Maximina

As to the music, I am inclined to think that success was not attained by that altogether. However, any one can be sure of obtaining a happy result provided that—let this be thoroughly understood—provided that it be repeated a number of times, and the last line sung in a dying tone. For the stubborn infant to hear it, and to stop, with his eyes fixed in ecstatic contemplation of no one knew what, was the same thing. Perhaps it may have been the terrible hen forever swaying on the mast. The one thing sure was that those little eyes, so open and terrified, quickly closed in the softest slumber: all the inhabitants of the house drew a deep sigh of satisfaction: the child was then forthwith carried to the great nuptial couch, where it was deposited in one corner like a bundle of linen.

I say that at first Miguel took pleasure in going out to promenade with his wife; when the baby was hungry Maximina would nurse him, finding a seat on a bench in some retired spot; then they would go into a "dairy" near at hand and get some chocolate.

The first two days nothing went wrong in her excursion; but on the third, as she was walking along a lonely path in the Retiro to eat a bit of bread, which the nurse-girl had taken on purpose,—for nothing in the world would have tempted her to enter the chocolate-house alone,—she unexpectedly met Saavedra. Although she had seen him the day before at home, she felt a slight trembling, without knowing why; and a bright blush suffused her face, a sign which was not displeasing to the Andalusian dandy. He greeted her warmly, caressed the infant, and, without asking permission, walked along beside her. The nurse-girl respectfully passed on ahead.

The conversation turned on the ordinary topics of the time, the healthfulness of children going out, etc. Suddenly Saavedra, pausing, asked with a smile:—

"What did you do with the piece of bread that you were eating, Maximina?"

The young woman was so confused that she did not know what to reply.

"I am certain that you must have dropped it on the ground. Why are you ashamed to eat when you are nursing such a beautiful, strong baby?"

Enlivened by this praise, which for her was the most delectable that could be given, she replied:—

"Dry bread isn't very appetizing, my dear. Come to the chocolatería."

"Oh, no; I do very well: I don't care for chocolate."

"Don't be hypocritical. When you go out with Miguel, you take it every afternoon. You did not take it yesterday nor the day before, perhaps because you did not dare to go in alone.... Now, you will say: 'How does Alfonso know all these things?'"

"Indeed, I do not understand...."

"And I will tell you very softly" (Don Alfonso brought his lips close to the young woman's ear); "because I have followed you those afternoons."

Maximina felt her fear increasing. At that moment she would have made any sacrifice to be at home. She did not answer a word, and went on walking. Don Alfonso likewise remained silent, so that the drop of poison might do its work.

The sun was still pouring his rays along the sanded walks; a mild and perfumed breeze breathed through the air, presaging the approach of spring; the swelling buds on the trees likewise joyously told the tale. Many elegantly dressed children, with long curls touching their shoulders, were seen trundling hoops and tossing ball, followed by their parents or guardians. Maximina had said to herself many times on other days: "When mine will be here too!" But now she saw them pass in front of her, and yet scarcely perceived them, so deep was the agitation that swayed her.

Don Alfonso had been trying for some time to keep her back; but the more he insisted on her remaining, the more anxious she was to be going.

Now then, as he was walking toward the entrance of the Retiro and considering on the one hand how soon he would be obliged to leave her, and on the other that the step that he had taken was too bold for him to be able to retrieve it, he resolved "to throw the fish into the water"; and so he said, pausing again:—

"All this time you have not asked me why I followed you these last afternoons."

The young wife felt herself trembling more violently than ever, her face grew pale, her legs failed under her. She did not wish or was not able to find words to answer his question.

A severe lecture, premeditated and prepared, in judgment on such imprudence and dastardly meanness as Don Alfonso had just committed, could not have been more hard and cruel than that desertion. Maximina, without being aware of it, had not only preserved her dignity, but had inflicted on the insolent fellow the punishment which is severest in such cases—that of making him seem ridiculous.

