First Love And Other Fascinating Stories of Spanish Life Emilia Pardo-Bazan and Others LITTLE BLUE BOOK NO. 1195 Edited by E. Haldeman-Julius HALDEMAN-JULIUS COMPANY GIRARD, KANSAS CONTENTS First Love _Emilia Pardo-Bazan. _ An Andalusian Duel _Serafin Estebanez Calderon. _ Mariquita the Bald _Juan Eugenio Hartzenbusch. _ The Love of Clotilde _Armando Palacio Valdés. _ Captain Veneno's Proposal of Marriage _Pedro Antonio de Alarcón. _ FIRST LOVE Emilia Pardo-Bazan How old was I then? Eleven or twelve years? More probably thirteen, for before then is too early to be seriously in love; but I won'tventure to be certain, considering that in Southern countries theheart matures early, if that organ is to blame for such perturbations. If I do not remember well _when_, I can at least say exactly _how_ myfirst love revealed itself. I was very fond--as soon as my aunt hadgone to church to perform her evening devotions--of slipping into herbedroom and rummaging her chest of drawers, which she kept inadmirable order. Those drawers were to me a museum; in them I alwayscame across something rare or antique, which exhaled an archaic andmysterious scent, the aroma of the sandalwood fans which perfumed herwhite linen. Pin-cushions of satin now faded; knitted mittens, carefully wrapped in tissue paper; prints of saints; sewing materials;a reticule of blue velvet embroidered with bugles, an amber and silverrosary would appear from the corners: I used to ponder over them, andreturn them to their place. But one day--I remember as well as if itwere today--in the corner of the top drawer, and lying on some collarsof old lace, I saw something gold glittering--I put in my hand, unwittingly crumpled the lace, and drew out a portrait, an ivoryminiature, about three inches long, in a frame of gold. I was struck at first sight. A sunbeam streamed through the window andfell upon the alluring form, which seemed to wish to step out of itsdark background and come towards me. It was the most lovely creature, such as I had never seen except in the dreams of my adolescence. Thelady of the portrait must have been some twenty odd years; she was nosimple maiden, no half-opened rosebud, but a woman in the fullresplendency of her beauty. Her face was oval, but not too long, herlips full, half-open and smiling, her eyes cast a languishingside-glance, and she had a dimple on her chin as if formed by the tipof Cupid's playful finger. Her head-dress was strange but elegant; acompact group of curls plastered conewise one over the other coveredher temples, and a basket of braided hair rose on the top of her head. This old-fashioned head-dress, which was trussed up from the nape ofher neck, disclosed all the softness of her fresh young throat, onwhich the dimple of her chin was reduplicated more vaguely anddelicately. As for the dress--I do not venture to consider whether ourgrandmothers were less modest than our wives are, or if the confessorsof past times were more indulgent than those of the present; I aminclined to think the latter, for seventy years ago women pridedthemselves upon being Christianlike and devout, and would not havedisobeyed the director of their conscience in so grave and important amatter. What is undeniable is, that if in the present day any ladywere to present herself in the garb of the lady of the portrait, therewould be a scandal; for from her waist (which began at her armpits)upwards, she was only veiled by light folds of diaphanous gauze, whichmarked out, rather than covered, two mountains of snow, between whichmeandered a thread of pearls. With further lack of modesty shestretched out two rounded arms worthy of Juno, ending in finely moldedhands--when I say _hands_ I am not exact, for, strictly speaking, onlyone hand could be seen, and that held a richly embroideredhandkerchief. Even today I am astonished at the startling effect which thecontemplation of that miniature produced upon me, and how I remainedin ecstasy, scarcely breathing, devouring the portrait with my eyes. Ihad already seen here and there prints representing beautiful women. It often happened that in the illustrated papers, in the mythologicalengravings of our dining-room, or in a shop-window, that a beautifulface, or a harmonious and graceful figure attracted my precociouslyartistic gaze. But the miniature encountered in my aunt's drawer, apart from its great beauty, appeared to me as if animated by a subtleand vital breath; you could see it was not the caprice of a painter, but the image of a real and actual person of flesh and blood. The warmand rich tone of the tints made you surmise that the blood was tepidbeneath that mother-of-pearl skin. The lips were slightly parted todisclose the enameled teeth; and to complete the illusion there ranround the frame a border of natural hair, chestnut in color, wavy andsilky, which had grown on the temples of the original. As I have said, it was more than a copy, it was the reflection of aliving person from whom I was only separated by a wall of glass. --Iseized it, breathed upon it, and it seemed to me that the warmth ofthe mysterious deity communicated itself to my lips and circulatedthrough my veins. At this moment I heard footsteps in the corridor. Itwas my aunt returning from her prayers. I heard her asthmatic cough, and the dragging of her gouty feet. I had only just time to put theminiature into the drawer, shut it, and approach the window, adoptingan innocent and indifferent attitude. My aunt entered noisily, for the cold of the church had exasperatedher catarrh, now chronic. Upon seeing me, her wrinkled eyesbrightened, and giving me a friendly tap with her withered hand, sheasked me if I had been turning over her drawers as usual. Then, with a chuckle: "Wait a bit, wait a bit, " she added, "I have something for you, something you will like. " And she pulled out of her vast pocket a paper bag, and out of the bagthree or four gum lozenges, sticking together in a cake, which gave mea feeling of nausea. My aunt's appearance did not invite one to open one's mouth and devourthese sweets: the course of years, her loss of teeth, her eyes dimmedto an unusual degree, the sprouting of a mustache or bristles on hersunken-in mouth, which was three inches wide, dull gray locksfluttering above her sallow temples, a neck flaccid and livid as thecrest of the turkey when in a good temper. --In short, I did not takethe lozenges. Ugh! A feeling of indignation, a manly protest rose inme, and I said forcibly: "I do not want it, I don't want it. " "You don't want it? What a wonder! You who are greedier than a cat!" "I am not a little boy, " I exclaimed, drawing myself up, and standingon tiptoes; "I don't care for sweets. " My aunt looked at me half good-humoredly and half ironically, and atlast, giving way to the feeling of amusement I caused her, burst outlaughing, by which she disfigured herself, and exposed the horribleanatomy of her jaws. She laughed so heartily that her chin and nosemet, hiding her lips, and emphasizing two wrinkles, or rather two deepfurrows, and more than a dozen lines on her cheeks and eyelids; at thesame time her head and body shook with the laughter, until at last hercough began to interrupt the bursts, and between laughing and coughingthe old lady involuntarily spluttered all over my face. Humiliated, and full of disgust, I escaped rapidly thence to my mother's room, where I washed myself with soap and water, and began to muse on thelady of the portrait. And from that day and hour I could not keep my thoughts from her. Assoon as my aunt went out, to slip into her room, open the drawer, bring out the miniature, and lose myself in contemplation, was thework of a minute. By dint of looking at it, I fancied that herlanguishing eyes, through the voluptuous veiling, of her eyelashes, were fixed in mine, and that her white bosom heaved. I became ashamedto kiss her, imagining she would be annoyed at my audacity, and onlypressed her to my heart or held her against my cheek. All my actionsand thoughts referred to the lady; I behaved towards her with the mostextraordinary refinement and super-delicacy. Before entering my aunt'sroom and opening the longed-for drawer, I washed, combed my hair, andtidied myself, as I have seen since is usually done before repairingto a love appointment. I often happened to meet in the street other boys of my age, veryproud of their slip of a sweetheart, who would exultingly show melove-letters, photographs, and flowers, and who asked me if I hadn't asweetheart with whom to correspond. A feeling of inexplicablebashfulness tied my tongue, and I only replied with an enigmatic andhaughty smile. And when they questioned me as to what I thought of thebeauty of their little maidens, I would shrug my shoulders anddisdainfully call them _ugly mugs_. One Sunday I went to play in the house of some little girl-cousins, really very pretty, the eldest of whom was not yet fifteen. We wereamusing ourselves looking into a stereoscope, when suddenly one of thelittle girls, the youngest, who counted twelve summers at most, secretly seized my hand, and in some confusion and blushing as red asa brazier, whispered in my ear: "Take this. " At the same time I felt in the palm of my hand something soft andfresh, and saw that it was a rosebud with its green foliage. Thelittle girl ran away smiling and casting a side-glance at me; but I, with a Puritanism worthy of Joseph, cried out in my turn: "Take this!" And I threw the rosebud at her nose, a rebuff which made her tearfuland pettish with me the whole afternoon, and for which she has notpardoned me even now, though she is married and has three children. The two or three hours which my aunt spent morning and eveningtogether at church being too short for my admiration of the entrancingportrait, I resolved at last to keep the miniature in my pocket, andwent about all day hiding myself from people just as if I hadcommitted some crime. I fancied that the portrait from the depth ofits prison of cloth could see all my actions, and I arrived at such aridiculous extremity, that if I wanted to scratch myself, pull up mysock, or do anything else not in keeping with the idealism of mychaste love, I first drew out the miniature, put it in a safe place, and then considered myself free to do whatever I wanted. In fact, since I had accomplished the theft, there was no limit to my vagaries. At night I hid it under the pillow, and slept in an attitude ofdefense; the portrait remained near the wall, I outside, and I awokea thousand times, fearing somebody would come to bereave me of mytreasure. At last I drew it from beneath the pillow and slipped itbetween my nightshirt and left breast, on which the following daycould be seen the imprint of the chasing of the frame. The contact of the dear miniature gave me delicious dreams. The ladyof the portrait, not in effigy, but in her natural size andproportions, alive, graceful, affable, beautiful, would come towardsme to conduct me to