Read Ebook: A Wedding Trip by Pardo Baz N Emilia Condesa De Serrano Mary J Mary Jane Translator

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Ebook has 1026 lines and 78600 words, and 21 pages

The young girl grew up like a vigorous sapling planted in fertile soil; it almost seemed as if the life she had been the cause of her mother's losing was concentrated in the person of the child. She passed through the crises of infancy and girlhood without any of those nameless sufferings that blanch the cheeks and quench the light in the eyes of the young. There was a perfect equilibrium in her rich organism between the nerves and the blood, and the result was a temperament such as is now seldom to be met with in our degenerate society.

Mind and body in Luc?a kept pace with each other in their development, like two traveling companions who, arm in arm, ascend the hills and help each other over the rugged places on their journey, and it was a curious fact that, while the materialist physician, Velez de Rada, who attended Se?or Joaquin, took delight in watching Luc?a and noting how exuberantly the vital current flowed through the members of this young Cybele, the learned Jesuit, Father Urtazu, was also her devoted admirer, finding her conscience as clear and diaphanous as the crystals of his microscope, neither of them being conscious that what they both admired in the young girl was, perhaps, one and the same thing seen from a different point of view, namely, perfect health.

Se?or Joaquin desired to give Luc?a a good education, as he understood it, and indeed did all in his power to cripple the superior nature of his daughter, though without success. Impelled on the one hand by the desire to bestow accomplishments on Luc?a which should enhance her merit, fearing on the other lest it should be sarcastically said in the village that Uncle Joaquin aspired to have a young lady daughter, he brought her up in a hybrid manner, placing her as a day pupil in a boarding school, under the rule of a prudish directress who professed to know everything. There Luc?a was taught a smattering of French and a little music; as for any solid instruction, it was not even thought of; knowledge of social usages, zero; and for all feminine knowledge--a knowledge much vaster and more complicated than the uninitiated imagine--some sort of fancy work, as tedious and useless as it was ugly, patterns of slippers in the worst possible taste, embroidered shirt-bosoms, or bead purses. Happily, Father Urtazu sowed among so many weeds a few grains of wheat, and the moral and religious instruction of Luc?a, although limited, was as correct and solid as her school studies were futile. Father Urtazu had more of the practical moralist than of the ascetic, and the young girl learned more from him concerning ethics than dogma. So that although a good Christian she was not a fervent one. The absolute tranquillity of her temperament forbade her ever being carried away by enthusiasm; there was in the girl something of the repose of the Olympian goddesses; neither earthly nor heavenly matters disturbed the calm serenity of her mind. Father Urtazu used to say, pushing out his lip with his accustomed gesture:

"We are sleeping, sleeping, but I am very sure we are not dead; and the day on which we awaken there will be something to see; God grant that it may be for good."

The friends of Luc?a were Rosarito, the daughter of Do?a Agustina, the landlady of the village inn; Carmen, the niece of the magistrate, and a few other young girls of the same class, many of whom dreamed of the gentle tranquillity, the peaceful monotony of the conventual life, forming to themselves seductive pictures of the joys of the cloister, of the tender emotion of the day of the profession, when, crowned with flowers and wearing the white veil, they should offer themselves to Christ with the exquisite sweetness of adding, "forever! forever!" Luc?a had listened to them without a single fiber of her being vibrating responsive to this ideal. Active life called to her with deep and powerful voice. Nor did she feel any desire, on the other hand, to imitate others of her companions whom she saw furtively hiding love-letters in their bosoms or hurrying, eager and blushing, to the balcony. In her childhood, prolonged by innocence and radiant health, there was no room for any other pleasure than to run about among the shady walks that surrounded Leon, leaping for very joy, like a youthful nymph sporting in some Hellenic valley.

Se?or Joaquin devoutly believed that he had given his daughter all the education that was necessary, and he even thought the waltzes and fantasies, which she pitilessly slaughtered with her unskillful fingers on the piano, admirably executed. However deeply he might hide it in the secret recesses of his soul, the Leonese was not without the aspiration, common to all men who have exercised humble occupations and earned their bread by the sweat of their brows--he desired that his daughter should profit by his efforts, ascending a step higher in the social scale. He would have been well contented, for his own part, to continue the same "Uncle Joaquin" as before; he had no pretensions to be considered a rich man, and both in his disposition and his manners, he was extremely simple; but if he were willing to renounce position for himself, he was not willing to do so for his daughter. He seemed to hear a voice saying to him, as the witches said to Banquo, "Thou shalt get kings though thou be none." And divided between the modest conviction of his own absolute insignificance and the moral certainty he entertained that Luc?a was destined to occupy an elevated position in the world, he came to the not unreasonable conclusion that marriage was to be the means whereby the desired metamorphosis of the girl into the lady of rank was to be accomplished. A distinguished son-in-law was from this time forth the ceaseless aspiration of the ex-grocer.

