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THE 
 
 INDEPENDENT NOVEL 
 SERIES 
 
 LADY PERFECTA 
 
THE 
 
 INDEPENDENT NOVEL SERIES 
 
 THE SHIFTING OF THE FIRE 
 A PHANTOM FROM THE EAST 
 JEAN DE KERDREN 
 POOR LADY MASSEY 
 A CONSTANT LOVER 
 STORIES FROM GARSHIN 
 TIARI : A TAHITIAN ROMANCE 
 HUGH DARVILLE 
 
 THEORIES 
 
B. Perez Galdos 
 
 LADY 
 
 PERFECTA 
 
 Translated from the Spanish by 
 Mary Wharton 
 
 3Lon&on 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 Paternoster Square 
 
 MDCCCXCIV 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. r 
 
 I. — VILLAHORRENDA — FIVE MINUTES, . 
 
 II. — A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN, 
 
 III. — PEPE REV, 
 
 IV. — THE cousin’s ARRIVAL, .... 
 
 V. — WILL THERE BE DISCORD? 
 
 VI.— WHERE HE SEES THAT HE CAN PREVENT 
 DISCORD WHEN HE LEAST EXPECTS TO 
 
 ^ DO SO, ....... 
 
 V 
 
 VII. — DISCORD INCREASES, .... 
 
 VIII.— WITH ALL PROMPTNESS, .... 
 
 ^ IX. — DISAGREEMENT INCREASES, AND THREAT- 
 ENS TO END IN DISLIKE, 
 
 X. — THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS EVIDENT, 
 
 XI. — DISLIKE INCREASES, 
 
 ; XII. — THEY ARE THE TROYAS, .... 
 
 / ' XIII. — AN UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE, 
 
 XIV. — DISLIKE IS STILL ON THE INCREASE, 
 
 ^ XV. — DISLIKE INCREASES UNTIL IT ENDS IN 
 
 JX A DECLARATION OF WAR, 
 
 . XVI. — NIGHT, 
 
 >■ 
 
 ' XVII.— LIGHT IN DARKNESS, .... 
 
 ,■ XVIII. — THE TROOP, . . . 
 
 ’AGE 
 
 5 
 
 20 
 
 28 
 
 34 
 
 40 
 
 47 
 
 53 
 
 62 
 
 76 
 
 87 
 
 99 
 
 no 
 
 115 
 
 123 
 
 127 
 
 134 
 
 145 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 viii 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XIX. — TERRIBLE COMBAT — STRATAGEM, , , 155 
 
 XX. — RUMOURS — FEARS, 1 68 
 
 XXI. — FEAR IS EXCITED, 1 75 
 
 XXII. — AROUSED, 188 
 
 XXIII.— MYSTERY, I97 
 
 XXIV.— THE CONFESSION, 201 
 
 XXV. — UNFORESEEN SUCCESS — AN UNDISCOVERED 
 
 FUGITIVE, 206 
 
 XXVI. — MARIA REMEDIOS, 219 
 
 XXVII. — A canon’s torment, .... 229 
 
 XXVIII. — FROM MR PEPE REY TO MR JOHN REY, . 240 
 
 XXIX. — PEPE REY TO ROSARITO POLENTINOS, . 247 
 
 XXX. — THE ACT, 248 
 
 XXXI. — LADY PERFECTA, 25 1 
 
 XXXII. — THE END, 259 
 
 XXXIII. — 268 
 
Lady Perfecta 
 
 CHAPTER 1 . 
 
 VILLAHORRENDA — FIVE MINUTES. 
 
 HEN the mixed down-train No. 65 (it 
 is unnecessary to name the line) 
 drew up at the small station situated 
 between kilometres 171 and 172, 
 nearly all the second and third-class 
 passengers remained sleeping or yawning within their 
 compartments, for the piercing cold of the early morn 
 did not invite one to exchange these for a walk 
 on the dreary platform. The only first-class pas- 
 senger who had travelled by the train briskly 
 descended, and, advancing towards the porters, 
 inquired if that were the station of Villahorrenda. 
 (This name, as are many others, as will afterwards 
 be seen, are fictitious.) 
 
 ‘We are at Villahorrenda,’ replied the engine- 
 driver, whose voice was almost drowned by the 
 cackling of some hens, which, at that moment, 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 had been put into the waggon. ‘ I had forgotten 
 to call you, Mr de Rey. I believe they are wait- 
 ing you yonder with the horses.’ 
 
 ‘ But it is devilish cold,’ observed the traveller, 
 wrapping himself up in his cloak. ‘ Is there no 
 place where one can rest and obtain refreshment 
 before undertaking a journey on horseback across 
 this frosty country ? ’ 
 
 He had not finished speaking when the engine- 
 driver, recalled to the urgent duties of his office, 
 walked off, leaving our unknown cavalier with the 
 words on his lips. This latter perceived another 
 of the employes approaching him, with a lantern 
 swinging in his right hand, which moved to the 
 measure of his step, projecting geometrical series 
 of luminous undulations. The light fell on the 
 ground, forming a zig-zag similar to that described 
 by a shower from a watering-pot. 
 
 ‘ Is there an inn or dormitory at Villahorrenda ? ’ 
 demanded the traveller of the man with the 
 lantern. 
 
 ‘There is nothing here,’ replied he, dryly, run- 
 ning towards those who were loading, and letting 
 off such a volley of oaths, curses, blasphemies and 
 atrocious invocations, that the very fowls, scandal- 
 ised by such gross brutality, protested from within 
 their baskets. 
 
 ‘ The best thing I can do is to get away from 
 here as quickly as possible,’ said the gentleman to 
 himself. ‘The driver told me that the horses were 
 yonder.’ He was reflecting thus, when he felt a 
 subtle, respectful hand gently draw him from the 
 shelter, He turned round, and saw a dark mass 
 of grey cloth, and through its principal fold he 
 discerned the nut-brown, astute countenance of a 
 Castillian labourer. He noted that the man was 
 
VILLAHORRENDA—FIVE MINUTES. 3 
 
 of that tall stature which distinguishes the poplar 
 from the rest of the vegetable kingdom ; he saw 
 the sagacious eyes which sparkled beneath the 
 broad brim of the old velvet hat; he saw the 
 tanned, hard hand which grasped a^' green twigi 
 and the broad foot which, when he walked, caused 
 the spur to jingle. 
 
 ‘Are you Mr Jose de Rey?' he asked, taking off 
 his hat. 
 
 ‘Yes; and you,’ replied the gentleman, joyfully, 
 ‘are Lady Perfecta’s servant, who has come in 
 search of me to conduct me to Orbajosa ? ’ 
 
 ‘The same. When you are ready. . . . The 
 pony runs like the wind. I should suppose Mr 
 de Rey to be a good horseman. It is true that 
 the race he comes of . . .’ 
 
 ‘ How do we go out ? ’ questioned the traveller, 
 impatiently. ‘ Come, let us get away, sir. . . . 
 What is your name ? ’ 
 
 ‘Peter Lucas,’ replied the grey bundle, again 
 raising his hat; ‘but I am called Lycurgus. 
 Where is your lordship’s luggage ? ’ 
 
 ‘I see it there under the clock. There are 
 three lots. Two trunks and a world of books for 
 Mr Cayetano. You take hold of the end.’ 
 
 A moment later gentleman and squire turned 
 their backs on the cabin, termed station, and 
 turned into a road which, dividing there, became 
 lost amongst the neighbouring denuded hills, from 
 whence one obtained a vague glimpse of the 
 miserable village of Villahorrenda. Three horses 
 were in attendance to transport all, men and 
 luggage. A fairly good pony was destined for 
 the gentleman. Lycurgus rode a venerable, some- 
 what exhausted, though sure-footed hack ; and the 
 horse, which a stout young man, with active limbs 
 
4 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 and of zealous disposition, led by the bridle, was 
 loaded with the luggage. 
 
 Before the caravan started, the train left, creep- 
 ing along with that parsimonious sluggishness 
 peculiar to mixed trains. Its passage, resounding 
 each time from a greater distance, produced deep 
 rumblings below ground. On entering the tunnel 
 of kilometre 172, it flung out a volume of steam, 
 and a shrill shriek re-echoed through the air. The 
 tunnel gave forth white vapour from its black 
 mouth, clamoured like a trumpet, and at the sound 
 of its powerful voice, villages, towns, cities, pro- 
 vinces awoke. Here crowed a cock, there, another. 
 Day had dawned. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN. 
 
 HE journey commenced, they left the 
 wretched huts of Villahorrenda to 
 one side; and the gentleman, who 
 was young and handsome, spoke in 
 these terms : — 
 
 ‘ Tell me, Mr Solomon. . . 
 
 ‘ Mr Lycurgus, at your service. . . 
 
 ‘That is, Mr Lycurgus, I would say that you 
 are a wise legislator of olden times. Pardon the 
 mistake. But, to the point. Tell me, how is my 
 lady aunt ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Ever sprightly,’ replied the labourer, making 
 his horse advance, ‘Years seem to leave no mark 
 on Lady Perfecta. Truly it is said that the good 
 God grants her a long life. This angel of the Lord 
 might live thus a thousand years. If the blessings 
 showered on her on earth were feathers, the lady 
 would require no other wings with which to fly to 
 heaven.’ 
 
 ‘ And my cousin. Miss Rosarito ? ’ 
 
 ‘ There is one whom her friends love much ! ’ 
 responded the villager. ‘ What can I say of Lady 
 Rosarito, but that she is her mother’s living por- 
 5 
 
6 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 trait? A fine jewel you will carry off, Mr Jose, if 
 it be true, as reported, that you have come to 
 marry her. Everyone with their mates, and the 
 young lady will have nothing to complain of. 
 There is much difference between man and man.’ 
 
 ‘ And Mr Cayetano ? ’ 
 
 ‘ He is always toiling amongst his books. He 
 has a library which is larger than the cathedral ; 
 he likewise scratches up the earth to seek for stones 
 full of rascals of pot-hooks, which ’tis said the 
 Moors wrote.’ 
 
 ‘ At what time shall we reach Orbajosa ? ’ 
 
 ‘At nine o’clock, God willing. Her ladyship 
 will soon be gratified with the sight of her nephew. 
 
 . . . And Lady Rosarito was busy yesterday pre- 
 paring your room. ... As they have not seen 
 you, both mother and daughter were excited, 
 wondering whether Mr Jose would be like this or 
 that. Now the time has arrived when letters shall 
 be silent, and tongues shall speak. The cousin 
 will see her cousin, and all will be glory and rejoic- 
 ing. “ God will appear, and we shall prosper,” they 
 remarked to each other.’ 
 
 ‘ As my aunt and cousin do not know me yet,’ said 
 the gentleman, laughing, ‘ they are not prudent in 
 laying plans.’ 
 
 ‘ True, for ’tis said that one feeds the steed and 
 another saddles it,’ answered the labourer. ‘But 
 the countenance does not deceive. . . . What a 
 treasure you will win ! And what a nice young 
 man will she ! ’ 
 
 The cavalier did not hear Lycurgus’ last words, 
 for he became somewhat meditative. They had 
 reached an angle of the road, when the peasant, 
 changing his course, said, — 
 
 ‘We must now turn off in that direction. The 
 
A JOURiVEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN. 7 
 
 bridge is broken, and we can only ford the river 
 by the Cerrillo de los Lirios/ 
 
 ‘ The Cerrillo de los Lirios ? ’ ’ said the gentle- 
 man, roused from his reflections. ‘How poetic 
 names abound in these very ugly places 1 Since 
 I started for this country, I have been surprised 
 at the horrible irony of names. Such a spot dis- 
 tinguished by its wild aspect, and the desolate sad- 
 ness of its black landscape is termed Valleameno.^ 
 Such a tiny hamlet of mud cabins, which is miser- 
 ably situated in an arid plain, and proclaims its 
 poverty in different ways, has the insolence to call 
 itself Villarica ; ^ and then a stony, dusty fissure, 
 where even thistles will not grow, yet designates 
 itself Valdeflores.^ And is that the Cerrillo de los 
 Lirios which we have before us ? But where are 
 the iris, man of God ? I see but stones and dis- 
 coloured grass. Were they to call this the Cerrillo 
 de la Desolacion, then would they call it aright. 
 Excepting Villahorrenda,^ which appears to have 
 received its name and form at the same time, all 
 else is irony. Fine words, prosaic, miserable 
 reality. The blind should be happy in this country, 
 which, to the tongue, is a paradise, but to the eyes, 
 a hell.’ 
 
 Mr Lycurgus either did not hear Mr Key’s 
 remarks, or did not pay any heed to them. When 
 they had forded the river, which, impatient and 
 turbulent, rushed on with great precipitation, as 
 though fleeing from its own banks, the peasant 
 stretched out his arm towards some lands, which 
 lay to the left, of large, denuded extent, and 
 said, — 
 
 ‘Those are the Alamillos de Bustamente.’ 
 
 ^ Iris. ^ Pleasant Vale. ^ Rich Town. 
 
 ^ Valley of Flowers. ® Horrible Town. 
 
8 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ My lands ! ^ exclaimed the gentleman, gaily, 
 gazing on the sad fields, lighted up by the first rays 
 of the morning sun. ‘ It is the first time that 
 I look upon the patrimony inherited from my 
 mother. The poor woman thought so much of 
 this country, and related such wondrous things 
 about it to me, that I, being but a child, believed 
 that to live here meant to live in glory. Fruit, 
 flowers, game — both large and small — mountains, 
 lakes, rivers, poetic rivulets, pastoral hills, all these 
 were at Alamillos de Bustamente, in that blessed 
 land, the best and most beautiful of all lands. . . . 
 The deuce ! The inhabitants of this country live 
 by imagination. If, in my childhood, imbued 
 with my good mother’s ideas and enthusiasm, I 
 had been brought hither, these denuded hills, 
 these dusty or submerged plains, these very 
 ancient peasants’ houses, these exhausted wells, 
 this wretched, slothful desolation on which I am 
 gazing, might also have proved to me enchant- 
 ing.’ 
 
 ‘ It is the best land in the country,’ declared 
 Mr Lycurgus, ‘and for chickpea there is none 
 equal to it.’ 
 
 ‘ Then I commend it ! for since I inherited 
 these celebrated lands, they have never brought 
 me in a farthing.’ 
 
 The wise Spartan legislator scratched his ear, 
 and heaved a sigh. 
 
 ‘ But I am told,’ continued the gentleman, ‘ that 
 some contiguous landowners have put their plough 
 in these large estates of mine, and, little by little, 
 will deprive me of them. There are no land- 
 marks, no boundary, no true proprietorship here, 
 Mr Lycurgus.’ 
 
 The labourer, after a pause, during which his 
 
A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN 9 
 
 subtle mind seemed occupied in profound exami- 
 nation, expressed himself in this manner, — 
 
 ‘ Uncle Paso Largo, who is known as the ‘‘ Phi- 
 losopher,’’ so great is his prudence, ploughed the 
 Alamillos, near to the hermitage ; and, let them 
 say what they will, has gathered six measures.’ 
 
 ‘ What an incomparable school ! ’ exclaimed the 
 cavalier, laughing. ‘ I will bet that he has not 
 been the only . . . philosopher.’ 
 
 ‘ Well,’ said the other, ‘ he who knows, plays, 
 and if the dovecot is not deficient in food, neither 
 will it be in doves. . . . But I might tell you, Mr 
 Jose, that the master’s eye fattens the cow, and 
 you are now here to see whether you can recover 
 your rent.’ 
 
 ‘ It may not be so easy, perhaps, Mr Lycurgus,’ 
 replied the gentleman, as they were about to enter 
 a path, on the sides of which might be seen some 
 beautiful wheat that, by its exuberance and early 
 ripeness, delighted the eye. ‘This field appears 
 to be better cultivated. I perceive that all is not 
 sorrow and misery in Alamillos.’ 
 
 The peasant’s face took an expression of pity, 
 and he, affecting a certain disdain towards the 
 fields praised by the traveller, said, in a very 
 humble tone, — 
 
 ‘ Sir, this is mine.’ 
 
 ‘ Excuse me,’ responded the gentleman quickly ; 
 ‘ I should like to put my sickle into your estates. 
 It seems that philosophy is contagious.’ 
 
 They immediately reached a glen which was 
 barren, and where there was a checked rivulet; 
 and, this passed, they entered a very stony field, 
 without the slightest signs of vegetation. 
 
 ‘ This is very bad ground,’ remarked the gentle- 
 man, turning his face round to look at his guide 
 
lO 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 and companion, who loitered a short distance be- 
 hind. ‘ It would be very difficult to make anything 
 of it, for it is nothing but mud and sand.’ 
 
 Lycurgus very meekly responded, — 
 
 ‘This ... is yours.’ 
 
 ‘ I see that all that is bad here is mine,’ remarked 
 the gentleman, laughing jovially. 
 
 As he spoke they gained the road again. 
 
 Now daylight, entering in joyous irruption by all 
 the windows and skylights of the Spanish horizon, 
 inundated the fields with clear splendour. The 
 immense cloudless sky seemed to grow larger, and 
 to become more distant from the earth, to gaze 
 upon it, and rejoice in the contemplation from a 
 greater altitude. The desolate, treeless earth, at 
 intervals of straw colour, chalky in places, divided 
 into triangles, and yellow and blackish quadri- 
 laterals, grey or slightly greenish, in a certain 
 manner resembled a ragged cape, spread out in 
 the sun. Over this wretched cape Christian 
 and Islamite had fought epic battles. Glorious 
 fields; yes, but ancient combats had rendered 
 them horrible. 
 
 ‘I fancy that the sun will be very hot to-day, 
 Mr Lycurgus,’ observed the gentleman, disembar- 
 rassing himself partly of his cloak. ‘ What a sad 
 road ! I do not see a single tree in sight. Here 
 all is contrariwise. There is no cessation to the 
 irony. Why, since there are neither short nor 
 tall poplars, are these called Alamillos?’ 
 
 Mr Lycurgus did not reply to this question, 
 for his whole mind was centred on distant sounds 
 which had just become perceptible, and which, 
 moreover, rendered his hack restless ; whilst he 
 explored the road and distant hills with sombre 
 gaze. 
 
A JOURNEY m THE HEART OF STAIN ii 
 
 ‘ What is the matter ? ’ questioned the traveller, 
 likewise halting. 
 
 ‘ Do you carry arms, Mr Jose ? ^ 
 
 ‘ A revolver. ... Ah ! I understand. Are there 
 robbers ? ^ 
 
 ‘ May be . . .’ replied the peasant with reserve. 
 
 ‘ I thought I heard a shot.’ 
 
 ‘ We will go and see . . . forward ! ’ said the 
 gentleman, spurring on his pony. ‘They cannot 
 be so formidable.’ 
 
 ‘ Be quiet, Mr Jose ! ’ exclaimed the villager, de- 
 taining him. ‘ These people are worse than devils. 
 The other day they assassinated two gentlemen who 
 were going to catch the train. . . . Let us leave 
 them to their fun. Gasparon el Fuerte, Pepito 
 Chispillas, Merengue and Ahorca Suegras shall not 
 look on my face. Let us take the footpath.’ 
 
 ‘Forward, Mr Lycurgus.’ 
 
 ‘Retire, Mr Jose,’ responded the peasant, in a 
 dolorous tone ; ‘ you do not know these men. 
 They are the same who last month robbed the 
 Carmelite Church of its cibary, the Virgin’s crown, 
 and two candlesticks ; they are the same who two 
 years ago sacked the Madrid train.’ 
 
 Mr Jose, on hearing these lamentable antece- 
 dents, felt his intrepidity give way slightly. 
 
 ‘ Do you see that high hill some distance off? 
 Then, it is there that these rogues hide in caves, 
 which are known as the “Knights’ Dwellings.” ’ 
 
 ‘The Knights?’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir. When the Civil Guard becomes care- 
 less, they come down to the highway proper, and 
 rob whom they can. Do you not remark a cross 
 at the turn of the road, which was erected in 
 memory of the murder of the Justice of Peace of 
 Villahorrenda during the elections ? ’ 
 
12 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘Yes, I see the cross/ 
 
 ‘ There, there is an old house where they lie in 
 wait for travellers. We designate that place “ The 
 Delights.^’ ^ 
 
 ‘ The Delights ? ’ 
 
 ‘ If all who have been murdered and robbed on 
 passing there, were to come back to life again an 
 army might be formed of them.’ 
 
 As they were conversing thus, shots were heard 
 nearer, which somewhat disturbed the travellers’ 
 valiant hearts, but not that of the young fellow 
 who attended the luggage, who, dancing for joy, 
 begged Mr Lycurgus’ permission to advance, that 
 he might see the battle which was raging so near. 
 Observing the young fellow’s decision, Mr Jose, 
 ashamed of having felt afraid, or at least some little 
 respect for the robbers, exclaimed, spurring on his 
 pony,— 
 
 ‘ Then we will all go. We may, perhaps, be able 
 to render some assistance to the unhappy travellers 
 who are in such dire distress, and to make the 
 “ Knights ” bite the dust.’ 
 
 The peasant tried to convince the young man of 
 the temerity of his proposal, as of the uselessness 
 of his generous idea, for the robbed, robbed would 
 be and perhaps dead, and in that case would be 
 beyond all help. 
 
 The cavalier insisted in spite of such judicious 
 counsel; the villager replied, making the most 
 lively resistance, when the presence of two or three 
 waggoners, who advanced tranquilly along the road, 
 leading a waggon, decided the question. The 
 danger could not be great when these came so 
 carelessly singing gay couplets ; and this was 
 really the fact, for the shots, so these men declared, 
 had not proceeded from the robbers but from the 
 
A fOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN, 13 
 
 Civil Guard, who, by these means, desired to clip 
 the wings of half-a-dozen foot-pads, whom they 
 were conducting in a body to prison. 
 
 ‘Now I knew it would be so,’ said Lycurgus, 
 pointing to some smoke which rose on the left- 
 hand side of the road, and at regular distances. 
 
 ‘ They have pickled them there. This was sure to 
 happen one day if not another.’ 
 
 The gentleman did not understand. 
 
 ‘I assure you, Mr Jose,’ added the Lacede- 
 monian legislator, energetically, ‘that it serves 
 them right ; for it is of no use to take these rogues’ 
 part. The judge imprisoned them for a time, and 
 afterwards liberated them. At the end of six years’ 
 consideration, they would be sent to the house of 
 correction, to escape better, or pardoned, and 
 would then return to the “ Knights’ Dwellings.” 
 It is better to act thus, — fire on them ! They 
 might convey them to prison, and when passing a 
 place, purposely . . . “ Ah, dog ! you wish to 
 escape . . . pum 1 pum ! . . .” That was done 
 summarily, the witnesses called, the view com- 
 mended, the sentence given ... all in a minute. 
 It is truly said, — “The fox knows much, but he 
 that traps him knows more.” ’ 
 
 ‘ Then, forward, and let us hasten, for this road, 
 though wide, has nothing to recommend it,’ said 
 Rey.’ 
 
 On passing near to the ‘ Delights,’ they saw, at 
 a short distance from the road, the Guards who, 
 some minutes before, had executed the extreme 
 sentence of the law, as the reader knows. The 
 boy was much grieved, because he was not 
 allowed to go to contemplate the palpitating 
 corpses of the robbers, which formed a terrible 
 group in the distance ; and all continued forward. 
 
t4 LAD Y PERFECTA. 
 
 But they had not proceeded twenty paces ere they 
 heard a horse's gallop behind them, travelling so 
 rapidly that it soon overtook them. Our traveller 
 looked round and beheld a man, or rather a Cen- 
 taur, since no more perfect harmony could be 
 conceived between rider and horse ; the rider was 
 of fair, sanguine complexion, large, ardent eyes, 
 fine head, black moustaches, middle-aged, and of 
 general brusque, provoking appearance, with in- 
 dications of great personal strength. Mounted on 
 a superb horse of fleshy breast, like to those of 
 the Parthenon, and caparisoned according to the 
 picturesque fashion of the country, he carried a 
 large leathern portmanteau on the croup, on the 
 strap of which might be seen in large letters the 
 word ‘ Courier.' 
 
 ‘ Hullo ! good-day, Mr Caballuco,' said Lycurgus, 
 saluting the horseman, when he drew near. ‘ We 
 had the advantage, but you will arrive before us 
 at that rate.' 
 
 ‘ Let us rest a short time,' replied Mr Caballuco, 
 accommodating his animal's step to that of the 
 travellers, and attentively observing the chief of 
 the three. Wou are in good company. . . .' 
 
 ‘ The gentleman ' said Lycurgus, smiling, ‘ is 
 Lady Perfecta's nephew.' 
 
 ‘ Ah ! ... for many years .... my very good 
 mistress. . . .' 
 
 Both personages bowed. Caballuco, it may be 
 remarked, performed his urbanities with an ex- 
 pression of haughtiness and superiority, which 
 at least revealed the consciousness of great worth 
 or high position in the district. When the proud 
 horseman left them for a short time to speak with 
 the two Civil Guards who had come up, the tra- 
 veller questioned his guide, — 
 
A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN 15 
 
 ‘ Who is that fellow ?' 
 
 ‘ Caballuco.’ 
 
 ‘ And who is Caballuco ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What ! . . . have you never heard him men- 
 tioned ? ’ inquired the peasant, astonished at Lady 
 Perfecta’s nephew’s supine ignorance. ‘He is a 
 very valiant man, a great horseman, and the first 
 gentleman in all the country-side. We love him 
 dearly inOrbajosa: then he is, . . . and truly do 
 they affirm it . . . as good as God’s benediction. . . 
 When he goes yonder he is a great cacique, and 
 the Provincial Governor raises his hat to him.’ 
 
 ‘When there are elections. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ And the Madrid Government inscribes official 
 letters with many, “ Your Excellency s” therein. . . . 
 He shoots like a St Christobel, and can wield all 
 weapons as we can our own fingers. When anything 
 is the mattter we cannot manage without him, and 
 shots are heard every night at the city gates. . . . 
 He is a man worth some money ; he is as ready 
 to scour kitchen utensils as to sweep. . . . He 
 is very good to the poor, and any outsider who 
 comes and dares to touch a hair of one of Orba- 
 josa’s sons must settle with him. . . . Madrid 
 soldiers rarely come here ; when they were sta- 
 tioned in this locality, blood was shed every day, 
 because Caballuco sought quarrels with one if not 
 with another. Now it seems he lives poorly, and is 
 satisfied with the position of courier; but it is 
 like an incitement to the corporation that another 
 revolt take place, and an end be put to him. I 
 cannot understand how it happens that you should 
 have never heard him mentioned in Madrid, for 
 he is the son of a famous Caballuco who took 
 part in the faction, who was likewise the son of 
 another Caballuco, who also formed part in a still 
 
i6 LAD Y PERFECTA, 
 
 more ancient faction. . . . And as ’tis now re- 
 ported that the faction is again showing itself, for all 
 is twisted and in revolt, we fear that Caballuco will 
 join it, thus finishing his father’s and grandfather’s 
 exploits, who, to our honour, were born in this town.’ 
 
 Our traveller was surprised to find a species of 
 knight-errantry existing in the places he was about 
 to visit, but found no further opportunity for new 
 questions, as he who was the subject of them, 
 rejoined them, saying, ill-humouredly, — 
 
 ‘ The Civil Guard has despatched three. I had 
 already cautioned them. We shall talk to the 
 provincial governor to-morrow, and I — ’ 
 
 * Are you going to X — ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, the governor is coming here, Mr Lycurgus. 
 Do you know that a couple of regiments are to 
 be stationed at Orbajosa?’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ said the traveller, quickly, smiling. ‘I 
 heard it said in Madrid that there was a fear of 
 some parties rising in this country. It is as well 
 to be prepared.’ 
 
 ‘ They talk nothing but rubbish in Madrid ! . . .’ 
 exclaimed the Centaur violently, accompanying 
 this declaration by a string of those vocables 
 which raise a blister. ‘ There is nothing but 
 knavery in Madrid. . . . Why should they send 
 soldiers to us ? To levy more contributions and 
 conscripts? By the life of ... if there be a 
 faction, must it necessarily be here ? As to you,’ 
 he added, glancing slyly at the young cavalier, 
 ‘ so you are Lady Perfecta’s nephew ? ’ 
 
 The bravo’s tone and insolent look vexed the 
 young fellow. 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir. Does it matter to you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am her ladyship’s friend, and love her as I 
 do the children of my eyes,’ said Caballuco. ‘ As 
 
A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN 17 
 
 you are going to Orbajosa, we shall see each other 
 there/ 
 
 And, saying no more, he put spurs to his 
 charger, which, setting off, disappeared in a cloud 
 of dust. 
 