her palace by a rapid and flying train. With sweetauthority she would make me sit on a stool at her feet, and would passher beautifully molded hand over my head, caressing my brow, my eyes, and loose curls. I read to her out of a big missal, or played thelute, and she deigned to smile, thanking me for the pleasure which myreading and songs gave her. At last romantic reminiscences overflowedin my brain, and sometimes I was a page, and sometimes a troubadour. With all these fanciful ideas, the fact is that I began to grow thinquite perceptibly, which was observed with great disquietude in myparents and my aunt. "In this dangerous and critical age of development, everything isalarming, " said my father, who used to read books of medicine, andanxiously studied my dark eyelids, my dull eyes, my contracted andpale lips, and above all, the complete lack of appetite which hadtaken possession of me. "Play, boy; eat, boy, " he would say to me, and I replied to him, dejectedly: "I don't feel inclined. " They began to talk of distractions, offered to take me to the theater;stopped my studies, and gave me foaming new milk to drink. Afterwardsthey poured cold water over my head and back to fortify my nerves; andI noticed that my father at table or in the morning when I went to hisbedroom to bid him good morning, would gaze at me fixedly for somelittle time, and would sometimes pass his hand down my spine, feelingthe vertebrae. I hypocritically lowered my eyes, resolved to dierather than confess my crime. As soon as I was free from theaffectionate solicitude of my family, I found myself alone with mylady of the portrait. At last, to get nearer to her, I thought I woulddo away with the cold crystal. I trembled upon putting this intoexecution; but at last my love prevailed over the vague fear withwhich such a profanation filled me, and with skillful cunning Isucceeded in pulling away the glass and exposing the ivory plate. As Ipressed my lips to the painting I could scent the slight fragrance ofthe border of hair, I imagined to myself even more realistically thatit was a living person whom I was grasping with my trembling hands. Afeeling of faintness overpowered me, and I fell unconscious on thesofa, tightly holding the miniature. When I came to my senses I saw my father, my mother, and my aunt, allbending anxiously over me; I read their terror and alarm in theirfaces; my father was feeling my pulse, shaking his head, andmurmuring: "His pulse is nothing but a flutter, you can scarcely feel it. " My aunt, with her claw-like fingers, was trying to take the portraitfrom me, and I was mechanically hiding it and grasping it more firmly. "But, my dear boy--let go, you are spoiling it!" she exclaimed. "Don'tyou see you are smudging it? I am not scolding you, my dear. --I willshow it to you as often as you like, but don't destroy it; let go, youare injuring it. " "Let him have it, " begged my mother, "the boy is not well. " "Of all things to ask!" replied the old maid. "Let him have it! Andwho will paint another like this--or make me as I was then? Todaynobody paints miniatures--it is a thing of the past, and I also am athing of the past, and I am not what is represented there!" My eyes dilated with horror; my fingers released their hold on thepicture. I don't know how I was able to articulate: "You--the portrait--is you?" "Don't you think I am as pretty now, boy? Bah! one is better lookingat twenty-three than at--than at--I don't know what, for I haveforgotten how old I am!" My head drooped and I almost fainted again; anyway, my father liftedme in his arms on to the bed, and made me swallow some tablespoonfulsof port. I recovered very quickly, and never wished to enter my aunt's roomagain. AN ANDALUSIAN DUEL Serafin Estebanez Calderon Through the little square of St. Anna, towards a certain tavern, wherethe best wine is to be quaffed in Seville, there walked in measuredsteps two men whose demeanor clearly manifested the soil which gavethem birth. He who walked in the middle of the street, taller than theother by about a finger's length, sported with affected carelessnessthe wide, slouched hat of Ecija, with tassels of glass beads and aribbon as black as his sins. He wore his cloak gathered under his leftarm; the right, emerging from a turquoise lining, exposed the merinolambskin with silver clasps. The herdsman's boots--white, with Turkishbuttons, --the breeches gleaming red from below the cloak and coveringthe knee, and, above all, his strong and robust appearance, dark curlyhair, and eye like a red-hot coal, proclaimed at a distance that allthis combination belonged to one of those men who put an end to horsesbetween their knees and tire out the bull with their lance. He walked on, arguing with his companion, who was rather spare thanprodigal in his person, but marvelously lithe and supple. The latterwas shod with low shoes, garters united the stockings to thelight-blue breeches, the waistcoat was cane-colored, his sash lightgreen, and jaunty shoulder-knots, lappets, and rows of buttonsornamented the carmelite jacket. The open cloak, the hat drawn overhis ear, his short, clean steps, and the manifestations in all hislimbs and movements of agility and elasticity beyond trial plainlyshowed that in the arena, carmine cloth in hand, he would mock at themost frenzied of Jarama bulls, or the best horned beasts from Utrera. I--who adore and die for such people, though the compliment be notreturned--went slowly in the wake of their worships, and, unable torestrain myself, entered with them the same tavern, or rathereating-house, since there they serve certain provocatives as well aswine, and I, as my readers perceive, love to call things by theirright name. I entered and sat down at once, and in such a manner asnot to interrupt Oliver and Roland, and that they might not notice me, when I saw that, as if believing themselves alone, they threw theirarms with an amicable gesture round each others' neck, and thus begantheir discourse: "Pulpete, " said the taller, "now that we are going to meet eachother, knife in hand--you here, I there, --_one, two_, --_on yourguard_, --_triz, traz_, --_have that_, --_take this and call it whatyou like_--let us first drain a tankard to the music and measureof some songs. " "Señor Balbeja, " replied Pulpete, drawing his face aside and spittingwith the greatest neatness and pulchritude towards his shoe, "I am notthe kind of man either for La Gorja or other similar earthly matters, or because a steel tongue is sheathed in my body, or my weasand slit, or for any other such trifle, to be provoked or vexed with such afriend as Balbeja. Let the wine be brought, and then, we will sing;and afterwards blood--blood to the hilt. " The order was given, they clinked glasses, and, looking one at theother, sang a Sevillian song. This done, they threw off their cloaks with an easy grace, andunsheathed their knives with which to prick one another, the oneFlemish with a white haft, the other from Guadix, with a guard to thehilt, both blades dazzling in their brightness, and sharpened andground enough for operating upon cataracts, much less ripping upbellies and bowels. The two had already cleft the air several timeswith the said lancets, their cloak wound round their left arm--firstdrawing closer, then back, now more boldly and in bounds--when Pulpetehoisted the flag for parley, and said: "Balbeja, my friend, I only beg you to do me the favor not to fan myface with _Juilon_ your knife, since a slash might use it so ill thatmy mother who bore me would not know me, and I should not like to beconsidered ugly; neither is it right to mar and destroy what God madein His likeness. " "Agreed, " replied Balbeja; "I will aim lower. " "Except--except my stomach also, for I was ever a friend tocleanliness, and I should not like to see myself fouled in a bad way, if your knife and arm played havoc with my liver and intestines. " "I will strike higher; but let us go on. " "Take care of my chest, it was always weak. " "Then just tell me, friend, _where_ am I to sound or tap you?" "My dear Balbeja, there's always plenty of time and space to hack at aman; I have here on my left arm a wen, of which you can make meat asmuch as you like. " "Here goes for it, " said Balbeja, and he hurled himself like an arrow;the other warded off the thrust with his cloak, and both, like skilfulpenmen, began again tracing S's and signatures in the air with dashesand flourishes without, however, raising a particle of skin. I do not know what would have been the end of this onslaught, since myvenerable, dry, and shriveled person was not suitable for forming apoint of exclamation between two combatants; and the tavern-keepertroubled so little about what was happening that he drowned thestamping of their feet and clatter of the tumbling stools and utensilsby scraping street music on a guitar as loud as he could. Otherwise hewas as calm as if he were entertaining two angels instead of twodevils incarnate. I do not know, I repeat, how this scene would have ended, when therecrossed the threshold a parsonage who came to take a part in thedevelopment of the drama. There entered, I say, a woman of twenty totwenty-two years of age, diminutive in body, superlative in audacityand grace. Neat and clean hose and shoes, short, black flouncedpetticoat, a linked girdle, head-dress or mantilla of fringed taffetacaught together at the nape of her neck, and a corner of it over hershoulder, she passed before my eyes with swaying hips, arms akimbo, and moving her head to and fro as she looked about her on all sides. Upon seeing her the tavern-keeper dropped his instrument, and I wasovertaken by perturbation such as I had not experienced for thirtyyears (I am, after all, only flesh and blood); but, without haltingfor such lay-figures, she advanced to the field of battle. There was a lively to-do here; Don Pulpete and Don Balbeja when theysaw Doña Gorja appear, first cause of the disturbance and future prizefor the victor, increased their feints, flourishes, curvets, onsets, crouching, and bounds--all, however, without touching a hair. OurHelen witnessed in silence for a long time this scene in history withthat feminine pleasure which the daughters of Eve enjoy at suchcritical moments. But gradually her pretty brow clouded over, until, drawing from her delicate ear, not a flower or earring, but the stumpof a cigar, she hurled it amidst the jousters. Not even Charles V'scane in the last duel in Spain produced such favorable effects. Bothcame forward immediately with formal respect, and each, by reason ofthe discomposure of his person and clothes, presumed to urge a titleby which to recommend himself to the fair with the flounces. She, asthough pensive, was going over the passage of arms in her mind, andthen, with firm and confident resolution, spoke thus: "And is this affair for me?" "Who else should it be for? since I--since nobody--" they replied inthe same breath. "Listen, gentlemen, " said