Saavedra remained rooted to the ground with rage, until seeing some promenaders approaching, and gazing at him with curiosity and then turning around to look at the fleeing women, he wheeled about and strode away, from the place.

Fortunately, when Maximina reached home, Miguel was still away; if he had been there, on seeing her so excited, he would have made some inquiries, and perhaps have even become suspicious. She had time to get a little calmed; the servants really believed that she had had an ill turn, and so did Miguel himself when it came dinner time.

Nevertheless, that night and the following day the young wife was very nervous; she did not know what course to take. For the present she determined not to go out walking alone any more, under the pretext that she was afraid she might be attacked by another faint turn. But if Don Alfonso should come to call upon her, how should she present herself before him? She was certain that she should appear disturbed; her disgust and fear of him were so great that in spite of her they would appear in her face.

"It is a number of days since Alfonso has shown up."

Maximina made no reply, and went on eating, with her head down. After a moment he added:—

"I should be glad if he did not come any more. In spite of all my efforts I cannot endure that man. Wednesday, they tell me, he fought a duel which, in my opinion, was a piece of sheer cowardice. He fought with an engineer, who never in his life had been used to weapons; and, of course, wounded him dangerously at the first encounter. A man who goes out to fight with a certainty that such is going to be the case is not a true man, nor can he be called even decent."

"Oh! there is no doubt about that," Maximina would have said, with the greatest unction.

But she did not dare. The poor girl imagined that Saavedra would not take any more thought about her. Without her adored Miguel having had any annoyance whatever, everything had come out satisfactorily. Little did the ingenuous young wife know of the nature of human passions. She was soon to learn to her sorrow, what pride and revenge united are capable of attempting.

"I am a gentleman, Miguel. I cannot decently go back on this little girl. Put yourself in my place. I am well aware that my family are right in opposing this marriage, but I swear to you that it is not my wish to injure its good name. Why should I? What good would it do me to drag it through the mire, I should like to know!"

"That is evident; you have no occasion to revenge yourself on the good name of your family."

"Of course not!"

Then with much hesitation and timidity he confessed that he had a plan. It cost great trouble to make him reveal it.

Finally, by dint of entreaties, he declared that if Maximina would do him the honor of being the madrina at his wedding he should consider himself the happiest mortal in the universe. After he had said that he repented, the more as he saw that Miguel remained lost in thought; he then became so conscience-stricken that he flung his hat on the floor, and began to call himself names, and tear his hair.

"What does this mean, Enrique? Have you gone mad? As far as I am concerned there is no objection to it in the least. Ask her yourself, and if she consents, it is done."

"No, I won't ask her. Manolita is an honest girl, but of a very humble station in life. All those who will be present at the wedding will be also 'children of the people.' 'The lowest of the low,' do you see, my lad? We must call things by their right names. Your wife will not want to be there, and right she is."

"Maximina!"

Instantly the little wife appeared.

"Enrique has come to ask you to be madrina at his wedding. Will you accept his invitation?"

"Oh! and so you are to be married, are you? Then I think that I should be very much pleased to be madrina."

Enrique's face lighted up as though at that instant he had seen a procession of all the angels, archangels, thrones, and dominions of Heaven; but suddenly growing serious, he replied, a little stiffly:—

"No, Maximina, it is impossible for you to be madrina. People of your station will not be present at my wedding."

The young matron looked at him in surprise:—

"Of my station?"

"Yes; only women of the common people will be there: fish-wives, fruit-women, tavern keepers' wives, etc."

"What difference does it make to me who comes? I will be madrina if you wish. Do you take me for some princess?"

"An angel is what you are!" exclaimed Enrique, instantly losing his senses: as proof of it, his hat, which just before he had dashed to the floor, he now flung to the ceiling, then he immediately sprang after it into the air, making three or four portentous pirouettes; quickly realizing the enormity of his behavior, he took Maximina's hands, and began to kiss them in a perfect frenzy.