 After another half-hour’s journey, during which 
 Mr Jose did not appear very communicative, nor 
 Mr Lycurgus neither, an old elevated village, 
 situated on a hill, appeared to both, from which 
 stood detached some black towers and the ruinous 
 fabric of a castle at the highest point. A medley 
 of deformed walls, of grey mud cottages, dusty as 
 the soil, formed the base, with some fragments of 
 embattled walls, under the shadow of which rose 
 a thousand humble cabins, with their miserable 
 clay frontispieces, like to the bloodless, famished 
 faces which beg an alms of the passer-by. A poor 
 river encircled, like a tin girdle, the town, re- 
 freshing some orchards in its course — the only 
 spots of verdure which delighted the eye. Men 
 on horseback or on foot entered and issued, and the 
 human movement, though little, gave a certain 
 vital appearance to that great abode whose archi- 
 tectonic aspect was rather that of ruin and death 
 than of progress and life. The innumerable 
 repulsive beggars who crawled along on either 
 side of the road, begging charity of the traveller, 
 offered a most piteous spectacle. Impossible to 
 conceive existences more in unison and befitting 
 that sepulchre where a city was not only interred 
 but also corrupted. 
 
 When our travellers approached, some bells 
 were ringing discordantly, indicating by their 
 expressive sound that that mummy yet possessed 
 a soul. 
 
 This was Orbajosa, a city in no geographical 
 
i8 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 map if not in that of Spain, having 7324 inhabi- 
 tants, a corporation, an Episcopal seat, a judicial 
 district, a seminary, a depository for stallions, 
 an 'institute for instruction, and other official 
 prerogatives. 
 
 ‘ They are ringing for High Mass at the 
 cathedral,' said Lycurgus. ‘We have arrived 
 sooner than I expected.' 
 
 ‘The aspect of your country,' observed the 
 gentleman, examining the panorama before him, 
 ‘ could not well be more displeasing. The 
 historical city — Orbajosa — the name of which is 
 doubtless a corruption of ‘ Urbs Augusta,' is like 
 a large rubbish-hole.' 
 
 ‘ You only see the suburbs from here,' affirmed 
 the guide in disgust. ‘ When you enter the Street 
 Real and that of the Constabulary, you will see 
 buildings equal in beauty to the cathedral.' 
 
 ‘ I have no desire to speak ill of Orbajosa 
 before I know it,' replied the gentlemen. ‘ That 
 which I said was not intended as a sign of 
 depreciation ; humble and wretched, even as 
 beautiful and arrogant, this city will ever be dear 
 to me, not only because it is my mother’s country, 
 but because it is the home of some whom I love, 
 even without knowing them. Let us then enter 
 this august city.' 
 
 They now proceeded down a causeway proxi- 
 mate to the main streets, and round by the mud 
 walls of the orchards. 
 
 ‘ Do you see that large house at the extremity of 
 this large orchard, the wall of which we are now 
 passing ? ' asked Lycurgus, pointing to an enormous 
 thick wall adjoining the only dwelling which had a 
 comfortable, pleasant aspect. 
 
 ‘ Ah ! . . . is that my aunt’s residence ? ' 
 
A JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF SPAIN. 19 
 
 ‘ Exactly. It is the back part of the house that 
 we see. The front gives on to Constabulary Street, 
 and has five iron balconies which resemble five 
 castles. The beautiful orchard enclosed by this 
 wall pertains to the house, and were you to 
 raise yourself in your stirrups you could see 
 over.^ 
 
 ‘ Then we are at home now,^ said the gentleman. 
 ‘ Cannot we go in this way ? ’ 
 
 ‘There is a small door, but her ladyship has 
 ordered it to be closed up.^ 
 
 The gentleman raised himself in the stirrups, 
 and, stretching out his neck as far as possible, 
 peered over the wall. 
 
 ‘ I can see all the orchard,^ he declared. ‘ There, 
 beneath some trees, is a woman, a little girl . . . 
 a young lady. . . 
 
 ‘ That is Miss Rosarito,’ responded Lycurgus. 
 
 And he also raised himself in his stirrups to 
 look over. 
 
 ‘ Ah ! Miss Rosarito ! ’ he shouted, making very 
 significative gestures with his right hand. ‘Here 
 we are. ... I have brought your cousin.’ 
 
 ‘ She has seen us,’ said the gentleman, stretching 
 out his neck to the utmost. ‘ But, unless I am 
 mistaken, there is a priest with her ... a 
 sacerdotal gentleman.’ 
 
 ‘It is Mr Penitentiary,’ replied the peasant, 
 frankly.’ 
 
 ‘ My cousin saw us . . . she has left the priest 
 alone, and has run into the house. . . . She is 
 pretty. . . .’ 
 
 ‘As the sun.’ 
 
 ‘She is ruddier than a cherry. Let us go, let 
 us go, Mr Lycurgus.’ 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 P E P E R E Y. 
 
 EFORE proceeding farther, it may be 
 as well to explain who Pepe Rey 
 was, and what business took him to 
 Orbajosa. 
 
 When Brigadier Rey died in 1841, 
 his two children, Juan and Perfecta, had just 
 married, the latter the richest proprietor in Orba- 
 josa, the former a young girl from the same town. 
 Perfecta’s husband was known as Lord Manuel 
 Maria Jose de Polentinos ; and John^s wife as 
 Maria Polentinos ; but, notwithstanding the simi- 
 larity of surname, their relationship was but a very 
 slight one, one of those rarely recognised. Juan 
 Rey was a worthy jurisconsult, graduating in 
 Seville, and exercised the calling of barrister in 
 that same town for thirty years with as much 
 honour as profit. In 1845 became a widower 
 with an only son, who was already growing mis- 
 chievous, and who found his sole amusement in 
 the construction, with earth, in the courtyard 
 attached to the house, of viaducts, dikes, reser- 
 voirs, dams, aqueducts, letting the water flow that 
 it might run through these fragile works. His 
 
 20 
 
PE PE REY, 
 
 21 
 
 father allowed him his own way and said, — ‘You 
 will be an engineer/ 
 
 Perfecta and Juan lost sight of each other when 
 they married, as she left to live in Madrid with the 
 very wealthy Polentinos, who had great opulence, 
 and a hand which could squander it. Gambling 
 and women captivated Manuel Maria Jose’s heart to 
 such an extent that he would have wasted the 
 whole of his wealth had not death seized him 
 before he could dissipate it. During a night of 
 debauchery, the days of that very rich man were 
 suddenly ended, of him sucked so voraciously by 
 the Court sharpers and the insatiable vampire of 
 play. His only legacy was a daughter of a few 
 months old. On the death of Perfecta’s husband 
 the family experienced no further dread, but a great 
 conflict commenced. The Polentinos’ house was 
 ruined ; the landed property in danger of being 
 seized by the usurers ; all was in disorder ; enor- 
 mous debts, lamentable administration in Orbajosa, 
 discredit and ruin in Madrid. 
 
 Perfecta appealed to her brother, who, coming 
 to the poor widow’s aid, acted so diligently and 
 skilfully, that in a short time the greater part of 
 the danger had disappeared. He, first of all, per- 
 suaded his sister to reside at Orbajosa, administer- 
 ing her vast property herself, whilst he settled the 
 formidable claims of the creditors in Madrid. 
 Little by little the house was relieved of the heavy 
 burden of its debts, for worthy Juan Rey, who was 
 the best man in the world for such matters, 
 fought valiantly; he made contracts with the 
 principal creditors, arranged times of payment; 
 and the result of this clever management was 
 that the Polentinos’ rich patrimony was saved 
 from wreck, and would continue, for long years, 
 
22 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 to shed splendour and glory on the illustrious 
 family. 
 
 Perfecta^s gratitude was so lively, that on writing 
 to her brother from Orbajosa, where it was decided 
 that she should live until her daughter grew up, 
 she said, amongst other endearments, — 
 
 ‘You have been more than a brother to me, and 
 to my daughter more than her own father. How 
 shall we repay you for so much kindness ? Ay ! 
 dear brother, from the moment my child begins to 
 lisp and to pronounce a name, I will teach her to 
 bless yours. My obligations will endure my whole 
 life. Your unworthy sister feels that she will 
 never find an opportunity of showing you how 
 much she loves you, and of recompensing you in a 
 manner befitting the greatness of your soul, and 
 your heart’s immense goodness. . . .’ 
 
 When this was written Rosarito was two years 
 old. Pepe Rey, shut up in a Sevillian College, 
 drew lines on paper, and was busy in proving that 
 the whole of the interior angles of a polygon was 
 worth so many times two straight lines^ as sides have 
 two less. These vexatious truths greatly puzzled 
 him. Years upon years rolled by. The boy grew 
 and continued to make lines. Ultimately, he 
 drew one which he named, ‘From Tarragona to 
 Mont Blanc.’ His first formal plaything was the 
 120 metres bridge over the Francoli river. 
 
 Lady Perfecta resided at Orbajosa during the 
 greater part of this time. As her brother never 
 quitted Seville some years passed by without their 
 seeing each other. A quarterly letter, as punc- 
 tually written and as punctually replied to, 
 formed the communication between two hearts, 
 whose affection neither time nor distance could 
 cool. 
 
PE PE REY, 
 
 23 
 
 In 1870, when Mr Juan Rey, satisfied that he 
 had worthily fulfilled his mission in society, retired 
 to live in his beautiful house at Puerto Real, Pepe, 
 who had for some years been working with various 
 constructing companies, undertook a journey with 
 a view to study in Germany and England. His 
 father’s fortune (as large as it might well be in 
 Spain, when its noble origin was a writing-desk) 
 allowed him short periods of freedom from the 
 yoke of material work. A man of elevated ideas, 
 and with an immense love of science, he derived 
 the greatest pleasure from the observation and 
 study of the prodigies that the genius of the century 
 had worked in the culture, physical well-being and 
 moral perfection of man. 
 
 On his return from his journey his father re- 
 vealed a most important project to him, and Pepe, 
 who believed that he was referring to a bridge, 
 harbour, or at least to the reparation of lakes, was 
 apprised of his error when Mr Juan gave vent to 
 his thoughts in these terms : — 
 
 ‘We are in March, and Perfecta’s quarterly letter 
 must not be forgotten. My dear son, read it, and 
 if you can conform with this holy and exemplary 
 woman’s wishes, my dear sister’s, you will bestow 
 upon me the greatest happiness possible in my old 
 age. If you do not approve of this project, then 
 reject it at once, although I should feel grieved ; 
 but there shall not be the shadow of a command 
 on my part. It would be unworthy of us both 
 were this realised by an obstinate father’s com- 
 pulsion. You are free to accept it or not, and 
 should you feel the slightest disinclination, arising 
 from an affair of the heart or any other cause, I do 
 not wish you to do violence to your inclinations 
 for my sake.’ 
 
24 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 Pepe placed the letter on the table, after glanc- 
 ing over it, and observed quietly, — 
 
 ‘My aunt is desirous that I should marry 
 Rosarito.’ 
 
 ‘ She replied, gladly accepting my idea,’ said his 
 father, deeply affected. ‘For it was my idea . . . 
 yes, some time ago, I conceived it some time since 
 . . . but did not care to mention it to you before 
 hearing my sister’s opinion. As you see, Perfecta 
 is overjoyed with my plan ; says that she had also 
 thought of it, but dared not mention it to me, for 
 you are . . . does she not say so ? . . . You are 
 a man of singular merit, whilst her daughter is a 
 village maiden, who has not received a brilliant 
 education, and who possesses no worldly attrac- 
 tions. ... So she says. . . . Poor sister ! How 
 good she is ! . . . I see that you are not angry ; 
 I see that you do not consider my project absurd, 
 although it somewhat resembles the officious 
 arrangement of parents in olden times, who married 
 their children without consulting them, and often 
 made premature, unequal marriages. . . . God 
 willing, this would be, or promises to be, one of the 
 happiest. It is true that we do not know my niece ; 
 but you and I feel assured of her virtue, discretion, 
 modesty, and noble simplicity. For she lacks 
 nothing, even good looks. . . . My opinion,’ he 
 added gaily, ‘ is that you should take the road to 
 this remote Episcopal town, and there, in my sister’s 
 and her graceful Rosarito’s presence, make up your 
 mind if she is to be something more than a niece 
 to me.’ 
 
 Pepe again took up the letter, and perused it care- 
 fully. His countenance neither expressed pleasure 
 nor disgust. He looked as though he were examin- 
 ing a plan for the dovetailing of two iron roads. 
 
PE PE REV. 
 
 25 
 
 ‘ Certainly/ continued his father, ‘ in this distant 
 Orbajosa, where, between parenthesis, you have 
 property which you might survey, life passes with 
 the peacefulness and sweetness of the idyls. What 
 patriarchal manners ! What nobleness in such 
 simplicity ! What rustic, virginal peace ! If, in- 
 stead of being a mathematician you were a Latin 
 scholar, you would exclaim, on entering there, the 
 ergo tua rura manehunt / . , , What an admirable 
 spot for the dedication of one’s self to the con- 
 templation of one’s own soul, and for the prepara- 
 tion for good works ! There, all is goodness and 
 honour ; there, falsehood and farce are not known 
 as in our large cities ; there, are regenerated those 
 holy inclinations which the bustle of modern life 
 has stifled ; there, sleeping faith awakens, and one 
 feels a lively, undefinable impulse within one’s 
 breast, resembling a puerile impatience which cries 
 from the depths of one’s soul, “ I wish to live.” ’ 
 
 A few days after this conference Pepe left Puerto 
 Real. Some months before he had refused a 
 Government commission to examine, from a mining 
 point of view, the bed of the Nahara River, in the 
 valley of Orbajosa. But the projects laid before 
 him at the aforesaid conference gave rise to these 
 reflections, — ‘I must make the best of my time. 
 God alone knows how long this courtship with its 
 tediousness may last.’ 
 
 Going to Madrid, he solicited the commission to 
 explore the bed of the Nahara, which they granted 
 him without any difficulty, in spite of his not be- 
 longing officially to the mining corps ; and he then 
 set out, arriving by the mixed train. No. 65, as has 
 already been seen, and received by Lycurgus’ 
 loving arms. 
 
 This excellent young man’s age bordered on 
 B 
 
26 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 thirty-four years. He was of manly, herculean 
 build, with rare perfection of form, and so haughty, 
 that, had he worn a military uniform, he would 
 have presented the most warlike mien and figure 
 that could possibly be imagined. He had reddish 
 hair and beard, but his features did not possess 
 the phlegmatic imperturbability of the Saxon race ; 
 on the contrary, they had such a lively expression 
 that his eyes looked black, without being so. His 
 person might have passed for a beautiful and 
 finished model, and had he been a statue, the 
 sculptor would have engraved these words on the 
 pedestal, — ‘ Intelligence, valour.’ If not in visible 
 characters, yet were they vaguely expressed by the 
 keenness of his glance, the powerful charm which 
 was peculiar to his person, and by the sympathy 
 invited by his endearing traits. 
 
 He was not a great talker ; only on hearing in- 
 secure ideas and inconstant criticism was he pro- 
 pelled to verbosity. This worthy young man’s 
 profound moral feeling rendered him sparing of 
 words in the disputes which the men of the day con- 
 stantly held on different subjects, but in friendly 
 conversation he displayed a piquant, discreet elo- 
 quence, always replete with good feeling, and a 
 measured, just appreciation of mundane affairs. 
 He would allow no false statements, no mystifica- 
 tion, no playing upon words such as some intelligent 
 people were fond of indulging in, and sometimes to 
 uphold the privileges of reality, Pepe Rey employed, 
 not always kindly, the weapons of jest. This was 
 almost a defect in the eyes of a large number of 
 persons who esteemed him, because our young friend 
 appeared somewhat disrespectful in the presence of 
 the multitude of common feats in the world, which 
 everyone admitted. He was courageous then at 
 
PE PE KEY. 
 
 27 
 
 the risk of diminishing his prestige. Rey knew 
 not the gentle tolerance of the complying century, 
 which had invented singular pretexts of language 
 and of deeds to cover that which might prove dis- 
 pleasing to the vulgar eye. 
 
 This, and this alone, whatever calumniating 
 tongues might say, was the man that Lycurgus 
 introduced to Orbajosa at the time that the 
 cathedral bell was ringing for High Mass. After 
 looking over the wall and seeing the young girl 
 and the Penitentiary, and remarking the former's 
 swift course towards the house, the horsemen 
 urged on their beasts and entered Real Street, 
 where numerous vagrants paused to stare at the 
 traveller as being a stranger trespassing in the 
 patriarchal city. Turning to the right, in the 
 direction of the cathedral, the bulky edifice of 
 which seemed to dominate over the whole town, 
 they arrived in Constabulary Street, which was 
 narrow and paved, and resounded with the strident 
 noise of the horses’ shoes ; so alarming the neigh- 
 bourhood that people appeared at the windows and 
 balconies to satisfy their curiosity. The lattices 
 were opened with a peculiar jerk, and divers faces, 
 nearly all belonging to the fair sex, looked out 
 from above and below. When Pepe Rey reached 
 the architectonic threshold of the Polentinos^ home 
 a multitude of commentaries had already been 
 made on his figure. 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE COUSIN^S ARRIVAL. 
 
 HE confessor, on Rosarito quitting him 
 so abruptly, glanced up at the wall, 
 and, seeing the heads of Lycurgus 
 and his companion, muttered, — 
 ‘Come, here is the prodigy al- 
 ready.’ 
 
 He remained reflecting a short time, holding his 
 cloak on with both hands crossed over his ab- 
 domen, looking on the ground, with his gold 
 spectacles gently sliding down the bridge of his 
 nose, his under lip protruding and moist, and his 
 greyish black eyebrows slightly knit. He was a 
 holy, merciful man, of no common wisdom, of 
 confirmed clerical habits, somewhat more than a 
 sexagenarian, with an affable expression, sagacious 
 and polite, a great distributor of advice and warn- 
 ings to men and women. He had been for many 
 years the master for Latin and rhetorics at the 
 institute, which noble profession brought him 
 great wealth of Horatian quotations and flowery 
 tropes, which he used gracefully and opportunely. 
 It is unnecessary to add anything further about 
 this personage, except that, on hearing the trot of 
 28 
 
THE cousijsrs ARRIVAL. 
 
 29 
 
 the horses hastening down Constabulary Street, he 
 regulated his mantle, straightened his hat, which 
 did not fit his venerable head at all well, and, walk- 
 ing towards the house, muttered, — 
 
 ‘ Let us go and see this prodigy.’ 
 
 In the meantime Pepe had dismounted from his 
 pony, and was received in Lady Perfecta’s loving 
 embrace, even on the doorstep, her face bathed in 
 tears, and only able to utter short, stammering 
 words — sincere expression of her affection. 
 
 ‘ Pepe . . . but how tall you are ! . . . and 
 bearded. ... It seems to me but yesterday since 
 I nursed you on my knees . . . now you are a 
 man, quite a man. . . . How the years roll by ! 
 . . . Jesus ! here is my daughter, Rosarito.’ 
 
 Speaking thus they had reached a room on the 
 ground-floor, usually used as a reception-room, 
 and Lady Perfecta presented her daughter. 
 
 Rosarito was a young girl of delicate, weak 
 appearance, which announced inclinations termed 
 by the Portuguese ‘ saudades.’ Something of pearly 
 softness, such as the majority of novelists attribute 
 to their heroines, and without which sentimental 
 gloss, neither Enriqueta nor Julia would seem in- 
 teresting, was perceptible in her fine, pure features. 
 But the most striking thing about Rosarito was 
 her expression of sweetness and modesty, which, 
 however, did not hide the fact that she was not 
 perfect. Not that she was ugly ; but it is equally 
 certain that it would have been hyperbolical to 
 have called her beautiful, taking the word in its 
 strict sense. Lady Perfecta’s daughter’s real 
 beauty consisted in a kind of transparency, re- 
 sembling mother-of-pearl, alabaster, ivory, and 
 other materials used in the descriptive composition 
 of human faces ; a species of transparency, I 
 
30 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 say, through which the depths of her soul were 
 clearly seen; depths, not cavernous and horrible 
 as those of the sea, but like those of a gentle 
 limpid river. But material was wanting for the 
 completion of her person ; she was deficient in 
 drain, in margin. The vast wealth of her spirit 
 overflowed, threatening to destroy its narrow banks. 
 On her cousin saluting her, she blushed furiously, 
 and only uttered silly words. 
 
 ‘You must be exhausted,’ said Lady Perfecta to 
 her nephew. ‘We will prepare you some breakfast 
 immediately.’ 
 
 ‘ With your permission,’ replied the traveller, ‘ I 
 will rid myself of some of this dust from the road.’ 
 
 ‘ Well thought of,’ said her ladyship. ‘ Rosarito, 
 show your cousin to the room prepared for him. 
 Make haste, then, nephew, I am going to give my 
 orders.’ 
 
 Rosarito took her cousin to a beautiful room on 
 the ground-floor. As soon as he entered it, Pepe 
 recognised the diligent, loving hand of a woman 
 in all its details. All was arranged with singular 
 taste ; and the comfort and freshness invited one 
 to repose in so charming a nest. Everything was 
 so superfluously exact, that it was almost amusing. 
 
 ‘ Here is the bell rope,’ remarked Rosarito, 
 taking hold of it, the tassel of which fell over the 
 head of the bed. ‘You have but to extend your 
 hand. The writing-table is placed there in such 
 a manner that the light falls to the left. . . . See, 
 you may throw scraps of paper in that basket. 
 . . . Do you smoke ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have that misfortune,’ replied Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘ Then you can throw your cigar-ends here,’ she 
 said, touching a gilded spittoon, filled with sand, 
 with her foot. ‘ There is nothing uglier than to see 
 
THE cousins ARRIVAL. 
 
 31 
 
 the floor littered with the remains of cigars. . . . 
 There is the lavatory. For your clothes, you. have 
 a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. ... I think 
 the clock is not well placed here, and should be 
 near the bed. ... If the light annoys you, you 
 have but to draw the blind down by the cord . . . 
 do you see ? ^ 
 
 The engineer was enchanted. Rosarito opened 
 a window. 
 
 ‘ See ! ’ she said, ‘ this window gives on to the 
 orchard. The afternoon sun enters here. We 
 have hung up a canary in a cage, which sings like 
 a mad thing. If it molests you, we will take it 
 away.’ 
 
 She opened another window on the opposite 
 side. 
 
 ‘This other window,’ she continued, ‘gives on 
 to the street. Look ! the cathedral can be seen 
 from here; it is very beautiful, and is full of 
 precious things. Many English come to visit it. 
 Do not open both windows at once, as draughts 
 are injurious.’ 
 
 ‘ Dear cousin,’ replied Pepe, his soul inundated 
 with inexplicable delight, ‘in all that is before 
 me I perceive an angel’s hand, which can be no 
 other than yours. What a charming room this is ! 
 I could fancy that I have lived here all my life. 
 It is conducive to peace.’ 
 
 Rosarito made no reply to these loving expres- 
 sions, and, smiling, went out. 
 
 ‘ Do not delay,’ she said from the door, ‘ the 
 dining-room is also on this floor ... in the 
 centre of the gallery.’ 
 
 Lycurgus entered with the luggage. Pepe re- 
 warded him with a fee, to which the peasant was 
 altogether unaccustomed, and he, after humbly 
 
32 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 tendering his thanks, placed his hand to his head, 
 like one who would neither raise nor put on his 
 hat, in an embarrassed tone, chewing his words, as 
 though he was undecided whether to say or not to 
 say something, and expressed himself thus : — 
 
 ‘When would it be most convenient to speak 
 with Mr Jose on a ... on a small matter ? ^ 
 
 ‘ On a small matter ? Why, now,’ replied Pepe, 
 opening a trunk. 
 
 ‘No, it is not opportune,’ said the labourer. 
 
 ‘ Let Mr Jose rest ; we have plenty of time. There 
 are more days than sausages, as ’tis said ; and one 
 day follows another. ... You must rest, Mr Jose. 
 
 . . . When you care for a turn. . . . The pony 
 does not step badly. . . . With that, good-day, Mr 
 Jose. May you live a thousand years. ... Ah 1 
 I had forgotten, ’ he added, returning to the door- 
 way after a few minutes’ absence. ‘ If you have 
 any message for the municipal judge ... I am 
 going now to speak with him respecting our little 
 matter. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Give him my compliments,’ replied Pepe gaily, 
 not meeting with any better formula to relieve 
 himself of the Spartan legislator’s presence. 
 
 ‘ Then God be with you, Mr Jose.’ 
 
 ‘Be off!’ 
 
 The engineer had not taken off his things, when 
 the sagacious eyes and brown physiognomy of 
 Lycurgus again appeared. 
 
 ‘Excuse me, Mr Jose,’ said he, showing his 
 white teeth as he laughed; ‘but ... I should 
 like to tell him that you wish the matter arranged 
 by friendly arbitrators. Although, as ’tis said, 
 take your egg to law, and some will say ’tis white, 
 and others, black. . . . ’ 
 
 ‘ Man ! will you go away ? ’ 
 
THE cousins ARRIVAL, 
 
 33 
 
 ' I said so because I do not want to go to law. 
 I want nothing with justice. To the wolf a blow, 
 and that in the forehead. God be with Mr Jose. 
 God preserve you to be good to the poor. . . 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, man, good-bye. ^ 
 
 Pepe locked his door and remarked, — 
 
 ‘The people of this town seem to encourage 
 lawsuits! ’ 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 WILL THERE BE DISCORD? 
 
 HORTLY after Pepe entered the 
 dining-room. 
 
 ‘ If you take much breakfast/ 
 said Lady Perfecta to him, in a 
 kind tone, ‘ you will have no 
 appetite for dinner. We dine here at one. The 
 country fashions will not suit you.^ 
 
 ‘ I am enraptured with them, dear aunt.’ 
 
 ‘ Then say which you would prefer ; to make 
 a hearty breakfast now, or to take something light 
 that will stay your hunger until dinner time ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I should prefer a light refreshment, that I may 
 have the pleasure of dining with you ; and, could 
 I have met with anything in Villahorrenda, I 
 should have taken nothing now.’ 
 
 ‘I presume there is no necessity to tell you 
 to make yourself at home. Here, you may give 
 your orders as you would in your own house.’ 
 ‘Thanks, aunt.’ 
 
 ‘ But how much you are like your father,’ added 
 her ladyship, gazing at the young man with the 
 greatest admiration whilst he was eating. ‘ I could 
 fancy that I am looking at my dear brother John. 
 He sits as you do, and eats even as do you. 
 
 34 
 
mLL THERE BE DISCORD? 35 
 
 Indeed, you and he are as alike in every way 
 as two drops of water/ 
 
 Pepe partook of the refreshments very frugally. 
 The expressions, manner and glances of his aunt 
 and cousin inspired him with such confidence 
 that he verily believed himself at home. 
 
 ‘ Do you know what Rosarito said to me this 
 morning?' asked Lady Perfecta, looking at her 
 nephew. ‘Well, let me tell you, she said that you, 
 a man accustomed to Court pageantry and etiquette, 
 and to foreign fashions, would be unable to sup- 
 port this rather rustic simplicity in which we live, 
 which is wanting in bon ton^ for all here is very 
 homely.' 
 
 ‘ What a mistake,' replied Pepe, glancing at his 
 cousin. ‘ No one detests the deceit and nonsense 
 which is termed “High society," more than I. 
 Believe me, there are times when, as someone, 
 I know not who, says, I should like to lave 
 my whole body in Nature; to live far from the 
 bustle, in the solitude and calm of the country. 
 A vehement desire for the repose of a life, free 
 from strife, free from anxiety, neither envying nor 
 being envied, as the poet says. My studies first, 
 and my works afterwards, have taken up so much 
 of my time that I have not had the rest which 
 was necessary, and which both my body and mind 
 reclaimed; but as soon as I entered this house, 
 dear aunt, dear cousin, I felt myself encompassed 
 by the atmosphere of peace for which I had so 
 longed. Do not then talk to me of high or low 
 society, for gladly would I barter all for this 
 corner.' 
 
 He had scarcely finished speaking when the 
 panes of the door, which formed the means of 
 communication between the dining-room and the 
 
36 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 orchard, became obscured by the interposition of 
 a large, black opacity. Some mirrors became 
 illumined by a stray ray of light from the sun, 
 the latch clicked, the door was opened, and the 
 Penitentiary walked gravely into the room. He 
 bowed, and almost swept the floor with the brim 
 of his hat in doing so.’ 
 