she. "For females such as I and my parts, of my charms and descent--daughter of La Gatusa, niece of La Mêndez, and granddaughter of La Astrosa--know that there are neither pacts norcompacts, nor any such futile things, nor are any of them worth afarthing. And when men challenge each other, let the knife do its workand the red blood flow, so as not to have my mother's daughter presentwithout giving her the pleasure of snapping her fingers in the face ofthe other. If you pretend you are fighting for me, it's a lie; you arewholly mistaken, and that not by halves. I love neither of you. Mingalarios of Zafra is to my taste, and he and I look upon you withscorn and contempt. Good-by, my braves; and, if you like, call my manto account. " She spoke, spat, smoothed the saliva with the point of her shoe, looking Pulpete and Balbeja full in the face, and went out with thesame expressive movements with which she entered. The two unvarnished braggarts followed the valorous Doña Gorja withtheir eyes; and then with a despicable gesture drew their knivesacross their sleeve as though wiping off the blood there might havebeen, sheathed them at one and the same time, and said together: "Through woman the world was lost, through a woman Spain was lost; butit has never been known, nor do ballads relate, nor the blind beggarssing, nor is it heard in the square or markets, that two valiant menkilled each, other for another lover. " "Give me that fist, Don Pulpete. " "Your hand, Don Balbeja. " They spoke and strode out into the street, the best friends in theworld, leaving me all amazed at such whimsicality. MARIQUITA THE BALD Juan Eugenio Hartzenbusch It is as sorry a matter to use words of whose meaning one is ignorantas it is a blemish for a man of sense to speak of what he knowsnothing about. I say this to those of you who may have the presentstory in your hands, however often you may have happened to have heard_Mariquita the Bald_ mentioned, and I swear by my doublet that youshall soon know who Mariquita the Bald was, as well as I know who atethe Christmas turkey, setting aside the surmise that it certainly musthave been a mouth. I desire, therefore, to enlighten your ignorance of this subject, andbeg to inform you that the said noted Maria (Mariquita is a diminutiveof Maria) was born in the District of Segovia, and in the town of SanGarcia, the which town is famed for the beauty of the maidens rearedwithin its walls, who for the most part have such gentle and lovelyfaces that may I behold such around me at the hour of my death. Maria's father was an honest farmer, by name Juan Lanas, a Christianold man and much beloved, who had inherited no mean estate from hisforefathers, though with but little wit in his crown, --a lack whichwas the cause of much calamity to both the father and the daughter, for in the times to which we have attained, God forgive me if it isnot necessary to have more of the knave than of the fool in one'scomposition. Now it came to pass that Juan Lanas, for the castigation of his sins, must needs commit himself to a lawsuit with one of his neighbors abouta vine stock which was worth about fifty _maravedis_; and Juan was inthe right, and the judges gave the verdict in his favor, so that hewon his case, excepting that the suit lasted no less than ten yearsand the costs amounted to nothing less than fifty thousand_maravedis_, not to speak of a disease of the eyes which, after allwas over, left him blind. When he found himself with diminishedproperty and without his eyesight, in sorrow and disgust he turnedinto money such part of his patrimony as sufficed to rid him of thehungry herd of scriveners and lawyers, and took his way to Toledo withhis daughter, who was already entering upon her sixteenth year, andhad matured into one of the most beautiful, graceful, and lovabledamsels to be found throughout all Castile and the kingdoms beyond. For she was white as the lily and red like the rose, straight and tallof stature, and slender in the waist, with fair, shapely hips; andagain her foot and hand were plump and small to a marvel, and shepossessed a head of hair which reached to her knees. For I knew thewidow Sarmiento who was their housekeeper, and she told me how shecould scarcely clasp Mariquita's hair with both hands, and that shecould not comb the hair unless Maria stood up and the housekeepermounted on a footstool, for if Maria sat down the long tresses sweptthe ground, and therefore became all entangled. And do not imagine, her beauty and grace being such, that she sinnedgreatly in pride and levity, as is the wont of girls in this age. Shewas as humble as a cloistered lay-sister, and as silent as if she werenot a woman, and patient as the sucking lamb, and industrious as theant, clean as the ermine, and pure as a saint of those times in which, by the grace of the Most High, saintly women were born into the world. But I must confide to you in friendship that our Mariquita was not alittle vain about her hair, and loved to display it, and for thisreason, now in the streets, now when on a visit, now when at mass, itis said she used to subtilely loosen her mantilla so that her tressesstreamed down her back, the while feigning forgetfulness andcarelessness. She never wore a hood, for she said it annoyed her andchoked her; and every time that her father reproached her for somedeed deserving of punishment and threatened to cut off her hair, Iwarrant you she suffered three times more than after a lash from thewhip, and would then be good for three weeks successively; so much sothat Juan Lanas, perceiving her amendment, would laugh under hiscloak, and when saying his say to his gossips would tell them that hisdaughter, like the other saint of Sicily, would reach heaven by herhair. Having read so far, you must now know that Juan Lanas, the blind man, with the change of district and dwelling did not change his judgmentand if he was crack-brained at San Garcia, he remained crack-brainedat Toledo, consuming in this resort his money upon worthless drugs andquacks which did not cure his blindness and impoverished him more andmore every day, so that if his daughter had not been so dexterous withher fingers in making and broidering garments of linen, wool, andsilk, I promise you that this miserable Juan would have had to go formore than four Sundays without a clean shirt to put on or a mouthfulto eat, unless he had begged it from door to door. The years passed by to find Maria every day more beautiful, and herfather every day more blind and more desirous to see, until hisaffliction and trouble took such forcible possession of his breast andmind, that Maria saw as clear as daylight that if her father did notrecover his sight, he would die of grief. Maria thereupon straightwaytook her father and led him to the house of an Arabian physician ofgreat learning who dwelt at Toledo, and told the Moor to see if therewere any cure for the old man's sight. The Arabian examined andtouched Juan, and made this and that experiment with him, andeverything prospered, in that the physician swore great oaths by theheel-bone of Mohammed that there was a complete certainty of curingJuan and making him to see his daughter again, if only he, thephysician, were paid for the cure with five hundred _maravedis_ all ingold. A sad termination for such a welcome beginning, for the twounhappy creatures, Juan and Maria, had neither _maravedi_ nor_cuarto_ in the money box! So they went thence all downcast, and Marianever ceased praying to his Holiness Saint John and his Holiness SaintJames (the patron saint of Spain) to repair to their assistance inthis sad predicament. "In what way, " conjectured she inwardly, "in what way can I raise fivehundred _maravedis_ to be quits with the Moor who will give back hissight to my poor old father? All! I have it. I am a pretty maid, andsuitors innumerable, commoners and nobles, pay their addresses andcompliments to me. But all are trifling youths who only care forlove-making and who seek light o' loves rather than spouses accordingto the law of the Lord Jesus Christ. I remember, notwithstanding, thatopposite our house lives the sword-cutler, Master Palomo, who isalways looking at me and never speaks to me, and the Virgin assist me, he appears a man of very good condition for a husband; but whatmaiden, unless she were cross-eyed, or hunch-backed, could like a manwith such a flat nose, with that skin the color of a ripe date, withthose eyes like a dead calf's, and with those huge hands, which aremore like the paws of a wild beast that the belongings of a person whowith them should softly caress the woman whom Destiny bestows upon himfor a companion? 'Tis said that he is no drunkard, nor cudgeler, nordallier with women, nor a liar, and that he is besides possessed ofmuch property and very rich. Pity 'tis that one who is so ugly andstiff-necked should unite such parts. " Thus turning the matter over and over in her mind, Maria togetherwith Juan reached their home, where was awaiting them an esquire in along mourning robe, who told Maria that the aunt of the mayor of thecity had died in an honest estate and in the flower of her age, forshe had not yet completed her seventy years, and that the obsequies ofthis sexagenarian damsel were to be performed the following day, onwhich occasion her coffin would be carried to the church by maidens, and he was come to ask Maria if she would please to be one of thebearers of the dead woman, for which she would receive a white robe, and to eat, and ducat, and thanks into the bargain. Maria, since she was a well-brought-up maid, replied that if it seemedwell to her father, it would also seem well to her. Juan accepted, and Maria was rejoiced to be able to make a display ofher hair, for it is well known that the maidens who bear one anotherto the grave walk with disheveled locks. And when on the morrow thetiring-women of the mayoress arrayed Maria in a robe white as thedriven snow and fine as the skin of an onion; and when they girt herslender waist with a sash of crimson silk, the ends of which hung downto the broad hem of the skirt; and when they crowned her smooth andwhite forehead with a wreath of white flowers, I warrant you that, what with the robe and the sash and the wreath, and the beautifulstreaming hair and her lovely countenance and gracious mien, sheseemed no female formed of flesh and blood, but a superhuman creatureor blessed resident of those shining circles in which dwell thecelestial hierarchies. The mayor and the other mourners stepped forthto see her, and all unceasingly praised God, who was pleased toperform such miracles for the consolation and solace of those livingin this world. And there in a corner of the hall, motionless like a heap of brokenstones, stood one of the mutes with the hood of his long cloakcovering his head, so that nothing could be seen but his eyes, thewhich he kept fixed on the fair damsel. The latter modestly loweredher eyes to the ground