"You will forgive me this sudden freak, won't you, Miguel? Your wife is better than if she were made of gold and diamonds!"

"I suppose so; what could I do with a wife made of gold and diamonds?"

"No, no, Enrique," protested Maximina, laughing.

The young man's face darkened.

"That is a fact; a bull killed by me has little value. But I assure you that I am going to, or at least I can get Lagartijo, the great Lagartijo himself to present you one in a benefit fight."

"You misunderstood me; I said no, because I never go to bull-fights."

"What! doesn't Miguel take you? Shameless wretch! Never you mind, child; leave it to me, and at the first corrida that takes place, you shan't fail of a private box, or at least two front seats."

The padrino chosen to stand with Maximina was a cavalry captain, an old comrade of the bridegroom's.

The time set was Wednesday, and the hour seven in the morning. The day broke clear and magnificent; in the Madrid streets not a speck of mire could be seen; that which soiled the good name of the Rivera family was purely metaphorical. Miguel and Maximina went to the bridal apartment, which was the third-story room on the same Calle del Baño, not facing the street.

Enrique had rented it after consultation with his lady-love, and had furnished it little by little, bringing every day, like a goldfinch, his bit of straw in his bill: one day the wardrobe; another, a table; another, a couple of cane-seated chairs; and then again, a few dozen of dishes; and so on. The nest was plain and small, but pleasant, like all that is new and prepared for and by love.

Enrique had not told a falsehood: no lady was present or gentleman in dress-coat, except the padrino, who had one on, though it was the worse for wear, to be sure. On the other hand, the worthy women who were present, and the handsome young chulas, showed in their dress a picturesque magnificence very pleasant to see,—rich mantles of burate, brocaded in a thousand colors, and reaching almost to the floor; over that lace or plush mantillas, unlimited shoes of patent leather; in their ears huge pearl pendants; on their fingers enormous diamond rings. The arrangement of the hair was in almost all cases the same—parted in the middle, the hair on the crown bunched up behind, and little corkscrew curls at the temples.

Miguel was the only member of the family that graced the occasion. Julita, who had been told of it by her brother, wanted to go, but her mother forbade it. Enrique likewise did not invite his friends in his own rank of society, for the reason that he gave Maximina; that is, because he did not want to mortify them.

When Miguel's wife made her appearance, a murmur of respect and admiration went round among the guests; some among them were polite enough to take off their hats. Manolita, who, be it said parenthetically, was exquisite in her black merino dress and velvet mantilla, when she saw her come in, was as confused as though it had been the queen, and went to meet her, trembling and with her face aflame.

"Señorita.... I am much obliged.... How do you do?"

"But," our readers will say, "have we not insisted that Manolita was a bold and redoubtable chula, if there are such?"

Now then, you shall see; the majority of these chulas are really, to use the vulgar expression, 'unfortunates'; their exterior is the only terrible thing about them.

The strange thing in this case was that Maximina was as confused and flushed as Manolita was. Instead of having a haughty look or affecting a condescending expression as many ladies would have done to find herself among a set of plebeians, our little matron acted as though she were just making her appearance in an assembly of princes.

The procession started on its march to San José's.

"Señorita," Manolita was meantime saying to her madrina, "I can never repay you for the honor which you are doing me. Enrique was right in praising you!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake don't call me señorita; I am your cousin; I want you to call me Maximina; say 'thou' to me."

"Oh, I could never do that! What I am going to ask you as a special favor is, that when we get home, you will let me give you a dozen kisses."

Maximina smiled, and pressed her hand affectionately.

The priest blessed the union of the couple in the sacristy; then they went into the church and heard mass and took the sacrament.

When they went out into the street, the clock was just striking eight. The procession had greatly increased; there were more than sixty people surrounding the bridal couple. As it was impossible for so many to drink chocolate in the rooms in the Calle del Baño, it had already been decided days before that they should go to the Café de Cervantes, which is near the church. They accordingly went in there, and almost completely filled it. A most animated conversation sprang up on all sides, so that soon no one could hear himself talk.