 ‘This is the confessor of the cathedral,’ said 
 Lady Perfecta, ‘ a gentleman whom we much 
 respect, and with whom I hope you will be 
 friendly. Sit down, Mr Inocencio.’ 
 
 Pepe shook hands with the venerable canon, 
 and they both took a seat. 
 
 ‘ Pepe, if you are in the habit of smoking after 
 eating, do not refrain from doing so,’ remarked 
 Lady Perfecta, benevolently, ‘nor the confessor 
 neither.’ 
 
 Good Mr Inocencio ^seasonably drew forth from 
 his cassock a large leather tobacco-pouch, which 
 bore indisputable signs of long use; he opened 
 it and took out two large pipes, one of which he 
 offered to our friend. Rosarito found some matches 
 in a large cardboard box, termed ironically by the 
 Spaniards a ‘wagon,’ and soon the engineer and 
 canon were both smoking. 
 
 ‘And what does Mr Jose think of our cherished 
 town, Orbajosa?’ questioned the canon, closing 
 his left eye, as was his custom when smoking. 
 
 ‘ I have not yet been able to form any opinion 
 about the town,’ said Pepe. ‘ But, from the little 
 I have seen of it, it appears to me that it would 
 not be a bad idea to sell Orbajosa to half-a-dozen 
 large capitalists, and to employ two intelligent 
 heads, who would direct the renovation of this 
 country, and some thousands of active hands. 
 From entering the town, even to the moment I 
 
WILL THERE BE DISCORD ? 
 
 37 
 
 arrived at the door of this house, I saw more than 
 a hundred beggars. The majority are healthy, 
 robust men. It is a pitiable sight, and oppresses 
 one.’ 
 
 ‘For this was charity intended,’ affirmed Mr 
 Inocencio. ‘But for all that, Orbajosa is not a 
 miserable town. You already know that the best 
 garlic in all Spain is grown here. And more than 
 twenty rich families reside here.’ 
 
 ‘True,’ remarked Lady Perfecta ; ‘but the last 
 years have been detestable owing to the droughts ; 
 but even then the granaries have not been empty ; 
 and, lately, many thousand strings of garlic have 
 been in the market.’ 
 
 ‘During the many years that I have lived in 
 Orbajosa,’ declared the clergyman, frowning, ‘I have 
 seen innumerable persons here from Court, some 
 attracted hither by the electoral conflicts, others to 
 visit some abandoned piece of land, or to see the 
 antiquities in the cathedral, and all have spoken of 
 the English ploughs, of steam threshing-machines, 
 of weirs, banks, and I know not what other non- 
 sense. The burden of the songs is, — That this is 
 very bad and might be improved. Better would it 
 be to be carried off by a thousand demons than 
 that gentlemen from Court should visit us ; much 
 better than to hear this continual clamour about 
 our poverty and the grandeur and wonders of other 
 parts. But the fool knows his house better than 
 the wise man does his mustard-field ; is not that 
 so, Mr Jose? For, supposing that I do not believe 
 in the least what you say, then that is sufficient. 
 I know that we have before us one of the most 
 eminent young men of modern Spain ; a man 
 capable of transforming our arid plains into a rich 
 district. . . * Neither am I vexed because you 
 
3S 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 sing the old song about English ploughs, and 
 horticulture, and agriculture. . . . Not at all ; 
 
 men of so much, so very much talent can be 
 excused showing so much depreciation of our 
 humility. No, my friend; no, Mr Jose, you are 
 authorised to do anything, even to tell us that 
 we are little better than savages.^ 
 
 This declamation terminated with a marked tone 
 of irony, and almost of impertinence, so that the 
 young man felt annoyed ; but he abstained from 
 manifesting the least disgust, and continued the 
 conversation, refraining from those points which 
 might possibly wound the canon’s susceptible 
 patriotism, and thereby procure him an easy 
 motive for discord. The latter rose when her 
 ladyship began speaking to her nephew on family 
 matters, and walked down the room several times. 
 
 The apartment was extensive and light, covered 
 with paper of an ancient date, the flowers and 
 branches of which, although discoloured, preserved 
 their primitive design, thanks to the care which 
 pervaded the whole establishment. The clock — 
 wherein the immovable weights and fickle pendu- 
 lum were revealed to the eye, saying perpetually, 
 ‘No’ — occupied, with its variegated horary, the 
 pre-eminent position amongst the solid dining- 
 room furniture; a series of French copper-plates, 
 representing the exploits of the conqueror of 
 Mexico, with prolix explanations at the foot, in 
 which were mentioned a ‘ Ferdinand Cortez,’ and 
 a ‘Donna Marine,’ as improbable as the figures 
 depicted by the ignorant artist, completed the 
 decoration of the walls. Between the two glass 
 doors which communicated with the orchard was 
 a brass apparatus, which it is almost impossible 
 to describe other than as serving as support to 
 
WILL THERE BE DISCORD? 
 
 39 
 
 a parrot that stood there with the seriousness and 
 circumspection peculiar to these animals, observant 
 of all. The ironical, harsh physiognomy of parrots, 
 their green coat, red throat, yellow boots, and, 
 lastly, the burlesque, hoarse words they learn to 
 pronounce, gives them a wondrous, repulsive aspect 
 — between the sublime and ridiculous. 
 
 The Penitentiary was the parrot^s great friend. 
 When he left her ladyship and Rosarito in colloquy 
 with the traveller, he approached the bird and 
 allowed it to bite his little finger with the utmost 
 complacency, saying, — 
 
 ‘ Cunning rascal ! impostor ! why do you not 
 talk ? You would be worth little were you not a 
 prattler. The world is full of prattlers, both men 
 and birds.^ 
 
 He then took in his own venerable hand some 
 chickpea which was near him, and gave it to the 
 parrot to eat. The bird began to call the servant, 
 begging for chocolate, and distracted the two ladies 
 and the cavalier in a conversation which could not 
 be other than important. 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 WHERE HE SEES THAT HE CAN PREVENT DISCORD 
 WHEN HE LEAST EXPECTS TO DO SO. 
 
 RESENTLY I^ord Cayetano Polen- 
 tinos, Lady Perfecta^s brother-in-law, 
 entered, with open arms, crying, 
 ‘Come to me, my dear Mr Jos^;’ 
 and they cordially embraced. 
 
 Lord Cayetano and Pepe knew each other, as 
 the distinguished savant and bookworm sometimes 
 went to Madrid when a sale of books left by some 
 deceased book - collector was announced. Lord 
 Cayetano was tall and thin, middle-aged ; but con- 
 tinual study or suffering had much weakened him. 
 He was sparing in his speech, kind, amiable, some- 
 times almost to exaggeration. Respected for his vast 
 fund of knowledge, who would dare to insinuate 
 that he was not a veritable prodigy ? He was al- 
 ways mentioned with respect in Madrid, and, had 
 Lord Cayetano resided in the capital, he could not 
 have escaped belonging, in spite of his modesty, to 
 all the existing academies and those likely to exist. 
 But he liked a quiet spot ; and, where vanity holds 
 sway in others’ souls, his possessed a pure passion 
 for books, love of solitary, recollected study, with- 
 40 
 
WHERE HE CAN PRE VENT DISCORD, 41 
 
 out any other ulterior attraction than those same 
 books and study. 
 
 He had formed in Orbajosa one of the richest 
 libraries in Spain, and there he passed the greater 
 part of the day and night compiling, classifying, 
 making notes and sifting matters of precious worth ; 
 or, perhaps, realising some unheard of, undreamt 
 of work, worthy of so grand a head. His habits 
 were patriarchal. He ate little, drank less, and 
 his only dissipation consisted of a luncheon at 
 Alamillos on fine days, and daily walks to a place 
 known as Mundogrande, where he had recovered 
 twenty centuries of Roman medals at least, and 
 pieces of architrave, rare relics of unknown archi- 
 tecture, and other things of inestimable value from 
 the mire. 
 
 Lord Cayetano and Lady Perfecta lived in such 
 harmony, that the peace of paradise was nothing 
 to it. They never disputed. Assuredly, he never 
 interfered in household affairs, nor she in those 
 pertaining to the library, further than having it 
 swept and cleaned every Saturday ; respecting the 
 books and papers on the table and their disposition 
 with religious admiration. 
 
 After the questions and replies usual on such 
 occasions Lord Cayetano remarked, — 
 
 ‘ I have already seen the box. I am sorry that 
 you did not bring me a 1527 edition. I shall 
 have to go to Madrid for it myself. . . . Are you 
 going to remain here some time ? The longer the 
 better, dear Pepe. How pleased I am to see you 
 here. Between us we will arrange part of my lib- 
 rary, and will make an index of Gineta’s writings. 
 One cannot always meet with such a talented man 
 as you. ... You shall see my library. ... You 
 will be satiated with reading. . . . All that you 
 
42 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 could wish for. ... You shall behold marvels — 
 veritable marvels, inappreciable treasures, rarities, 
 which I alone possess — I only. . . . But, truly, it 
 seems to me that it must be dinner time. Am I 
 not right, Jose? Am I not right, Perfecta? Am 
 I not right, Rosarito ? Am I not right, Mr Peni- 
 tentiary ? . . . You are doubly. Penitentiary, to-day. 
 I say so, because you will help us to do penance.’ 
 
 The canon bowed, and, smiling sympathetically, 
 displayed acquiescence. 
 
 The meal was cordial, and in all the dishes the 
 disproportionate abundance of public banquets was 
 manifested, at the cost of variety. There was pro- 
 vision for double the number of persons present. 
 The conversation touched on various subjects. 
 
 ‘You must visit our cathedral,’ said the canon. 
 ‘But there is little to see, Mr Jose. . . . Certainly, 
 you who have seen so many wondrous things in 
 foreign lands will meet with nothing noteworthy in 
 our ancient church. . . . We, the poor clowns of 
 Orbajosa, consider it divine. The great master, 
 Lopez de Berganza, in writing about it, termed it, in 
 the sixteenth century, Pulchra augustina, . . . 
 Nevertheless, men who are as learned as yourself 
 may not find it meritorious, and may consider an 
 iron market-place more beautiful.’ 
 
 Pepe Ray became each time more disgusted 
 with the sagacious canon’s irony, but resolved to 
 contain himself, and dissemble his anger. He 
 only replied vaguely. 
 
 Lady Perfecta then continued the discussion, 
 and gaily expressed herself in these terms, — 
 
 ‘Gently, Pepito; I warn you that should you 
 speak ill of our holy church, our friendship will 
 suffer. You know much, and are an eminent man ; 
 this we all understand ; but if you do not declare 
 
WHERE HE CAN PREVENT DISCORD. 43 
 
 this grand edifice to be the eighth wonder of the 
 world, you will do well to reserve your judgment, 
 and not to stuff us with nonsense. . . 
 
 ‘ Far from thinking that the edifice is not beauti- 
 ful,’ responded Pepe, ‘the little of the exterior 
 that I have seen appeared to me exceedingly so. 
 Do not be afraid, aunt, I have no wish to startle 
 you ; neither am I so very learned.’ 
 
 ‘Gently’ said the canon, extending his hand, 
 and allowing his mouth a brief respite, for, in talk- 
 ing, he had left off eating. ‘ Halt there ; I cannot 
 have you pretending modesty, Mr Jose; it is 
 enough that we know your great worth, the great 
 fame you enjoy, and the very important paper 
 which proclaims it wherever you go. Men like you 
 are not to be seen every day. But now, as I am 
 praising your merits. . . .’ 
 
 He paused to proceed with his dinner, and then 
 shortly after continued thus : — 
 
 ‘Now as I am praising your merits, allow me 
 to express another opinion, with my usual frank- 
 ness. Yes, Mr Jose ; yes. Lord Cayetano ; yes, 
 your ladyship ; and you, my child ; science, as it is 
 studied and propagated in modern times, is the 
 death of sentiment and sweet illusions. With it 
 the life of the soul is diminished ; all is reduced 
 to fixed rules, and even Nature’s sublime enchant- 
 ments disappear. Science destroys the marvels 
 of art as it does faith in the soul. Science says 
 that all is false, and it wishes to arrange all in 
 ciphers and strokes, not only maria adterras^ 
 where we are oursleves, but also coelumque 
 profundem^ where God is. . . . The admirable 
 dreams of the soul, its mystic rapture; even the 
 inspirations of the poets are false. The heart is a 
 sponge, the brain a worm.’ 
 
44 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 All laughed, whilst he swallowed a draught of 
 wine. 
 
 ‘Come, will Mr Jose gainsay me?’ continued 
 the priest; ‘will he deny that science, as taught 
 and propagated to-day, is going the right way to 
 make of the world and human species a large 
 machine ? ’ 
 
 ‘That depends on the suitability,’ said Lord 
 Cayetano. ‘ Everything has its pro and contra.^ 
 
 ‘Will you take more salad, Mr Penitentiary?’ 
 asked Lady Perfecta. ‘It is seasoned with mus- 
 tard to your taste.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey did not like to sustain silly disputes, 
 he was not a pedant, nor vain of his learning, he 
 particularly did not like to show it off before 
 women and in a friendly reunion ; but the canon’s 
 importunate, aggressive verbosity necessitated, he 
 thought, a corrective. To allow the canon to 
 believe that he agreed with him would be to flatter 
 the cleric, and he decided to express the most 
 contrary opinions, and those most likely to mortify 
 the sarcastic confessor. 
 
 ‘You wish to make fun of me,’ he said. ‘You 
 shall see how bad I am to deal with.’ 
 
 And then in a louder tone he added, — 
 
 ‘Certainly all that the canon said in a joking 
 tone is true. But it is not our fault that science 
 destroys with blows of the hammer, day after day, 
 some vain idol — superstition, sophism, the thousand 
 delusions of the past, some beautiful, some ridicu- 
 lous, therefore all pertaining to the Church. The 
 world of illusions, which is, as he would tell us, a 
 second world, comes tumbling down with a clatter. 
 The mysticism in religion, the routinary in science, 
 the mannerism in art, fall, as fell the pagan gods, 
 among scoffs. Adieu, stupid visions, mankind 
 
WHERE HE CAN PREVENT DISCORD. 45 
 
 awakes and its eyes see light. Vain sentimentality, 
 mysticism, fever, hallucination, delirium disappear ; 
 and that which was formerly diseased is to-day 
 healthy, and revels in the inappreciable delight of 
 the just appreciation of things. Phantasy, that 
 terrible crack-brained woman, mistress of the house, 
 becomes but the servant. . . . Cast your eyes 
 round on all sides, confessor, and you will see the 
 admirable conjunct of reality, which has taken the 
 place of the fabulous. The sky is not a vault ; the 
 stars are not lanterns ; the moon is not a restless 
 hunter, but an opaque marble body ; the sun is not 
 a lazy vagabond coachman, but a fixed incendiary 
 The quicksands are not nymphs, but two shelves 
 under the sea ; the syrens are sea-calves ; and, as 
 regards persons. Mercury is Manzanedo; Mars is 
 an old man with a thin beard, count of Molke 
 Nestor may be a gentleman in a great-coat, who is 
 known as M. Thiers ; Orpheus is Verdi ; Vulcan is 
 Krupp ; Apollo is some poet. What would you 
 have more ? Well, Jupiter, a god fit for the house 
 of correction, should he still exist, does not dis- 
 charge the thunderbolt, but the thunderbolt falls 
 when electricity so disposes. There is no Parnassus, 
 no Olympus, no Lake Stiria, no other Elysian 
 Fields — Champs Elysees — than those in Paris. 
 There is no descent now to the lower regions than 
 that of geology, and this traveller, who is always 
 returning, says there are no condemned souls in 
 the earth^s centre. There is no other ascent to 
 heaven than that of astronomy, and that, to its 
 regret, assures us that it has never seen the six or 
 seven steps mentioned by Dante, nor the visions 
 and mysteries of the Middle State. Only stars, 
 distances, lines, enormities of space are to be met 
 with, and nothing more. There are no false 
 
46 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 computations on the state of the world, because 
 palaeontology has counted the teeth of the skull 
 in which we live, and ascertained its true age. 
 Fiction, which is known as Paganism or Christian 
 idealism, now no longer exists ; imagination repre- 
 sents it. All the miracles possible reduce themselves 
 to that which I am able to do when in my cabinet 
 with a galvanic machine, an inductile wire and a 
 magnetic needle. There is no other multiplication 
 of loaves and fishes than that effected by industry 
 with its moulds and machines, and printing offices, 
 which imitate. Nature drawing millions of copies 
 from a single model. In fact, my dear canon, the 
 command has gone forth that all absurdities, false- 
 ness, illusions, visions, sensibilities, and preoccupa- 
 tion, which obscured man’s understanding, shall 
 cease. Let us celebrate its success.’ 
 
 When he had finished speaking a slight smile 
 wreathed the canon’s lips, and his eyes expressed 
 extraordinary animation. Lord Cayetano busied 
 himself in making various forms, some rhomboid, 
 some prismatic, with a piece of bread. But Lady 
 Perfecta was pale, and her eyes were fixed on the 
 canon with persistent watchfulness. Rosarito con- 
 templated her cousin with astonishment. He bent 
 towards her and whispered, — 
 
 ‘Take no notice, little cousin. I only said it to 
 vex the canon.’ 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 DISCORD INCREASES. 
 
 S it possible/ asked Lady Perfecta, 
 with a slight accent of vanity, 
 
 ‘ that Mr Inocencio is going to 
 sit down quietly without contest- 
 ing all and each one of these 
 
 points ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no ! ’ exclaimed the canon, arching his 
 eyebrows, ‘ I shall not measure my poor forces 
 against so valiant a commander, and, moreover, 
 one who is so well armed. Mr Jose knows every- 
 thing — has the whole arsenal of exact sciences at 
 his disposition. I well know that the doctrine he 
 upholds is false, but I have neither the talent nor 
 eloquence to combat it. I should employ the 
 weapons of sentiment ; I should employ theologi- 
 cal arguments taken from revelation, faith, the 
 Divine Word. But, ay ! Mr Jose, who is an 
 eminent savant^ would laugh at faith, theology, 
 revelation, the holy prophets, the Gospel. . . . 
 A poor, ignorant priest, an unfortunate man who 
 is no mathematician, and who understands not 
 German philosophy, in which there is something 
 of ‘‘ I and “ not I,” a poor dominie who knows 
 47 
 
LADY PERPECTA, 
 
 but the science of God and something of the 
 Latin poets, cannot enter into combat with those 
 brave corypheus.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey laughed openly. 
 
 ‘ I see that Mr Inocencio,’ said he, ‘ has taken 
 all the nonsense that I uttered as serious. . . . 
 Come, Mr Canon, let us lay down our lances and 
 terminate it. I feel sure that my real ideas and 
 yours accord. You are a pious, w^ell-instructed 
 man, I am the ignorant one. If I have been 
 pleased to jest, you must all pardon me, it is my 
 nature.’ 
 
 ‘ Thanks,’ responded the priest, visibly annoyed. 
 ‘ Shall we settle this now ? I know well, we all 
 know, that you have advanced your own ideas. 
 It cannot be otherwise. You are the man of the 
 age. I cannot deny that your knowledge is pro- 
 digious, truly prodigious. Whilst you were speak- 
 ing, I confess it, ingenuously, I, in deploring 
 inwardly such great error, could not help at the 
 same time admiring the sublimity of expression, 
 the prodigious fecundity, the surprising method 
 of your rationation, the strength of your arguments. 
 What a head, what a head. Lady Perfecta, is your 
 young nephew’s ! When I was at Madrid, and was 
 taken to the Athenaeum, I own that I was absorbed 
 on beholding the wonderful genius with which 
 God has gifted atheists and Protestants.’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Inocencio,’ said Lady Perfecta, glancing 
 alternately at her nephew and her friend, ‘ I think 
 that you, in judging this boy, go beyond the 
 limits of benevolence. . . . Do not be vexed, 
 Pepe, nor heed what I say, because I am neither 
 learned, philosophical, nor theological ; but it 
 seems to me that Mr Inocencio gives a proof of 
 his great modesty and Christian charity in not 
 
DISCORD INCREASES. 
 
 49 
 
 replying to you, as he might do, did he feel so 
 inclined. . . 
 
 ‘ Lady, for God’s sake ! ’ exclaimed the ecclesi- 
 astic. 
 
 ‘ It is so,’ continued the lady. ‘ Ever feigning 
 to be vanquished. . . . And he knows more than 
 seven doctors. Ay, Mr Inocencio, how well your 
 name suits you ! But let us have no importunate 
 humility here. ... If my nephew has pretensions. 
 . . . If he knows that which he has been 
 taught and nothing more ... If he has learned 
 error, what could he desire more than that 
 you should save him from the hell of his false 
 doctrine ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Exactly. I desire nothing else but that 
 Mr Penitentiary should rescue me . . .’ murmured 
 Pepe, understanding that he had, without intend- 
 ing it, involved himself in a labyrinth. 
 
 ‘I am a poor cleric who only knows ancient 
 science,’ averred Mr Inocencio. ‘ I recognise the 
 immense worldly scientific value of Mr Jos^, and 
 before such a brilliant oracle I observe silence and 
 prostrate myself.’ 
 
 So saying, the canon crossed his hands on his 
 breast, and bowed his head. 
 
 Pepe Rey was troubled on account of the dis- 
 agreeable position his aunt was placed in, from the 
 silly dispute that he had entered into on the spur 
 of the moment. He believed that the most 
 prudent course he could pursue in so dangerous 
 a predicament was to let the matter drop. And 
 with that end in view he addressed a question to 
 Lord Cayetano, who, rousing himself from the 
 lethargy which had overtaken him after dessert, 
 offered to the diners the indispensable toothpicks, 
 which stood in a china turkey. 
 
 c 
 
50 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘ Yesterday I discovered a hand which clenched 
 the hilt of a dagger, traced with curious figures. 
 
 1 must instruct you in them/ observed Lord 
 Cayetano, delighted at being able to introduce 
 his favourite theme. 
 
 ‘ I suppose that Mr Rey is also an expert in 
 archaeological things/ remarked the canon, who, 
 always implacable, followed up his victim, even to 
 his most secret refuge. 
 
 ‘ As to supposing,^ said Lady Perfecta, ‘ are we 
 to hear nothing all day but these childish quarrels ? 
 All the sciences are carried at one’s finger ends. 
 Universities and academies teach them as parrots 
 are taught, granting patents for wisdom.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! that is unjust,’ replied the canon, notic- 
 ing the pained expression on the engineer’s coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 ‘ My aunt is right,’ affirmed Pepe. ‘ To-day we 
 learn a little of all, and quit school with the rudi- 
 ments of different studies.’ 
 
 ‘ I should say,’ continued the canon, ‘ that you 
 are a great archaeologist.’ 
 
 ‘ I know nothing of that science,’ responded the 
 young man. ‘ Ruins are ruins, and I have never 
 cared to sprinkle myself with their dust.’ 
 
 Lord Cayetano pulled a very expressive grimace. 
 
 ‘ I do not intend to condemn archaeology,’ de- 
 clared Lady Perfecta’s nephew quickly, sorrowfully 
 aware that he could not utter a word without 
 wounding someone. ‘ I well understand that the 
 dust is historical. Those are precious, useful 
 studies.’ 
 
 ‘You,’ said the Penitentiary, picking his last 
 tooth, ‘ prefer controversial studies. Now, an ex- 
 cellent idea has occurred to me, Mr Jose, you 
 should be a lawyer.’ 
 
DISCORD INCREASES, 
 
 51 
 
 ‘ The law is a profession I detest/ replied Pepe 
 Rey. ‘I am accquainted with very respectable 
 lawyers, my father amongst others, and he is one of 
 the best of men. In spite of such a good example, 
 I could not submit to exercise a profession which 
 consists in defending the pro and contra of ques- 
 tions. I know no error, no preoccupation, no 
 greater blindness, than that which families labour 
 under who devote the majority of their young men 
 to the law. The first and most terrible plague 
 which afflicts Spain is the crowd of youthful advo- 
 cates, to whose existence a fabulous number of 
 lawsuits is necessary. Questions multiply in pro- 
 portion to the demand. Even then, very many 
 have no employment, and as a jurisconsult 
 cannot guide a plough or attend to the loom, 
 this brilliant squadron of loungers is formed, full 
 of pretensions, which foment quarrels, perturb 
 politics, agitate dissensions, and engender revolu- 
 tions. They must be fed. A great misfortune 
 would it be were there lawsuits for all.' 
 
 ‘ Pepe, for God's sake, take care what you say,' 
 said Lady Perfecta, with marked severity. ‘ But 
 excuse him, Mr Inocencio ... for he did not 
 know that you have a nephew, who, although he 
 has only recently left the university, is a prodigy 
 of a lawyer.' 
 
 ‘ I spoke in general terms,' declared Pepe firmly* 
 
 ‘ Being, as I am, the son of an illustrious advocate, 
 I cannot be totally ignorant that there are some 
 who exercise that noble profession with great 
 honour.' 
 
 ‘ No . . . my nephew is but a child yet,' re- 
 plied the canon, affecting humility. ‘Far be it 
 from my thoughts to affirm that he is wonderfully 
 learned, like Mr de Rey. Time will show. . , . 
 
 UBWRI 
 
 piWERSn^ 
 
52 
 
 LADV PERFECTA. 
 
 His talent is neither brilliant nor seductive. But 
 I suppose that Jacintito’s ideas are solid, his criti- 
 cism healthy ; that which he knows, he knows 
 thoroughly. . . . He understands neither sophistry 
 nor hollow words. . . ? 
 
 Pepe Rey became each time more uneasy. The 
 idea of being, unintentionally, at variance with the 
 ideas of his aunt^s friends mortified him, and he 
 resolved to maintain silence, fearing that Mr 
 Inocencio might ultimately throw the dishes at 
 his head. Fortunately the small bell of the cathe- 
 dral summoned the canons to the important duties 
 pertaining to the choir, and relieved him from so 
 painful a position. The venerable gentleman rose 
 and took leave of all, behaving so courteously, so 
 amiably, towards Pepe that the most intimate, 
 ancient friendship might have united them. The 
 cleric, after offering to serve him in any way, 
 promised to introduce him to his nephew, that 
 he might accompany him to see the town sights ; 
 expressing himself most kindly, he even deigned 
 to slap the young fellow on the shoulder on his 
 way out. Pepe Rey, delighted to accept these 
 advances towards reconciliation, undoubtedly saw 
 the heavens open when the priest quitted the 
 dining-room and house. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 ITH ALL PROMPTNESS. 
 
 FEW moments after, the scene had 
 changed. Lord Cayetano, seeking 
 rest from his sublime labours in a 
 sweet dream that he was indulging 
 in, stretched himself out on a chair 
 in the dining-room. Lady Perfecta retired to 
 attend to her household affairs. Rosarito, seat- 
 ing herself near one of the glass doors which 
 gave on to the orchard, looked at her cousin, say- 
 ing, with the mute language of the eyes, — 
 
 ‘ Cousin, sit down near me,' and tell me all that 
 you have to tell me.* 
 
 This is how the mathematician interpreted it. 
 
 ‘Dear cousin,* said Pepe, ‘how we must have 
 wearied you to-day with our disputes. God knows 
 that it gave me no pleasure to play the pedant as 
 I did ; but it was the canon*s fault. ... Do you 
 know that I find this priest peculiar ? * 
 
 ‘ He is an excellent person,* replied Rosarito, 
 demonstrating the pleasure she derived from being 
 able to give her cousin all the datum and news 
 needful. 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes, an excellent person. Well he knows 
 itl* 
 
 53 
 
54 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘ When you become better acquainted, you will 
 know. . . 
 
 ‘ That I shall esteem him. But the fact of his 
 being your mother's and your friend makes him 
 mine, . . affirmed the young man. ‘Does he 
 come here often?' 
 
 ‘ Every day. He often joins us,' replied 
 Rosarito ingenuously. ‘ How good and amiable 
 he is ! and how fond he is of me ! ' 
 
 ‘ Come, this gentleman already pleases me.' 
 
 ‘He comes in the evening also to play at 
 ombre,' added the young girl. ‘ In the early 
 part of the evening several persons assemble here 
 — the judge, in the first place, the attorney-general, 
 the dean, the bishop's secretary, the justice of the 
 peace, the tax-gatherer, Mr Inocencio's nephew. . . .' 
 
 ‘ Ah ! Jacintito, the lawyer ? ' 
 
 ‘ Yes. He is a poor young fellow, but as good 
 as bread. Since he left the university, with his 
 degree of doctor ... for he is a doctor, and 
 obtained marks for excellence . . . What, do 
 you not credit it ? Go to ! . . . Well, since he 
 left, his uncle often brings him here. Mamma is 
 very fond of him. . . . He is a very precise 
 young man. He withdraws early with his uncle 
 he never frequents the Casino at night, neither 
 gambles, nor is he at all dissipated ; and he works 
 in Mr Lorenzo Ruiz’s office, that of the best lawyer 
 in Orbajosa. It is said that Jacintito will be a 
 clever defender of pleas.' 
 
