Volume I Part 21 (1/2)
Don Rosendo's style was always involved. He continued:
”Now that civilization, released from the obstacles that crippled the conscience and the mind, opens a vast field to all, by means of the press, to express our independent ideas and give them forth to the world, trusting in the friends.h.i.+p that you have always accorded me, and in the kindness with which the public has. .h.i.therto received the humble efforts of the pen,” etc., etc.
After three or four more paragraphs in this perambulatory style (which the editor of the ”Progress” always had to curtail) Don Rosendo went into the question, putting forward the slaughter-house, or, as he termed it, ”the public ma.s.sacre-hall,” in all its bearings, so as to condemn its establishment on the Plaza de las Meanas in terms that left no room for doubt. The reasons given for the opposition were obvious. For one thing, the southeast winds, prevalent during the greater part of the year, would carry miasmic smells, etc.
For another thing, the difficulty of reaching solid ground for the cementing would cause an enormous expense, etc. The necessity of pa.s.sing through the town with the cattle, etc. For another thing, the proximity of the houses, the bad effect on the mineral springs, etc.
In fact, Don Rosendo having given more than twenty reasons, in what he termed ”a clear, succinct style,” he added that they would be given more fully in the forthcoming letters with which he purposed ”troubling the readers of the ill.u.s.trious periodical.”
When the reading was over, Gonzalo p.r.o.nounced the reasoning incontrovertible, and Don Rosendo (with his spectacles on his nose) declared that there was no gainsaying it.
Having arrived at such a perfect understanding, they separated in a befittingly cheerful spirit. Don Rosendo remained in the library to copy his letter, and Gonzalo was about to return to the workroom; but before he left the apartment his future father-in-law called him back to say:
”Mind, not a word to anybody of this.”
”Don Rosendo, I swear!” returned the young man, raising his hand in sign of protest.
The merchant, in an expansive frame of mind, continued:
”You will soon know something else which will be a pleasant surprise to you. It is an idea which came to me two months ago, and which I hope to carry out, G.o.d willing, very soon. Oh! it is a brilliant idea! It will make a radical change in Sarrio, you know!”
The mysterious manner, the serious, agitated tone of his voice, the look of triumph which fulminated from his eyes as he spoke, surprised Gonzalo not a little. Nevertheless, he did not dare to ask for explanations, and his future father-in-law let him go with a vacant smile.
CHAPTER X
TWO TRAITORS
The party in the workroom was meanwhile still being entertained by Pablito's conversation, which was embellished by practical ill.u.s.trations, in accordance with his versatile nature.
Venturita had not yet returned, and Gonzalo reseated himself by the side of his betrothed and began talking to her with undisguised embarra.s.sment and timidity, for, being unaccustomed to hide his feelings, his treachery weighed upon his soul. Sometimes Cecilia raised her head to reply, and her clear, serene, innocent glance made him blush. To overcome his confusion he thought he had better tell her his love and devotion in more ardent terms than hitherto. Like all irresolute natures, in a time of exigency he took the worst course to give himself a moment's respite. Cecilia received the protestations in silence, without evincing the delight that women generally show on hearing expressions of affection from the one they love.
”You are very flattering to-day, Don Gonzalo. I don't like being spoiled,” she said at last with a smile.
”But it is a pleasure to tell you what I feel,” he replied in a choked voice.
”Well, it is a pleasure I do not understand,” she returned sweetly. ”The deeper my affection the less I like to speak of it.”
”That is because you do not really love.”
”Oh!” she exclaimed, in such a genuine tone of reproach that our young man was taken aback.
”Yes, yes; it is because you are naturally cold. The heat of feeling, like physical heat, can not remain long concealed; there comes a time when it rises to the surface like the lava of volcanoes. And of all sentiments, love is the one that can best burst the strings of the tongue. It is only really felt when one can say in every tone and in every manner possible, 'I love you.' What you said just now is absurd, for simultaneously with the birth of love in our hearts for anybody there comes the desire to express it; and to satisfy this desire is the greatest of all delights.”
”It may be, it may be,” she remarked in a doubtful tone. ”Although I have not experienced it, I can well imagine it from what I suffer. But, Gonzalo,” she added in a tremulous voice, ”for G.o.d's sake don't measure my affection by my words. I can not, I can never say what I feel. There seems to be a sort of lump in my throat, and nothing comes but foolish things, insignificant remarks, when I should like to utter words of affection! Oh, it is a torture! It is being like a dog without a tail.”
Gonzalo burst out laughing, and the girl, who had spoken more strongly than usual, turned red and bent her head.