Enrique, flushed with emotion, sat down at one table with Miguel, and began to unburden himself with remarkable verbosity:—

Maximina got up, not on account of the noise, but because she was anxious about her baby, who was probably getting hungry. Manolita looked at her with timid eyes, as though reminding her of her promise. Miguel's wife threw her arms around her and kissed her tenderly, whispering in her ear:—

"Come and see us, and I will show you my baby: you will, won't you?"

When husband and wife left the café, they were in a happy frame of mind. Hearing from a distance the noise of the band and voices, Miguel exclaimed:—

"What a jolly wedding this has been! No toasts were given, and no poems were read!"

"What a girl you are," exclaimed Miguel, kissing her, "only a few days' separation!"

"I was not crying for that exactly," rejoined Maximina, endeavoring to smile. "But for several days I have been having such melancholy forebodings."

"What forebodings?"

"I imagine that I am not going to live very long."

"Ave María! what a terrible idea! What makes you have such crazy notions?"

"I don't know," replied the little wife, smiling though the tears were sliding down her cheeks. "What I dread most is leaving my baby while he is so young."

"Don't be absurd!" said Miguel, impatiently. "These gloomy ideas are caused by the sadness that you feel at having me go away. As for the rest, though death is liable to come to any of us, there is no reason to think that yours is near at hand. You are a child of seventeen; you were never ill a day in your life, except when the baby was born. You enjoy perfect health.... It is much more likely that I should die before you: I am considerably older; besides, I haven't a very strong constitution, as you know...."

"Hush! hush!" exclaimed Maximina, throwing her arms around him, and bursting into a passion of tears. "I don't want to hear that you may die!"

"Why, my child, there is nothing to be done about it."

"But I don't want to hear about it; I don't want to, I do not!" she replied, with such lovely determination that her husband covered her with kisses.

After a while, and when they had been speaking of other things, Maximina returned to the same topic.

"Back to the old subject? Please don't indulge in any more of these follies, sweetheart."

"Would you marry again, Miguel?" she insisted, ceasing to smile, and showing her anxiety.

"Well, then, I am going to speak with all frankness: If you should die (but you aren't going to die), I will not answer for it, that in the course of my life I should never have anything to do with other women; but I give you my word and oath that I will never marry any one else. And this is not alone because of the deep and affectionate love which I bear you, so that to-day you are an essential part of my being, and if you were taken away from me it would be as though half of myself were taken away, but also for selfish reasons. I should be unhappy with any other woman. God has endowed you, my darling, with all, absolutely with all, the qualities necessary for making me happy."

The little wife well understood that these words were sincere, and she looked at her husband with enthusiasm and joy.

Miguel, in speaking the last words, had felt his heart growing tender: he covered his eyes with his hands, and turned away his head. On seeing him in this attitude a smile of intense delight illumined his wife's face.

"Are you crying?" she whispered into his ear.

Miguel did not reply.

"Are you crying?" she repeated. "You are crying; don't try to deny it." And with infantile curiosity she tried to pull his hands away from his face.

"Stop, stop!"

"Let me see thy tears, Miguel!"

And she struggled with all her might to see her husband's eyes full of tears.

"Oh! for Heaven's sake!"

"You are very young, and it would not be at all strange if this should happen. After some time the same circumstances might drive you to it! Perhaps your relatives might urge you into it: a woman is not well off alone in the world.... If this took place, I have no doubt that you would love your husband; but I could take my oath that you would not love him as much as you love me. There are things, Maximina, that are never repeated, and one of them is first love; especially if this first love has been blessed by Heaven as yours has been. Just notice the walls of this study; preserve in thy memory the form of these pieces of furniture, the color of the carpet, the sweetness of that sunbeam that comes through the window. All this that now has so little importance, if I should die, would, perhaps, seem much more so, for the moments of bliss which we are now spending here, with thee sitting on my knees, and with me looking into thy dear eyes, would never again return, Maximina, would never return for thee!"