 ‘ His uncle did not praise him to exaggeration,' 
 said Pepe. ‘ I feel sorry I uttered so much non- 
 sense about lawyers. Dear cousin, did I not cause 
 you to feel uncomfortable ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Be quiet ; I thought that you were right.' 
 
 ‘ But, truly, you did not mind it at all ? ’ 
 
WITH ALL PROMPTNESS. 
 
 55 
 
 Not at all, not at all.” 
 
 ‘ What a weight you have taken off my mind ! 
 The fact is, I found myself, without knowing how, 
 in constant, painful opposition with the venerable 
 priest. I felt it deeply.’ 
 
 ‘ I believe you,’ replied Rosarito, raising her eyes 
 to his, brimful of most loving expression, ‘ but you 
 are not like us.’ 
 
 ‘ What does that mean ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I know I do not explain myself properly, cousin. 
 I mean that it is not easy to you to accustom your- 
 self to the ideas and conversation of people in 
 Orbajosa. At least I fancy so ... it is a mere 
 supposition.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no. I believe that you are equivocating.’ 
 
 ‘You come from another part, another world, 
 where people are more active, wiser, are more 
 refined in their manners, and have a habit of 
 speaking ingeniously and a la mode. . . . Maybe 
 I do not explain myself clearly. I wish to say 
 that you are accustomed to live in select society ; 
 you know so much. Here, you have not what is 
 necessary to you ; here, there are no learned men, 
 no refinement. All is simplicity, Pepe. I fancy 
 that you will become weary, that you will weary 
 much,- and, at last, will go away and leave us.’ 
 
 The sadness, which was Rosarito’s normal ex- 
 pression, was so intensified, that Pepe was deeply 
 moved. 
 
 ‘You are mistaken, dear cousin. Neither do I 
 bring those ideas you attribute to me here, nor are 
 my character and judgment in discord with those 
 around me. But let us suppose for a moment 
 that they were.’ 
 
 ‘ Let us suppose it. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ In such a case, I have a firm conviction that 
 
56 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 between you and me, between us, dear Rosarito, a 
 perfect harmony would be established. I cannot 
 be mistaken on this point. My heart tells me that 
 it is no delusion.’ 
 
 Rosarito blushed ; but she tried to conceal the 
 blush by smiling and glancing about her, and 
 said, — 
 
 ‘ Do not put me off with these artifices, now. If 
 you say so, meaning that I shall always consider 
 whatever you may say to be right, then I agree 
 with you.’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! ’ exclaimed the young man, ‘ from 
 seeing you my soul has been filled with the most 
 lively joy. . . . I have, at the same time, regretted 
 that I had not come to Orbajosa sooner.’ 
 
 ‘lam not going to believe that,’ answered she, 
 affecting joviality to cover her confusion. ‘Al- 
 ready ? . . . Let us have no more nonsense. . . . 
 See, Pepe, I am a village maiden ; I only speak 
 vulgarly; I do not know French; I do not dress 
 elegantly ; I can only play the piano a little ; 
 1 . . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, Rosarito ! ’ replied her cousin, ardently, 
 
 ‘ had I doubted that you were perfect, I am now 
 convinced that you are.’ 
 
 The mother entered suddenly. Rosarito, who 
 had no response to make to her cousin’s last words, 
 knew, doubtless, the necessity of saying something, 
 and looking at her mother she observed, — 
 
 ‘ Ah ! I had forgotten to feed the parrot.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not trouble yourself about that now. Why 
 are you here? Take your cousin for a walk in the 
 orchard.’ 
 
 Her ladyship smiled with maternal suavity, 
 pointing out to her nephew the leafy woodland 
 beyond the crystal doors. 
 
JV/TH ALL PROMPTNESS. 
 
 57 
 
 ‘ Let us go/ said Pepe, rising. 
 
 Rosarito darted out, like a bird set at liberty, 
 through the door. 
 
 ‘ Pepe, who is so wise, and must understand 
 trees,’ declared Lady Perfecta, ‘ will teach you how 
 to ingraft them. See what his opinion is as re- 
 gards those pear trees, which are to be trans- 
 planted.’ 
 
 ‘ Come, come,’ said Rosarito from without. 
 
 She called impatiently to her cousin. Both 
 disappeared amongst the foliage. Lady Perfecta 
 watched them until they were out of view, and then 
 attended to the parrot. Whilst the remains of 
 dinner were being removed she said in a low 
 tone, with pensive accent, — 
 
 ‘ How sullen he is ! He might at least have 
 caressed the poor animal.’ Then, in a higher tone, 
 she added, believing in the possibility of being 
 heard by her brother-in-law, — 
 
 ‘ Cayetano, what do you think of the nephew ? 
 
 . . . Cayetano ! ’ 
 
 A low grunt indicated that the antiquarian had 
 returned to the knowledge of this miserable world. 
 
 ‘ Cayetano ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I am here ... I am here, . . .’ murmured the 
 savant^ drowsily. ‘This cavalier will maintain the 
 same erroneous opinion as do all, that the statues 
 at Mundogrande date from the first Phoenician 
 invasion. I will convince him.’ 
 
 ‘ But Cayetano.’ . . . 
 
 ‘ But Perfecta. . . . Bah ! You will likewise 
 declare that I was asleep.’ 
 
 ‘ No, man, why should I declare anything so 
 absurd. . . . But you do not tell me what you 
 think of this young man ? ’ 
 
 Lord Cayetano placed his hand before his mouth 
 
58 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 to hide a yawn, and then entered into conversa- 
 tion with her ladyship. They who transmitted the 
 . facts necessary to the composition of this history 
 passed over the details of this dialogue ; un- 
 doubtedly, because it was very confidential. As to 
 what passed between the engineer and Rosarito 
 that afternoon in the orchard, it has evidently 
 not deserved mention. 
 
 On the afternoon of the following day, events 
 occurred which cahnot go unrecorded, as they 
 were of greater importance. The two cousins 
 were alone together at a somewhat advanced hour 
 in the afternoon, after having rambled about the 
 orchard ; so wrapped up in each other that they 
 had neither eyes nor ears for anything else. 
 
 ‘ Pepe,’ said Rosarito, ‘all that you have told me 
 is phantasy, a repetition of that which men of the 
 world have off by heart. You think that because 
 I am only a village maiden I shall believe all I 
 hear.? ^ 
 
 ‘ If you knew me, as I think I know you, you 
 would understand that I always say what I feel. 
 But let us leave foolish subtlety and lovers’ argu- 
 ments, which only tend to falsify the sentiments. 
 
 I shall only address you in the language of truth. 
 Are you, perchance, a young lady whom I have met 
 in a walk, or in society, with whom I amuse myself 
 to pass the time ? No. You are my cousin. You 
 are even more. . . . Rosarito, let us consider 
 things in their proper light. . . . Let us avoid 
 subterfuge. I have come here to marry you.’ 
 
 Rosarito felt her face burn, and her heart beat 
 violently in her breast. 
 
 ‘ See, dear cousin,’ continued the young fellow, 
 
 ‘ I swear that, did I not love you, I should have 
 already been far from here. Although courtesy 
 
WITH ALL PROMPTNESS. 
 
 59 
 
 and delicacy would have obliged me to make an 
 effort, I should have had great difficulty in con- 
 cealing my distaste to the match. It is my char- 
 acter/ 
 
 ‘Cousin, you have not been here long/ said 
 Rosarito, laconically, trying to laugh. 
 
 ‘ I have not been here long, and I already know 
 all that I wish to know ; I know that I love you ; 
 that you are the woman my heart is set upon, tell- 
 ing me day and night ; I have come, I am con- 
 quered ; that I have won you. . , / 
 
 This sentence served as a pretext to Rosarito to 
 give way to the smile which had risen to her lips. 
 Her spirit was surrounded by an atmosphere of joy. 
 
 ‘ You will not bind yourself because you are 
 valueless,’ continued Pepe, ‘ and you are exquisite. 
 You possess the admirable quality of shedding, at 
 all hours, on those who surround you, the divine 
 light of your soul. Prom first seeing you, from 
 first looking on you, I perceived the noble senti- 
 ments and purity of your heart. Whoever beholds 
 you, sees a celestial life which God has, through 
 oversight, left on this earth ; you are an angel, and 
 I adore you as such.’ 
 
 On expressing himself thus he seemed to be 
 discharging a grave mission. Rosarito felt sud- 
 denly overcome by such lively sensibility, that her 
 spare bodily energy could not bear up against the 
 excitement of her mind ; and, fainting, she fell on 
 a stone, which, sometimes, in those remote villages, 
 serves as a seat. Pepe leant over her. He re- 
 marked that her eyes were closed, her forehead 
 supported by his hand. 
 
 Presently the daughter of Lady Perfecta Polen- 
 tinos recovered, and directed at her cousin, as she 
 gently wept, a loving glance, and said, — 
 
6o 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ I loved you before I knew you.’ 
 
 The young man assisted her to rise, and they 
 were soon lost to view under the leafy branches of 
 some bay-trees. The afternoon waned, and a gentle 
 shadow fell over the lower part of the orchard, 
 whilst the last rays of the setting sun crowned with 
 varied splendour the tops of the trees. The 
 noisy republic of little birds twittered in the upper 
 branches of the trees. It was the hour when, after 
 joyfully careering through the immensity of the 
 heavens, all were going to rest, and were disputing 
 one with the other in the choice of an alcove. 
 The chatter at times resembled recrimination and 
 dispute, at others it was gracious and jesting. 
 Those rogues, in their chirping idiom, uttered the 
 most insolent things, biting and flapping their 
 wings, as orators agitate their arms when they 
 wish to make others believe the falsehoods that 
 they utter. But here words of love, also, were 
 heard, encouraged by the peaceful hour and beau 
 tiful spot. A quick ear might have caught the 
 following words, — 
 
 ‘ Before knowing you, I loved you, and had you 
 not come I should have died of grief. Mamma gave 
 me your father’s letters to read, and as they were 
 always full of your praises, I said : “ He ought to be 
 my husband.” For a long time your father did 
 not suggest that we should marry, which I con- 
 sidered a great mistake. I did not know what to 
 think of such negligence. . . . My uncle Cayetano, 
 always, in mentioning you, said : “ There are few 
 like him. The woman whom he marries, will be a 
 happy one. . . ’ 
 
 ‘ Ultimately, your father wrote, as you know. . . . 
 Yes, he could not have said less. I had expected 
 it every day. . . 
 
mrH ALL PROMPTNESS. 
 
 6i 
 
 Soon after the same voice added uneasily, — 
 
 ‘ Someone is coming after us/ 
 
 Quitting the bay-trees, Pepe saw two persons 
 approaching, and, touching the leaves of a tender 
 young tree, which grew where they were standing, 
 he said in a loud tone to his companion, — 
 
 ‘ It is not wise to prune such young trees as this 
 until they have attained more growth. Trees 
 recently planted have not enough strength to 
 undergo such an operation. You know that the 
 roots cannot grow except by the influence of the 
 leaves ; and it is for that reason that these are 
 taken off. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Ah! Mr Jose,^ exclaimed the Penitentiary, 
 laughing aloud, approaching the two young people, 
 and bowing, ‘are you giving lessons in horticul- 
 ture? Insere nunc Melioee pyros, pone or dene, 
 vitesP as says the great singer. “Ingraft the pear- 
 trees, dear Melibeus, train the vines.'’ . . . And 
 how are you, Mr Jose?' 
 
 The engineer and the canon shook hands. The 
 latter, then turning round and beckoning to a 
 young man who had followed him, said, smiling, — 
 ‘I have the pleasure of presenting my dear 
 Jacintito to you ... a good piece ... a giddy 
 boy, Mr Jose.' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DISAGREEMENT INCREASES AND THREATENS 
 TO END IN DISLIKE. 
 
 SMILING, fresh countenance looked 
 forth from behind the black cassock. 
 Jacintito bowed to our young friend 
 in a slightly embarrassed manner. 
 
 He was one of those precocious 
 lads whom the indulgent university launches out 
 before the proper time, to encounter the arduous 
 struggles of the world, making them believe that 
 they are men because they are doctors. Jacintito 
 was full-faced, with an agreeable expression, with 
 red cheeks like a girl ; of plump figure, small 
 stature, one might almost say very small, and with- 
 out the least sign of a beard on his smooth chin. 
 His age slightly exceeded twenty years. He had 
 been educated from his infancy under his excellent, 
 discreet uncle’s direction, who saw, with pleasure, 
 that the tender shrub was not distorted in its 
 growth. A severe morality kept him straight ; and 
 in completing his scholastic course he rarely com- 
 mitted a fault. He terminated his university 
 studies with marvellous rapidity; there was no 
 class in which he did not excel ; and when he 
 62 
 
DISAGREEMENT INCREASES. 
 
 63 
 
 commenced to work he promised, by his assiduity 
 and skill as a lawyer, to win the laurels in the courts 
 of justice as he had done at the university. 
 
 At times he was as wayward as a child, at others 
 grave as a man. And, truly, though Jacintito was 
 no favourite with pretty young girls, his worthy 
 uncle found him perfect. He did not neglect to 
 lecture him at all times, taking care to keep his 
 bold wings clipped ; but no mundane inclination 
 of the youth could cool the good canon^s great 
 love for the charming sprout of his dear niece, 
 Maria Remedies. All ceded before the little 
 lawyer. Even the w^orthy priest^s grave, methodi- 
 cal habits were put aside in any matter relating to 
 his precious pupil. Every fixed, rigorous rule, 
 arranged like a planetary system, lost its equili- 
 brium only when Jacintito was ill or was about to 
 take a journey. Useless celibacy of the clergy ! 
 If the Council of Trent prohibits their having 
 children, God, not the devil, gives them nephews 
 that they may participate in the sweet solicitude of 
 paternity. 
 
 Examining impartially the qualities of this clever 
 young man, it was impossible not to recognise that 
 he was not deficient in merit. He was naturally 
 inclined to be honourable, and noble actions called 
 forth open admiration from him. In respect to 
 his intellectual gifts and social knowledge, he 
 possessed all that was necessary to become, in time, 
 a celebrated man, such as there are so many of 
 in Spain ; he might become one of those we are 
 pleased to term, hyperbolically, ‘a distinguished 
 patrician, or an eminent public man,’ a species 
 which is so abundant that they are scarcely ap- 
 preciated at their true worth. At that tender age 
 when the university grade serves for solder between 
 
64 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 puberty and manhood, few young men, and especi- 
 ally if they are flattered by their masters, are free 
 from a fastidious pedantry, which, if it gives great 
 prestige when near their mothers, is very amus- 
 ing when seen in grave, grown-up men. Jacintito 
 possessed this defect, excusable, not only on ac- 
 count of his youth, but also because his good 
 uncle fomented that puerile vanity by imprudent 
 applause. 
 
 When the four rejoined each other they con- 
 tinued to walk about. Jacintito preserved silence. 
 The canon, reverting to the interrupted theme of 
 the pear-trees which were to be ingrafted, and of 
 the vines which should be trained, remarked, — 
 
 ‘I am sure that Mr Jos^ is a great agricul- 
 turist.’ 
 
 ‘Not at all ; I do not understand a word about 
 it,’ replied our young friend, perceiving, with much 
 disgust, that mania for supposing him to be in- 
 structed in all the sciences. 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes ; a great agriculturist,’ added the con- 
 fessor. ‘ But on agricultural affairs do not quote 
 me any innovations. For me, Mr de Rey, all that 
 science is contained in what is called the “ Bible of 
 the Country,” in the immortal Latin “ Georgicas.” 
 All is admirable, from that grand sentence, “ Nec 
 cero terrcz ferre omnes omnia possunt ” — which means 
 that all lands do not suit all trees, Mr Jose — even 
 to the superfluously exact treatise on the bees, in 
 which the poet explains the concerns of those 
 learned insects, and defines the drone, saying, — 
 
 “ Ille horridus alter 
 
 DesidlUy latamque trahens inglorius alvumP 
 
 of horrible and idle shape, crawling along on its 
 ignoble, weighted belly.’ 
 
DISA GREEMENT INCREASES. 65 
 
 “You do well to translate it for me/ said Pepe, 
 
 ‘ for I understand but little Latin/ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! the men of the day, what amusement can 
 they find in studying the ancients ! ^ said the canon 
 sarcastically. ‘For it is only silly fellows like 
 Virgil, Cicero and Titus Livius, who have written 
 in Latin. I, doubtless, think differently, as my 
 nephew can bear witness, for I taught him that 
 sublime tongue. The vagabond knew it better 
 than I. Unfortunately, modern lectures have 
 caused him to forget it ; and I am afraid he is 
 an ignorant fellow without suspecting it. For, 
 Mr Jose, my nephew has been given the latest 
 books, containing extravagant theories, to divert 
 himself with ; and all is in flames both above and 
 below, unless the stars be inhabited. See, I fancy 
 you two will be good friends. Jacintito, you will 
 beg of this gentleman to instruct you in sublime 
 mathematics and in the knowledge of German 
 philosophy, and you will become a man.’ 
 
 The good priest laughed at his own conceit, 
 whilst Jacintito, pleased to see the conversation so 
 much to his taste, addressed Pepe Rey, asking as 
 his first question, — 
 
 ‘ Tell me, Mr Jose, what you think of Darwinism?’ 
 Our young friend smiled on remarking his 
 pedantry, and he was much inclined to punish 
 Jacintito for his infantile vanity ; but, thinking it 
 more prudent to take no notice of either the 
 nephew’s or uncle’s manner, he answered simply, — 
 ‘ I cannot give any opinion on Darwin’s works, 
 for I have but a slight acquaintance with them. 
 The labours of my profession have not allowed me 
 to devote myself to those studies 
 
 ‘ Ah ! ’ said the canon, laughing, ‘ it is all com- 
 prised in this — that we are descended from apes. 
 
66 
 
 LADY FERFECTA. 
 
 ... If it related only to certain persons of my 
 acquaintance, it would be true.’ 
 
 ‘ The theory of natural selections,’ added Jacintito 
 emphatically, ‘is said to have many partisans in 
 Germany.’ 
 
 ‘I do not doubt it,’ replied the priest. ‘They 
 should believe this theory to be a true one, as it 
 affects Bismarck.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta and Lord Cayetano now joined 
 the other four. 
 
 ‘ What a beautiful afternoon ! ’ exclaimed her 
 ladyship; ‘but, all the same, nephew, you are 
 much wearied.’ 
 
 ‘Not at all ! ’ replied Pepe. 
 
 ‘Do not deny it. Cayetano and I have just 
 been talking about it. You are wearied, and you 
 try to hide it. It is not all the young fellows of 
 this period who can be content to pass their youth, 
 like Jacintito, in a town where there are no theatres, 
 no comic opera, no ballets, no philosophers, no 
 congresses, nor other diversions and pastimes.’ 
 
 ‘ I am very content,’ answered Pepe. ‘ It was 
 only a short time since that I was telling Rosarito 
 that this town and house suited me so well that I 
 should like to live and die here.’ 
 
 Rosarito blushed, and the rest became silent. 
 
 They all sat down in an arbour which was close 
 by. Jacintito took a seat near the younger 
 lady. 
 
 ‘ See, nephew, I wish to speak to you about 
 something,’ said Lady Perfecta, with the usual 
 kind expression which emanated from her soul, 
 as the aroma from the flower. ‘ But do not think 
 I wish to reprehend nor to lecture you. You are 
 not a child, and will easily understand me.’ 
 
 ‘Scold me, dear aunt ; no doubt I deserve it,’ 
 
DISA GREEMENT INCREASES. 67 
 
 replied Pepe, who was already accustomed to the 
 goodness of his father’s sister. 
 
 ‘No, it is nothing more than advice. These 
 gentlemen will decide if I am right.’ 
 
 Rosarito listened attentively. 
 
 ‘ It is only this,’ added her ladyship, ‘ that when 
 you visit our beautiful cathedral you should behave 
 with greater reverence.’ 
 
 ‘ But what did I do ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It is not astonishing that you do not know your 
 fault,’ said her ladyship, with feigned gaiety. ‘It 
 is natural ; you are accustomed to enter the clubs, 
 academies and congresses boldly, and you think 
 you may enter the temple where dwells the Divine 
 Godhead in the same manner.’ 
 
 ‘ But, lady, pardon me . . . ’ observed Pepe, 
 seriously. ‘ I entered the cathedral with the great- 
 est composure.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not dispute, man ; do not dispute. If you 
 take it thus I shall hold my tongue. Gentlemen, 
 excuse my nephew. He was guilty of negligence 
 — of distraction. How many years is it since he 
 put foot in a sacred place ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Lady, I swear to you . . . although my re- 
 ligious ideas are not what you would wish, I 
 am accustomed to behave in the most respectful 
 manner in church.’ 
 
 ‘I assure you . . . see, if you are not guilty 
 ... I assure you that many people noticed you 
 this morning. The Messrs de Gonzalez, Lady Ro- 
 bustiana, Serafinita, and lastly, you even attracted 
 the bishop’s notice. . . . His lordship complained 
 to me about it this afternoon at my cousin’s house. 
 He said there was no mistake, for he had been 
 told you were my nephew, and said that I should 
 turn you out.’ 
 
68 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 Rosarito gazed with anguish at her cousin, fore- 
 seeing his replies before he uttered them. 
 
 ‘No doubt they have mistaken someone else 
 for me.’ 
 
 ‘No ... no ... it was you. But do not be 
 offended ; we are all friends here, and are speaking 
 confidentially. It was you ; I saw you myself.’ 
 
 ‘You!’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I. You cannot deny you were examining 
 the paintings, passing a group of the faithful, who 
 were hearing Mass ? I assure you, you distracted 
 me in such a way with your comings and goings, 
 that . . . But . . . that is not exactly what I 
 wished to mention. You then went into the little 
 chapel of St Gregory, ascended the steps to the 
 high altar, and made no genuflexion. After going 
 all round the church, you approached the sepulchre, 
 put your hands on the altar, and a second time 
 passed the worshippers, attracting attention. All 
 the young girls stared at you, and you appeared 
 satisfied at having so neatly disturbed the de- 
 votions and exemplary conduct of these good 
 people.’ 
 
 ‘ My God ! I did all that ! ’ exclaimed Pepe, 
 half angrily, half smiling. ‘ I am a monster, and 
 did not at all suspect it.’ 
 
 ‘No, I know you are a good boy,’ said Lady 
 Perfecta, observing the affectedly serious and im- 
 mutable countenance of the canon, which re- 
 sembled a cardboard mask. ‘But, my son, to 
 have opinions, and to manifest them in this 
 ostentatious manner, are very different; and a 
 prudent and polite man would avoid such a 
 danger. I know well your ideas are . . . no, do 
 not get angry ; if you become angry, I shall be 
 silent. ... I say that it is one thing to be 
 
DISAGREEMENT INCREASES. 
 
 69 
 
 religious, and another to manifest it. . . . I abstain 
 from blaming you, as you do not believe that God 
 created us to His image and likeness, but that we 
 are descended from monkeys; you do not deny 
 the souks existence, but value it no more than the 
 drugs sold in the shops — such as magnesia, or 
 rhubarb pills. . . .^ 
 
 ‘ Madam, by God ! . . .^ exclaimed Pepe in 
 disgust. ... ‘ I see I have a very bad reputation 
 in Orbajosa.^ 
 
 The others maintained silence. 
 
 ‘ But I say you are not to blame for these ideas. 
 
 . . . But you are not right. If I begin to dispute 
 with you, you, with your uncommon talents, will 
 confound me a thousand times ... no, none of 
 that. I say these poor, foolish inhabitants of 
 Orbajosa are pious and good Christians, if they 
 none of them understand German philosophy; and 
 you should not publicly depreciate their faith.’ 
 
 ‘Dear aunt,’ replied the engineer, gravely, ‘I 
 have depreciated no one’s faith, and I do not hold 
 the opinions which you attribute to me. If I have 
 not behaved as respectfully as I should in church, 
 I was absent-minded. My judgment and attention 
 were taken by the architectural work, and, frankly, 
 I did not remark . . . but that was no reason why 
 the bishop should say I should be turned out into 
 the street, and that you should suppose me to be 
 capable of comparing the functions of my soul to 
 a pill from a shop. But I will tolerate this only as 
 a jest, and no more than a jest.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey felt so greatly excited that his great 
 prudence and moderation could scarcely prevent 
 him from showing it. 
 
 ‘ Now, see, I have made you angry,’ said Lady 
 Perfecta, lowering her eyes and crossing her hands. 
 
70 
 
 LADY PFRFECTA. 
 
 ‘ It is all for God ! Had I known you would have 
 taken it thus, I would have said nothing about it 
 to you. Pepe, I beg you will forgive me ? ^ 
 
 Hearing this, and seeing the submissive manner 
 of his good aunt, Pepe felt ashamed of the harsh- 
 ness of his previous words, and tried to calm him- 
 self. The venerable confessor relieved him from 
 his embarrassment by smiling with his habitual 
 benevolence, and speaking thus : — 
 
 ‘Lady Perfecta, one must allow artists some 
 indulgence. . . . Oh ! I know them well. These 
 gentlemen, when they see before them a statue, 
 some musty armour, a ruined house or an old wall, 
 forget all else. Mr Jose is an artist, and has 
 visited our cathedral, as the English visit it, who 
 would carry off with the greatest delight the last 
 tile of it to their museums. . . . What matter the 
 faithful ? or that the priest is elevating the Sacred 
 Host ? that it is the moment for the greatest piety 
 and reverence? that it . . . nothing makes any 
 difference to the artist. It is true I do not under- 
 stand the value of art when it disagrees with the 
 sentiments I have expressed . . . but, however, 
 it is the custom of the day to adore the shape, not 
 the idea. . . . God save me from entering into a 
 discussion with Mr Jose on this theme; he who 
 knows so much, and argues with the fine subtlety 
 of modern times, would confound me directly in 
 all that does not concern faith.’ 
 
 ‘ The perseverance in considering me the most 
 learned man in the world is extremely mortifying 
 to me,’ said Pepe, regaining his harsh tone. ‘I 
 would rather you looked upon me as a fool; I 
 would prefer to be considered ignorant than to 
 possess this Satanic science which all here attribute 
 to me,’ 
 
DISAGREEMENT INCREASES. 
 
 71 
 
 Rosarito began to laugh, and Jacintito thought he 
 had found an opportune moment to display his 
 personal erudition to advantage. 
 
 ‘ Pantheism or panentheism were condemned by 
 the Church, as were also the doctrines of Schopen- 
 hauer and the modern Hartmann.’ 
 
 ‘ Gentleman, and your ladyship,’ said the canon, 
 seriously, ‘ men who dedicate themselves so ardently 
 to the culture of art, even although it be only that 
 of form, merit the greatest respect. It is much 
 better to be a lover of art and delight in the beauti- 
 ful, even though it be but nude nymphs, than to be 
 indifferent and to disbelieve in all. The mind 
 that consecrates itself to the contemplation of the 
 beautiful, can never be entirely bad . . . ‘ Est Deus 
 in nobis . . . Deus.^ ... You understand me. 
 It follows, then, that Mr Jose was admiring the 
 marvels of our church ; for my own part, I can 
 pardon him with good grace, all his irreverences ; 
 saving the opinion of the prelate. 
 
 ‘Thanks, Mr Inocencio,’ said Pepe, feeling his 
 hostility revive towards the astute canon, and 
 being unable to withstand the desire to mortify 
 him ; ‘ but do not believe that my attention was 
 absorbed by the artistic beauties of which you 
 suppose the temple to be full. Those beauties, 
 beyond the imposing architecture of a part of the 
 edifice, the three sepulchres in the chapels of ease, 
 and some carving in the choir, I did not see. What 
 occupied me was the consideration of the deplorable 
 decadence in religious art, and I felt astonished, 
 if not angry, at the innumerable artistic monstrosi- 
 ties with which the cathedral is filled. 
 
 All around him were dumb with surprise. 
 
