Volume Ii Part 13 (2/2)
Light was leaving the picture, and as it faded a mysterious poetic charm pervaded the scene and reminded one of the happy retreats of old Arcadia.
It seemed as if the people ought to live and die thus in perpetual happiness and youth. Why leave the spot, why withdraw from that happy retreat to return to the fatigues of daily life, the anxieties and cares of business? To enjoy, in innocence of heart and feeling, health and the sublime harmonies of life and sound; to enjoy the delights of love, the root of all things; to enjoy the force that maintains the cohesion of the universe; to enjoy the plumage of the birds, the murmur of the streams, the scent of the flowers, the dew of the fields, the foam of the sea, the eternal blue of the skies: for this it is to be created a man, not to fill the brief days of one's ephemeral existence with bitter vengeance, pale jealousy, and gnawing depression. The tradition of Paradise is the most ancient and logical of human traditions.
The sun now gilded the tops of the walnut trees which surrounded the green and cast long shadows upon the ground. A slight shudder of cold and melancholy ran through the company, which those who were heated with dancing or wine vainly strove to resist. It soon permeated the whole a.s.sembly. Voices were heard of mothers calling to their children, and of brothers to their sisters; groups were formed that waited for a moment to see if their party was complete before starting off. The first to break up was the _giraldilla_; the singing and dancing went on, for as the peasant folk had not so far to go in returning to their homes, they had no fear of nightfall.
The people collected by the carriages in the middle of the road. The duke turned his eyegla.s.s in all directions, looking at the preparations of departure with the eye of a connoisseur in painting. At last, seeing the great crowd a.s.semble from all sides, he gave orders to go on slowly in the wake of the crowd, as he wished to see everything, not because it was beautiful, but because it was new to him.
The carriages then proceeded in the midst of the crowd, surrounded by affectionate couples in intimate converse; old men leading children by one hand and carrying handkerchiefs full of sweetmeats in the other; groups of girls interchanging their experiences in loud voices, with much laughter. As soon as they had gone a little distance from the walnut grove, the canticles, which were the chief features of the festivals of the neighborhood, commenced.
The artisans have good reason to be proud of their voices. They generally sing some sentimental song to a drawn-out, melancholy tune, a harmonious accompaniment being given by the seconds in thirds; at other times, when the party is larger, they use the traditional street ditties, which are various and delightful. That they did on this occasion. The duke was surprised at hearing the chorus of fresh voices incessantly repeating simple couplets like the following:
”I was high above In the tower of love; The foundations rumbled, But I never tumbled.
”Why should the poor Call at your door, When your palm never itches To give of your riches?”
But the puerile ideas of the lines acquired in their mouths an undue importance. They seemed solemn phrases, mysterious and wondrous formulas that no outsider could enter into without sacrilege. The air seemed filled with those sweet, drawn-out sounds; an indescribable feeling pervaded the singers from whose mouths they fell; each time they repeated them with more tenderness, with more unction, as they colored them with those poetic sentiments which always fill their hearts, and are transmitted from mothers to daughters in the romantic Biscayan town.
It was the melancholy of those who apprehend the world of beauty, love it, and are forced by circ.u.mstances to live and die far from it. Between the couplets there was a silent pause, filled with the tramp of feet.
The choir seemed to be in a waking dream, only alive to the vague feelings which the song aroused in the depths of their hearts.
Night fell suddenly. The branches of the high elms stood out clearly in the diaphanous atmosphere, but the shadows cast upon the road became darker. The landscape had lost its color, and the bluish hue of the tracts planted with corn were hardly distinguishable in the shades of evening. The great sweep of the ocean in the distance was now indistinct. The brilliant blue of midday had changed into a metallic greenish gray. The choir soon shook off its melancholy. A young girl started a bright, merry air, and the others willingly joined in, as if glad to awake from a sad dream:
”Do not bewail That you must fail To go to Anthony Fair, There to tread on air; For lo! it is raining, And you'll be complaining That no more you will get The dress now so wet.”
This was sung with the eager shout of enthusiasm usual with such songs, and a few minutes after its conclusion an improvised couplet, ill.u.s.trating the present situation, followed:
”Come to St. Anthony Fair; There you will stare; A duke to see As polite as can be.
The girls laughed and ran To see such a great man.”
And thenceforth the magnate was introduced into the songs; and he, turning his eyegla.s.s from right to left, and shaking his head with a benevolent smile, repeated in a low voice:
”Delightful! delightful! A Teniers picture! a Lorena's landscape!”
By the time they reached the town night had closed in. The duke with his secretary withdrew to the rooms prepared for him by Don Rosendo. The secretary was a young man of six-and-twenty, pale, and red-haired, whose undeveloped brain contained no idea beyond that of the colossal importance of the duke, and the imperious necessity of becoming a personage, if not of so much consequence, yet important enough to also have a secretary. Beyond these ideas the world had no other meaning for Cosio, for such was his name.
CHAPTER XXIV
WHAT HAPPENED AT DINNER
The magnate came down to dinner in the orthodox evening dress. Cosio did the same. Don Rosendo had changed the Spanish hour of dinner for the French. Seeing him enter in evening dress, the Belinchon family were much upset. It was evident that Belinchon, his son, and his son-in-law had made a mistake in not dressing. Venturita mentioned the fact in a cross, low tone to her husband, but he only shrugged his shoulders and moved his lips in a scornful way. He was out of temper, for when asking his wife why the table had been laid without a place for the child, she had rudely said:
”But, Gonzalo, don't be silly! Do you want the child to dine to-day with us?”
”Why not?”
Venturita was shocked, and then she laughingly asked him if he had learned those fas.h.i.+ons in the regatta clubs in England. This had so put him out that he did not feel inclined to show the duke the respect and deference due to him. His wife, on the contrary, had been busy for days preparing for the reception of the ill.u.s.trious visitor.
<script>