The little wife fell back against her husband's breast, when she heard those words, like a sensitive plant which contracts at the slightest touch.

"Oh! Miguel, light of my life, what have I done to make thee speak to me so?"

And sobs choked her.

He tried to pacify her by such means as were in his power; but to accomplish it he found himself obliged to promise her solemnly that he would not die!

"But it is your husband, tonta!" cried Julita, laughing.

Miguel followed her, and groping around in the darkness, found her in one corner.

"Don't you want me to kiss you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, yes, Miguel; but there before people I should die of mortification!"

As our young man took his place in the carriage he felt his heart depressed within him.

"If it were not for what is at stake, I should not have been mixed up in this dirty business, and I certainly should not be leaving my wife and baby," he said to himself, with some bitterness.

Before reaching his district he made a stop at the capital of the province, where he was received with extreme cordiality by the governor. He was a young man who had recently been filling the position of second or third gazetillero on a liberal paper at the capital. It was said in the city that his administrative knowledge might possibly have been more solid without doing any harm; but, on the other hand, whenever it took his fancy he replied in rhyme to letters, walked the street, in free and easy costume, gave lunch-parties to the provincial deputies almost every day, enjoyed cracking jokes with the ushers, and when the assembly was in session, sometimes permitted himself to whistle in an undertone arias from Blue Beard or The Grand Duchess. His name was Castro.

"I'll get you in swimmingly, my lad, no matter what it costs. Go to the district and write me from there all that you need, and I will do for you anything in the world."

Rejoiced and flattered by this reception, our hero on the following day took the diligence for Serín, which was about seven leagues from the capital.

It was a miserable little village, but admirably situated near a river, the banks of which displayed the luxuriant vegetation of tropical countries, and the fresh verdure of the North; orange-trees, lemon-trees, and river-laurels almost shook hands with oak and chestnut groves which swept up the slopes of the mountains; they in turn were gentle and green in the foreground, dark and steep in the background, thus making a magnificent chain, rendering the landscape most picturesque. The group of white cottages that composed the village of Serín was surrounded by a thick border of trees, except on the side of the river, in whose clear blue waters it was reflected.

Now this delectable spot, which appeared like a little corner of Paradise was rather a little corner of Hades, as Miguel was quickly able to assure himself. It even had, as we shall soon see, not one, but two, serpents to torment its inhabitants.

They were likewise called "Don Martín's Party" and "Don Servando's," after the name of their respective leaders.

The division of these parties was not based upon the fact that the one, that of the Casona, represented the traditional and conservative element, while that of the Casiña stood for the progressive and liberal, the first having often been seen taking the side of "liberal administrations," and the other sustaining the cause of the "moderate" candidate. The quarrel was kindled solely by the eagerness for controlling local politics, and thus of being in last analysis the masters of the village. The rest was not of the least consequence. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that Don Martín's party had marked tendencies towards absolutism. In Don Servando's, on the other hand, there was no noticeable predilection for liberty.

It was this Don Servando, who, as Miguel alighted from the diligence and received him, took him home, willy nilly. He was a fat man of medium height, and was approaching his seventieth birthday; his face, with its deep red complexion, was adorned with short gray whiskers; he wore a very long, black frock coat, and black hongo besides.

"Have I the honor of addressing Señor Corcuera," he asked him very politely, with a strong Galician accent.

"No, sir; my name is Miguel Rivera, at your service."

"I suppose that you are Señor Bustelo," Miguel hastened to say.

"We will have a chance to talk as we go around yonder corner. You will do me the favor to follow me."

And Don Servando set forth with firm and deliberate step toward the corner indicated. Miguel followed him without understanding what it all meant.

When they had reached there, Don Servando said to him, without looking at him, and as though he were speaking with the above-mentioned corner:—

"I received word from the Señor Governor that you were to arrive this afternoon, and I take it for granted that you will do me the honor of accepting modest hospitality at my house."