 ‘ I could not resist,’ added Pepe, ‘ those varnished 
 vermilion images, all so much like, God pardon me 
 
72 
 
 LADY PEl^FECTA. 
 
 the comparison, the dolls that growing girls play with. 
 And what can one say of those theatrical vestments 
 with which they are clothed ? I saw a St Joseph in 
 in a mantle, whose appearance did not tend to incul- 
 cate respect for the Holy Patriarch, whom the 
 Church venerates. On the altars are accumulated 
 images in the most deplorable artistic taste, and 
 the multitude of crowns, branches, stars, moons, 
 and similar metal or gold paper adornments, pre- 
 sent a fantastical appearance, which is repulsive to 
 religious sentiment, and dispirits one. Far from 
 assisting religious contemplation, it hinders it, and 
 the idea of the comic disturbs it. Grand works of 
 art supply sensible thoughts, and elevate one^s 
 ideas in regard to dogmas, faith, mysterious exulta- 
 tion, and the most noble mission. Ill - drawn 
 figures and aberration in taste, grotesque works 
 with which an imprudent piety fills the churches, 
 accomplish their object also ; but it is a sad one. 
 It foments superstition, cools enthusiasm, obliges 
 the eyes of the believer to be withdrawn from the 
 altar, and with the eyes the souls of those whose 
 faith is neither deep nor firm.’ 
 
 ‘The doctrine of the Iconoclasts,’ said Jacintito, 
 ‘it seems it is widely spread in Germany.’ 
 
 ‘I am no Iconoclast, although I should prefer 
 the destruction of all images to this exhibition of 
 buffoonery which attracted me,’ replied the young 
 fellow. ‘ Seeing this is enough to make one wish 
 that the august simplicity of ancient times would 
 return ; but, no, I do not renounce the admirable 
 auxiliary that all arts, beginning with poetry and 
 ending with music, lend to the relations between 
 God and man. Live the arts, let them be dis- 
 played in the great ceremonies of religious rites ! 
 I am a partisan for ceremony,’ 
 
DISAGREEMENT INCREASES. 
 
 73 
 
 ‘ Artist, artist, and no more than an artist ’ ! ex- 
 claimed the canon, moving his head with an ex- 
 pression of compassion. ‘ Good paintings, good 
 statues, good music. . . . Glory in those 
 sentiments, and the devil will carry off the 
 soul.^ 
 
 ‘ In regard to music, ^ said Pepe Rey, taking no 
 heed of the evil effect his words were producing in 
 the mother and daughter, ‘ do you imagine that my 
 mind could be inclined for religious contemplation 
 on visiting the cathedral, when, for the preludes and 
 offertory at High Mass, the organist played pass- 
 ages from La Traviata. . . 
 
 ‘ In that you are right, Mr Rey,’ said the lawyer, 
 emphatically. ‘ The other day Mr Organist played 
 all the waltzes of that same opera, and afterwards a 
 rondo from The Grand Duchess. 
 
 ‘ But how disgusted I felt,’ continued the en- 
 gineer implacably, ‘when I saw a statue of the 
 Virgin, which seemed to command great venera- 
 tion, for many people were praying before it, 
 and a great number of candles were burning 
 there. It was dressed in an azure gown, with 
 three borders in gold ; of such extraordinary 
 shape, that it even surpassed the most ex- 
 travagant fashions of the day. Her face was 
 almost hidden under a dense foliage, composed 
 of a thousand folds of lace, with a crown in the 
 middle, encompassed with rays of gold, and a 
 monstrous funeral canopy fitted up over the top. 
 From the same loom, and embroidered in the same 
 manner, were the trousers of the Child Jesus. . . . 
 I will not continue, for the description of the 
 mother and child may cause me to be irreverent. 
 
 I will only add that I could not avoid smiling ; 
 and, contemplating the profaned image for a few 
 
 D 
 
74 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 moments. I exclaimed, “ Mother and Lady mine, 
 how they have concealed you ! ” 
 
 Concluding with these words, Pepe observed 
 with his hearing, for the twilight did not permit 
 him to distinguish the countenances around him ; 
 but he believed they expressed bitter consterna- 
 tion. 
 
 ‘Then, Mr Jose ! ' exclaimed the canon quickly, 
 smiling with an air of triumph, ‘ that statue, which 
 to your philosophy and pantheism, appeared so 
 ridiculous, is our Lady of Succour, patroness and 
 advocate of Orbajosa, whose inhabitants venerate 
 it in such a manner that they would be capable of 
 stoning anyone in the streets who spoke badly of 
 it. Chronicles and history, sir, are full of the 
 miracles performed by it, and even to-day are seen 
 undeniable proofs of its protection. I would have 
 you to know that her ladyship, your aunt, Lady 
 Perfecta, is chief waiting-maid to the Holy Virgin 
 of Succour, and that the gown which you thought 
 so grotesque . . . yes . . , this dress, which, to 
 your impious eyes, looked so grotesque, went from 
 this house, as did also the trousers of the Holy 
 Child; and were the result of the marvellous 
 needlework and piety of your cousin Rosarito, 
 who now hears us.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey felt disconcerted. At the same 
 instant. Lady Perfecta got up brusquely, and, with- 
 out speaking a word, went in the direction of the 
 house, followed by the confessor. Then all the 
 rest rose. The foolish young fellow was going to 
 beg pardon of Rosarito for his irreverence when 
 he observed that she was weeping. Gazing at her 
 cousin with a friendly look and one of gentle re- 
 prehension, she exclaimed, — 
 
 ‘ But what ideas you have . . . ! ’ 
 
DISAGREEMENT INCREASES. 
 
 7S 
 
 Then Lady Perfecta’s voice was heard in a 
 changed tone shouting, — 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! Rosarito ! ’ 
 
 She then ran into the house. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS EVIDENT. 
 
 EPE REY felt troubled and confused, 
 furious with those around him, and 
 with himself, he tried to find out 
 the cause of the repugnance existing 
 between him and his aunt^s friends. 
 He was pensive and sad, foreseeing quarrels, and 
 he remained sitting in the arbour for a short time, 
 his chin sunk on his breast, frowning, and with his 
 hands crossed. He thought himself alone. 
 
 Presently he heard a gay voice humming a song 
 of the period. Looking up he saw Jacintito on the 
 opposite side of the arbour. 
 
 ‘Ah, Mr de Rey,’ said the boy unexpectedly, 
 ‘ you cannot attack the religious sentiments of the 
 majority of the people with impunity. ... If you 
 will do so, consider what happened during the 
 first French Revolution. . . . ’ 
 
 When Pepe heard the buzzing of this insect his 
 irritation increased. Nevertheless, he had in his 
 soul no dislike to the young doctor. He, however, 
 vexed him, as flies do, but nothing more. Rey 
 felt the molestation which all importune interfer* 
 ence inspires, and, wishing to put the drone to 
 flight, said, — 
 
 76 
 
THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS E VIDENT 77 
 
 ‘What has the French Revolution to do with 
 the Virgin Mary’s dress ? ’ 
 
 He then rose to go into the house, but had not 
 proceeded four steps when he heard the buzz of 
 the mosquito, saying, — 
 
 ‘ Mr J ose, I wish to speak with you on a very 
 interesting subject ; one which will cause a con- 
 flict ’ 
 
 ‘ A subject ? ’ answered our young friend, return- 
 ing. ‘ Let us see what it is.’ 
 
 ‘You will have suspected it some time,’ said 
 Jacintito, drawing near to Pepe, and smiling with 
 that expression peculiar to business men, when 
 they are busied with anything serious. ‘What 
 have you to say about this lawsuit of yours ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What lawsuit ? , . . My friend, I have no 
 lawsuits. You, like a good lawyer, dream of liti- 
 gants and see sealed paper everywhere.’ 
 
 ‘But how? Have you had no notice of this 
 lawsuit ? ’ exclaimed tha boy with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 ‘ Of my suit ! Exactly, I have none, nor ever 
 had one.’ 
 
 ‘But if you know nothing of this, I am very 
 pleased to have been able to warn you, that you 
 may put yourself on your guard. ... Yes, sir, 
 there is litigation.’ 
 
 ‘ And with whom ? ’ 
 
 ‘ With Lycurgus and other proprietors of the 
 estate named Alamillos.’ 
 
 Pepe Ray felt stupefied. 
 
 ‘Yes, sir,’ added the little lawyer, ‘Lycurgus 
 and I had a long conference to-day. As I am 
 so friendly at this house, I had not expected to 
 have the pleasure of warning you, but of begging 
 you to bring all to an early settlement.’ 
 
LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 78 
 
 ‘ But I, what have I to settle ? What does this 
 rabble say about me ? 
 
 It seems that some streams which rise in this 
 estate of yours have varied their course and fall 
 over some of Lycurgus’ tile-works, and the mill 
 of another, occasioning considerable damage. My 
 client ... for he has employed me in this 
 difficulty . . . my client, I say, pretends that 
 you should re-establish the ancient drains for the 
 streams, to avoid new defects and to indemnify 
 the damage, which the indolence of the principal 
 proprietor has caused.’ 
 
 ‘ I am the principal proprietor 1 ... If there 
 is litigation, it will be the first fruit these celebrated 
 Alamillos have ever yielded me, which were mine, 
 and are so now; which, according to report, are 
 everybody’s, for this same Lycurgus, with his fellow- 
 labourers, has encroached on it little by little, 
 year by year, bit by bit, and it will cost much to 
 re-establish the boundaries of my property.’ 
 
 ‘ That is a separate question.’ 
 
 ‘It is no separate question. Understand,’ ex- 
 claimed the engineer, unable to restrain his anger, 
 ‘ that the veritable lawsuit will be the one I shall 
 sustain against such people, who, doubtless, wish 
 to vex and disgust me, so that I shall abandon 
 all and leave them in possession of their plunder. 
 We will see if there are lawyers and judges who 
 will favour the stupid administration of those 
 village justices, who live by lawsuits and prey 
 like the moths on the propriety of the mustard- 
 field. Young gentleman, I owe you thanks for 
 having told me the ruinous proposals of these 
 clowns, who are worse than pickpockets. Well, 
 I assure you that these same tile-works and the 
 mill, which Lycurgus claims as his, are mine.’ 
 
THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS E VIDENT 79 
 
 ‘You should make a revision of the deeds of 
 the estate and see if they are inscribed therein/ 
 said Jacintito. 
 
 ‘ What inscription is necessary ? . . . These 
 villains shall not amuse themselves with me. I 
 suppose that the administration of justice is honour- 
 able and loyal in the town of Orbajosa? . . 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes ! ^ exclaimed the learned little lawyer 
 eagerly. ‘The judge is an excellent man. He 
 comes here every evening. . . . But I am aston- 
 ished that you should have received no intima- 
 tion of Lycurgus’ pretensions. Cannot I act as 
 mediator?’ 
 
 ‘No.’ 
 
 ‘ It will come on to-morrow. ... I am sorry 
 that Mr Lycurgus'^ expedition should have deprived 
 me of the pleasure and honour of defending 
 you ; but how was I to know. . . . Lycurgus has 
 engaged me to draw him out of his difficulties. 
 
 I shall study the matter carefully. These servile 
 rogues are the support of jurisprudence.’ 
 
 Pepe entered the dining-room in a very lament- 
 able mental state. He saw Lady Perfecta speak- 
 ing with the confessor ; and Rosarito stood alone, 
 her eyes fixed on the door, waiting, no doubt, for 
 her cousin. 
 
 ‘ Come here, good child,’ said her ladyship, 
 smiling with little spontaneity. ‘ You have insulted 
 us, but we will forgive you. I know that my 
 daughter and I are two rustics, who are incapable 
 of ascending into mathematical regions, where you 
 live, but, however ... all is possible if you 
 will only humble yourself to us some day, and 
 entreat us to instruct you in the Faith.’ 
 
 Pepe replied with vague, formal expressions of 
 courtesy and repentance. 
 
8o 
 
 LADY FEKFECTA. 
 
 ‘For my part/ said Mr Inocencio, looking at 
 him sweetly and modestly, ‘ if I have, in the course 
 of these vain disputes, said anything that could 
 olfend Mr Jose, I beg that he will forgive me. 
 Thus we are all friends again.’ 
 
 ‘ Thanks. It is not worth the trouble.’ 
 
 ‘ In spite of all,’ exclaimed Lady Perfecta, smil- 
 ing more naturally, ‘I shall always feel the same 
 towards my dear nephew, notwithstanding his 
 extravagant and anti-religious opinions. What do 
 you imagine I have been thinking of to-night ? To 
 force Mr Lycurgus to withdraw the suit he intends 
 to annoy you with. I have sent for him to come, 
 and he will be in the gallery awaiting me. Relieve 
 your mind, I will settle him, although I know he 
 has good reason for complaint.’ 
 
 ‘Thanks, dear aunt,’ replied the young fellow, 
 feeling overcome by the wave of generosity so 
 easily generated in her soul. 
 
 Pepe Rey glanced over to the spot where his 
 cousin was standing, with the intention of joining 
 her, but some sagacious questions from the canon 
 recalled him to Lady Perfecta’s side. Rosarito 
 looked sad, listening with melancholy indifference 
 to the little lawyer, who had just installed himself 
 near her, ana had begun a series of troublesome 
 conceptions, with importunate, foolish jokes, which 
 were in the worst taste. 
 
 ‘The most unfortunate thing for you,’ said Lady 
 Perfecta to her nephew, when she surprised him 
 observing the palpable variance there was between 
 Rosarito and Jacintito, ‘is that you have offended 
 poor Rosarito. You should do all you can to 
 appease her. The poor little girl is so good ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes, so good,’ added the canon, ‘ that she 
 will no doubt pardon her cousin.’ 
 
THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS E VI DENT 8 1 
 
 ‘ I believe Rosarito has already forgiven me/ 
 affirmed Rey. 
 
 ‘And if not, angelic hearts never hold much 
 resentment,’ said Mr Inocencio mellifluously. ‘I 
 have great influence over this young girl, and will 
 engage to drive from her generous soul all anger 
 against you. I can do it in two words. . . 
 
 Pepe Rey felt as though a cloud had passed over 
 him, and said with intention, — 
 
 ‘ No time like the present.’ 
 
 ‘ I will not speak to her now,’ added the capitu- 
 lar, ‘for she is listening with astonishment to 
 Jacintito’s fooleries. . . . He is like a child. 
 When he is in the vein, nothing will stop him.’ 
 
 The chief justice, the justice’s wife, and the dean 
 of the cathedral, now entered the room. All saluted 
 the engineer, displaying by their words and actions, 
 on seeing him, the most lively curiosity. 
 
 The justice was an active man, one of those who 
 appear every day at some eminent person’s house, 
 aspiring to be received into the brood of those who 
 are first in the administration and in politics. He 
 gave himself important airs, and, in speaking of his 
 juvenile toga, manifested great anger that he had 
 not been ordained from the first. President of the 
 Supreme Tribunal. Into such inexpert hands, to 
 a brain filled with wind, to such a conceited fellow 
 had the State confided the most delicate and diffi- 
 cult functions of human justice. His manners 
 were those of a perfect courtier, and revealed 
 scrupulous and minute attention to all concerning 
 his person. He had the silly habit of continually 
 taking off and putting on his gold eyeglasses ; and in 
 his conversation frequently indicated the obligation 
 he was under to go to Madrid, to lend his invalu- 
 able services to the Secretary of Gracia and Justicia. 
 
82 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 The justice’s lady was a good-natured woman, 
 whose only failing was in supposing that she was 
 related to the Court. She asked Pepe Rey several 
 questions as to the fashions, naming establishments 
 where she had had a mantle or a dress made on 
 her last journey, contemporary with her visit to 
 Muley-Abbas, and mentioning a dozen duchesses 
 and marchionesses with great familiarity as having 
 been her schoolfellows She said that the Countess 
 of M. (famous for her assemblies) was her friend, 
 and that when, in ’6o, she was visiting her, the 
 Countess had taken her to her opera-box in the 
 Real, and afterwards to Muley-Abbas, dressed in 
 Moorish fashion, and accompanied by all her 
 Moorish attendants. The justice’s wife spoke (as 
 it is expressed) with her elbows, and was not lacking 
 in wit. 
 
 Mr Dean was an old man, corpulent and choleric, 
 plethoric and apoplectic ; a man who had no 
 thoughts for anything but his own fat body. He 
 spoke only on religious subjects, and, from the first, 
 behaved towards Pepe with the greatest contempt. 
 The latter became more inept to accommodate 
 himself to a society so little to his taste. His 
 character, though not perverse, was hard, and but 
 slightly flexible, and repelled the perfidy and ac- 
 commodations of language to simulate concord 
 when he did not feel it. He then maintained 
 silence during the course of this fastidious assembly, 
 obliged to listen to the impetuous oratory of the 
 justice’s wife, who, according to report, was capable 
 of harassing the human ear, as though she were 
 possessed of a hundred tongues. If, during the 
 brief respite, the lady allowed his ears, Pepe Rey 
 wished to join his cousin, the confessor held him 
 down as fast as a mussel to a rock ; and, drawing 
 
THE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS E VIDENT S3 
 
 him apart with mysterious gesture, proposed to him 
 a walk to Mundogrande with Lord Cayetano, or a 
 fishing party to the clear streams of Nahara. 
 
 At last it was ended, as all ends in this world. 
 The dean retired, leaving a void in the house ; 
 and soon after the chatter of the justice’s lady was 
 but an echo, like the rumbling the recent passing 
 over of a tempest leaves in the human ear. The 
 justice then deprived the assembly of his presence, 
 and, finally, Mr Inocencio gave his nephew the 
 signal for departure. 
 
 ‘Come, child, are we going to-day?’ he said, 
 smiling. ‘ How you have teased poor Rosarito ! 
 Is it not true, my daughter ? Walk off, sir, at once.’ 
 
 ‘ It is bed-time,’ said Lady Perfecta. 
 
 ‘ It is work-time,’ replied the little lawyer. 
 
 ‘ But you have finished business for the day,’ 
 said the canon, ‘as usual. There is so much 
 business. ... so much ! Trouble no more about 
 this ridiculous affair into which they have led you. 
 
 . . . I do not wish to praise him, Mr Jose; but 
 do you know he has written a work on “ The in- 
 fluence of woman on Christian society,” and another, 
 a “ Little work on the Catholic movement in . . .” 
 I do not know where. What should you under- 
 stand about “ influences,” and “little works.” These 
 young fellows of the day dare all . . . Umph! 
 
 . . . what children ! But we must get home. 
 
 . . . Good-night, Lady Perfecta . . . good-night, 
 Mr J ose . . . Rosarito. . . . ’ 
 
 ‘ I am waiting for Lord Cayetano,’ said Jacintino, 
 ‘he is going to give me Augustus Nicholas I 
 
 ‘Always burdening yourself with books . . . 
 man ! Sometimes when you enter the house, you 
 look like a donkey. Well, well, we will wait.’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Jacintino,’ said Pepe Rey,’ does not write 
 

 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 lightly ; he prepares himself well for his works, that 
 they may be a treasure of erudition.’ 
 
 ‘ But he will get the headache, Mr Inocencio,’ 
 said Lady Perfecta. ‘ Take care, for God’s sake. 
 I shall be much interested in his works.’ 
 
 ‘ As we are waiting,’ said the little doctor, in 
 a very conceited tone, ‘ I will also take the third 
 volume of Counsel, What do you think, 
 uncle ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, man, do not let that leave your hand. 
 You will then make no mistakes.’ 
 
 Happily Lord Cayetano (who generally joined 
 the circle at D. Lorenzo Ruiz’s house) came in 
 then, and, taking the books, uncle and nephew 
 made their exit. Rey read in his cousin’s sad 
 countenance a great wish to speak with him. 
 Lady Perfecta and Lord Cayetano spoke only 
 of domestic matters, whilst Pepe approached 
 Rosarito, who said, — 
 
 ‘You have offended mamma.’ 
 
 Her eyes had in them a kind of terror. 
 
 ‘ It is true,’ replied the young fellow. ‘ I have 
 offended your mamma; I have also offended 
 you.’ 
 
 ‘No, not me, I had already fancied the Child 
 Jesus would not like the trousers.’ 
 
 ‘ But I hope you both forgive me ? Your mamma 
 has shown me great kindness.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta’s voice sounded through the 
 dining-room with such a discordant accent that 
 her nephew trembled with alarm when he heard it. 
 She said imperiously, — 
 
 ‘ Rosarito, get to bed.’ 
 
 Troubled and full of anguish, the young girl 
 gave several glances round Jhe room, as though 
 she had been looking for something. As she 
 
TliE EXISTENCE OF DISLIKE IS E VIDENT 85 
 
 passed her cousin, she said quietly these vague 
 words, — 
 
 ‘ Mamma is angry.’ 
 
 ‘But. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ She is angry ... do not defy her, do not 
 defy her.’ 
 
 And she went out. Lady Perfecta afterwards 
 followed her, as Lycurgus was awaiting her lady- 
 ship j and, for a time, her voice and the peasant’s 
 could be heard in friendly conference. Pepe and 
 Lord Cayetano were thus left together, when the 
 latter spoke thus, taking a light, — 
 
 ‘ Good-night, Pepe. Do not think I am going 
 to sleep, I am going to work. . . . But why are 
 you so meditative ? What is the matter with you ? 
 . . . Well, yes, to work. I am looking up in- 
 formation for some “ Memoirs on the Lineage of 
 Orbajosa.” ... I have discovered some precious 
 dates and notes. I shall turn them to account. 
 In all the periods of our history the Orbajosians 
 have been distinguished for their nobility, valour, 
 and knowledge. It is said, that but for the con- 
 quest of Mexico, the wars of the Emperor, those 
 of Philip against heretics. . . . But are you ill? 
 . . . What has happened to you? . . . Well, 
 eminent clergymen, brave warriors, saints, bishops, 
 poets, politicians, all sorts of enlightened men, 
 flourished in this humble land^ of the garlic. . . . 
 No, there has never been a Christian town that 
 was more illustrious than ours. Its virtues and 
 glories fill the history of the country, and even 
 then overflow. . . . Come, see you are dreaming ; 
 good-night. . . . Well, then, I would not exchange 
 the honour of being a son of this noble land for 
 all the gold in the world. “ Augusta,” the ancients 
 termined it “ Augustisima,” I call it now, for even 
 
LADV PERFECT A. 
 
 U 
 
 now, as formerly, nobility, generosity, valour, are 
 her patrimony. . . . Then, good-night, dear Pepe. 
 ... I am afraid you will not have a good one. 
 What, has supper upset you ? . . . Alonso Gon- 
 zalezde Bu stamen to is right in his Floresta 
 Amena when he says ‘‘that the inhabitants of 
 Orbajosa suffice, if only to minister to the greatness 
 and honour of the kingdom.” Do not you 
 believe thus?’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! yes, sir, I do not doubt it,^ replied Pepe 
 Rey, taking his way to his room brusquely. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 DISLIKE INCREASES. 
 
 URING the days that succeeded Rey 
 made acquaintance with various 
 people in the town, and visited the 
 casino, forming friendships with 
 some individuals who passed nearly 
 all their time at that place. 
 
 But the young folks of Orbajosa did not live 
 constantly there, as evil-disposed people said. In 
 the afternoon one met with several gentlemen, who 
 were wrapped in cloaks, standing in a corner near 
 the cathedral, or in the square formed by the cross- 
 ing of the Constabulary and Triperia Streets, like 
 sentries, watching the inhabitants pass. If the 
 weather were fine these eminent luminaries of the 
 urbsaugustense culture directed their steps, always 
 wearing the inevitable mantle, to the walk named 
 ‘Descalzas,’ which was lined by two rows of 
 phthisical elm trees, and some discoloured chest- 
 nut trees. Here the brilliant gentlemen watched 
 the daughters of D. Fulano or D. Perencejo, who 
 walked there regularly every afternoon, and ad- 
 dressed them in their walk. Towards night the 
 casino filled again, and, whilst a portion of the 
 associates abandoned their high understandings 
 
 87 
 
88 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 to the delights of play, the other portion read 
 periodicals, or discussed in the cafe there, divers 
 subjects, such as politics, horses, bulls, or local re- 
 ports. The resume of all these debates was the 
 supremacy ofOrbajosa and its inhabitants over all 
 other towns and people on the face of the earth. 
 
 Amongst these remarkable and important men 
 of the illustrous city some were rich proprietors, 
 others were poor, but all were full of high aspira- 
 tions. Some possessed the imperturbable serenity 
 of the beggar, to whom nothing seems wanting as 
 long as he has an alms to preserve him from 
 famine, and the sun to keep him warm. The 
 principal distinguishing feature in the Orbajosians 
 was a sentiment of lively hostility to all strangers 
 who went there ; and whenever such a stranger 
 presented himself in their august rooms, they be- 
 lieved he had come to cast a doubt on the superi- 
 ority of the garlic country, or to dispute, through 
 envy, the incontrovertible pre-eminence that Nature 
 had conceded to it. 
 
 When Pepe Rey first went there he was received 
 with undeniable reserve, and, as in the casino 
 there were very many benevolent men, for the 
 quarter of an hour their new companion remained 
 with them they rendered him happy by all kinds of 
 jokes at his expense. When, to the reiterated 
 questions of the associates, he replied that he had 
 come to Orbajosa with a commission to explore 
 the earth tracks of the Nahara, and to study the 
 country, all were convinced that Mr Jos^ was a 
 coxcomb, and wished to take upon himself the 
 invention of charcoal plantations and iron roads. 
 Someone said, — 
 
 ‘But why should he interfere? These wise 
 gentlemen believe that we are all fools here, and 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES. 
 
 S9 
 
 are to be deceived by silly jests. . . . He has 
 come to marry Lady Perfecta’s daughter, and what 
 he says about these earth tracks is simply to pre- 
 sent an imposing appearance.’ 
 
 ‘And this morning,’ said another, who was a 
 small trader, ‘I was told in the Dominquez’s 
 house that this gentleman does not possess a 
 dollar, and has come to fish for Rosarito.’ 
 
 ‘ It seems he is neither an engineer nor anything 
 reputable,’ added an olive merchant, who had 
 pawned his estate for double its value. ‘ How- 
 ever, we shall see. . . . These hungry people 
 from Madrid believe themselves authorities in de- 
 ceiving poor provincials, and think they can walk 
 over us here, friend . . .’ 
 
 ‘ I know well he is famished.’ 
 
 ‘ But half-laughing, half in earnest, he told us 
 to-night we were barbarous vagabonds.’ 
 
 ‘ That we live like Bedouins, gazing up at the 
 sun.’ 
 
 ‘ That we live by imagination.’ 
 
 ‘ Just so ; that we live by imagination.’ 
 
 ‘ And that this town is like those in Morocco.’ 
 
 ‘ Man, I have no patience to listen. Where 
 would he see (unless in Paris) a street like that of 
 the Constabulary, where there are seven houses in 
 a line, all magnificent, from Lady Perfecta’s to 
 that of Nicholas Hermandez’ ? . . . These rabble 
 imagine that one has seen nothing, nor has been 
 to Paris. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ And he said with much delicacy that Orbajosa 
 was a beggars’ town, and also that he had heard 
 we lived in the greatest possible misery here.’ 
 
 ‘ We will see if he dare say as much to me. There 
 will be a scandal in the casino 1 ’ exclaimed the tax- 
 gatherer. ‘ Why did you not tell him the number 
 
go 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 of measures of oil that Orbajosa produced last 
 year ? Does not this stupid fellow know that in 
 good years Orbajosa gives bread to all Spain, and 
 even to every part of Europe? It is true that 
 many years we have had a bad harvest, but that is 
 not the rule ; and then the garlic harvest. Does 
 not this gentleman know that the garlic of Orba- 
 josa caused the gentlemen of the jury at the 
 London Exposition to become squint-eyed ? ' 
 
 These and other dialogues were heard in the 
 rooms of the casino for some days. But in spite 
 of this common talk amongst the young people, 
 who were proud of even their dwarfish stature, Rey 
 did not fail to meet with some sincere friends 
 amongst the learned corporation, who were not all 
 slanderers or wanting in good feeling. But our 
 young man disgraced himseif, if disgrace it can be 
 called, by manifesting his impressions with his 
 usual frankness, and thus drawing antipathy on 
 himself. The days went by. Besides the natural 
 disgust that the customs of Episcopal society 
 caused him, divers disagreeable things began to 
 fill his soul with sadness. He felt particularly, 
 amongst other matters, the trouble entailed by the 
 lawsuits which almost overwhelmed him. It was 
 not Lycurgus alone, but many others, who claimed 
 damages and injury ; and he was likely to lose the 
 lands administered by his grandfather. He was 
 always having some demand presented to him, 
 some contract of which he knew nothing, and 
 which he was told his mother had formed, but 
 which he had not fulfilled ; and they even went so 
 far as to insist on the recognition of a mortgage on 
 the estate of Alamiilos, evidenced by a singular 
 document drawn by his uncle. There was a 
 crowd, a whole load of lawsuits. He had pro- 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES, 
 
 91 
 
 posed to renounce the income from his property, 
 but his pride would not allow him to give way to 
 the claims of these sagacious clowns, and, as the 
 magistracy claimed also for its supposed confusion 
 of his land with the immediate Mount of Propois, 
 the disgraced young fellow pictured himself in the 
 house of detention until the debts which ac- 
 cumulated round him on all sides were paid. His 
 honour was compromised, and he had no remedy ; 
 he must either plead or die. 
 
