Part 13 (1/2)

”He gambles, doesn't he?” I ventured, because of the confidence that had been shown me.

”It would be better to say he is skinned by sharpers. What a fellow! He has lost, and promised to pay, five thousand pesetas.”

”He promises it, and you have to pay it.”

”Possibly. But what is to be done? It is not all his fault. He has a mother who is too soft.”

”And a brother-in-law who is too kind,” I thought.

Marti put his arm across my shoulders, and we went thus to the sewing-room to find Cristina and Dona Amparo. They were both there, the first frowning and meditative, the other completely overcome by her emotions. Matilde came in presently to breakfast with them. I perceived that she was sad and seemed as if ashamed. Soon after two ladies dropped in for an intimate call, and conversation cleared up the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Cristina went out for a moment to attend to some of her domestic matters, and I noted that she left her handkerchief forgotten upon her chair. Then, with the dissimulation and ability of an accomplished thief, I went over to it, sat down as if absent-mindedly, and when n.o.body noticed, I took the precious object and hid it in my pocket.

Cristina appeared again, and I noticed that she glanced about at all the chairs in search of her handkerchief; then she shot a glance at me, and, I firmly believe, guessed from my manner that I had it. Then not daring to ask me for it aloud and at the same time unwilling to give up and let it pa.s.s that she allowed me to have it, she went about searching in all the corners of the room, asking:

”Where can my handkerchief be?”

n.o.body but me observed it, because all the rest were absorbed in conversation. At last I saw her sit down in her chair, take up her work, and go on with it in silence.

I went away to luncheon at the _fonda_, without accepting their invitation to remain. I had a vehement desire to enjoy my precious conquest by myself; for I considered it such in my mad presumption after she gave over looking for it. Once in my quarters and a.s.sured that the door was fastened, and that n.o.body could see me through the key-hole, I s.n.a.t.c.hed the kerchief from my pocket and gave myself up to a sort of madness which even now makes me blush when I remember it. I breathed its perfume with intoxication, kissed it numberless times, pressed it to my heart, swearing to be eternally faithful, put it away with the pictures of my father, took it out to kiss it, and put it away again. At last I came to the end of all imaginable extravagances, better suited to a young student of rhetoric than to the captain of a steamboat of three thousand tons.

CHAPTER VIII.

In the afternoon I was with the family at Caba.n.a.l as usual. Marti did not accompany us, having to attend to a certain business matter. (Did it have to do with the five thousand pesetas that his brother-in-law had lost?) At all events, I was selfish enough to rejoice at his absence.

During the trip out and the hours that we stayed at the place, I observed something in Cristina's manner and gestures that made my heart tremble with joy and hope. I cannot explain how, without her looking at me nor once speaking directly to me, I felt overwhelmed by a celestial happiness, but so it was. We pa.s.sed all the afternoon in the summer-house. The ladies worked at their sewing or embroidery. I read or made believe to read. Cristina, affected by an unusual languor, did not rise from her chair until the moment of leaving. While the others laughed and jested, I saw that she kept silence and was grave although without any apparent cause. Her face was slightly flushed. My imagination suggested to me the idea that it was because of the thoughts drifting through her soul and the timidity that they inspired. On the dark and gloomy horizon of my life light began to dawn; so my heart said to me. During that unforgettable afternoon, I was as happy as the angels must be in Paradise, or the author of a drama when he goes out on the stage to receive applause between the leading old man and young lady.

After dining at my hotel I went to take coffee at the Siglo, with the intention of going thence to Marti's house. I encountered Sabas on entering, his pipe in his mouth, seated among several of his friends, whom he was haranguing in his own solemn and judicial manner. He saluted me from a distance with a wave of the hand, and presently seeing that I was alone, separated himself from the group and came to join me.

He was in a jovial mood and did not seem in the least cast down by his folly of the day before, nor ashamed of it. We talked of our daily excursions to Caba.n.a.l, and I described them as very lively and delightful. He did not care to contradict me openly, but I understood by his gestures more than by his words that he looked upon all that as childishness unworthy a serious and mature man like himself. For one who could appreciate them, Valencia held pleasures more highly flavored, other fascinations; and he was sorry that I was out of them without tasting them. He did not say what they were, but from what I already knew, it was readily to be supposed that they had some relation direct or indirect with roulette.

”Have you seen the famous stone factory?” he asked me in serious tones, although his eyes gleamed with a malicious smile.

”Yes, I have seen it.”

”A fine business! And also the celebrated beer distillery?”

”Also.”

”Better business yet! isn't it?”

Then sounded in the depths of his throat a chuckle that could not be uttered because at that moment he was earnestly sucking his pipe. I was confused, as if he had said something offensive about one of my family, and I responded vaguely that certain enterprises turn out well, and others ill, and that their fortunes depend upon fortuitous circ.u.mstances more than upon the intelligence and industry of whosoever undertakes them.

”Tell that of others, but not of my brother-in-law,” he answered with sarcastic gravity. ”Emilio's enterprises are always brilliant, because his is a practical genius, essentially practical.”

”He seems to me a very clever man,” I remarked with some embarra.s.sment.

”Not at all; not at all; I will not admit a bit of it. His is a practical, and his friend Castell's a theoretical genius.”

”We have already talked a little about that,” I replied smiling, to turn his scalpel away from the unpleasant subject.