"Provided that you are Señor Bustelo."

"The house that you see yonder, where there is a belvedere, is mine, my dear sir. Have the goodness to go on ahead, and I will immediately follow."

Miguel did what he commanded, without understanding the meaning of all this mystery. Afterwards he had just as little an idea, but it no longer surprised him.

Don Servando's predominant characteristic, which was manifested in all his acts, and never failed him, was caution. He never asked directly more than he already knew; what he was anxious to find out he always accomplished by means of a long series of circumlocations, and hiding his design. He never gave a straightforward and prompt answer to questions, no matter how insignificant or meaningless they were.

After they had eaten supper, and the guest's luggage had been brought in with infinite precautions, the two shut themselves into Don Servando's office, where, in less than an hour, he imbibed six bottles of beer.

"It seems to me that you are fond of beer, Señor Bustelo."

"Psh! so, so.... I prefer wine," he replied, with the gravity and the Galician accent peculiar to him.

On the following days Miguel had the opportunity of observing that he scarcely touched wine.

Owing to this state of affairs, though the general inclined toward the Casiña party, he had not consented to the others being maltreated, and he had even gone so far as to leave in their hands certain offices which were in the gift of the state, and this stirred up the wrath of Don Servando's friends, and made them so indignant that they secretly murmured against the count, and even proposed to "pay him off" when the suitable occasion came.

"It's because Don Matías is postmaster now ... you'll find it in a provision store near the Muelle, do you see?... Don't miss your way ... follow this street down, and you'll see it."

"What of that?"

"Here we never receive or drop letters at the village post-office; we send them to Malloriz, and there we have also a person who gets those directed to us, and forwards them to us afterward."

"Man alive! what distrust!"

"We can't be too careful, my dear sir; we can't be too careful."

Assured by the thought that his letter was for his wife, he immediately invited Don Servando to take a bottle of beer. For the leader of the Casiña beer-drinking was an august function of life. He had surprised the community by saying, perhaps with truth, that he drank five duros' worth a day of this beverage. Such prodigality, truly tremendous in that region, helped him not a little in maintaining his prestige. Don Servando was the only rich man who spent all his income in Serín, and this was because he was a bachelor.

His friends perceived in that smile and the absorption of the three schooners such a great and deep mystery, that they looked at each other, filled with faith and enthusiasm for their chief.

But the Casona party were bold enough in spite of being in opposition, and they proclaimed to the four winds the candidacy of Corrales, who, having been minister several times, enjoyed much notoriety in the country, although he had no official power to back him. The fact was that he was master of the ayuntamientos of Agüeria and Villabona, and that the combined vote of these districts fully counterbalanced the majority which his opponents might raise against him in Serín. The election was by universal suffrage, but both parties had perfectly calculated their forces. Consequently, the first question on the carpet that night in Don Servando's office, the dismissal of the alcaide having been obtained, was the suspension of the municipal governments above mentioned, and this had to be done before the opening of the electorial period.

They were there discussing the most suitable methods of carrying out this plan, when one of the numerous spies whom Don Servando kept in the village came into the room and informed them that Don Martín had booked for the following day in the Ferrocarrilana.

In truth, as soon as all had taken their departure, Don Servando sent his servant to secure an outside seat in the Competencia. He did not bid Miguel farewell, but made arrangements so that he should not suffer from any lack during his absence.

This lasted two days.

At the end of this time he returned, or, more correctly, both chiefs returned. Don Martín had gone down to the capital to have a tooth filled.

Every day Miguel received a little letter folded double, and directed in a handsome English hand—that taught at the Colegio de Vergara. Maximina did not write a great deal, though much more than before she was married. Her instinct told her that Miguel could not laugh at the trifles that she told him now, especially if they had reference to the baby. In all of them there was expressed an irresistible desire for him to return home as soon as possible, and yet she tried to hide it lest she should disturb him in his duties.