with her head a little bent and her cheeks redfor bashfulness, although it pleased her no little to hear the praisesof her beauty. At this moment a screen was pushed aside, and therebegan to appear a huge bulk of petticoats, which was nothing less thanthe person of the mayoress, for she was with child and drawing near toher time. And when she saw Maria, she started, opened her eyes ahand's-breadth wide, bit her lips, and called hurriedly for herhusband. They stepped aside for a good while, and then hied themthence, and when they returned the mutes and maidens had all gone. While they were burying the defunct lady I must tell you, curiousreaders, that the mayor and mayoress had been married for many yearswithout having any children, and they longed for them like thecountryman for rain in the month of May, and at last her hour of blisscame to the mayoress, to the great content of her husband. Now, itwas whispered that the said lady had always been somewhat capricious;judge for yourselves what she would be now in the time of herpregnancy! And as she was already on the way to fifty, she was morethan mediocrely bald and hairless, and on these very same days hadcommissioned a woman barber, who lived in the odor of witchcraft, toprepare for her some false hair, but it was not to be that of a deadwoman, for the mayoress said very sensibly that if the hair belongedto a dead woman who rejoiced in supreme glory, or was suffering forher sins in purgatory, it would be profanation to wear any pledge oftheirs, and if they were in hell, it was a terrible thing to wear onone's person relics of one of the damned. And when the mayoress sawthe abundant locks of Maria, she coveted them for herself, and it wasfor this reason that she called to the mayor to speak to her inprivate and besought him eagerly to persuade Mario to allow herself tobe shorn upon the return from the burial. "I warn you, " said the mayor, "that you are desirous of entering upona very knotty bargain, for the disheveled girl idolizes her hair insuch wise that she would sooner lose a finger than suffer one of hertresses to be cut off. " "I warn you, " replied the mayoress, "that if on this very day the headof this young girl is not shorn smooth beneath my hand as a melon, thechild to which I am about to give birth will have a head of hair onits face, and if it happens to be a female, look you, a prettydaughter is in store for you!" "But bethink yourself that Maria will ask, who knows, a good fewcrowns for this shaving. " "Bethink yourself that if not, your heir or heiress, begotten aftermany years' marriage, will come amiss; and bear in mind, by the way, that we are not so young as to hope to replace this by another. " Upon this she turned her back to the mayor, and went to her apartmentcrying out: "I want the hair, I must have the hair, and if I do notget the hair, by my halidom I shall never become a mother. " In the meantime the funeral had taken place without any novelty tomention, excepting that if in the streets any loose fellow in thecrowd assayed to annoy the fair Maria, the hooded mute, of whom wemade mention before, quickly drew from beneath his cloak a strap, withwhich he gave a lash to the insolent rogue without addressing one wordto him, and then walked straight on as if nothing had happened. Whenall the mourners returned, the mayor seized hold of Maria's hand andsaid to her: "And now, fair maid, let us withdraw for a little while into thisother apartment, " and thus talking whilst in motion he brought herinto his wife's private tiring-room, and sat himself down in a chairand bent his head and stroked his beard with the mien of one who isstudying what beginning to give his speech. Maria, a little foolishand confused, remained standing in front of the mayor, and she alsohumbly lowered before him her eyes, black as the sloe; and to occupyherself with something, gently fingered the ends of the sash, whichgirded her waist and hung down over her skirt, not knowing what toexpect from the grave mien and long silence of the mayor, who, raisinghis eyes and looking up at Maria, when he beheld her in so modest aposture, devised thence a motive with which to begin, saying: "Forsooth, Maria, so modest and sanctimonious is thy bearing, that itis easy to see thou art preparing thyself to become a black-wimplednun. And if it be so, as I presume it to be, I now offer of my ownaccord to dispose of thy entry into the cloisters without any dowry, on the condition that thou dost give me something that thou hast onthy head, and which then will not be necessary for thee. " "Nay, beshrew me, Sir Mayor, " replied Maria, "for I durst not thinkthat the Lord calls upon me to take that step, for then my poor fatherwould remain in the world without the staff of his old age. " "Then, now, I desire to give thee some wise counsel, maid Maria. Thoudost gain thy bread with great fatigue. Thou shouldst make use of thytime as much as is possible. Now one of thy neighbors hath told methat in the dressing of thy hair thou dost waste every day more thanan hour. It would be better far if thou didst spend this hour on thywork rather than in the dressing and braiding which thou dost to thyhair. " "That is true, Sir Mayor, " replied Maria, turning as red as acarnation, "but, look you, it is not my fault if I have a wealth oftresses, the combing and plaiting of which necessitate so long a timeevery morning. " "I tell thee it is thy fault, " retorted the mayor, "for if thou didstcut off this mane, thou wouldst save thyself all this combing andplaiting, and thus wouldst have more time for work, and so gain moremoney, and wouldst also give no occasion to people to call thee vain. They even say that the devil will some day carry thee off by thy hair. Nay, do not be distressed, for I already perceive the tears gatheringin thine eyes, for thou hast them indeed very ready at hand; Iadmonish thee for thine own good without any self-interest. Cut thyhair off, shear thyself, shave thyself, good Maria, and to allay thebitterness of the shearing, I will give fifty _maravedis_, always oncondition that thou dost hand me over the hair. " When Maria at first heard this offer of so reasonable a sum for thisher hair, it seemed to her a jest of the mayor's, and she smiled rightsweetly while she dried her tears, repeating: "You will give me fifty _maravedis_ if I shave myself?" Now it appeared to the mayor (who, it is said, was not gifted with allthe prudence of Ulysses) that the smile signified that the maid wasnot satisfied with so small a price, and he added: "If thou wilt not be content with fifty _maravedis_, I will give theea hundred. " Then Maria saw some hangings of the apartment moving in front of her, and perceiving a bulky protuberance, she immediately divined that themayoress was hiding behind there, and that the protuberance was causedby her portly form. Now she discovered the mayor's design, and that itwas probably a caprice of his spouse, and she made a vow not to sufferherself to be shorn unless she acquired by these means the fivehundred _maravedis_ needful to pay the Arabian physician who wouldgive her father back his eyesight. Then the mayor raised his price from a hundred _maravedis_ to ahundred and fifty, and afterwards to two hundred, and Maria continuedher sweet smiling, shaking of the head, and gestures, and every timethat the mayor bid higher and Maria feigned to be reluctant, shealmost hoped that the mayor would withdraw from his proposition, forthe great grief it caused her to despoil herself of that preciousornament, notwithstanding that my means of it she might gain herfather's health. Finally the mayor, anxious to conclude the treaty, for he saw the stirring of the curtains, and knew by them the anxietyand state of mind of the listener, closed by saying: "Go to, hussy, I will give thee five hundred _maravedis_. See, onceand for all, if thou canst agree on these terms. " "Be it so, " replied Maria, sighing as if her soul would flee from herflesh with these words--"be it so, so long that nobody doth know thatI remain bald. " "I will give my word for it, " said the mayoress, stepping from behindthe curtains with a pair of sharp shears in her hands and a wrapperover her arm. When Maria saw the scissors she turned as yellow as wax, and when theytold her to sit down on the sacrificial chair, she felt herself growfaint and had to ask for a drink of water; and when they tied thewrapper round her throat it is related that she would have immediatelytorn it asunder if her courage had not failed her. And when at thefirst movement of the shears she felt the cold iron against her skull, I tell you it seemed to her as if they were piercing her heart with abright dagger. It is possible that she did not keep her head still fora moment while this tonsuring was taking place; she moved it in spiteof herself, now to one side, now to another, to flee from the clippingscissors, of which the rude cuts and the creaking axis wounded herears. Her posture and movements, however, were of no avail to the poorshorn maiden, and the pertinacious shearer, with the anxiety andcovetousness of a pregnant woman satisfying a caprice, seized the hairwell, or ill, by handfuls, and went on bravely clipping, and the locksfell on to the white wrapper, slipping down thence till they reachedthe ground. At last the business came to an end, and the mayoress, who was besideherself with joy, caressingly passed the palm of her hand again andagain over the maid's bald head from the front to the back, saying: "By my mother's soul, I have shorn you so regularly and close to theroot that the most skilful barber could not have shorn you better. Get up and braid the hair while my husband goes to get the money and Iyour clothes, so that you can leave the house without anyoneperceiving it. " The mayor and mayoress went out of the room, and Maria, as soon as shefound herself alone, went to look at herself in a mirror that hungthere; and when she saw herself bald she lost the patience she had haduntil then, and groaned with rage and struck herself, and even triedto wrench off her ears, which appeared to her now outrageously large, although they were not so in reality. She stamped upon her hair andcursed herself for having ever consented to lose it, withoutremembering her father, and just as if she had no father at all. Butas it is a quality of human nature to accept what cannot be altered, poor angry Maria calmed down little by little, and she picked up thehair from the ground and bound it together and braided it into greatropes, not without kissing it and lamenting over it many times. The mayor and the mayoress returned, he with the money and she withthe every-day clothes of Maria, who undressed and folded her whiterobe in a kerchief, put on her old gown, hid herself with her shawl tothe eyes, and walked, moaning, to the house of the Moor, withoutnoticing that the man with the hood over his head was following behindher, and that when she, in