 He had been promised magnanimously by Lady 
 Perfecta that she would help him to break his 
 bonds by means of a friendly arrangement; but 
 days passed by, and the good offices of the exem- 
 plary lady had no effect. Lawsuits poured in with 
 the speed of a culminating sickness. Pepe Rey 
 passed long hours in the daytime in the tribunal, 
 making declarations, answering questions and cross- 
 questions, and when he returned to the house, 
 fatigued and choleric, he saw the sharp, grotesque 
 countenance of the notary who brought him a daily 
 portion of sealed papers, full of horrible formulas — 
 that he might study the question. 
 
 He was not a man to suffer such reverses could 
 they have been avoided by absence. He looked 
 upon his mother’s noble town as a horrible beast 
 which dug its ferocious claws into him and sucked 
 his blood. To free himself from it he would have 
 taken his departure, but a deep interest, an affair of 
 the heart, detained him, holding him fast bound, 
 notwithstanding the pains of his martyrdom. Al- 
 though he felt so much out of place, indeed a 
 stranger, one might say, in that dark city of pleas, 
 antiquities, envy and calumny, he, on proposing to 
 leave it without delay, still persisted, at the same 
 time, in the project which had led him thither. 
 
92 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 One morning, finding a suitable opportunity, he 
 disclosed his plans to Lady Perfecta. 
 
 ‘ My nephew,’ replied her ladyship with her usual 
 sweetness, ‘ do not be too precipitate. Why should 
 you think of flight ? But you are like your father ; 
 why, man, you are like a spark. ... I have 
 already told you that it gives me great pleasure to 
 be able to call you my son. You have many good 
 qualities, and are distinguished by your talents 
 (saving defects, which we all have) ; you are an 
 excellent young man, and this union was proposed 
 by your father (to whom my daughter and I owe so 
 much) for our acceptance. Rosarito will not oppose 
 it, and I am willing. What is wanting then? 
 Nothing ; nothing but a little time. The marriage 
 cannot take place with the speed you desire, and 
 which would cause dishonourable conclusions to 
 be drawn about my daughter. . . If you take no 
 notice of these quarrels they will vanish in the air. 
 Wait, man, wait . . . why should you be in such a 
 hurry? This hatred you feel towards our poor 
 Orbajosa is a caprice. Ah ! I see ; you cannot live 
 but in the midst of counts, marquises, orators and 
 diplomatists. . . . You wish to marry my daughter 
 and to separate me from her for ever,’ added she, 
 sobbing. ‘So it is, inconsiderate young man; at 
 least, have enough charity to wait a little longer for 
 these nuptials you so ardently desire. What im- 
 patience ! What great love ! I did not think that 
 a poor village maiden could have inspired such 
 volcanic passions ? ’ 
 
 The reasonings of his aunt did not convince Pepe 
 Rey, but he did not wish to contradict her. He 
 resolved then to wait until she deemed it possible. 
 A new cause for disgust soon arose to embitter his 
 existence. He had been at Orbajosa for a fort- 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES. 
 
 93 
 
 night, and during that time had received no letter 
 from his father. It could not be the fault of the 
 administration of the post office at Orbajosa, for 
 the functionary who held that post there was the 
 friend and protege of Lady Perfecta, who daily 
 recommended to him the greatest care that all 
 letters addressed to her nephew should not go 
 astray. Also, when the courier, who was charged 
 with the correspondence, named Cristobal Ramos, 
 whose nick-name was Caballuco, a person whom 
 we already know, went to the house Lady Perfecta 
 energetically admonished and reprimanded him in 
 the following terms, — 
 
 ‘ Good service you couriers render ! . . . How 
 is it that my nephew has not received a single 
 letter since he came to Orbajosa. When letters 
 are entrusted to such giddy persons how are things 
 to go on ? I shall remonstrate with the governor 
 of the province as to the class of men that are in 
 the administration.^ 
 
 Caballuco shrugged his shoulders, looking at 
 Rey with an expression of the greatest indiffer- 
 ence. 
 
 One day he came in with a note in his hand. 
 
 ‘ Thank God ! ’ said Lady Perfecta to her nephew. 
 ‘ Here is a letter for you from your father. Rejoice, 
 man. My brother has been too lazy to write 
 before. . . . What does he say? Good news, no 
 doubt,’ added she, seeing Pepe open the note with 
 feverish impatience. 
 
 The engineer turned pale on perusing the first 
 lines. 
 
 ‘Jesus! Pepe . . . what is the matter?’ ex- 
 claimed her ladyship, rising in great affliction. 
 ‘ Is your papa ill ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It is no letter from my father,’ replied Pepe, 
 
94 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 revealing the greatest consternation in his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 ‘ Then what is it ? ’ 
 
 ‘ An order from the minister relieving me of the 
 commission which he confided to me.’ 
 
 ‘ How ? . . . Is it possible ? 
 
 ‘ A deprivation pure and simple, and termin- 
 ating in a manner anything but flattering to 
 me.’ 
 
 ‘ There must be some great roguery ! ’ exclaimed 
 her ladyship, recovering from her astonishment. 
 
 ‘ What humiliation ! ’ murmured the young 
 fellow. ‘ It is the first time in my life I have 
 ever received such treatment.’ 
 
 ‘But this governor will not be pardoned by 
 God ! That he should treat you so ! Would you 
 like me to write to Madrid ? I have many good 
 friends there who would obtain reparation from 
 this minister for his brutal treatment, and would 
 force him to make you satisfaction.’ 
 
 ‘ Thanks, lady. I require no recommendations,’ 
 replied Pepe, with displeasure. 
 
 ‘ But it is unjust, and too hasty, to thus destroy 
 a young man of so much merit — an eminent 
 scientific man. . . . See ! I cannot restrain my 
 anger ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I shall inquire,’ said Pepe, energetically, ‘ who 
 it is that has injured me thus. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ It is that minister. . . . But what can you 
 expect from those infamous politicians ? ’ 
 
 ‘ There is someone here who wishes me to die 
 of despair,’ affirmed the young fellow, visibly 
 changed. ‘ It is not the work of the minister, this 
 and other oppositions are the result of some plan 
 of revenge, of an unknown calculator, of an 
 irreconcilable enemy, and this plan, this calcu- 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES. 95 
 
 lator, this enemy, do not doubt it, dear aunt, is 
 here, in Orbajosa.^ 
 
 ‘You are becoming mad,^ replied Lady Perfecta, 
 seemingly compassionate. ‘ Why should you have 
 enemies in Orbajosa ? Why should anyone wish 
 to be revenged on you ? Come, little Pepe, you 
 have lost your judgment. The reading of those 
 books, where it is said that our forefathers were 
 either monkeys or parrots, has turned your 
 brain.’ 
 
 She smiled sweetly in uttering the last sentence ; 
 and then, taking a tone of familiar and gentle 
 remonstrance, she continued, — 
 
 ‘ My son, the inhabitants of Orbajosa are clowns 
 and clumsy labourers, uninstructed, with no refine- 
 ment, no bon ton. But, for loyalty and good 
 faith, no one beats us — no one — no one.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not think,’ said the young man, ‘ that I 
 accuse anyone in this house. But I repeat that 
 my implacable and cruel enemy is in this 
 town.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish you would instruct me in melodrama,’ 
 replied her ladyship, again smiling. ‘ 1 suppose 
 you do not accuse Lycurgus, nor any of those who 
 have lawsuits against you, for the poor fellows 
 only protect their rights. And, in parenthesis, 
 they do not want for reasons in the present 
 instance. And, besides, Lucas loves you much ; 
 at least he told me so. Since he has known you 
 he would lose his right eye for you, and the poor 
 fellow is so affectionate to you.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes . , . very affectionate ! ’ murmured Pepe. 
 
 ‘ Do not be foolish,’ added her ladyship, putting 
 her hand on his shoulder, and looking at him 
 earnestly. ‘Do you not think it is more likely 
 that your enemy, if he exists, is in Madrid — in 
 
96 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 that centre of corruption, of envy, and of rivalry, 
 and not in this pacific, quiet spot, where all is 
 good-will and concord. ... It is doubtless 
 someone who envies your talents. ... I warn 
 you of one thing, and that is, that if you wish to 
 investigate into the cause of this disgrace, and to 
 seek explanations of the governor, we shall not fail 
 to do it on our side.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey fixed his eyes on his aunt’s face as 
 though he would penetrate the inmost recesses of 
 her soul. 
 
 ‘ And I tell you if you wish to go, do not fail to 
 do so,’ proceeded her ladyship calmly, perplexing 
 him by her seeming candour and honour. 
 
 ‘ No, lady. I do not think of leaving.’ 
 
 ‘ Better ! That is also my opinion. Here you 
 are quieter, notwithstanding these cavillations with 
 which you are tormented. Poor, dear Pepe ! 
 your knowledge, your uncommon knowledge, is 
 the cause of your disgrace. We, of Orbajosa, poor 
 villagers, live happily in our ignorance. I feel it 
 much that you are not content. But is it my 
 fault that you weary yourself, and despair without 
 reason ? Do I not treat you as a son ? Have I 
 not received you as the hope of my house ? What 
 can I do more for you, if, in spite of all this, 
 you do not like us, if you disparage us, if you scoff 
 at our religion, if you despise our friends, does it 
 follow that we should not treat you well } ’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta’s eyes were full of tears. 
 
 ‘ Dear aunt,’ said Pepe, feeling his rancour melt, 
 
 ‘ so I have committed all these faults whilst I have 
 been a guest of this house ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Do not be silly. . . . Faults or no faults 
 between persons of the same family all is for 
 given.’ 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES, 
 
 97 
 
 ‘ But Rosarito, where is she ? ’ asked our young 
 friend, rising. ‘ Am I not to see her to-day ? ’ 
 
 ‘ She is better. She cannot yet come down.’ 
 
 ‘ I can go up.’ 
 
 ‘ No, man. She is very stubborn. ... I have 
 forbidden her to leave her room to-day. I have 
 locked her in.’ 
 
 ‘ What a strange thing ! ’ 
 
 ‘ It will pass off. It is certain it will pass. We 
 will see if her melancholy ideas have left her to- 
 night. We will organise an assembly to amuse 
 her. You might go to Mr Inocencio’s house and 
 ask him to come to-night and bring Jacintito.’ 
 
 ‘ Jacintito ! ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, when Rosarito has these attacks, that young 
 fellow is the only one who can distract her. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ But I will go up. . . .’ 
 
 ‘No, man.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you stand on ceremony in this house ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You are making fun of us. Do as I tell you.’ 
 
 ‘ But I wish to see her.’ 
 
 ‘ No. How badly you understand the girl ! ’ 
 
 ‘I believe I understand her well. . . . Well, 
 I will wait. . . , But this solitude is hor- 
 rible.’ 
 
 ‘Ah ! there is the notary.’ 
 
 ‘ Curse him a thousand times.’ 
 
 ‘ And it seems to me that I also heard the 
 proctor . . . he is an excellent man.’ 
 
 ‘ May he be hanged ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Man, subjects of interest, when they are one’s 
 own, serve for distraction. Someone comes . . . 
 I think it is the clever agriculturist. He is like a 
 rat.’ 
 
 ‘ Like a rat from hell 1 ’ 
 
 ‘ Hullo 1 hullo 1 If I am not mistaken, Lycurgus 
 
 E 
 
98 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 and Paso Largo have just come in. Perhaps they 
 have come to propose a settlement.’ 
 
 ‘ I will throw myself in the tank.’ 
 
 ‘ How ungrateful you are ! when they all like 
 you so much ! . . . See ! that no one may be 
 missing, here is also a constable. He is coming 
 to summon you.’ 
 
 ‘To crucify me.’ 
 
 All the persons mentioned had entered the 
 room.’ 
 
 ‘Good-day, Pepe, may you be amused,’ said 
 Lady Perfecta. 
 
 ‘ Swallow me, earth ! ’ exclaimed the young man, 
 desperately. 
 
 ‘ Mr Jose ! ’ 
 
 ‘ My dear Mr Jose. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Estimable Mr Jose. . . 
 
 ‘ Mr Jose of my soul. . . .’ 
 
 ‘My respectable friend Mr Jose. . . .’ 
 
 On hearing these conciliating words, Pepe Rey 
 drew a deep breath, and delivered himself up. 
 
 He abandoned his body and soul to these ill-bred 
 fellows, who displayed horrible piles of sealed 
 paper, whilst the victim, raising his eyes to heaven, \ 
 uttered the Christian prayer, — 
 
 ‘ My Father, why have you forsaken me ? ’ 
 
 
CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THEY ARE THE TROYAS. 
 
 OVE, friendship, good air for moral 
 respiration, light for his soul, sym- 
 pathy, easy exchange of opinions 
 and feelings were to Pepe Rey most 
 necessary. Not having them, the 
 shadows which fell over his spirit increased, and 
 interior darkness brought with it dislike and bitter- 
 ness. On the day succeeding the scenes referred 
 to in the last chapter, he felt more than ever 
 annoyed at the long and mysterious seclusion of 
 his cousin ; accounted for, in the first place, by 
 some unimportant illness, and then as a caprice 
 and the result of inexplicable nervous attacks. 
 Rey was surprised by such contrary conduct to 
 that he should have expected from Rosarito. Four 
 days had passed without his having seen her, not 
 certainly that he was not wishful to do so ; and 
 such a situation began to strike him as disrespect- 
 ful and ridiculous, if, by a determined effort on her 
 part, she might have overcome it. 
 
 ‘ May I not see my cousin to-day ? ’ he asked his 
 aunt, crossly, when they had finished dinner. 
 
 ‘ No j God alone knows how I feel it ! . . . 
 
 99 
 
lOO 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 I had at least thought to-day. We will see this 
 afternoon. . . .’ 
 
 The suspicion that his adorable cousin was a 
 victim to an unjustifiable confinement, and that she 
 could not defend herself by her own firmness, 
 and by taking the initiative, induced him to restrain 
 himself and wait. Had it not been for this sus- 
 picion, he would have left that very day. He did 
 not at all doubt Rosarito’s love for him, but it 
 was evident that a disavowed pressure was used to 
 separate them ; and it seemed to this honourable 
 man that he ought to find out from whom such 
 malignity proceeded, and to oppose it with the 
 whole strength of his human will. 
 
 ‘I hope Rosarito’s stubbornness will not last much 
 longer,’ he said to Lady Perfecta, dissimulating his 
 real sentiments. 
 
 That day he received a letter from his father, in 
 which he said that he had had none from his son 
 whilst he had been at Orbajosa, a circumstance 
 which increased the young man’s inquietude, and as- 
 tonished him still more. At last, after having roamed 
 about for some time in the orchard alone, he went 
 out to the casino. He entered it like a despairing 
 man who thought of pitching himself into the sea. 
 
 He met several people in the principal rooms, 
 who prattled and disputed. One group discussed 
 logically the subtle, difficult problem of bulls ; 
 another argued as to which were the best bred 
 donkeys between Orbajosa and Villahorrenda. 
 With the greatest loathing Pepe Rey forsook 
 these debates and went to the newspaper room, 
 where, turning over various reviews without finding 
 any pleasure in reading, he passed shortly after 
 from one room to the other, until he stopped 
 almost without knowing it, in the one devoted to 
 
THEY ARE THE TROY AS. 
 
 lOI 
 
 play. For about two hours he gave himself up 
 to the horrible yellow devil, whose resplendent 
 golden eyes produce both torment and fascination. 
 Neither of these emotions caused the slightest 
 change in the darksome state of his soul; and the 
 disgust which had sent him to the green cloth 
 drew him away from it. Leaving the tumult, he 
 adjourned to a room set apart for assemblies, in 
 which at this hour was not to be found a living 
 creature; and he indolently seated himself near 
 the window and looked out on to the street. 
 Here were the narrowest, most angular over-hang- 
 ing houses, overshadowed by the formidable 
 cathedral, which at the extremity reared its black 
 worm-eaten wall. Pepe Rey glanced round on 
 all sides, above and below, and remarked on the 
 peaceful, sepulchral silence ; not a footstep, nor a 
 voice, nor a gaze. Presently some singular noise 
 struck his ears like the whispers from some women’s 
 lips, and then the sound of curtains being drawn, 
 some words, and, finally, a sweet verse of a song, 
 the bark of a little dog, and other signs of social 
 existence which seemed very strange in such a 
 situation. Observing well, Pepe Rey found that 
 such noises proceeded from a large balcony with 
 blinds, which ran from window to window, and 
 displayed its monstrous fabric. He had not fin- 
 ished his observations, when a frequenter of the 
 casino appeared suddenly at his side, and laugh- 
 ingly addressed him in this manner, — 
 
 ‘ Ah, Mr Pepe, rogue ! have you shut yourself 
 up here to cast sheep’s eyes at young girls ? ’ 
 
 He who thus spoke was Mr Juan Tafetan, an 
 amiable person, and one who had behaved towards 
 Pepe, at the casino, with cordial friendliness and 
 true admiration. With his small red face, his 
 
102 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 black whiskers, his vivacious eyes, his small stature, 
 his hair carefully combed to conceal his baldness, 
 Mr Juan Tafetan presented a very different appear- 
 ance to Anthony ; but he was very sympathetic and 
 gracious, and had a happy talent for relating 
 pleasing adventures. He laughed much, and when 
 he did so, it was all over his face, and from his 
 forehead to his beard grotesque wrinkles formed. 
 In spite of these qualities, and the applause which 
 stimulated in him the disposition for piquant jokes, 
 he was not malevolent. He wished well to all, 
 and Pepe Rey always found his company agreeable. 
 Poor Tafetan, anciently employed in the civil 
 administration in the provincial capital, lived 
 modestly on his salary from the Secretary of Bene- 
 fices, and passed his time playing the clarionet 
 gaily in the processions, in the ceremonies at the 
 cathedral, as also at the theatre when some 
 company of despairing comedians came to these 
 countries with the idea of giving performances at 
 Orbajosa. 
 
 But Mr Juan Tafetan’s greatest peculiarity was 
 his affection for sprightly young girls. He even, 
 when he could no longer hide his baldness with 
 his six pomaded hairs, when he no longer wore 
 whiskers, when he was bent and feeble under his 
 weight of years, was still known as a formidable 
 gallant. To hear him relate his conquests was 
 enough to make one die with laughter, for of 
 all the gallants of gallants, he was the most 
 original. 
 
 ‘ What young girls ? I see no young girls any- 
 where,’ replied Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘ Do you profess to be a hermit ? ’ 
 
 One of the blinds in the balcony was opened, 
 and a youthful face was seen, fresh and smiling, 
 
THEY ARE THE TROYAS. 103 
 
 which was immediately withdrawn, like a light ex- 
 tinguished by the wind. 
 
 ‘ Ah, I see ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Do you not know them ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Upon my word, no.’ 
 
 ‘They are the Troyas, the girls of Troy. . . . 
 But you know nothing good. . . . Three precious 
 little girls, daughters of a colonel of Estado Mayor 
 de Plazas, who died in the streets of Madrid in ’54.’ 
 
 The blind was again drawn, and two faces ap- 
 peared. 
 
 ‘They are making fun of us,’ said Tafetan, 
 making a friendly movement to the young girls. 
 
 ‘ Do you know them ? ’ 
 
 ‘Do I not know them? The poor girls are in 
 misery. I do not know how they live. When Mr 
 Francisco Troyas died, a subscription was raised 
 to maintain them, but that did not last long.’ 
 
 ‘ Poor girls ! I should fancy they are not models 
 of probity.’ 
 
 ‘ Why not ? I do not believe the town says that 
 of them.’ 
 
 Again the blind was moved. 
 
 ‘ Good - afternoon, girls!’ shouted Mr Juan 
 Tafetan, addressing himself to the three, who 
 formed an artistic group. . . . ‘This gentleman 
 says it is no use your hiding yourselves — that you 
 are to draw up all the blind.’ 
 
 But it was pulled down, and a peal of happy 
 laughter enlivened the sad street. One would have 
 thought a covey of birds had passed. 
 
 ‘Do you wish to go there?’ said the subtle 
 Tafetan. 
 
 His eyes shone, and a roguish smile played 
 round his amorous lips. 
 
 ‘ But what sort of people are they ? ’ 
 
104 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 ‘Get away with you, Mr Rey. . . . The poor 
 girls are honourable. Bah ! as though they could 
 live on air, like chameleons. You would say, “ He 
 who eats not, does he not sin ? ’’ These unhappy 
 girls are, however, virtuous, and if they fall, they 
 can relieve their conscience, because it is great 
 want that causes it.’ 
 
 ‘Then let us go.’ 
 
 A moment after, Mr Juan Tafetan and Mr Rey 
 entered the room. The appearance of misery, 
 with its horrible accompaniments, which could not 
 be disguised, afflicted the young man. 
 
 The three girls were very neat, especially the two 
 shorter ones ; they were of dark complexion, with 
 black eyes and slim figure. Well dressed and well 
 shoed, they would have looked like the offspring 
 of a duchess, and worthy to associate with princes. 
 
 When their visitors entered, the three were very 
 stately, but soon their natural disposition, genial, 
 frivolous and happy, showed itself. They lived in 
 misery, like birds in prison, singing as blithely be- 
 hind the iron bars as they would in a wealth of 
 forest. They passed the day in sewing, which, at 
 least, indicated a sense of probity; but in Orba- 
 josa no one of their position associated with them. 
 They were thus, in a certain measure, proscribed, 
 degraded, hemmed in, and this gave rise to some 
 scandal. But the truth was, that the Troyas’ bad 
 reputation really consisted in, more than in any- 
 thing else, their fame for tale-bearing, freedom from 
 prejudice and restlessness. They wrote anonymous 
 letters to grave people ; gave nicknames to all re- 
 siding in Orbajosa, from the bishop to the last 
 upstart ; threw small stones at the passers-by ; whis- 
 pered jokes behind the windows, to the confusion 
 and alarm of pedestrians ; knew all the events of 
 
THEY ARE THE TROY AS. 
 
 105 
 
 the neighbourhood, for they made constant use of 
 all the skylights and openings in the different parts 
 of the house ; sang at night in the balcony ; dressed 
 themselves as masqueraders at the Carnival, that 
 they might enter the great houses ; with other ab- 
 surdities and liberties only proper to small towns. 
 But whatever might be the reason, it was true that 
 the graceful Troyas were under the ban of their 
 susceptible neighbours, and would remain so till 
 the tomb closed over them. 
 
 ‘ Is that the gentleman who, ^tis said, has come 
 to seek for gold mines ? ^ asked one. 
 
 ‘And to demolish the cathedral, that he may 
 erect a shoe manufactory with the stones ? ’ added 
 another. 
 
 ‘ And to do away with the sowing of garlic, to 
 grow in its place the cotton plant and cinnamon 
 tree ? ' 
 
 Pepe could not refrain from laughing at such 
 absurdities. 
 
 ‘No; he has come here to make a collection of 
 good girls to take back to Madrid,’ said Tafetan. 
 
 ‘Ah, there is a good chance for me to go,’ ex- 
 claimed one. 
 
 ‘All three — I will take all three,’ affirmed Pepe. 
 ‘But I want to know one thing; why were you 
 laughing at me when I was seated at the casino 
 window ? ’ 
 
 These words were the signal for another burst of 
 laughter. 
 
 ‘ It was only our nonsense,’ said the eldest. 
 
 ‘ It was because we said you were worth more 
 than Lady Perfecta’s daughter.’ 
 
 ‘ It was because she said that you were wasting 
 your time, for Rosarito will have nothing to do 
 with anyone but church people.’ 
 
to 6 lad Y PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘ What things you say ! I did not affirm any- 
 thing of the sort. It was you who told us that 
 this gentleman was a Lutheran atheist, and entered 
 the cathedral, smoking, and with his hat on.^ 
 
 ‘But I did not invent it,’ replied the youngest. 
 
 ‘ Suspiritos told it me yesterday.’ 
 
 ‘And who is this Suspiritos who spreads such 
 idle tales ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Suspiritos is . . . Suspiritos.’ 
 
 ‘ My daughters,’ said Tafetan, sweetly, ‘ here 
 goes the orange seller. Call him, as we wish to 
 buy some oranges.’ 
 
 One of the three called the orange merchant. 
 
 The conversation held by the young girls was 
 sufficiently displeasing to Pepe Rey, dissipating the 
 slight feeling of content which he had experienced 
 on meeting with such happy, talkative companions. 
 He could not, however, restrain a smile on seeing 
 Mr Juan Tafetan bring down a small guitar and 
 flourish his hand over it with the grace and dex- 
 terity of a younger man. 
 
 ‘I have been told that you sing ravishingly,’ 
 proffered Rey. 
 
 ‘ That Mr Juan Tafetan sings ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I do not sing.’ 
 
 ‘Nor I,’ said the second eldest, offering the 
 engineer a portion of an orange she had just 
 peeled. 
 
 ‘Maria Juana, do not leave off sewing,’ said the 
 eldest Troya. ‘ It is afternoon, and the cassock 
 must be finished to-night.’ 
 
 ‘Do not work to-day. To the devil with the 
 needles ! ’ exclaimed Tafetan. 
 
 The second girl intoned a song. 
 
 ‘ People are appearing in the street,’ said one of 
 the Troyas, looking over the balcony. ‘Mr Juan 
 
THEY ARE THE TROY AS. 107 
 
 Tafetan^s shouts have been heard in the square. 
 
 . . . Juana ! Juana ! ^ 
 
 ‘Well?^ 
 
 ‘ Suspiritos is in the street.’ 
 
 The youngest girl came to the balcony. 
 
 ‘ Throw her a piece of orange.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey looked out also ; he saw a lady pass- 
 ing, and that the least of the Troyas cleverly threw 
 some orange-peel on to her hair. Then they shut 
 the windows precipitately, and all three were nearly 
 suffocated by their laughter, which no doubt could 
 be heard in the public thoroughfare. 
 
 ‘To-day do not work!’ shouted one, kicking 
 the work-basket with her foot. 
 
 ‘That is the same as saying that to-morrow we 
 do not eat,’ added the eldest, picking up the 
 scattered work. 
 
 Pepe Rey put his hand up instinctively for his 
 purse. He would have willingly given them an 
 alms. The sight of these unfortunate orphans, 
 condemned by the world on account of their 
 frivolity, made him feel very sorrowful. If the 
 only sin of the Troyas, if the only alleviation that 
 could compensate them in their solitude, consisted 
 in throwing orange-peel on to the passers-by, they 
 might easily have been forgiven. Thanks to the 
 austere manners of the town in which they dwelt, 
 they had been preserved from vice ; but the poor 
 girls required food and raiment, and it might well 
 be expected that they would throw more than 
 orange-skins out of the window. Pepe Rey felt 
 the greatest compassion for them. He noticed 
 their wretched attire — composed, arranged and 
 mended in a thousand fashions, that it might look 
 new; he observed their broken shoes . . . and 
 again he put his hand up for his purse. 
 
io8 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘Vice might well reign here/ he thought; ‘but 
 their physiognomies, furniture, all indicate that 
 they are the remains of an honourable family. If 
 these poor girls were as bad as 'tis reported, they 
 would neither live so poorly nor work. There are 
 rich men in Orbajosa ! ’ 
 
 The three young girls approached him succes- 
 sively. Going from him to the balcony, from the 
 balcony to him, they carried on a piquant and light 
 conversation, which showed, so he read it, a species 
 of innocence in the midst of so much giddiness. 
 
 ‘ Mr Jose, what an excellent lady is Lady Perfecta.’ 
 
 ‘ She is the only person in Orbajosa who is not 
 nick-named, the only person in Orbajosa of whom 
 no evil is spoken,’ 
 
 ‘Everyone respects her.’ 
 
 ‘ Everyone adores her.’ 
 
 To these sentences the young man replied with 
 praises in his aunt’s honour; but he greatly de- 
 sired to take money from his purse and say, — 
 ‘Maria Juana, take this for a pair of boots; Pepa, 
 take this to buy a dress with ; Florentina, take this 
 that you may have enough to eat for a week.’ He 
 was on the point of doing so. For a moment all 
 three had run to the balcony to see someone pass, 
 and Mr Juan Tafetan came up to him and whis- 
 pered, — 
 
 ‘ What monkeys they are ! Is it not true ! . . . 
 Poor creatures ! It seems like deception to see 
 them so light-hearted, when ... I feel sure they 
 have had nothing to eat to-day.’ 
 