"Yesterday, Julita took me out to drive. It was crowded, and she was very gay. When I got home, I felt such a deep sadness that I cannot explain it to you. I remembered that the last time that I rode through the Castellana was with thee, my life, my all!"

"Last night I woke up between four and five, and without knowing what I did, I was just going to give Julia a kiss, imagining that it was you. Before I did so, I came to my senses. Such keen pain came over me that I cried more than an hour. I don't see why Julia did not wake up. Forgive me for telling you these things, my darling; I am a fool. The main thing is that you are getting along well, as you say, and that you attain your desire. There will still be time, if God is willing, for us to be together. For God's sake, don't neglect to say your prayers when you go to bed."

Each of these letters made our candidate melancholy and thoughtful for a while.

"How glad I should be to give these Caffres their walking-ticket, and go and give a hug to the daughter of my mother-in-law (God bless her!)," he said to himself more than once.

But as his affairs were progressing with 'a fair wind,' he suffered patiently. He wrote to various friends in Madrid to exert themselves for the suspension of the unfriendly ayuntamientos above mentioned. Mendoza and others also replied that the President and the ministry gave their consent. Nevertheless, the days passed, and the order did not come.

Thereupon, the Casiña party became alarmed, and brought pressure on Miguel to use all his influence again, so that this favor might in nowise be granted to Corrales, but rather to the official candidate whom they supported.

Miguel received word from Madrid that the matter was in a fair way of being settled; later he got another letter in which it was said that the minister had promised to give the order immediately; then came still another which said that the order would appear very soon in the Gazeta. Nevertheless, just as in the matter of the suspension, nothing came of it: it failed to appear.

And Don Servando's janizaries, though very certain of victory, began to grow impatient, and to assail Miguel, who, in his turn, was still more vexed by their innuendos, and felt the most savage inclination to say something impudent in their faces.

One afternoon, when they were as usual drinking beer in Don Servando's office, they heard the sound of a bomb exploding in the air. They suddenly became solemn and silent with their ears pricked up. In a moment another was heard, and some one present said:—

"They are rockets!"

"Rockets at this time of day?"

And the seven or eight men present looked at each other in amazement and no little alarm, for the two factions lived in perpetual excitement.

"No, sir."

"Suppose one of you go out and investigate...."

Two men left the room, and returning in a few moments pale and excited, said, with trembling voices:—

"The rockets are being sent up from the balcony of the Casona."

"Those ... have received notice about the public contract."

Anxiety and terror seized all hearts: by a simultaneous movement they turned their eyes to the chief, famous for his sagacity.

Don Servando deliberately drank two schooners of beer, and after wiping his lips again and again with his handkerchief, he broke the strained silence, saying:—

"Señor Alcalde, go to the town-house and send two constables to the Casona, and warn them not to send up any more sky-rockets. Article 62 of the Municipal Ordinances forbids their being shot without permission from the authorities."

The janizaries heaved a sigh of relief; not in vain had they placed their trust in their astute chief. The Alcalde went out on his errand, and the others remained discussing the incident, endeavoring to explain how the news had reached the others sooner than it had them. The general opinion was that there had been some blunder in the mails.

New and dolorous assault upon the sensibilities of Don Servando's adherents in conclave assembled.

"Señor Alcalde!" said the latter once more, "send and have the music stop! The Municipal Ordinances, articles 59 and 60, require that permission of the authorities should be demanded for this kind of manifestations."

But still Don Martín's followers were not to be cowed. As soon as the order came, feeling secure because the populace, fond of merry-making, supported them, they took the band across the bridge that spans the river there, by a curious accident dividing the municipal limit of Serín from that of Agüeria. From there to the village it would not be fifty steps. Once out of the hostile Alcalde's jurisdiction the music stormed and shrilled in discordant tones, and Don Martín's clients, inspiring the crowd to follow, began once more to organize dances, and indulge in "vivas." Thus passed the afternoon in festive gayety and carousal, while the Casiña party, gathered in their chief's office, tasted the bitterness of defeat, making faces of disgust.

