Rivera," said Eguiburu, unceremoniously taking a chair—Miguel, in his surprise, having neglected to ask him to do so—"it happens that now for several months you have been in power...."
"Hold on, my friend; there is no one in Spain further from being in power than I.... I am not even under-secretary."
"Well, well; when I say 'you,' I mean your friends; they all at the present time occupy great positions: the Count de Ríos, ambassador; Señor Mendoza has just been elected deputy...."
"And do you think of comparing me, an insignificant pigmy, with the Count de Ríos and Mendoza, two stars of the first magnitude in Spanish politics?"
"Now, see here; Señor de Rivera, to tell the truth, the other night in the Levante Café, Señor de Mendoza was not spoken well of, even by his own friends."
"What did they say?"
"They said,—begging your pardon,—that he was light as a cork."
"Those are the calumnies of the envious. Don't imagine, friend Eguiburu, that statesmen are made of such stuff."
"I am very glad that such is the case, señor. But the truth is that, in spite of their talents and the positions that they hold, neither the Señor Conde de Ríos nor Mendoza are remembering to make good to me the money that I have been spending for them."
"Have you spoken to them?"
"I have written a letter to each of them. Mendoza did not reply; the Señor Conde, after the lapse of considerable time, tells me in a letter, which I have with me, and you can see, 'that the very serious political duties that weigh upon him do not permit him at present to attend to such things as these, which have for some time been intrusted to his former private secretary, Señor Mendoza y Pimentel.' Of course, as you very well know, I have no need of begging from door to door for what is my own. And so, without further delay, I have come directly to you."
"Why did you not go to Mendoza first?"
Eguiburu hung his head, and began to twirl his hat; at the same time he smiled much as a marble statue might have done if it had the power.
"Señor de Mendoza seems to me to have very little flesh for my claws!"
On hearing these words, and seeing the smile that accompanied them, Miguel felt a chill run down his back, and he made no reply. At the end of a few moments he looked up, and said in a firm voice:—
"In other words, you have come to dun me for those thirty thousand duros! Is that so?"
"I feel it in my soul, Señor de Rivera ... be convinced that I really do ... for it is certainly not to be gainsaid that you have not eaten them."
"Thanks! you have a sensitive spirit, and I congratulate you on it. Unfortunately I cannot reciprocate this delicacy of feelings by handing over the thirty thousand duros."
"Very well; but you will hand them over!"
"Have you any security for it?"
Eguiburu lifted his head, and fixed his little blue eyes on Miguel, who looked at him in a cool and hostile manner.
"Yes, señor," he replied.
"Then I congratulate you again; I did not know that you could have it."
"Don't you remember, Señor de Rivera," said the banker, with amiability exaggerated in order to palliate the unpleasant effect that his words were about to produce, "I have here a paper endorsed with your name?"
And as he said this he raised his hand to his overcoat pocket.
Again Miguel kept silence. At the end of a few moments he spoke in a voice in which could be detected anger scarcely repressed:—
"That is to say, Señor de Eguiburu, that you propose nothing else than to ruin me on account of a debt, which, as is evident to you, I have not contracted."
"I propose merely to make sure of my money."
"That is all right," said Miguel, in a choking voice; "to-morrow I will write to the Count de Ríos, and will also see Mendoza; I should like to know if the count is capable of leaving me in the lurch.... If that should be so, then we will see what is to be done."
After these words there was a period of embarrassed silence. Eguiburu twisted his hat, looking askance at Miguel, who kept his eyes fastened on the floor, while his lips showed an almost imperceptible tremor, which did not escape the banker's notice.
"There is one way, Señor de Rivera," he suggested timidly, "by which you can get out of the difficulty in which you find yourself, and still have time to obtain from the count and the other friends the fulfilment of their obligations.... If you will guarantee me the money which I have since spent on the newspaper, I shall be perfectly willing to wait.... I am sorry to put the pistol to the heart of a person for whom I have so high a regard, but...."
Miguel remained motionless, with his eyes cast down, and thinking deeply; then suddenly standing up, he said:—
"Well, we will see how this affair turns out. I will speak to-morrow with Mendoza, and immediately let you know the result of my interview, and of my letter to the count."
Eguiburu likewise arose, and with exquisite amiability offered Rivera his hand in farewell. Miguel shook hands, and looking at him keenly, while a derisive smile hovered over his lips, he said:—
"Are you very anxious for those thirty thousand duros?"
"Why do you ask me?"
"Because I should be grieved if you were very much set upon them, while on the eve of losing them forever."
"Explain yourself!" said the banker, growing serious.