 ‘Mr Juan! Mr Juan!’ called Pepilla, ‘here 
 comes your friend Nicholas Hermandez, or rather 
 Paschal Candle, with his three-cornered hat. He 
 is praying in an undertone, no doubt for the souls 
 of those he has sent to the pit with his usury.’ 
 
THEY ARE THE TROY AS, 
 
 109 
 
 ‘ It is well said that you are mockers.’ 
 
 ‘Ah, yes.’ 
 
 ‘Juana, draw the blinds. Let him pass, and 
 when he reaches the corner I will shout, — “ Candle, 
 Paschal Candle ! ” ’ 
 
 Mr Juan Tafetan ran to the balcony. 
 
 ‘Come, Mr Jose, that you may know this 
 model.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey took advantage of the moment that 
 the three girls and Mr Juan were amusing them- 
 selves in the balcony calling Nicholas Hermandez 
 by the nickname which enraged him, and, approach- 
 ing one of the work-tables, which was in the room, 
 very cautiously, he put down the money he had won 
 at play. 
 
 He then hurried to the balcony, where the two 
 least of the girls were shouting, amidst peals of 
 laughter, — ‘ Paschal Candle ! Paschal Candle ! ’ 
 
CHAPTER XII 1. 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE. 
 
 FTER this roguery, the three com- 
 menced a conversation with the two 
 gentlemen relating to all the affairs 
 and people in the town. The en- 
 gineer, fearing that his gift might be 
 discovered whilst he was present, wished to be off, 
 which greatly displeased the Troy as, one of whom 
 had left the room, returned saying, — 
 
 ‘ Suspiritos is ringing the bell.^ 
 
 ‘Mr Jose wishes to see her,’ added another. 
 
 ‘ She is a very gay dame, and now she dresses 
 her hair in the Madrid fashion.’ 
 
 ‘ Come.’ 
 
 They rose and led the way to the dining-room 
 (a place very little used), which looked out on to a 
 terrace where there were some pots of flowers and 
 some old furniture. From here might be seen the 
 courtyard of an adjoining house, with a gallery full 
 of green, climbing plants and beautiful flowers in 
 pots, carefully tended. All demonstrated the abode 
 of modest, chaste and well-to-do people. 
 
 The Troyas, approaching the edge of the terrace, 
 gazed fixedly at the neighbouring house, and, im- 
 posing silence on the gallants, retired to a distant 
 part of the walk, whence no one could perceive them. 
 
 ‘ Now she is going out of the kitchen with some 
 
AJV UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE. in 
 
 chickpea in a pan/ said Maria Juana, stretching 
 out her neck to look. 
 
 ‘ Flap ! ’ exclaimed one, throwing a small stone. 
 
 The noise of the projectile falling on the glass 
 gallery was heard, and then an angry voice 
 shouted, — 
 
 ‘ If you dare throw again ! You have broken 
 the glass.’ 
 
 The three hid in a corner of the terrace, and 
 were joined by the two gentlemen, who found 
 them convulsed with laughter. 
 
 ‘ Madam Suspiritos is very much put out,’ said 
 Rey. ‘ Why do you call her so ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Because, when speaking, she sighs between each 
 word ; and, although wanting for nothing, she is 
 always complaining.’ 
 
 There was a moment’s silence in the other house. 
 Pepita Troy a peeped cautiously. 
 
 ‘ Let us throw again,’ she whispered, telling the 
 others to keep quiet. ‘Maria, give me a stone. 
 Now then . . . flap ! . . . there it goes.’ 
 
 ‘ You managed badly. It fell on the ground.’ 
 
 ‘ Once more to see if I can hit it. . . . We will 
 wait until she comes out of the kitchen again.’ 
 
 ‘ Now, now she comes. On guard, Florentina.’ 
 
 ‘ One, two, three ! . . . Paf ! . . .’ 
 
 They heard an exclamation of sorrow, an execra- 
 tion, a manly voice, since it issued from a man. 
 Pepe Rey could distinctly hear these w^ords, — 
 
 ‘ Demons ! They have struck my head ! . . . 
 Jacintito ! Jacintito 1 But what a neighbourhood 
 this is ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Jesus ! Marie ! Joseph ! what have I done ? ’ ex- 
 claimed Florentina, full of consternation. ‘ I have 
 thrown it at Mr Inocencio’s head.’ 
 
 ‘The confessor?’ demanded Pepe Rey, 
 
II2 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ Does he live there ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Where should he live ? ’ 
 
 ‘ This lady of sighs. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Is his niece, his mistress, I know not what. 
 We amuse ourselves by attacking her, but with 
 the confessor we never dare jest.’ 
 
 Whilst this dialogue passed quickly, Pepe Rey 
 saw that, facing the terrace, and not far from it, the 
 panes of a window belonging to the bombarded 
 house were open ; he saw a rosy face, a face he 
 knew, a face which stupefied and alarmed him, and 
 rendered him pale and trembling. It belonged to 
 Jacintito, who, interrupted in his grave studies, 
 opened the window hastily, and showed himself 
 with his pen in his ear. His modest countenance, 
 fresh and smiling, gave to his appearance a resem- 
 blance to the dawn of day. 
 
 ‘ Good afternoon, Mr Jose,’ he said gaily. 
 
 The other voice was again heard. 
 
 ‘Jacintito, but Jacintito !’ 
 
 ‘ Here I am. I was saluting a friend. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Let us go, let us go,’ said Florentina with 
 anxiety. ‘The confessor is going up to Don 
 Nominativo’s room, and will give us a lecture.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, let us go; we will shut the dining-room 
 door.’ 
 
 And they all forsook the terrace. 
 
 ‘You should have remembered that Jacintito 
 could see you from his temple of wisdom,’ said 
 Tafetan. 
 
 ‘Don Nominativo is our friend,’ replied one of 
 the girls. ‘ From his temple of science he tells us 
 a thousand sweet things, and throws us kisses.’ 
 
 ‘Jacintito?’ questioned the engineer. ‘What a 
 diabolical name you have given him ! ’ 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE, 113 
 
 Don Nominative. . . ? 
 
 The three began to laugh. 
 
 ‘We named him so because he is very learned.’ 
 
 ‘No ; because when we were little, he was little 
 also; then. . . . yes. We went out on to the 
 terrace to play, and could hear him studying his 
 lessons aloud.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, and all the blessed day he was singing.’ 
 
 ‘Declining, woman. That is, he proceeded in 
 this manner — Nominative, rosa, genitive, dative, 
 accusative.’ 
 
 ‘ I suppose you have already found a nickname 
 for me,’ said Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘ Let Maria Juana tell you it,’ replied Florentina, 
 quietly. 
 
 ‘ I ? . . . you tell him, Pepa.’ 
 
 ‘You have no name yet, Mr Jose.’ 
 
 ‘But I shall have. Promise that you will let 
 me know it, that I may receive confirmation,’ said 
 the young fellow, with the intention of with- 
 drawing. 
 
 ‘ But are you leaving ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes. I have caused you to lose a lot of time. 
 Girls, to work. Throwing stones at neighbours 
 and pedestrians is not the most suitable employ- 
 ment for such pretty, deserving young girls. . . . 
 Do not be vexed. . . .’ 
 
 And without listening to the reasonings and 
 compliments of the young people he hurriedly 
 left the house, leaving them to Mr Juan Tafetan. 
 
 The scene he had witnessed, the canon’s vexa- 
 tion, the inopportune appearance of the little 
 doctor, added to his confusion, and to the dis- 
 agreeable presentiments which tormented the poor 
 engineer’s soul. He heartily regretted having been 
 drawn to the Troyas’ house, and to fill up his 
 
LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 114 
 
 time in a better manner, he, whilst his hypochondria 
 lasted, walked through the town streets. 
 
 He visited the market, the streets of Triperia, 
 where stood the principal shops ; he observed the 
 divers aspects presented by the industry and 
 commerce of great Orbajosa; and as he met 
 with no fresh cause of annoyance he took the 
 road to the promenade of Descalzas, but there 
 he only found a few stray dogs, for, as a strong 
 wind blew, cavaliers and ladies had remained at 
 home. He went to the apothecary’s, where there 
 was an assembly of ruminating advocates of pro- 
 gression, who were perpetually discussing an end- 
 less theme, but who never wearied of it. He at 
 last went to the cathedral, where the organ could 
 be heard and the beautiful canticles of the choir. 
 He entered, kneeling before the high altar, as he 
 recalled to mind the warnings his aunt had given 
 him about want of reverence in church. He then 
 visited a side chapel, and was about to enter 
 another, when an acolyte, or beadle, approached, 
 and in a very uncivil, insolent manner addressed 
 him thus, — 
 
 ‘ His lordship says that you are to go out.’ 
 
 The engineer felt a rush of blood to his head. 
 Without speaking a word he obeyed. Ejected on 
 all sides either on account of his valour, or by his 
 own disgust, he had no choice but to return to 
 his aunt’s house, where awaited him — 
 
 First, Lycurgus, to announce another lawsuit. 
 Secondly, Lord Cayetano, to read him a new 
 treatise on the lineage of Orbajosa. Thirdly, 
 Caballuco, for a reason he had not made the 
 others acquainted with. Fourthly, Lady Perfecta 
 and her good-natured smile, whose reason we 
 shall see in the following chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DISLIKE IS STILL ON THE INCREASE. 
 
 FRESH attempt to see his cousin 
 had resulted in his downfall that 
 afternoon. Pepe Rey shut himself 
 up in his room to write various 
 letters, and could not rid himself 
 of a certain idea. 
 
 ‘To-night or to-morrow,’ he said, ‘I will ac- 
 complish it by some means or another.’ 
 
 When he was called to supper. Lady Perfecta, 
 approaching him, said, with her usual smile, — 
 
 ‘ Dear Pepe, do not feel worried, I will appease 
 Mr Inocencio. ... I know all. . . . Maria 
 Remedios, who has just left here, has informed 
 me.’ 
 
 Her ladyship’s face expressed the greatest satis- 
 faction, resembling an artist who was proud of 
 his work.’ 
 
 ‘What?’ 
 
 ‘ I excuse you, man. You won some coups at 
 the casino, did you not? Behold the result of 
 bad companions ! Mr Juan Tafetan, the Troyas. 
 It is horrible, dreadful ! Have you thought well 
 on it ? ’ 
 
 ‘I have thought well about all, lady,’ replied 
 Pepe, determined not to dispute with his aunt. 
 
 115 
 
1 16 LAD y PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘ I am much inclined to write and tell your 
 father what you have done.’ 
 
 ‘You may write what you please.’ 
 
 ‘We will see. You would exculpate yourself 
 by equivocation.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not equivocate.’ 
 
 ‘ Then confess you were in the house. . . 
 
 ‘I was.’ 
 
 ‘ And that you left them some money, for Maria 
 Remedios told me that this afternoon. Florentina 
 went to a shop to ask them to change it. They 
 could not earn it by their sewing. You were in 
 their house? Then . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Then I gave it to them. Assuredly.’ 
 
 ‘You do not deny it?’ 
 
 ‘ Why should I ? I suppose I may do as I 
 please with my money.’ 
 
 ‘But surely you did not throw stones at the 
 confessor ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I did not.’ 
 
 ‘You mean to say that they, in your pre- 
 sence . . .’ 
 
 ‘ That is another thing.’ 
 
 ‘And insulted poor Maria Remedios.’ 
 
 ‘That I also deny.’ 
 
 ‘And how do you justify your conduct? Pepe 
 ... for God’s sake. You say nothing, you are 
 not sorry, you do not protest . . . no. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing, lady?’ 
 
 ‘ Are you trying to aggravate me ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have not aggravated you. . . 
 
 ‘We will see, do not make your fault graver. 
 Man, take this stick and beat me.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not beat.’ 
 
 ‘ What, wanting in respect ! What ! . . . No 
 supper.’ 
 
DISLIKE IS STILL ON THE INCREASE. 117 
 
 ^ I shall sup/ 
 
 Then there was about a quarter of an hour’s 
 silence. Lord Cayetano, Lady Perfecta and Pepe 
 ate without a word. But presently Mr Inocencio 
 interrupted them by entering the dining-room. 
 
 ‘ How do you feel, Mr Jose, my cherished one? 
 Did you think I should really resent it,’ said he, 
 extending his hand to the young man, and looking 
 at him in a compassionate manner. 
 
 The engineer felt so confused that he did not reply. 
 
 ‘ I refer to what happened this afternoon.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! . . . so ! ’ 
 
 ‘And to your expulsion from the sacred pre- 
 cincts of the cathedrel.’ 
 
 ‘ His lordship the bishop,’ said Pepe Rey, ‘ should 
 reflect well before ejecting a Christian from the 
 church.’ 
 
 ‘ That is true ; I cannot imagine who can have 
 put it into his lordship’s head that you are a man 
 of evil reputation ; I do not know who can have 
 told him that you boast everywhere of your athe- 
 ism ; that you mock at holy persons and things, 
 and even project demolishing the cathedral to 
 erect with its stones a grand edifice of pitch and 
 tar. I had tried to dissuade him from doing so ; 
 but his lordship is a little obstinate.’ 
 
 ‘ Thanks for so much kindness.’ 
 
 ‘ And especially as the confessor has no reason 
 for such consideration towards you. Particularly 
 after your behaviour this afternoon.’ 
 
 ‘ Bah ! . . . that ! ’ said the priest laughing. 
 
 ‘ That I should take notice of that roguery ! I 
 wager that Maria Remedies has related that affair 
 to you. And I forbid her, forbid her in a very 
 decided manner. It was not worth the trouble ; 
 was it, Mr de Rey ? ’ 
 
LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ii8 
 
 ‘ You should be the judge of that. . . 
 
 ‘ It seemed to me like this. Young people’s 
 jests. . . . Youth, so says modern times, are in- 
 clined to vice and to vicious actions. Mr Jose, 
 who is a talented man, cannot be expected to be 
 perfect . . . who knows but that the graceful 
 
 girls seduced him and then relieved him of his 
 money, making him an accomplice to their insolent 
 behaviour and criminal insults to their neighbours ! 
 My dear friend, for the dolorous part I have played 
 in this afternoon’s jests,’ he added, raising his hands 
 with compassionate air, ‘ I cannot but be offended 
 and mortified at your having been the witness of 
 such a disgraceful incident. I felt truly grieved 
 when Maria Remedies came and related all to 
 me. . . . My niece is such a gossip. . . . For she 
 related to me all about the money, your playing the 
 fool with the young girls on the terrace, running 
 about and pinching, and Mr Juan Tafetan dancing. 
 Bah 1 these things should be done secretly.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey did not know which confused him 
 most, his aunt’s severity or the hypocritical con- 
 descension of the canon. 
 
 ‘ He has nothing to say for himself,’ continued 
 his aunt. ‘ And he does not even seem ashamed 
 of his conduct. All will hear about it. We must 
 only try to keep it secret from my dear daughter, 
 for in her nervous state we are afraid of attacks of 
 anger.’ 
 
 ‘Well, it is not much, your ladyship,’ added the 
 confessor. ‘ My opinion is that we need not talk 
 about this, but if anyone says he threw the stone, 
 we can satisfy them. . . . And it was not the fun 
 I was annoyed at, Mr Jose, but I thought they had 
 broken the skin of my head and made the brains 
 come out.’ 
 
DISLIKE IS STILL ON THE INCREASE. 119 
 
 ‘ I was sorry for that accident ’ murmured Pepe 
 Rey. ‘ It caused me much regret ; but I had no 
 part in iV 
 
 ‘Your visit to these Misses Troyas has created a 
 talk in the town/ said the canon. ‘This is not 
 Madrid, sir ; here we are not living in that centre 
 of corruption, of scandal. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ There one may visit the most obscene places,’ 
 proffered Lady Perfecta, ‘ and no one knows it.’ 
 
 ‘ Here everyone is watched’, proceeded the con- 
 fessor. ‘ We take notice of all that is done by our 
 neighbours, and, with such a system of vigilance, 
 public morality attains a high degree. . . . Believe 
 me, believe me, my friend, I do not say this to 
 mortify you ; you are, I know, the first enlightened 
 gentleman of the day . . . the first, yes, sir. . . . 
 “ Trojoe qui prbnus ad oris.^^ ’ 
 
 Then he began to laugh, slapping the engineer 
 on his shoulder several times, in token of friendship 
 and benevolence. 
 
 ‘ How grateful I am,’ said the young man, cover- 
 ing his anger by the words he thought most suit- 
 able for replying to the cunning irony of his 
 interlocutors, ‘to find so much generosity and 
 tolerance, when I merited the contrary by my 
 criminal proceedings ! . . . ’ 
 
 ‘But why? An individual who is of our own 
 race and who bears our name,’ said Lady Perfecta 
 ‘ how can we treat him as we should another ? 
 You are my nephew, you are the son of the best 
 and most saintly of men, my dear brother John, 
 and it is enough. Yesterday afternoon the bishop’s 
 secretary was here to tell me that his lordship felt 
 much displeased that I retained you in my house.’ 
 
 ‘ Is it so ? ’ murmured the canon. 
 
 ‘ It is so. I said that, with all due respect to 
 
120 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 the bishop, whom I love and reverence, my nephew 
 is my nephew, and I could not eject him from my 
 house/ 
 
 ‘ This is a new peculiarity that I have noticed in 
 this country, ’ said Pepe Rey, pale with anger. 
 ‘ It seems that here the bishop rules the household 
 affairs.’ 
 
 ‘ He is a holy man. He likes me so much, that 
 he fancies ... he is afraid that you will imbue 
 us with your atheism, your prejudice, your strange 
 opinions. ... I have repeatedly told him that 
 you are really good.’ 
 
 ‘ One must concede something to a superior and 
 talented man,’ said Mr Inocencio. 
 
 ‘ And this morning, when I was at the house of 
 the Cirujedas, ah ! you cannot imagine how they 
 made my heart ache. I was told you had come to 
 raze the cathedral ; that you were commissioned 
 by the English Protestants to preach heresy in 
 Spain ; that you passed the whole night gambling 
 at the Casino ; and went out, drunk. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ But ladies, ’ said I, ‘ do you wish^me to deny 
 my nephew a lodging ? Besides, they were wrong 
 about your being intoxicated, and, as to play, I did 
 not know^you gambled until to-day.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey would have spoken in this situation 
 with the boldness that the most prudent man feels 
 inwardly, from violent love and a blind brutal 
 strength, which generally leads to blows, breaking 
 of heads and crushing of bones. But his aunt was 
 a woman, and Mr Inocencio was old and a priest. 
 And, also, such violence is improper, and avoided 
 by Christian and well-educated people. He wished 
 to give expression to his restrained anger by means 
 of manifestly decorous but pointed words, although 
 that seemed a premature moment for uttering them. 
 
DISLIKE IS STILL ON THE INCREASE. 121 
 
 and he finally determined not to employ that 
 resource until he should be really leaving the 
 house and Orbajosa. Resisting, then, his fury, he 
 kept silence. 
 
 Jacintito arrived when supper was finished. 
 
 ‘Good-evening, Mr Jose,’ he said, holding out 
 his hand to the young man. ‘You and your 
 friends prevented me from working this afternoon. 
 I could not write a line, and I had so much 
 to do ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I am sorry, Jacintito, but they told me that you 
 sometimes joined them in their games and gaiety.’ 
 
 ‘ I ! ’ exclaimed he quickly, becoming red. 
 ‘ Bah ! you well know that Tafatan does not speak 
 a word of truth. . . . That is certain, Mr Rey ; 
 and are you leaving ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Do they say so here ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes; I heard it in the casino, at Mr Lorenzo 
 Ruiz’s.’ 
 
 Rey looked at Don Nominativo’s fresh features 
 for a minute, and then replied, — 
 
 ‘It is not so. My aunt is very well satisfied 
 with me, despite the calumnies related of me by 
 the Orbajosians . . . and she will not turn me 
 from her house, even to please the bishop.’ 
 
 ‘ I turn you out . . . never ! What would your 
 father say ? ’ 
 
 ‘In spite of your goodness, my dear aunt, in 
 spite of the canon’s cordial friendship, I have 
 decided to leave. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ You leave ! ’ 
 
 ‘ You leave ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Lady Perfecta’s eyes shone with a peculiar 
 light. The canon, although a very expert man 
 in dissimulation, could not hide his joy. 
 
 ‘Yes, and this very night. . . .’ 
 
 F 
 
122 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ But, man, how hasty you are ! Cannot you 
 even wait until to-morrow morning? . . . Here 
 . . . John, go and tell Lycurgus to prepare the 
 pony. ... I suppose you will take something 
 cold. . . . Nicholasa ! . . . that piece of cold 
 veal from the larder. . . . Librada ! this young 
 gentleman’s clothes.’ 
 
 ‘I did not think you would have taken such 
 a peevish resolution,’ said Lord Cayetano, think- 
 ing he ought to express some opinion. 
 
 ‘But you are going ... are you not?’ ques- 
 tioned the canon. 
 
 ‘ At what hour does the morning train leave ? 
 asked Lady Perfecta, whose eyes expressed a 
 feverish impatience. 
 
 ‘Yes, I am going to-night.’ 
 
 ‘ But, man, there is no moon.’ 
 
 In Lady Perfecta’s soul, in the confessor’s, and 
 in the young doctor’s, resounded with celestial 
 harmony those words, ‘ This very night.’ 
 
 ‘ I suppose, dear Pepe, you will go. . . . I 
 wrote to-day to your father — your excellent father ! ’ 
 
 . . exclaimed Lady Perfecta, with all the facial 
 symptoms of one who was on the verge of tears. 
 
 ‘ Can I trouble you with a few commissions ? ’ 
 asked the savant, 
 
 ‘ It is a good opportunity to solicit the volume 
 of Abbot Gaume’s works, which I am short of,’ 
 said the lawyer. 
 
 ‘ See, Pepe, what is the result of these attacks of 
 violence,’ said her ladyship, smiling, with her eyes 
 fixed on he dining-room door. ... For I had 
 forgotten to tell you that Caballuco awaits you.’ 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DISLIKE INCREASES UNTIL IT ENDS IN A 
 DECLARATION OF WAR. 
 
 LL glanced towards the door, where 
 the imposing Caballuco stood, look- 
 ing serious, clouded, perplexed, wish- 
 ing to salute with amiability, but 
 disfigured by the violence done by 
 trying to smile urbanely, and to fold his hercu- 
 lanean arms in a proper position. 
 
 ‘ Forward, Mr Ramos,' said Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘ No,' objected Lady Perfecta. ‘ It may be 
 some nonsense he wishes to say to you.' 
 
 ‘ Let him say it.' 
 
 ‘ I will not allow foolish questions to be ventil- 
 ated in my house. . . .' 
 
 ‘ What do you want of me, Mr Ramos ? ' 
 
 Caballuco muttered something. 
 
 ‘ Enough, enough 1 . . .' exclaimed Lady Per- 
 fecta, smiling. ‘Do not vex my nephew more. 
 Pepe, take no notice of this clown. . . , Shall I 
 tell you what Caballuco's complaint is ? ' 
 
 ‘ Complaint ? I can guess it,' said the confes- 
 sor, throwing himself back in the armchair, and 
 laughing long and loudly. 
 
 123 
 
124 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ I wish to tell Mr Jose it. . . grunted the for- 
 midable horseman. 
 
 ‘ Man, silence ; for^ God^s sake, do not deafen 
 us.’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Caballuco,^ said the canon, ‘ does not know 
 that gentlemen from Court are shocked by the 
 rude customs of these savage lands. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ In two words, Pepe, the question is this : Cabal- 
 luco does not know why. . . .’ 
 
 She could not continue for laughter. 
 
 ‘ Does not know why ! ’ added Mr Inocencio, 
 ‘one of the young Troyas, Maraquita Juana, if I 
 am not mistaken. . . . He is jealous ! After his 
 horse, the principal object in creation is Maraquilla 
 Troya.’ 
 
 ‘ A good aim ! ’ exclaimed her ladyship. ‘ Poor 
 Christobel ! You thought that a person like my 
 nephew . . , Let us see, what were you going to 
 say ? Speak ! ’ 
 
 ‘Mr Jose and I will talk presently,’ replied the 
 local brave man, retiring abruptly. 
 
 A short time after Pepe left the dining-room, 
 and repaired to his room. In the gallery he en- 
 countered his. Trojan antagonist face to face, and 
 could not repress a smile on seeing the serious, 
 stern countenance of the offended courier. 
 
 ‘ A word,’ said the latter, placing himself impu- 
 dently in the engineer’s way. ‘ Do you know me ? ’ 
 
 Expressing himself thus, he laid his hand heavily 
 on the young man’s shoulder with such insolent 
 familiarity that Pepe repulsed him energetically. 
 
 ‘ There is no need to crush me in that style.’ 
 
 The braggadocio, slightly taken aback, hesitated 
 for an instant, and then, looking at Rey in an 
 audaciously provoking way, repeated his song, — 
 
 ‘ Do you know me ? ’ 
 
DISLIKE INCREASES. 
 
 125 
 
 ‘ Yes ; I know you are an animal’ 
 
 And pushing him unceremoniously aside, he went 
 to his room. Although his brain was in such a fer- 
 mented state, our disgraced friend speedily settled 
 his brief and decisive plans ; to break Caballuco’s 
 head without loss of time ; to take leave of his 
 aunt, and reason severely, though courteously, with 
 her ; to bid the canon, coldly, good-bye \ to em- 
 brace the inoffensive Cayetano ; to administer, by 
 way of rejoicing, a cudgelling to Lycurgus ; to quit 
 Orbajosa that same night, and to shake the dust of 
 that town off his shoes. But these thoughts of the 
 persecuted young man did not prevent him, in the 
 midst of such bitterness, from remembering another 
 disgraced person, whom he supposed to be in a 
 more afflicted and sorrowful position than his own. 
 A servant entered the engineer’s room. 
 
 ‘ Did you give her my message ? ’ he asked. 
 
 ‘Yes, sir \ and she gave me this.’ 
 
 Rey took from the girl’s hand a page of a news- 
 paper, on the margin of which he read these words, 
 
 ‘ They tell me you are going. I shall die. . . .’ 
 
 When he returned to the dining-room Lycurgus 
 met him at the door and said, — 
 
 ‘ At what time do you require the pony ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No time,’ replied Rey, quickly. 
 
 ‘ Then you are not going to-night ? ’ said Lady 
 Perfecta. ‘ It is better that you should not leave 
 until to-morrow ? ’ 
 
 ‘Nor to-morrow.’ 
 
 ‘When?’ 
 
 ‘ We shall see,’ said the young man, coldly, look- 
 ing at his aunt with imperturbable calmness. ‘ At 
 present I do not intend leaving.’ 
 
 He assumed a menacing appearance. Lady 
 Perfecta became first red-hot, and then pale. She 
 
126 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 looked at the canon, who had taken off his gold 
 spectacles to see clearer, and then successively at 
 all who were in the room, including Caballuco, who 
 had just entered and had seated himself on the 
 edge of a chair. Lady Perfecta looked around like 
 a general reviewing his army. She then studied 
 the meditative, calm face of her nephew as though 
 he were an enemy who had suddenly presented 
 himself when she had believed him to have taken 
 refuge in a shameful flight. 
 
 Ah ! Blood, ruin and desolation ! . . . A 
 great battle was commencing. 
 
CHAPTER XVL 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 RBAJOSA slept. The musty lanterns, 
 which illuminated the streets, glim- 
 jnering at^the crossways and narrow 
 pathways, looked like eyes that could 
 not overcome sleep. By their feeble 
 light could be distinguished vagabonds, watchmen, 
 and gamblers enveloped in their cloaks. The only 
 sounds that disturbed the peace of the historical 
 city, were the serenade of some lover, and the wild 
 uproar of the drunkard. The Ave Maria Purisima 
 of the night-watch rose like a sickly complaint from 
 the sleeping population. 
 
 In Lady Perfecta’s house silence reigned. It 
 was only broken by a dialogue which was taking 
 place between Lord Cayetano and Pepe Rey in 
 the library. The savant was sitting calmly in an 
 armchair before his table, which was covered with 
 divers piles of papers, containing notes, annotations 
 and references, in a slightly disordered state, on 
 account of the variety and abundance. 'Rey had 
 his eyes fixed on the copious mass of papers ; but 
 his thoughts had flown to a spot very remote from 
 the temple of knowledge. 
 