a moment of forgetfulness, lowered hershawl through the habit she had of displaying her tresses, her baldhead could be plainly seen. The Moor received the five hundred_maravedis_ with that good-will with which money is always received, and told Maria to bring Juan Lanas to his house to stay there so longas there was any risk in the cure. Maria went to fetch the old man, and kept silence as to her shorn head so as not to grieve him, andwhilst Juan remained the physician's guest, Maria durst not leave herhome except after nightfall, and then well enveloped. This, however, did not hinder her being followed by the muffled-up man. One evening the Moor told her in secret that the next morning he wouldremove the bandages from Juan's eyes. Maria went to bed that nightwith great rejoicing, but thought to herself that when her father sawher (which would be with no little pleasure) he would be pleased threeor four times more if he could see her with the pretty head-dresswhich she used to wear in her native town. Amidst such cavillation shedonned the next day her best petticoat and ribbons to his to theArabian's house; and while she was sitting down to shoe herself she ofa sudden felt something like a hood closing over her head, and, turning round, she saw behind her the muffled-up man of before, who, throwing aside his cloak, discovered himself to be the sword-cutler, Master Palomo, who, without speaking, presented Maria with a littleVenetian mirror, in which she looked and saw herself with her own hairand garb in such wise that she wondered for a good time if it were nota dream that the mayoress had shorn her. The fact was that Master Palomo was a great crony of the old womanbarber, and had seen in her house Maria's tresses on the very sameafternoon of the morning in which he saw Maria was bald, and keepingsilence upon the matter, had wheedled the old woman into keepingMaria's hair for him, and dressing for the mayoress some other hair ofthe same hue which the crone had from a dead woman--a bargain by whichthe crafty old dame acquired many a bright crown. And the storyrelates that as soon as Maria regained her much lamented andsighed-for hair by the hands of the gallant sword-cutler, the masterappeared to her much less ugly than before. I do not know if it tellsthat from that moment she began to look on him with more favorableeyes, but i' sooth it is a fact that upon his asking her to accept hisescort to the Moor's house, she gave her assent, and the two set outhand in hand, the maiden holding her head up free from mufflers. Asthey both entered the physician's apartment her father threw himselfinto Maria's arms, crying: "Glory to God, I see thee now, my beloved daughter. How tall andbeautiful thou art grown! Verily, it is worth while to become blindfor five years to see one's daughter matured thus! Now that I seedaylight again, it is only right that I should no longer be a burdento thee. I shall work for myself, for as for thee it is already timefor thee to marry. " "For this very purpose am I come, " broke in at this opportune momentthe silent sword-cutler; "I, as you will have already recognized bymy voice, am your neighbor, Master Palomo. I love Maria, and ask youfor her hand. " "Lack-a-day, master, but your exterior is not very prepossessing. Howbeit, if Maria doth accept you, I am content. " "I, " replied Maria, wholly abashed, and smoothing the false hair(which then weighed upon her head and heart like a burden of fivehundred weight)--"I, so may God enlighten me, for I durst not ventureto reply. " Palomo took her right hand without saying anything, and as he did soMaria looked at the master's wrists, and observed the wristbands ofhis shirt, neatly embroidered, and with some suspicion and beating ofher heart said to him: "If you wish to please me, good neighbor, tell me by what seamstressis this work?" "It is the work, " replied the master, jocularly, "the work of a prettymaiden who for five years has toiled for my person, albeit she hathnot known it till now. " "Now I perceive, " said Maria, "how that all the women who have come togive me linen to sew and embroider were sent by you, and that is whythey paid me more than is customary. " The master did not reply, but he smiled and held out his arms toMaria. Maria threw herself into them, embracing him very caressingly;and Juan himself said to the two: "In good sooth, you are made one for the other. " "By my troth, my beloved one, " continued the sword-cutler after awhile, "if my countenance had only been more pleasing, I should nothave been silent towards you for so many long days, nor would I havebeen content with, gazing at you from afar. I should have spoken toyou, you would have made me the confidant of your troubles, and Iwould have given you the five hundred _maravedis_ for the cure of yourgood father. " And whispering softly into her ear, he added: "And then you would nothave passed that evil moment under the hands of the mayoress. But ifyou fear that she may break the promise she made to you to keepsilence as to your cropped head, let us, if it please you, set out forSeville, where nobody knows you, and thus--" "No more, " exclaimed Maria, resolutely throwing on the ground thehair, which Juan picked up all astonished. "Send this hair to themayoress, since it was for this and not for that of the dead womanthat she paid so dearly. For I, to cure myself of my vanity, now makea vow, with your good permission, to go shorn all my life. Suchartificial adornments are little befitting to the wives of honestburghers. " "But rely upon it, " replied the master-cutler, "that as soon as it isknown that you have no hair, the girls of the city, envious of yourbeauty, will give you the nickname of _Mariquita the Bald_!" "They may do so, " replied Maria, "and that they may see that I do notcare a fig for this or any other nickname, I swear to you that fromthis day forth I will not suffer anybody to call me by another namethan _Mariquita the Bald_. " This was the event that rendered so famous throughout all Castile thebeautiful daughter of good Juan Lanas, who in effect married MasterPalomo, and became one of the most honorable and prolific women of themost illustrious city of Toledo. THE LOVE OF CLOTILDE Armando Palacio Valdés In the dressing-room of Clotilde, leading actress of one of the mostimportant theaters in the capital, there gathered every night abouthalf a dozen of her male friends. The reception lasted almost alwaysabout as long as the performances; but it included a number ofparentheses. Whenever the actress, was obliged to change her costumeshe would turn towards her visitors with a bewitching smile andbeseeching eyes: "Gentlemen, will you withdraw for one little moment?--not more thanone little moment. " Thereupon they would all transfer themselves to the ante-room andremain there patiently waiting. No, I am mistaken, not quite all, because the youngest of them, a third year student in the School ofMedicine, would avail himself of the chance to take a turn in thewings to stretch his legs and snatch a fugitive kiss or so. At allevents, the majority remained, either seated or pacing up and down, until the moment when Clotilde would re-open her door and, putting outher head, decked as queen or peasant girl, according to the part shewas playing, would call out: "Now you may come back, gentlemen. Have I been very long?" Don Jerónimo always lingered. He was the last to withdraw grumblingand the first to return to the dressing-room. He was never able toreconcile himself to that modest custom. And although he never allowedhimself to say so openly, yet in the depths of his secret thoughts heregarded it as a lack of courtesy that he should be ejected from hisseat, merely because the silly child must change her dress, --he, whofor thirty years had passed his life behind the scenes and had been onintimate terms with every actor and actress, ancient and modern! He was fifty-four years of age and had been attached to the Ministryof Foreign Affairs ever since he was four-and-twenty. Each successivegovernment had regarded him as one of the indispensable wheels in themachinery of colonial administration. Furthermore, he was a bachelorand living at the mercy of his landlady. It was said that in his youthhe once wrote a play which won him nothing but hisses and free entryfor life behind the scenes of the theaters. Whether resigned or not tothe verdict of the public, he ceased to write plays and assumedinstead the nobler rôle of patron to unrecognized authors and artistsand to ruined managers. Any youth from the provinces who arrived in Madrid with a drama in hispocket could take no surer road to seeing it produced than that whichled to the home of Don Jerónimo. One and all, he received them withopen arms, the good and the bad alike. There is no denying that, since he was rather brusque in his ways, he never spared the youngauthors who asked his advice and read him their productions, butcriticized vigorously, even to the verge of insult: "This wholeepisode is sheer nonsense; spill your ink-well on it!" "Why, lookhere, for the love of heaven! How do you suppose that a man who is onthe point of committing murder is going to stand there for sixteenseconds, without drawing his breath?" "Lord, what tommyrot! Platoniclove for a woman of that class! You must have tumbled out of the nestunfledged, my lad!" But anyone possessed of a little tact refused to take offense, butwent calmly on and ended by intrusting his manuscript to the hands ofDon Jerónimo. And he could rest assured that his drama would beproduced. The veteran of the greenrooms exercised a strong influence, akin to intimidation, over managers and actors alike; when he wasdispleased, he gave his tongue free rein; if a play had been hissed, he would protest, boiling with rage, against the public verdict, andwould continue to support the author more stanchly than ever. If onthe contrary it scored a hit, he merely kept silent and smiledecstatically, but never sought out the successful author in order tocongratulate him. And if the latter should complain of hisindifference, his answer was: "Now that you have shown that you can use your wings, will you please, my friend, will you please leave me free to succor some other poorfellow?" His private life offered little of special interest. Every night, upon leaving the theater, he betook himself to the _Café Habanero_, where he habitually consumed a beefsteak, together with a smallmeasure of beer. And, according to a certain friend, who had watchedhim repeatedly, he always managed his repast so artfully as to finish, at one and the same time, the last mouthful of meat, the last fragmentof bread, and the last draught of beer. On this particular night the little gathering was unwontedly animated. The actress's friends indulged more freely than usual in gossip andlaughter. Don Jerónimo, muffled closely in his cape (one of hisprivileges), lounging at ease in the big corner chair, and with