"Nothing, man; but if I should not get the money from the Conde de Ríos, what I have...."
"Hey! What is that you say?"
"That I should never in the world be able to pay for it, for the two houses which constitute my fortune are mortgaged...."
Eguiburu became terribly pale.
"You could not mortgage them because I have your endorsement for an obligation: the mortgage is null."
"They were mortgaged long before the endorsement."
The banker passed his hand over his forehead in despair; then straightening up quickly, and giving Rivera a crushing look, he stammered—
"Tha-that is ... a p-piece of rascality.... I will have you up in c-court as a swindler."
Miguel burst into a laugh, and laying his hand familiarly on the man's shoulder, he said:—
"That gave you a good scare, didn't it? Now I am somewhat repaid for the one that you just gave me."
"But what the deuce does this mean?..."
"Calm yourself; my houses are not mortgaged. You will have the pleasure of ruining me on the day least expected," replied the young man, with bitter irony.
The symptom of a smile seemed to be coming into Eguiburu's face, but it suddenly vanished again:—
"Are you in earnest?"
"Yes, man, yes; don't have any apprehension."
Then the smile that had vanished once more appeared, insinuating and benevolent, on the money lender's lips.
"What a joker you are, Señor de Rivera! No one can ever tell whether you are in earnest or joking."
"Then you are certainly very wrong to be so calm at this moment."
Eguiburu grew serious again:—
"No! I cannot believe that you would jest on matters so ... so...."
"So sacred, you mean?"
"That is it—so sacred."
"However, you will confess that you haven't the papers with you."
"Certainly not; you are a talented man ... and a perfect gentleman besides...."
"Come now; don't flatter me; there is no need of it."
They went to the door, talking as they went. Eguiburu felt an anxiety that he tried in vain to hide; he gave his hand three or four times to Rivera; his face and attitude changed more than a score of times, and when Miguel told him to put on his hat, he placed it, all twisted and rumpled, on the back of his head. He tried to change the conversation to prove that he was perfectly convinced of the good word of his surety. He asked him with much interest about his wife and the baby, taking great pains to inquire about the details of the occurrence. Nevertheless, when he was already on the stairway, and Miguel was just about to close the door, he asked in an indifferent and jovial tone, and yet betraying keen anxiety:—
"Then that was merely a joke, was it, Rivera?"
"Have no anxiety about it, man!" replied Miguel, laughing.
But as soon as he was left alone, the laugh died on his lips; he stood for a moment with his fingers on the latch; then he went with slow step back to his study, sat down at the table, and leaned his head on his hand, with his eyes covered. Thus he sat a long time in thought. When he got up, they were swollen and red as though he had slept too long. He went to his wife's room; as he passed through the corridor he felt a little chill.
She was still awake. Beside the bed a cot had been placed for Plácida.
"Who was your visitor?" she asked.
"It was no consequence; a man came to speak with me about the paper."
There must have been something peculiar in Miguel's voice in making this simple reply, for his wife looked at him anxiously for some time. To free himself from this scrutiny, he went on to say:—
"How rested I am; I had a nap."
He kissed her forehead, then lifted the spread, contemplated for a moment his sleeping son, and touched his lips to the little head; then he kissed his wife again, and left the room. When he went to bed he shivered, and nevertheless felt that his cheeks were on fire.
For a long time he lay in bed, with his eyes wide open and the lamp lighted. A throng of melancholy thoughts passed through his mind; a thousand forebodings and fears attacked him. Like all men of keen imagination, he leaped to the worst conclusions; he saw himself ruined, obliged with his wife to leave the social circles in which they had been accustomed to move: he also remembered his son.
"My poor boy!" he exclaimed.
And he was on the point of sobbing; but he made a manly effort to control himself, saying:—
"No! weep for lost money? Such things are done only by fools and misers. A man who has a wife like mine, and a son such as she has just given me, has no right to ask anything more of God. I am young; I have good health; if worse comes to worst, I can work for them."
As he murmured these words, he gave a violent puff to the light, and had sufficient self-control to calm himself, and was soon asleep.
XVII.
On the following morning, as soon as he was dressed, and after spending by his wife's side a much shorter time than circumstances required, he left the house and hastened to Mendoza's.
Mendoza at this time was lodging at one of the best and most central hotels of Madrid. When Miguel reached there, he was still asleep. Nevertheless, he went to his room, and took it upon himself to open the shutters like a friend whose familiarity was limitless.
"Holá! I see that you sleep just the same as when you were not a great man."
Mendoza rubbed his eyes, and looked at him in amazement.
"What does this mean, Miguelito? Why so early in the morning?"