"As for me," answered Miranda, "if the worst were only to leave Leon--for, to tell the truth, that village bores me to death, although it is not without its advantages. But if matters go any further I shall be in a pretty fix."

"Are you ill?" interrupted Colmenar; "leaks in the roof, my boy; leaks in the roof!"

"Like all doctors," said Colmenar, with a shrug of the shoulders. "And how about other matters? Have you made many conquests in Leon? Are the Leonese girls susceptible?"

"Bah, hypocrites!" exclaimed Miranda, who, in the unreserve of confidential intercourse permitted himself to indulge in an occasional touch of irreverence. "The Jesuits have their heads turned with confraternities and novenas, and they go about devouring the saints with kisses. There is little social intercourse,--every one in his own house and God in the house of every one. But, after all, that suits me very well, since I require to rest and to lead a regular life."

Colmenar listened in silence, tracing with his eyes the pattern on the soft, thick carpet.

At last he raised his head and slapped his forehead with his open palm.

"An unprecedented idea had just occurred to me," he said, repeating the celebrated phrase of the Portuguese minister. "Why don't you marry, my dear fellow?"

"A bright idea, truly! A wife costs so little in these days. And afterward? 'For him who does not like soup, a double portion.' I am going to lose my situation, it may be, and you talk to me of marrying!"

"I do not propose, to you a wife who will lighten your purse, but one who will make it heavy."

And the leader laughed loud and long at his own wit. Miranda remained pensive, thinking over the solid advantages of the plan, which he was not long in discovering. There could be no better means of providing against the assaults of hostile fortune and securing the doubtful future, before the few hairs he had left should have disappeared and the superficial polish conferred by fashion and the arts of the toilet should have vanished. And then, Leon was a city that suggested of itself matrimonial ideas. What was there to do but marry in a place where dullness reigned supreme, where celibacy inspired mistrust, and where the most innocent adventure gave rise to the most outrageous slanders? Therefore he said aloud:

"You are right, my boy. Leon is a place that inspires one with the desire to marry and to live like a saint."

"The truth is, that for you," continued Colmenar, "marriage has now become a necessity. Aside from the fact that it is high time for you to think of marrying, unless you want to be called an old bachelor, your health and your pocket both require it. If I cannot succeed in keeping you in your place what are you going to do? I suppose you have saved nothing?"

"Some one here? God deliver you from the women of Madrid. They are more to be feared than the cholera? Do you know what the requirements are of any one of those angels? Do you know how much they spend?"

"The wife you require is in Leon itself."

Colmenar rose, and opening one of the drawers of his desk, took from it a strip of paper, yellow with age and covered with names, like a proscription list. And it was in truth a list; in it were inscribed in alphabetical order the names of the feudatories of the great Colmenarian personality, residing in the various provinces of the Peninsula. Under some of the names was written a capital L, which signified, "Loyal"; others were marked V L, "Very loyal"; a few were marked, "Doubtful."

The leader placed his forefinger on one of the names marked L.

"I offer you," he said to Miranda, "a young girl who has a fortune of perhaps more than two millions."

Miranda opened wide his eyes, and stretched out his hand to take the auspicious list.

"Two millions!" he exclaimed. "But there is no one like you for these finds."

"You may have seen in Leon the person whose name is inscribed here," continued Colmenar, indicating the line with his nail. "A robust, fine-looking old man, strong and vigorous still, Joaquin Gonzalez, the Leonese?"

"The Leonese! There is no one I know better. He has come to the government office of Leon several times, on business. Of course I know him. And now I remember that he has a daughter, but I have never taken any particular notice of her. She is very seldom seen."

"They live very modestly. In ten years the fortune will double itself. He is a great man for business, the Leonese. A poor creature, a simpleton, in everything else; in politics he sees no further than his nose, but he has succeeded in making a fortune. This girl is his only child, and he adores her."

"And don't you think it likely that the girl may have formed some attachment already?"

"Probably she is a ninny, and ugly into the bargain."

"Her father was a magnificent-looking fellow in his youth, and her mother a handsome brunette,--why should the girl be ugly? No one is ugly at fifteen. She will need polishing, it is true; but between you and a dressmaker that is a question of a month. Women are much more readily civilized and polished than men. The desire to please teaches them more than a hundred masters could do."

"And what would all my friends say of me--especially in Leon--if they saw me marry the daughter of the Leonese?"

Miranda gazed at the point of his elegant tan-colored boot in silence, thoughtfully scratching his forehead.