hisinevitable cigar between his teeth (another special privilege), wasgiving utterance to rare and racy stories, which from time to timecaused his hearers to cast a glance in the direction of Clotilde andbrought a slightly heightened color to the latter's cheeks. Don Jerónimo himself took no notice of this; he had first known her assuch a mere child that he considered he had the right to dispense withcertain courtesies that are due to ladies, --assuming that in the wholecourse of his life he had ever shown them to any woman, which is verydoubtful. He had met her first as a mere child and had opened the wayfor her to the stage. At the time that he ran across her, she wasliving wretchedly and trying to learn the art of making artificialflowers. Today, thanks to her talent, she earned enough to keep hermother and sisters in comfort. Clotilde's attraction lay in her charm of manner rather than herbeauty. Her complexion was olive, her eyes large and black, the bestof all her features; her mouth somewhat big, but with bright red lipsand admirably even teeth. Tonight she was costumed as a lady of thetime of Louis XV, with powdered hair, which was marvelously becomingto her. She took almost no part in the conversation, but seemedsatisfied to be merely a listener, constantly turning her serene gazefrom one speaker to another, and often answering only with a smilewhen they addressed her. All at once there came the voice of the call-boy: "Señorita Clotilde, if you please--" "Coming, " she answered, rising. She crossed over to the mirror, gave a few final touches to her browsand lashes with a pencil, adjusted with somewhat nervous fingers thecoils of her hair, the cross of brilliants which she wore at herthroat, and the folds of her dress. Her friends became for the momentsilent and abstractedly watched these last preparations. "Good-by for the present, gentlemen. " And she left the dressing-room, followed by her maid, carefully bearing her train, a magnificent trainof cream-colored satin. "She grows lovelier every day, Clotilde does, " said the medicalstudent, allowing an imperceptible sigh to escape him. Don Jerónimo took an enormous pull at his cigar, and instantly becameenveloped in a cloud of smoke. For this reason no one observed thesmile of triumph with which he received the medical student's remark. "I agree with you that she grows prettier every day, " said another ofthe visitors. "But it seems to me that her disposition has beenundergoing a big change for some time back. You, my boy, have notknown her as long as we have. She used to be a fascinating talker, somerry, so full of spirits! No one could ever remain out of temper inher company. But now I find her grave and sad almost all the time. " "It's a fact that I have wondered at the melancholy look in her eyes. " Don Jerónimo took another enormous pull at his cigar. No one saw theswift flare of anger that passed over his face. "Changes like that, my boy, have only one cause, and that is love. " "Was she engaged?" "Precisely, --Don Jerónimo knows the story well. " "Yes, and I am going to tell it to you, " said the one referred to, from the depths of his cloak. "Though you may believe me that it is nopleasant task to relate such follies. But it concerns a girl whom weall of us love, and whatever affects her ought to interest us. "Some three years ago a young man, faultlessly dressed and with themanuscript of a play under his arm, called upon the director of thistheater. Now there is nothing in the world more impressive andawe-inspiring than a well-dressed young man who carries the manuscriptof a play under his arm. The director did his best to dodge him, andheld him off with a number of adroit moves; but he was finallycornered, all the same. In other words, the young man invited him tobreakfast one day, enticing him with the seductive prospect of severaldozen oysters, washed down with abundant Sauterne, and for dessert heshot off his play at close range. "As it turned out, the play was no good. Pepe did what you know onedoes in such cases: he expressed deep admiration for theversification, he said 'bravo!' over certain obscurely phrasedthoughts, and finally he recommended a few changes in the second act, after which the work would be unexceptionable. "The unwary poet returned home greatly pleased, and set to workzealously upon the revision. At the end of a fortnight he returned foranother interview with Pepe; this time the latter found the first actsomewhat slow, and advised him at any cost to put more action into itand make it somewhat shorter. It took the poet a month to rewrite thefirst act. When he once more presented himself, the director, whileexpressing great admiration for the excellence of the verse and forsome of the ideas, manifested some doubt as to whether the play was_actable_. That it was _literary_, he had none whatever; on thecontrary, it seemed to him that from this point of view it comparedfavorably with the best of Ayala's plays, --but actable, reallyactable, ah! that was another matter!" "What is the difference, Don Jerónimo? I don't understand. " "Then I will explain, my boy. We, who are behind the scenes, mean by_actable_ a good play, and by _literary_ a bad one. " "I see!" "After expressing these doubts, the manager concluded by recommendingcertain additional alterations in the third act. "At last the poet understood, --a really marvelous occurrence, becausepoets, who understand everything else and can tell you why the condorflies so high, who soar to the skies and descend into the abyss andpenetrate the secret thoughts of all created things, are not capableof realizing that there are times when their works do not please thosewho hear them. Our young man, whom we will call Inocencio, receivedback his manuscript somewhat peevishly, and for a while nothingfurther was heard of him. But at last, doubtless after a good deal ofprofound meditation, he presented himself on a certain morning at thehome of Clotilde. I hardly need tell you that he carried hismanuscript under his arm. "He waited patiently in the parlor while our young friend completedher toilet, and when at last she made her appearance, she saw beforeher a blushing and confused young man, who nevertheless waspleasant-mannered and fashionably dressed, and who besought withstammering lips that she would do him the favor of listening while heread his play. Women, you must know, find a singular pleasure inplaying the rôle of patroness, especially in regard to young men ofpleasant manners and fashionable dress. So that it is not at allsurprising that Clotilde listened patiently to the play and evenpronounced it acceptable. "The young man intrusted himself wholly to her guidance, deposited hismanuscript in her pretty hands, as though it were a new-born child, and she received it like a doting mother, took it under herprotection, and promised to watch over its precious existence andintroduce it to the world. The young man declared that such anintention was worthy of the noble heart whose fame had already reachedhis ears. Clotilde replied that it was no kindness on her part to workto have the play produced, but only an act of justice. The young mansaid that this idea was exceedingly flattering, because Clotilde'sgreat talent and the accuracy of her judgments were well known toeveryone, but that he dared not build upon such an illusion. Clotildedeclared that there were many unmerited reputations in the world, andone of them was hers, but that on this occasion she felt that she wason firm ground. "The young man replied that when the river roars the water toils, andthat when the whole world unites in admiring not only the exceptionalbeauty and artistic inspiration of a certain person, but also hersplendid genius and brilliant intellect, it was necessary to bow one'shead. Clotilde said that on this occasion she refused to bow hers, because she was quite convinced that the world was greatly mistakenregarding what it called her talent, which was nothing more nor lessthan pure instinct. The young man cried out to heaven against suchmystification, for which there was absolutely no excuse. Then, promptly calming down, he declared himself profoundly moved by themodesty of his patroness, and swore by all the saints in heaven thathe never had met her equal, --with the result that the manuscript wasmomentarily gaining ground in the heart of our sympathetic friend, andthat the young man, overwhelmed with emotion, took his leave of heruntil the following day. "On the following day, Clotilde called upon the manager, and bythreatening to break her contract, forced from him a promise toproduce Inocencio's play as soon as possible. That same afternoon, thepoet expressed his thanks to his patroness and promptly took her intohis confidence. He belonged to a distinguished provincial family, although without great financial resources. It was in the hope ofbettering them that he had come to Madrid, relying solely upon hisgenius. In his native town they said that he had talent, and that ifthe verses which he had contributed to the _Tagus Echo_ had beenpublished in Madrid, he would be talked of as a second Nuñez de Arce yGrilo. He did not know whether that was so; but he felt that his heartwas full of noble sentiments, and he loved the theater better than theapple of his eye. Would he succeed in being an Ayala or a Tamayo?Would he be rejected by the public? It was an insoluble mystery tohim. "During this interview, Clotilde became convinced of two veryimportant things: namely, that Inocencio possessed a talent so greatthat his head could scarcely hold it, and secondly, that there was noone else in all Madrid who could wear so conspicuous a necktie withsuch charming effect. I need not tell you that their confidentialinterviews increased in frequency, and that consequently Clotilde cameday by day more completely under the fascinating influence of thatsupernatural necktie. In the end, she yielded herself vanquished, andsurrendered herself to it, bound hand and foot. The necktie deigned toraise her from the ground and grant her the favor of its affection. " "What about a necktie?" asked one of the company, who had beennodding. Don Jerónimo took an immense, an infernal pull at his cigar, intestimony of his annoyance, then proceeded with no further notice: "Meanwhile the rehearsals of Inocencio's play had begun. It wascalled, if I am not mistaken, _Stooping to Conquer_, --excuse me, no, Ibelieve it was just the reverse, _Conquering to Stoop_. Well, at allevents, it contained a participle and an infinitive. Before long Ibecame aware that lover-like relations had been established betweenour fair friend and the author, and since, as a matter of fact, evenif Inocencio was a bad poet, as Pepe insisted, he seemed like a goodlad, I was very glad it had happened and I helped it along as much asI could. Clotilde confided in me, and declared that she wasdesperately in love; that her ambitions no longer had anything to dowith the