"My dear Perico, the first thing that you must do is to get rid of this condescending tone. When there are people present, I am perfectly willing for you to condescend, and I will call you 'most illustrious lordship' if you like; but when we are alone, just remember that I am not your vassal."
"You are always just the same, Miguel," replied Mendoza, a little exasperated.
"That is the advantage that you have over me: I am always the same; you are always changing and playing a new and brilliant rôle in society. I am satisfied, however, with mine—so satisfied that the fear of having to be different is what brings me here so early in the morning to disturb your dreams of glory."
"What do you mean?"
"That having up to the present time been considered a person 'well fixed,' or, to use the expressions affected by us literary fellows, being an Hidalgo of 'ancient stock,' and having 'five hundred sueldos guerdon,' I—but you don't know what this means?"
"No!" replied Mendoza, with an impatient gesture.
"Well, it is very simple. If you should give me a slap (which I am sure you will not), I should get 'five hundred sueldos guerdon,' or fine. On the other hand, if I should give you one (which is perfectly possible), there would be no need of your spending a sou.... Well then, having up to the present time played this rôle in society, I should feel it to the bottom of my soul to be obliged to try that of the poverty-stricken or the vagabond, which I have never studied."
"I don't understand you."
"I am coming to the point. Last evening Eguiburu presented himself at my house, and without any preamble demanded of me the thirty thousand duros which have been spent on La Independencia, and which I guaranteed, yielding to your entreaties.... Do you understand now?"
Brutandor said nothing for several moments, remaining in an attitude of meditation; then he said, with the solemn deliberation which characterized all his remarks:—
"I believe this amount should be paid, not by you, but by the Count de Ríos."
"Ah! you think so, do you? Then I am saved. As soon as Eguiburu knows this opinion, I am certain that he will not venture to ask a cuarto of me."
"If it were taken from you, it would be robbery."
"I am delighted to see that the immutable principles of natural law have not vanished from your mind. But you know that the actual law is on his side; and if, perchance, it should enter into his head to make use of law instead of equity, I want to know if you would have the heart to let him ruin me."
Miguel had grown very serious, and looked at his friend with that cold and hard expression which was always in his case a sign of repressed anger. Mendoza dropped his eyes, in confusion.
"I should feel very sorry to have any misfortune happen to you, Miguel."
"The question now is not about your feelings. What I want to know this instant is, if the general is ready to pay this sum."
"I think that the general has no other desire...."
"Nor is the question about the general's desires. I want to know—do you hear?—I want to know if he will pay the thirty thousand duros, or will not pay them."
"I shall have to write him: you know he is in Germany just now."
"The point is, that if he does not pay it, I will take it into court. I have letters from him acknowledging the debt," said Miguel, striding in a state of excitement up and down the room.
Mendoza allowed him to do so for some time, and then replied:—
"It seems to me, Miguel, that you ought not to be in too great a hurry to do this or look on the dark side; you won't get ahead any that way."
"What makes you say that?" retorted the brigadier's son, halting.
"You would get nothing by taking it to court."
"Why so?"
"Because the general has no fortune: all that he has is in his wife's name."
Miguel's eyes flamed with anger.
"The villain!" he muttered under his breath; and then added: "I shall be convinced that you are as vile as he."
"Miguel, for God's sake!"
"That is what I have said. Take it as you like. I am glad that it looks worse for him."
Mendoza had no wish nor courage to reply. He let him continue his walking up and down, in the hope that his anger would calm down, and in this he showed how well he knew his man. In fact, in a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders, paused near the bed, and throwing his hands on Mendoza's shoulders with a loving gesture, he said, laughing:—
"I have been unfair. I had forgotten that you were too much of a rough diamond to be a villain."
Mendoza was not annoyed by this singular apology.
"You are so quick-tempered, Miguel, that when one least thinks about it, you 'leave a man without the blood in his veins.'"
"It would be worse to leave one without any money."
"Man alive! you haven't lost it yet. I have no doubt that the matter will be settled all right."
"Do you know what plan Eguiburu proposed to me?"
"No; what?"
"That I should also guarantee the twelve thousand duros which he had furnished besides, and then he will wait."
Mendoza made no reply. Both remained lost in thought.
"That does not seem to me such a bad plan," said the former, at length. "I tell you frankly that at present it is impossible to get the thirty thousand duros from the general; I know his affairs well, and am certain that he is not in a situation to pay down this amount. But if it does not come from his private pocket, it may be got from the public treasury. I have it on good authority that the government has already voted some money (though not any such sum as this), to be spent on newspapers, and credited to the secret funds of the Ministry of the Government. The point here is to get influence enough for the minister to get hold of it."