"Find me an excuse to visit the house," he said at last, with resolution. "They are unaccustomed to society, and it will be necessary to have one. I shall not be required to parade the girl through the streets, I suppose."

"You will make them a visit in my name. The old man will give you a warmer welcome than if you were the king himself!"

So saying, the leader seated himself at the table, which was littered with newspapers, letters, and books, and taking a sheet of stamped paper ran his hand over the white page, filling it with the rapid, almost unintelligible caligraphy of a man overwhelmed with business. He then folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and, without closing it, handed it to his friend.

When Miranda rose to take his leave he approached Colmenar, and speaking in a low voice, almost in a whisper, he murmured:

"It is so likely I should be mistaken! All you have to do is to make inquiries in Leon. In conscience, you owe me a commission," and the politician laughed and tapped Miranda on the cheek as if he were a child.

Luc?a regarded the visit of the courteous and affable Miranda without displeasure, and noted with childish curiosity the neatness of his person, his well-polished shoes, his snowy linen, his scarf-pin, the curious trinkets attached to his watch-chain, for every woman--consciously or unconsciously--takes pleasure in these external adornments. Besides, Miranda possessed the art--and practiced it--of what we may call winning affection by diverting; he brought the young girl every day some new trifle, some novelty,--now a chromo, now a photograph, now rare flowers, now illustrated periodicals, now a novel by Fernan Caballero, or Alarcon,--and the pretty gifts that flowed through the doors of the antiquated house, messages as it were, from modern civilization, were so many voices praising the generous giver. The latter succeeded in bringing his conversation to the level of Luc?a's understanding, and showed himself very well informed regarding feminine, or rather infantile matters, and the young girl would sometimes even consult him with regard to the style in which she should wear her hair and the make of her gowns, and Miranda would very seriously make her raise or lower, by two centimeters, the waist of her gown or her chignon. Incidents like these served to vary a little the monotony of the life of the Leonese maiden, lending a charm to her intercourse with her undeclared lover.

The Leonese was struck dumb with amazement and knew not what to say or do. His dream--Luc?a's entrance, so ardently desired, into the circles of polite society--was about to be realized. But we must be just to Se?or Joaquin. He did not fail to perceive clearly, in this supreme moment, certain unfavorable points in the proposed marriage. He saw the difference in the ages of the prospective bride and bridegroom; he knew nothing of Miranda's pecuniary position, while his daughter's magnificent dowry was a matter of certainty; in short, he had a vague intuition of the base self-interest on which the demand was founded. The suitor showed himself a skillful strategist, forestalling suspicion, in a manner, and anticipating the thoughts of the Leonese.

"In a fortnight I will come back for your answer," responded Miranda, discreetly, taking his hat to go.

He passed the fortnight in a Satanic frame of mind, for it was undoubtedly ridiculous for a man of his pretensions and his rank to have asked in marriage the daughter of a grocer and to be obliged to wait in the ante-chamber of the shop, so to say, until they should deign to open the door to admit him. Meanwhile Se?or Joaquin, reading his newspaper and sipping his coffee alone, missed him greatly, and the idea of the marriage began to take root in his mind. Every day he thought the friend of Colmenar more and more desirable for a son-in-law. Notwithstanding this, however, he did what people usually do who desire to follow their inclinations without bearing the responsibility of their actions--he took counsel with some friends in regard to the matter, hoping to shelter himself under their approbation. In this expectation he was disappointed. Father Urtazu, who was the first person that he consulted, exclaimed, with his Navarrese frankness:

"For the old cat the tender mouse! The sweet-tongued, smooth-faced Don knows very well what he is about. But don't you see, unhappy man, that the old fop might be Luc?a's father? Heaven knows what adventures he has had in the course of his life! Holy Virgin! who can tell what stories he may not have hidden away in the pockets of his coat!"

"But what would you do if you were in my case, Father Urtazu?"

"I? Take a year to think of it instead of a fortnight, and another year after that, for whatever might chance to turn up."

"The merits--the merits--pretty merits, indeed! Pish, pish! Unless it be a merit to go dressed like a dandy, displaying a couple of inches of his shirt cuffs, and giving himself the airs of a young man, when he is older-looking than I, for, though it be true that my hair is gray, at least the tree has not dropped its leaves!"

And Father Urtazu pulled with energy the stout iron-gray locks that grew on his temples, bristly as brambles.

"What does the child herself say about it?" he asked, suddenly.

"But that is the first thing to be done, unhappy man! Ah, how true is it that the mind, becomes dull with age. What are you waiting for?"

Velez de Rada was even yet more decided and uncompromising.

"Se?or Rada,"--Se?or Joaquin, who was a little hard of hearing, began timidly.

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