art of the stage, which seemed to her an unbearable slavery;that her ideal was to live tranquilly, even if it were in a garret, united to the man whom she adored; that woman was born to be theguardian angel of the fireside, and not to divert the public, andthat she herself would rather be queen of a humble little apartmentilluminated with love, than to receive all the applause in the world. In short, gentlemen, our young friend was living in the midst of anidyllic dream. "Inocencio was, to all appearance, no less in love than she. Ifrequently encountered them walking through the unfrequented by-pathsof the Retiro, at a respectable distance from her mother, who lingeredopportunely to examine the first opening buds of flowers or somecurious insect. Mothers, at this critical period of courtship, areunder an obligation to be admirers of the works of nature. The youngpair of turtle-doves would pause when they caught sight of me andgreet me blushingly. I cannot conceal from you that, however much Ifelt the loss to art, I was delighted that Clotilde was going to bemarried. A woman always needs the protection of a man. And there is noquestion that so far as outward appearance went, they were worthy ofone another. Inocencio certainly was a most attractive young fellow. "At the theater they talked of nothing else than of this wedding, which was still in the bud. Everybody was delighted, because Clotildeis the only actress, since the beginning of the world, who took itinto her head to attempt what until now was regarded as impossible, tomake herself beloved by her companions. "I observed, nevertheless, --for you know that I am an observantperson: it is the only quality that I possess, that of observation, athing to which the authors of today attach no importance. Today, inthe drama, everything is so much dried leaves, a lot of moonshine, which, they let filter down through the foliage of the trees, a lot ofdescription of dawn and twilight, and a lot of other similarpastry-shop stuff. That's all there is to it! When any fledglingauthor comes to me with nonsense of that sort, I say to him: 'Get downto the facts! Get down to the facts!' The facts are the drama, whichdoesn't exist in the great part of the above-mentioned. " "Aren't you exciting yourself, Don Jerónimo?" "Well, as I was telling you, I observed that as the rehearsalsprogressed the ascendency of Inocencio over our young friendincreased. The tone in which he addressed her was no longer the humbleand courteous tone of earlier days; he corrected her frequently in hermanner of delivery, he dictated the attitudes and gestures which sheshould adopt, and sometimes, when the actress did not quite understandhis wishes, he allowed himself to address her publicly in rathersevere terms, and the way he looked at her was severer still. Our poetwas already thundering and lightning like a true lord and master. "Clotilde accepted it with good grace. She, who had always been sohaughty, even towards the most distinguished authors, stretched outand shrank back like soft wax in the hands of that insignificantjackanapes. You ought to have seen the humility with which sheaccepted his suggestions, and the distress which his censures causedher. All the time that the rehearsal lasted she kept her eyes steadilyfixed upon him, watching like a submissive slave to catch the wishesof her master. The poet, lolling at ease in an arm-chair, with abrazier of hot coals before him, directed the action in as dictatoriala manner as either Gracia Gutierrez or Ayala could have done. A mereglance from him sufficed to make Clotilde flush crimson or turn pale. The other actors made no protest, out of consideration for her. Whenshe had finished her scene she came eagerly to take her seat besideher betrothed, who sometimes deigned to welcome her with a haughtysmile, and at other times with an Olympian indifference. I, meanwhile, looked on, scandalized. "On one occasion I came upon them from behind, and overheard what theywere saying. Clotilde was speaking, and hotly maintaining thatInocencio's _Stooping to Conquer_ or _Conquering to Stoop_ was betterthan _A New Drama_. The young man protested feebly. On anotheroccasion they were speaking of their future union. Clotilde waspicturing in impassioned phrases the nook to which they would go tohide their happiness; some lofty spot on the hills of Salamanca, adear little nest, bathed in sunlight, where Inocencio could work inhis private study, writing plays, while she sat by his side andembroidered in absolute silence. When he was tired they could talk fora while, to let him rest, and then she would give him a kiss and goback again to her work. In the evening they would go out, arm in arm, to take a short walk, and then home again. But no more of thetheater; she abhorred it with all her soul. In the spring they wouldgo every morning to take a walk in the Retiro and take chocolate underthe trees; in the summer they would spend a month or two inInocencio's birthplace, so as to bring back from the country a supplyof good color and health for the coming winter. "The description of this tender idyl, which, even if I am a confirmedbachelor, set my heart beating within my breast, produced no othereffect upon the new author than an insolent somnolence which would notdisappear until he suddenly raised his imperious voice to admonishsome one of the actors. "At last the opening night arrived. We were all anxious to see theresult. The prevailing opinion was that the play offered littlenovelty; but since Clotilde had staked her whole soul upon theoutcome, a big success was predicted. At the dress rehearsal our youngfriend had achieved genuine prodigies. There was a moment when the fewof us whom curiosity had brought to witness it, rose to our feetelectrified, convulsed, making a most unseemly outcry. You have noconception how marvelously she rendered her part. Then and there, allof a sudden, an idea entered my head. Recalling all my observations ofClotilde's love affair, I felt convinced, in view of the evidence, that Inocencio had had no other purpose in winning her love than toassure an exceptional interpretation of the leading _rôle_ of hisplay, and a flattering outcome of his venture. I decided not tocommunicate my suspicions to anyone. I kept silent and hoped, butthere is no doubt that from that time on the young man was decidedlyout of favor with me. "The noise which Inocencio's friends had been making in regard to thetheme of his play, the fact that Clotilde had chosen it for herbenefit performance, and the wide-spread rumor that the celebratedactress was going to win a signal triumph in it, all worked togetherto help the speculators to dispose of every seat in the house atfabulous prices. I know a marquis who paid eleven _duros_ for twoorchestra stalls. This room where we are now sitting was filled, justas it is annually, with flowers and presents; it was impossible tomove about in the midst of such a conglomeration of porcelain, bookswith costly bindings, ebony work-boxes, picture-frames, and no end ofother fancy trifles. "The audience room was unusually brilliant. The most resplendentladies, the men most distinguished in politics, literature, andfinance; in short, the _high life_, as the phrase goes, was all there. But even more brilliant and more radiant was Inocencio himself;radiant with glory and happiness, and graciously receiving the crowdsof visitors who came to see the presents, dictating orders to thecall-boys and scene-shifters regarding the proper setting of thescene, and multiplying his smiles and hand-shakings to the point ofinfinity. Clotilde also seemed more beautiful than ever, and herexpressive face revealed the tender emotion which possessed her, aswell as her deep anxiety to win laurels for her future husband. "The curtain arose and everyone hurried to occupy his seat. In thewings there was no one save the author and three or four of hisfriends. The opening scenes were received as usual with indifference;the following ones with a little more cordiality; the versificationwas fluent and polished, and, as you know, the public appreciatessugar-coated phrases. At last the moment arrived for Clotilde'sentrance, and a faint murmur of curiosity and expectation ran throughthe audience. She spoke her lines discreetly, but without much warmth;it was easy to see that she was afraid. The curtain fell in a deadsilence. "Immediately the waiting-room and passage-way were filled byInocencio's friends, who came eagerly to tell him that this firstperformance of his play was a great success, --but what was the matterwith Clotilde? She hardly put any movement into her part, --and she wasusually so much alive, so tremendously forceful! Our young friendacknowledged that, as a matter of fact, she had felt badly scared, andthat this had hampered her seriously. The author, greatly alarmed forthe fate of his work, endeavored to persuade her that there wasnothing to be afraid of, that all she had to do was to be herself, andthat she was not to think of him at all while she spoke her lines. "'I can't help it, ' insisted Clotilde, 'all the time that I amspeaking I keep thinking that you are the author, and imagining thatthe play is not going to succeed, and it makes me so frightened. ' "Inocencio was in despair; he tried entreaties, advice, arguments, heembraced her without caring who saw him; he tried to infuse courageinto her by appealing to her vanity as an artist; in short, he dideverything imaginable to save his play. "The second act began. Clotilde had a few pathetic scenes. In thebeginning there was a certain slight disturbance in the audience, andthis sufficed to disconcert her completely, and to make her actingirremediably bad, worse than she had ever acted in her whole life. Agood deal of coughing was heard, and some loud murmurs of impatience. At the end of that second act a few indiscreet friends tried toapplaud, but the audience drowned them out with an immense andterrifying series of hisses. The author, who was standing by my side, pale as death, relieved his feelings with a flood of coarse words, andmade his way to Pepe's room, which faces that of Clotilde, and wherehis friends consoled him, casting the whole blame for the failure uponher, and inflaming more and more the anger surging in his heart. Meanwhile, our friend was utterly crushed and overcome, andcontinually calling for her Inocencio. In order to spare her furthertrouble, I told her that the author had accepted the situationresignedly, and had left the theater to get a breath of air. Theunhappy girl bitterly blamed herself, taking the entire failure on herown shoulders. "The curtain rose for the third act; and we all gathered anxiously atthe wings. Clotilde, by a powerful effort of will, showed herself atfirst more self-possessed than in the previous acts, but the audiencewas in a mood to have some sport, and nothing could have made themtake the play seriously. When the public once scents a trail, it