And to cap the climax of misfortunes, El Occidente, Don Martín's paper, which happened to be published on the next day, was more than ever insulting, and made sport of them in a cruel fashion.

Don Servando took his "zorrocloco" philosophically, but Miguel, little wonted to the coarse personalities of village politics, flushed deeply, and declared that 'he was resolved to slap the editor of the scurvy sheet in the face.'

Don Servando's friends looked at him in amazement.

"Gently, gently, my dear sir!" said the latter, with his inevitable coolness.

By this stroke Miguel's election was made absolutely certain. The Casona party thus understood it, and crest fallen, they tried as always to curry favor. Only nine days were lacking before the opening of the electorial period. But here it is necessary more than ever to exclaim with the poet:—

Two days before the opening of this period, when the Casiña partisans were going about with glad and careless hearts, and those of the Casona angry and sorrowful; when it was whispered about, and taken for granted that Corrales was going to withdraw, and Miguel was already planning to return to Madrid, as his presence was no longer necessary in the district; lo and behold! there fell into Serín like a bombshell the news that the suspended ayuntamientos had been restored.

In spite of the exaggerated cordiality with which he was received, and the hearty embraces and his open, frank smile, our candidate saw clearly in the governor's eyes that there was something that was not quite as it should be, and immediately determined to get at the root of the matter as soon as possible. Accordingly, he began to press him with questions, which the Civil Chief of the province answered in vague terms: 'Nothing was known of the reason for this restoration; possibly difficulties had arisen in the Council of State.... Perhaps the minister considered the suspension unnecessary for carrying the elections....'

"If the minister has done this on his own responsibility, without the President's support, he has not acted well. Do you suppose that the President has been informed of what has happened?" asked Miguel.

"My dear fellow, I don't know."

"You see I have his formal promise that the government would support me with all the powers at its disposal. Had I not received this pledge, I should never have presented myself as candidate for a district where I was unknown."

"My dear lad, I don't know ... I don't know...."

"Castro," said Miguel, seizing him firmly by the hand, and looking at him with a severe directness, "you are my friend, and you must tell me the truth.... What is up?"

"You will understand perfectly well that my position does not allow me to speak frankly. If I could, I would."

"You are either my friend or you are not. Tell me what is going on," insisted Miguel, energetically.

"Very well then; if you will give me your word as a gentleman not to make any use of it, I will tell you."

"Take warning that it is putting a heavy obligation on yourself."

"I promise you. Speak!"

"We understand that you will not give the slightest hint that you know what I am going to reveal to you.... Having noticed for some time, and especially during the last few days, that the minister was weakening on your election, and knowing the friendship that unites you to the President and the conferences which you have had with him, I was anxious to get his advice, so as to know once and for all how I should look upon this matter. Yesterday I telegraphed to his secretary. Here is the answer that I received...."

The governor produced a telegram in cipher, which written out, was as follows:—

Official Candidate—Don Miguel Rivera.

Deputy—Don Manuel Corrales.

Miguel held it for some time in his hands; a melancholy, ironical smile hovered over his lips.

"Very well," said he, flinging it on the table. "One stone more which the world has cast at me."

"I feel it to the bottom of my heart, my boy. The President must have found too much pressure brought to bear upon him. Corrales, you see, is a man of great importance in the present situation!... To-morrow he may be minister.... And that is the way politics go, my boy.... To-day you, and to-morrow me."

"Hold on," said the governor, as he was going out. "I forgot to tell you that I received a telegram for you that must be from your family."

Miguel was startled.

"What does it say?"

"It must be here; take it."

It was from his step-mother, and read:—

"Come home immediately. You are needed on most urgent business."

Up to a certain point its contents were tranquillizing, for if any one had been ill, it would have said so. But as the import of the message was open to doubt, anxious and sick at heart, he secured a place that very afternoon in the train for Madrid.