islike a wild beast that smells blood; there is no way of heading itoff, and you have got to let it have its flesh at any cost. And thereis no doubt that on this occasion it gorged itself full. Coughs, laughter, sneezes, stampings, hisses, --there was a little ofeverything. Tears sprang to our poor friend's eyes, and she seemedupon the point of fainting. When the curtain finally fell her eyessought on all sides for her lover, but he had disappeared. In herdressing-room, where I followed her, she sobbed, groaned, gave way todespair, called herself a fool, said that she was going to hireherself out on some farm to tend the geese and more to the sameeffect. It cost me some hard work to calm her down, but at last Isucceeded so that she sank into a sort of silent lethargy. In thesorrow which her eyes revealed I saw that what tormented her horriblywas the absence of Inocencio. "The door of the room was suddenly flung open. The defeated poet madehis appearance; he was quite pale but apparently calm. Nevertheless, Iperceived at the first glance that his calmness was assumed, and thatthe smile which contracted his lips closely resembled that of acondemned man who wishes to die bravely. "A gleam of joy illuminated Clotilde's face. She rose swiftly andflung her arms around his neck, saying in a broken voice: "'I have ruined you, my poor Inocencio, I have ruined you! Howgenerous you are! But listen, I swear to you, by the memory of myfather, that I will atone for the humiliation you have just suffered. ' "'There is no need for you to atone, my dear girl, ' replied the poet, in a soft tone under which a disdainful anger could be felt, 'myfamily has not achieved its illustrious name through the intercessionof any actor. From this day henceforth I gladly renounce the theaterand all that is connected with it. Accordingly, --I wish you good-day. 'And, unclasping the arms that imprisoned his neck, and smilingsarcastically, he retreated a few steps and took his leave. Clotildegazed at him in a stupor, then fell unconscious on the divan. "At the sight of her in such a state I felt my blood take fire, and Ifollowed the young man out. I overtook him near the stairs, and, grasping him by the wrist, I said to him: "'A word with you. The first thing that a man has to be, before he canbe a poet, is a gentleman, --and that is something you are not. Yourplay was hissed because it lacks the same thing that you lack, --andthat is a heart. Here, sir, is my card. '" "And did you not send him your seconds, Don Jerónimo?" inquired themedical student. "Silence, silence!" exclaimed another of the group, "here isClotilde. " And, in fact, the charming actress at that moment appeared in thedoorway, and her large and sad black eyes, all the more beautifulbeneath her white Louis XV coiffure, smiled tenderly upon herfaithful friends. CAPTAIN VENENO'S PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE Pedro Antonio de Alarcón "Great heavens! What a woman!" cried the captain, and stamped withfury. "Not without reason have I been trembling and in fear of herfrom the first time I saw her! It must have been a warning of fatethat I stopped playing _écarté_ with her. It was also a bad omen thatI passed so many sleepless nights. Was there ever mortal in a worseperplexity than I am? How can I leave her alone without a protector, loving her, as I do, more than my own life? And, on the other hand, how can I marry her, after all my declaimings against marriage?" Then turning to Augustias--"What would they say of me in the club?What would people say of me, if they met me in the street with a womanon my arm, or if they found me at home, just about to feed a child inswaddling clothes? I--to have children? To worry about them? To livein eternal fear that they might fall sick or die? Augustias, believeme, as true as there is a God above us, I am absolutely unfit for it!I should behave in such a way that after a short while you would callupon heaven either to be divorced or to become a widow. Listen to myadvice: do not marry me, even if I ask you. " "What a strange creature you are, " said the young woman, withoutallowing herself to be at all discomposed, and sitting very erect inher chair. "All that you are only telling to yourself! From what doyou conclude that I wish to be married to you; that I would acceptyour offer, and that I should not prefer living by myself, even if Ihad to work day and night, as so many girls do who are orphans?" "How do I come to that conclusion?" answered the captain with thegreatest candor. "Because it cannot be otherwise. Because we love eachother. Because we are drawn to each other. Because a man such as I, and a woman such as you, cannot live in any other way! Do you supposeI do not understand that? Don't you suppose I have reflected on itbefore now? Do you think I am indifferent in your good name andreputation? I have spoken plainly in order to speak, in order to flyfrom my own conviction, in order to examine whether I can escape fromthis terrible dilemma which is robbing me of my sleep, and whether Ican possibly find an expedient so that I need not marry you--to dowhich I shall finally be compelled, if you stand by your resolve tomake your way alone!" "Alone! Alone!" repeated Augustias, roguishly. "And why not with aworthier companion? Who tells you that I shall not some day meet a manwhom I like, and who is not afraid to marry me?" "Augustias! let us skip that!" growled the captain, his face turningscarlet. "And why should we not talk about it?" "Let us pass over that, and let me say, at the same time, that I willmurder the man who dares to ask for your hand. But it is madness onmy part to be angry without any reason. I am not so dull as not to seehow we two stand. Shall I tell you? We love each other. Do not tell meI am mistaken! That would be lying. And here is the proof: if you didnot love me, I, too, should not love you! Let us try to meet oneanother halfway. I ask for a delay of ten years. When I shall havecompleted my half century, and when, a feeble old man, I shall havebecome familiar with the idea of slavery, then we will marry withoutanyone knowing about it. We will leave Madrid, and go to the country, where we shall have no spectators, where there will be nobody to makefun of me. But until this happens, please take half of my incomesecretly, and without any human soul ever knowing anything about it. You continue to live here, and I remain in my house. We will see eachother, but only in the presence of witnesses--for instance, insociety. We will write to each other every day. So as not to endangeryour good name, I will never pass through this street, and on MemorialDay only we will go to the cemetery together with Rosa. " Augustias could not but smile at the last proposal of the goodcaptain, and her smile was not mocking, but contented and happy, as ifsome cherished hope had dawned in her heart, as if it were the firstray of the sun of happiness which was about to rise in her heaven! Butbeing a woman--though as brave and free from artifices as few ofthem--she yet managed to subdue the signs of joy rising within her. She acted as if she cherished not the slightest hope, and said with adistant coolness which is usually the special and genuine sign ofchaste reserve: "You make yourself ridiculous with your peculiar conditions. Youstipulate for the gift of an engagement-ring, for which nobody has yetasked you. " "I know still another way out--for a compromise, but that is reallythe last one. Do you fully understand, my young lady from Aragon? Itis the last way out, which a man, also from Aragon, begs leave toexplain to you. " She turned her head and looked straight into his eyes, with anexpression indescribably earnest, captivating, quiet, and full ofexpectation. The captain had never seen her features so beautiful and expressive;at that moment she looked to him like a queen. "Augustias, " said, or rather stammered, this brave soldier, who hadbeen under fire a hundred times, and who had made such a deepimpression on the young girl through his charging under a rain ofbullets like a lion, "I have the honor to ask for your hand on onecertain, essential, unchangeable condition. Tomorrow morning--today--asoon as the papers are in order--as quickly as possible. I can livewithout you no longer!" The glances of the young girl became milder, and she rewarded him forhis decided heroism with a tender and bewitching smile. "But I repeat that it is on one condition, " the bold warrior hastenedto repeat, feeling that Augustias's glances made him confused andweak. "On what condition?" asked the young girl, turning fully round, andnow holding him under the witchery of her sparkling black eyes. "On the condition, " he stammered, "that, in case we have children, wesend them to the orphanage. I mean--on this point I will never yield. Well, do you consent? For heaven's sake, say yes!" "Why should I not consent to it, Captain Veneno?" answered Augustias, with a peal of laughter. "You shall take them there yourself, or, better still, we both of us will take them there. And we will givethem up without kissing them, or anything else! Don't you think weshall take them there?" Thus spoke Augustias, and looked at the captain with exquisite joy inher eyes. The good captain thought he would die of happiness; a floodof tears burst from his eyes; he folded the blushing girl in his arms, and said: "So I am lost?" "Irretrievably lost, Captain Veneno, " answered Augustias. * * * * * One morning in May, 1852--that is, four years after the scene justdescribed--a friend of mine, who told me this story, stopped his horsein front of a mansion on San Francisco Avenue, in Madrid; he threw thereins to his groom, and asked the long-coated footman who met him atthe door: "Is your master at home?" "If your honor will be good enough to walk upstairs, you will findhim in the library. His excellency does not like to have visitorsannounced. Everybody can go up to him directly. " "Fortunately I know the house thoroughly, " said the stranger tohimself, while he mounted the stairs. "In the library! Well, well, whowould have thought of Captain Veneno ever taking to the sciences?" Wandering through the rooms, the visitor met another servant, whorepeated, "The master is in the library. " And at last he came to thedoor of the room in question, opened it quickly, and stood, almostturned to stone for astonishment, before the remarkable group which itoffered to his view. In the middle of the room, on the carpet which covered the floor, aman was crawling on all-fours. On his back rode a little fellow aboutthree years old, who was kicking the man's sides with his heels. Another small boy, who might have been a year and a half old, stood infront of the man's head, and had evidently been tumbling his hair. Onehand held the father's neckerchief, and the little fellow was tuggingat it as if it had been a halter, shouting with delight in his merrychild's voice: "Gee up, donkey! Gee up!"