 127 
 
128 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ^Perfecta/ said the old man, ‘although an ex- 
 cellent woman, has the defect of being scandalised 
 by every frivolous insignificant action. My friend, 
 in these provincial towns, the least slip is dearly 
 paid for. You cannot have committed any grave 
 fault by going to the Troyas^ house. I think that 
 M. Inocencio, beneath his pretence of being a 
 good man, is a mischief-maker. What difference 
 could it make to him ? ’ 
 
 ‘We have arrived at a time, Lord Cayetano, 
 when it is necessary to act in a determined and 
 energetic manner. I must see and speak with 
 Rosarito.’ 
 
 ‘ But you can see her.’ 
 
 ‘ I am not allowed to do so,’ replied the en- 
 gineer, giving the table a blow with his fist. 
 
 ‘ Rosarito is shut up. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Shut up ! ’ exclaimed the savant^ incredulously, 
 
 ‘ The truth is, that I do not like her facial appear- 
 ance, nor her general aspect, nor the stupid expres- 
 sion that is in her beautiful eyes. She is sad, 
 speaks little, weeps. . . . Friend Jose, I am much 
 afraid that this child is likely to be attacked by the 
 terrible infirmity to which many of my family have 
 been victims.’ 
 
 ‘ A terrible infirmity ! What ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Madness ... or, rather, monomania. In my 
 family there has only been one person free from 
 it, I — I am the only one who has escaped.’ 
 
 ‘ You ! . . . Putting aside the monomania,’ 
 said Rey, impatiently, ‘ I wish to see Rosarito.’ 
 
 ‘Nothing more natural. But the isolation in 
 which her mother keeps her is a hygienic system, 
 dear Pepe ; the only system that has been success- 
 fully employed by the members of my family. Re- 
 member that the person whose presence and voice 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 129 
 
 would make the greatest impression on Rosarito^s 
 delicate nervous system is her heart's choice.' 
 
 ‘ Notwithstanding all,' said Pepe, ‘ I wish to see 
 her.' 
 
 ‘ Perhaps Perfecta will not oppose it,' said the 
 savant^ fixing his attention on his notes and papers. 
 
 ‘ I do not wish to be put in a strait-waistcoat.' 
 
 The engineer, seeing that he could obtain no 
 assistance from the good Polentinos, rose up to 
 leave the room. 
 
 ‘ You are going to work, and I do not wish to 
 hinder you.' 
 
 ‘ No, it is still early. Look at the heap of pre- 
 cious dates that I have put together to-day. 
 Listen! ... In 1537, an inhabitant of Orbajosa, 
 named Bartholomew of the Hoyo, went to Civitta 
 Vecchia in the galleys of the Marquis de Castel 
 Rodrigo. . . . Another ; in the same year, two 
 brothers — sons, likewise, of Orbajosa — named John 
 and Roderigo Gonzalez del Arco, embarked in the 
 six ships that sailed for Maestrique on the 20th 
 February ; which, near to Calais, gave battle to an 
 English ship, and the fleet commanded by Van- 
 Owen. . . . Finally, here is an important exploit 
 by our navy. I have found out that an Orbajosian, 
 one Matthew Diaz, colonel in the Guards, was he 
 who, in 1709, wrote and printed in Valencia the 
 “ metrical praise, funeral song, lyrical eulogy, 
 numerical description, glorious toils and glorious 
 sorrows of the Queen of the Angels." I possess 
 a precious copy of this work, which is worth Peru. 
 . . . Another Orbajosian is the author of that 
 famous ‘‘Treatise on the various species of the 
 weasel," in which I was instructing you yesterday ; 
 and in the resume I gave a passing glance at the 
 labyrinth of the inedited history of this illustrious 
 
130 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 peasant. I am anxious to rescue all these names 
 from the unjust obscurity and oblivion in which 
 they are at present. What purer enjoyment, dear 
 Pepe, than to revive all the lustre of the works of 
 praise, epic prayers, and literary works of the 
 country in which one is born? No better em- 
 ployment could devolve on a man, in return for 
 the little knowledge and hereditary fortune heaven 
 has blessed him with, during the short time that 
 even the longest lived pass in this world. . . . 
 Thanks to me, Orbajosa will be regarded as the 
 cradle of Spanish genius. But what do I say ? Is 
 not her illustrious race well known for its nobility 
 — the nobility of the real generation urbsaugustana ? 
 Few places are known where the plants and shrubs 
 of all virtues have grown more vigorously, free 
 from the malevolent weeds of vice. Here all is 
 peace, mutual respect, Christian humility. Charity 
 is practised here as it was in the apostle^s time; 
 here envy is not known; here are not known 
 criminal passions; and, if one hears robbers and 
 assassins spoken of, one may rest assured that they 
 are not the children of this noble land, but belong 
 to the number of those unhappy ones perverted 
 by the preachings of demagogues. Here is seen the 
 national character in all its purity and rectitude — 
 noble, incorruptible, simple, patriarchal, hospitable, 
 generous. ... It is so pleasant to live in this 
 peaceful solitude, far from the labyrinth of cities, 
 where reign, ay ! falsehood and vice ! For these 
 reasons I cannot often go to see my many friends 
 in Madrid ; for these reasons I live in the sweet 
 companionship of my loyal peasants and my books, 
 breathing continually this salubrious atmosphere of 
 honour that is little by little becoming unknown in 
 our Spain, and only exists in those humble and 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 131 
 
 Christian towns which, by their emanations of 
 virtue, know how to preserve it. And do you 
 not think, dear Pepe, that this peaceful asylum 
 has greatly helped to free me from the terrible 
 hereditary infirmity of my family ? In my youth, 
 I, even as my brothers and father, manifested a 
 lamentable propensity for the most absurd frenzy ; 
 but here you behold me perfectly cured, and I 
 know nothing of that infirmity but what I see in 
 others. It is for this reason that my little niece 
 causes me anxiety.^ 
 
 ‘Praise to the air of Orbajosa, which has pre- 
 served you,’ said Key, unable to repress a sense of 
 the ridiculous that such an extraordinary argument 
 caused, even in the midst of his sorrow. ‘To me 
 it has proved so unhealthy that I believe I should 
 become a maniac did I remain here much longer. 
 I wish you good-night, and plenty of work.’ 
 
 ‘ Good-night.’ 
 
 He went to his room, but felt no desire either 
 for sleep or physical repose. On the contrary, he 
 was so greatly excited that he felt he must be doing 
 something. He walked backwards and forwards 
 across his room. He then opened the window 
 which gave on to the orchard, and, leaning his 
 elbows on the sill, gazed out into the blackness of 
 the night. He could see nothing ; but the sleep- 
 less man sees all, and Rey, his eyes staring into the 
 obscurity, saw pass before him all the various in- 
 cidents of his disgrace. The darkness did not 
 permit him to distinguish either the flowers of the 
 earth nor those of the sky, which are the stars. The 
 entire absence of light produced the effect of an 
 illusory movement in the masses of trees, which 
 seemingly extended themselves, turning and twist- 
 ing about like the flow of a sea of shadows. For- 
 
132 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 midable flux and reflux, an unequal struggle of 
 strength, agitated the silent globe. The mathema- 
 tician contemplated this extraordinary projection of 
 his soul over the night, and said, — 
 
 ‘The battle will be terrible. We shall see who 
 will conquer.’ 
 
 The insects of the night whispered mysterious 
 words in his ear. Here, a harsh chirping of birds ; 
 there, a clack like the tongue makes ; on this side, 
 murmurs of compassion ; yonder, a vibrating sound 
 like to the bell hung round the neck of cattle. Pre- 
 sently Rey heard a singular noise — a rapid remark 
 which could only come from a human tongue and 
 lips. This exhalation crossed the young man’s 
 brain like a flash of lightning. It seemed to buzz 
 like a fugitive S, which, being repeated, increases in 
 intensity. He looked on all sides, he searched the 
 higher part of the house, and then, in one of the 
 windows, fancied he could distinguish an object re- 
 sembling a white bird moving its wing. In his state 
 of mental excitement Pepe Rey thought for a 
 moment it was a ghostly pigeon . . . but this bird 
 was nothing more than a handkerchief. 
 
 The engineer jumped through the window into the 
 orchard. Observing well, he saw his cousin’s hand 
 and face. He fancied he could distinguish her 
 imposing silence by putting her finger to her lips. 
 Presently the sympathetic shadow waved its arm 
 and disappeared. Pepe Rey entered his room again 
 quickly, and, taking care to make no noise, passed 
 to the gallery, and then along it slowly. He felt 
 his heart beat, as though it would burst from his 
 bosom. He waited a moment . . . and at last 
 heard some sounds on the staircase. One, two, 
 three ... it was made by shoes. 
 
 He directed his steps in the midst of the great 
 
NIGHT. 
 
 i33 
 
 darkness, and held out his arms to assist the per- 
 son who was descending. In his soul reigned a 
 gentle exaltation ; but, why deny it ? behind this 
 sweet sentiment suddenly mingled another, like 
 an infernal inspiration, the desire for revenge. 
 The footsteps approached nearer. Pepe Rey 
 advanced, and another pair of hands clung to his. 
 Four, ah! they are united in a close embrace. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 HE gallery was long and wide. At the 
 extremity was the door of the en- 
 gineer’s room ; in the centre, that of 
 the dining-room, and at the other end 
 the staircase and a large closed door, 
 with a flight of steps. This door opened into the 
 little chapel where the Polentinos kept the images 
 of their domestic devotion. Sometimes the holy 
 sacrifice of Mass was celebrated there. 
 
 Rosarito led her cousin to the chapel door, 
 and drew him down on to a step. 
 
 ‘Here?’ murmured Pepe Rey. 
 
 By the gestures of her right hand Rosarito gave 
 him to understand that this was a sanctified spot. 
 
 ‘ Dear cousin, Rosarito . . . thanks for having 
 allowed me to see you ! ’ he exclaimed, clasping 
 her fervently in his arms. 
 
 He felt his cousin’s cold finger’s on his lips, im- 
 posing silence. He kissed them frantically. 
 
 ‘ Are you cold . . . Rosarito . . . why do you 
 tremble ? ’ 
 
 Her teeth chattered, and her whole body shook 
 with feverish convulsion. Rey felt his cousin’s 
 red-hot face against his own, and exclaimed in 
 alarm, — 
 
 134 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 135 
 
 ‘ Your face is like a volcano. Are you ill ? ’ 
 
 ‘Very.’ 
 
 ‘ Are you really ill.’ 
 
 ‘Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ And you have come out. . . .’ 
 
 ‘As you see.’ 
 
 The engineer stretched out his arms to shelter 
 her ; but she moved. 
 
 ‘ Await me,’ she said, rising hastily. ‘ I am going 
 to my room to put on my travelling cloak. Ex- 
 tinguish the light, Pepe.’ Rey had omitted to put 
 out the light in his room, and by the door issued a 
 brightness, illuminating all the gallery. He returned 
 in an instant. The darkness was profound. He 
 had to feel his way by the wall to reach the place 
 where his cousin stood. He rejoined her, and 
 wrapped her up carefully from head to foot. 
 
 ‘ Are you all right now, my darling ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, quite right ! . . . With you.’ 
 
 ‘ With me ... . and for ever ! ’ exclaimed the 
 young man, joyfully. 
 
 She drew herself away from his arms, and rose 
 up. 
 
 ‘•What are you going to do ? ’ 
 
 He heard the noise of a door being unlocked. 
 Rosarito had inserted the key in the invisible lock, 
 and cautiously opened the door on the steps of 
 which they had been sitting. There arose a smell 
 of dampness (caused by the place having been 
 shut up for some time) from these obscure pre- 
 cincts as from a tomb. Pepe Rey felt his hand 
 touched, and heard the voice of his cousin faintly 
 saying,— 
 
 ‘ Come in.’ 
 
 They proceeded several paces. He likened him- 
 self to Elias conducted to unknown places by the 
 
LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 136 
 
 angel of the night. She was groping about. At 
 last her sweet voice murmured, — 
 
 ‘ Sit down.’ 
 
 And they both sat down on a wooden bench; 
 Pepe Rey again embraced her. At the same in- 
 stant he received a blow on the head from a very 
 hard object. 
 
 ^What is it?’ 
 
 ‘The feet’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito. . . . What are you saying.’ 
 
 ‘The feet of the Divine Jesus, the image of 
 Christ Crucified, Whom we adore here.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey felt as though a cold lance had pierced 
 his heart. 
 
 ‘ Kiss them,’ said the young girl imperiously. 
 
 The mathematician kissed the nailed feet of the 
 holy image. 
 
 ‘ Pepe,’ then exclaimed the young lady, clasping 
 her cousin’s hand fervently, ‘ do you believe in 
 God?’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! . . . what are you saying ? What 
 silly thing is in your thoughts ? ’ replied her cousin 
 in astonishment. 
 
 ‘ Answer me.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey felt some moisture on his hands. 
 
 ‘ Why do you weep ? ’ he asked anxiously. 
 ‘ Rosarito, you kill me with your absurd doubts. 
 Yes, I believe in God. Did you doubt it?’ 
 
 ‘ I, no ; but everyone says you are an atheist.’ 
 
 ‘You would not have been deserving in my 
 eyes, you would have been despoiled of your 
 aureola of purity and prestige, could I have believed 
 you would credit such a thing.’ 
 
 ‘ I have heard you called atheist, and, although 
 I had no reason to be convinced differently, I have 
 protested from the bottom of my soul against such 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 137 
 
 calumny. You could not be an atheist. From 
 the moment I saw you, I believed in your having 
 religious sentiments, as I have myself.’ 
 
 ‘ You have spoken well. Then, why do you now 
 question me as to whether I believe in God ? ’ 
 
 ‘Because I wished to hear it from your own 
 mouth, and to rejoice in hearing you affirm it. It 
 is so long since I heard your voice ! . . . What 
 greater pleasure than to hear it afresh, and after 
 so long a silence, exclaiming, “ I believe in 
 God!”’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito, even malefactors believe in Him. If 
 there are atheists, and I doubt it, they are the 
 calumniators, the intriguers who infest the world. 
 
 . . . For my part, I care little for intrigues and 
 calumnies, and if you surmount them, and shut 
 your heart to those sentiments of discord, which a 
 perfidious hand has tried to introduce there, nothing 
 will be wanting to our happiness.’ 
 
 ‘But let us pass on, Pepe, dear Pepe ... do 
 you believe in the devil } ’ 
 
 The engineer preserved silence. The obscurity 
 of the chapel did not allow Rosarito to see the 
 smile with which her cousin received such a 
 singular question. 
 
 ‘ Certainly I believe in him,’ he said at last. 
 
 ‘ What are we to do ? Mamma has forbidden 
 me to see you, but, with the exception of your 
 atheism, she has said nothing ill of you. She tells 
 me to wait ; that you will decide ; that you are 
 going; that you will return. . . . Tell me frankly 
 ... do you think badly of my mother ? ’ 
 
 ‘Not at all,’ replied Rey, appreciating her 
 delicacy. 
 
 ‘ Do you not think with me, that she loves me 
 much ; that she loves us both ; that she only desires 
 
LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 138 
 
 our good, and, at last, will grant us the permission 
 we desire ? ^ 
 
 ‘ If you believe this so do 1. . . . Your mamma 
 adores us both. . . . But, dear Rosarito, I must 
 confess that the ‘‘ devil has entered this house.’ 
 
 ‘Do not jest,’ replied she tenderly. . . ‘Ah, 
 mamma is very good. Not once has she told me 
 that you were not worthy to be my husband. No, 
 she only insists on your atheism. Besides, she 
 says I have manias, and that one of them is loving 
 you with all my soul. In our family it is a law 
 not to openly contradict the hereditary frenzy we 
 suffer from, as it only increases it.’ 
 
 ‘ I think you have on your side good physicians 
 who have proposed to cure you, and that, at last, 
 my adorable girl, they will succeed.’ 
 
 ‘ No, no, a thousand times ! ’ exclaimed Rosarito, 
 burying her face on her cousin’s bosom. ‘ That I 
 should wish to become mad with you ! For you I 
 am patient ; for you I am ill ; for you I despise 
 life, and expose myself to die. ... I already 
 foresee it; to-morrow I shall be worse, it will 
 oppress me. ... I shall die. What does it 
 matter ? ’ 
 
 ‘ You are not ill,’ replied he, energetically. ‘ You 
 have only the slightest moral disturbance, which 
 naturally causes slight nervous affections; you 
 suffer from nothing more than an occasional 
 trouble, arising from the horrible violence used 
 towards you. Your pure and generous soul does 
 not understand it. Granted; pardon those who 
 injure you ; you are grieved, attributing your mis- 
 fortune to dismal, supernatural influences; you 
 suffer in silence, delivering your innocent neck to 
 the hangman ; you allow yourself to be killed, and 
 even the knife placed to your throat appears to 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 139 
 
 you like the thorn of a flower pricking you in your 
 walk. Rosarito, rid yourself of these ideas ; realise 
 our true position, which is a serious one ; seek the 
 cause of it where it really is, and do not be intimi- 
 dated; do not submit to the mortifications which 
 are imposed upon you, destroying your soul and 
 body. The valour you are wanting in will restore 
 your health, for you are not really ill, my dear girl, 
 you are ... do you wish me to tell you ? You 
 are frightened, terrified. What you are truly suffer- 
 ing from is what the ancients did not know how to 
 define, and so termed it witchcraft. Rosarito, love, 
 confide in me ! Rise and follow me 1 I say no 
 more.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! Pepe ... my cousin ! I believe you are 
 right!’ exclaimed Rosarito, in a flood of tears. 
 ‘Your words resound in my heart like violent 
 blows, which, awakening me, gives me new life. 
 Here, in this obscurity, where we cannot see each 
 other’s face, an ineffable light goes out from you 
 and irradiates my soul. What gift do you possess 
 that you can thus transform me ? When I knew 
 you no other sufficed. On those days that I did 
 not see you I returned to my old insignificant 
 existence, to my first timidity. It would be like a 
 Limbo without you, my Pepe. ... It is sufficient 
 that you should tell me ; I rise and follow you. 
 We will go together wherever you will. Do you 
 know that I feel well ? I am no longer feverish ; I 
 have recovered my strength; I wish to run and 
 shout, that my whole being may be renewed, that 
 it may be augmented and centuplicated, in order 
 that I may worship you. Pepe, you are right. I 
 am not ill, I am only frightened, or rather fasci- 
 nated.’ 
 
 ‘That is it, fascinated.’ 
 
140 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ Fascinated. Terrible eyes watch me, and 
 render me mute and tremulous. I am afraid ; but 
 of what? You alone have the singular power to 
 restore me to life. I listen to you ; I become 
 better. I believe that if I were to die, and you 
 passed near my tomb, that even in the ground I 
 should feel you. Oh ! if I could but see you now ! 
 But you are here by my side, and I do not doubt 
 that it is really you. ... It is so long since I saw 
 you ! I was becoming mad. Each day of solitude 
 seemed to me a century. ... I told myself to- 
 morrow, that to-morrow, and yet again to-morrow. 
 I passed the nights by my window, and the glimmer 
 of the light from your room consoled me. To see 
 your shadow on the window was for me a divine 
 apparition. I extended my arms out, in thought, 
 shedding tears and shouting, without being able to 
 do so aloud. When I received your message by 
 the servant ; when I received your letter saying that 
 you were going, I became very sad. I thought 
 my soul would leave my body, and that I should 
 gradually die. I fell — fell like the bird shot when 
 on the wing, which falls and dies in the same 
 moment. . . . To-night, when I saw you retire so 
 late, I could not resist the desire to speak with 
 you, and so came down. I believe that all the 
 audacity that may be contained in my life has been 
 consumed and employed in one single act, in this, 
 and that I shall hereafter continue timid. . . . 
 But you will give me courage ; you will give me 
 strength ; you will help me \ am I not right ? 
 Pepe, my dear cousin, tell me that it is so ; tell 
 me I shall become strong, and I shall do so ; tell 
 me that I am not ill, and I am no longer so. . . . 
 I am better already. I feel so well that I laugh at 
 my imaginary malady.’ 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 141 
 
 So saying, Rosarito threw herself frantically into 
 her cousin’s arms. He would have kissed her. Ah ! 
 but their lips did not meet, for, having inclined 
 his head, he came violently into contact with the 
 feet of the crucifix. It caused him to see stars. 
 In the state of his mind, and the natural hallucina- 
 tion which dark places cause, it seemed to Rey 
 that it was not his head that had knocked against 
 the holy feet, but that the image had moved, 
 admonishing him in a very brief and eloquent 
 manner. Partly laughing and partly serious, he 
 raised his head, and said, — 
 
 ‘Lord, do not punish me, I have done no 
 wrong.’ 
 
 At the same instant Rosarito seized the young 
 man’s hand, pressing it against her heart. He 
 heard a pure, grave, angelical, feeling voice, speak- 
 ing in this manner, — 
 
 ‘ Lord, Whom I adore, Lord God of the world 
 and Guardian of my house and family; Lord, 
 whom also Pepe worships ; Holy Christ who died 
 on the Cross for our sins; before Thee, before 
 Thy wounded body, before Thy head crowned 
 with thorns, I say that this is my spouse ; and that, 
 after Thee, he it is whom my soul loves most ; I 
 say that I declare him to be my spouse, and that 
 I will rather die than belong to another. My heart 
 and my soul are his. Grant that the world may 
 not oppose our happiness, and concede me the 
 favour of this union, that I may swear to be his 
 before the world as I do in my conscience.’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito, you are mine ! ’ exclaimed Pepe joy- 
 fully. ‘ Neither your mother nor anyone else shall 
 prevent it.’ 
 
 His cousin rested on his breast. She trembled in 
 his loving young arms, as the dove in the eagle’s claw. 
 
142 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 Through the engineer’s mind passed a thought 
 only befitting the devil ; but then he was in this 
 case the devil. Rosarito made a slight movement 
 of fear; it was like the trembling of surprise, as 
 though she foresaw danger. 
 
 ‘ Swear to me that you will not draw back,’ said 
 Pepe, confusedly, intercepting this movement. 
 
 ‘I swear it to you by the ashes of my father, 
 who is. . . 
 
 ‘Where?’ 
 
 ‘ Below our feet.’ 
 
 The mathematician thought the flags moved 
 under his feet . . . but no, they did not, 
 
 although he fancied it in spite of his being a 
 mathematician. 
 
 ‘I swear it,’ repeated Rosarito, ‘by the ashes 
 of my father, and by the God Who sees us. . . . 
 May our bodies, united as they are, repose under 
 these stones when God shall call us from this 
 world.’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied Pepe Rey, with deep emotion, feel- 
 ing his soul full of inexplicable perturbation. 
 
 They both remained silent for a few minutes 
 Rosarito then rose. 
 
 ‘ Already ? ’ 
 
 She sat down again. 
 
 ‘ You tremble again,’ said Pepe Rey. ‘ Rosarito, 
 you are ill ; your face burns.’ 
 
 ‘ I feel as though I were dying,’ murmured the 
 young girl, with dismay, ‘I do not know what 
 is the matter with me.’ 
 
 She fell fainting into her cousin’s arms. Feeling 
 her face, he found it was covered with cold per- 
 spiration. 
 
 ‘ She is really ill,’ he said. ‘ This is the result 
 of a really foolish action. 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS, 
 
 143 
 
 He raised her in his arms, trying to reanimate 
 her, but as she did not cease trembling, nor did 
 she recover from her swoon, he resolved to carry 
 her out of the chapel to see if the fresh air would 
 revive her. And it did so. On coming round, 
 Rosarito manifested much inquietude at finding 
 herself out of her room at such an hour. The 
 cathedral clock struck four. 
 
 ‘ How late ! ^ exclaimed the young girl. ‘ Liberate 
 me, cousin. I think I can walk. Truly I am 
 very ill.’ 
 
 ‘ I will go up with you.’ 
 
 ‘ On no account. I can creep up to my room. 
 Did you not hear a noise ? ’ 
 
 Both kept silence. The anxiety depicted on 
 her countenance made them both quiet. 
 
 ‘ Did you hear nothing, Pepe ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Absolutely nothing.’ 
 
 ‘ Listen attentively. . . . Now, now it sounds. 
 It is a rumour at some distance, a great distance, 
 and is now near, very near. It might be either 
 my mother’s respiration, or the creaking of the 
 weather-cock on the cathedral. Ah ! I have a 
 very sensitive ear.’ 
 
 ‘ Excessively sensitive. . . . And now, my dear 
 cousin, I will carry you up in my arms.’ 
 
 ‘Good, carry me to the top of the staircase, 
 and then I can go alone, and when I have rested 
 a little I shall be all right. . . • But do you not 
 hear ? ’ 
 
 They were on the first step, 
 
 ‘ It is a metallic sound.’ 
 
 ‘Your mother’s breathing.’ 
 
 ‘No, no, it is not. It now sounds in the 
 distance. Perhaps it is a cock crowing.’ 
 
 ‘ It may be.’ 
 
144 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘ I could fancy I hear two words. ‘‘ I see there ; 
 I see there.’’ ’ 
 
 . ‘ Now, now I hear it,’ murmured Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘ It is a scream.’ 
 
 ‘ It is a cornet.’ ^ 
 
 ‘A cornet?’ 
 
 ‘Yes. We must go up quickly. . . . Orbajosa 
 will be aroused. ... I hear it clearly. There 
 is a trumpet if not a clarionet. The troop has 
 arrived.’ 
 
 ‘Troop?’ 
 
 ‘ I fancy this military invasion will be propitious 
 to me. ... I am happy. Rosarito, we are 
 already up.’ 
 
 ‘ I am likewise happy. ... We are up.’ 
 
 As they were at the top of the stair, the two 
 lovers took leave of each other, talking in such low 
 tones, that they could scarcely hear each other. 
 
 ‘ I will sit down near the window looking on to 
 the orchard, so that you may know that I have 
 reached my room all right. Good-bye.’ 
 
 ‘Good-bye, Rosarito. Take care not to fall 
 against the furniture.’ 
 
 ‘I know my way well, cousin. We will see 
 each other again. Sit by your window if you 
 wish to receive my telegraphic signs.’ 
 
 Pepe Rey did as she commanded him; but, 
 after watching for some time, did not see Rosarito. 
 He thought that he heard agitated voices on the 
 top floor. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE TROOP. 
 
 HE inhabitants of Orbajosa heard the 
 sound of the clarionet in the vague 
 twilight of their late dreams, and 
 opened their eyes, saying, — 
 
 ‘ The troop.’ 
 
 Some said, half-asleep, half-awake, — 
 
 ‘At last they have sent us this rabble.’ 
 
 Others rose hastily, shouting thus, — 
 
 ‘ Let us see those confounded fellows.’ 
 
 Someone else apostrophised in this manner, — 
 
 ‘ We have necessarily anticipated this. . . . 
 They will ask for tithes and contributions, we 
 shall reply with blows and more blows.’ 
 
 In another house these words, pronounced joy- 
 fully, could be heard, — 
 
 ‘ If they should have sent my son ! If they 
 should have sent my brother ! ’ 
 
 All rose from their beds, dressed quickly, 
 opened the windows to see the noisy regiment 
 that entered with the dawn of day. The town 
 was sad, silent, old ; the army, gay, bustling and 
 young. The one entering the other gave the 
 appearance of a mummy imbued with the marvel- 
 lous gift of life, noisily leaping vigorously from the 
 G 
 
146 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 damp sarcophagus, to dance around it. What 
 motion, what huzzas, what laughter, what mirth I 
 There is nothing so interesting as an army. It 
 is the country in its youthful, vigorous aspect. 
 Whatever the conceited individuality of the same 
 country has, or can possibly have, of inability, of 
 insurrection, of superstition at times, of blasphemy 
 at others, all disappear under the iron rod of 
 discipline, of the prodigious body formed by so 
 many insignificant little figures. The soldier, or 
 rather the corpuscle, on separating himself, after 
 breaking away from the line, from the mass which 
 observe a regular and even at times sublime life, 
 generally preserves some of the qualities peculiar 
 to the army. But it is not always so. Separation 
 is often accompanied by a sudden check, with the 
 result that though an army be glorious and 
 honourable, a reunion of soldiers may be an 
 insupportable calamity; and those towns that 
 weep with joy and enthusiasm on seeing enter 
 their precincts a victorious battalion, shake with 
 fright when they see soldiers free and separate. 
 
 This last took place in Orbajosa, for in those 
 days there were no praises to sing, nor any motive 
 to weave crowns, or work triumphant inscriptions, 
 nor to mention the exploits of our brave men — 
 for which reason fear and suspicion reigned in the 
 Episcopal city, which, though very poor, was not 
 wanting in treasures of birds, fruits, money and 
 gifts, which ran great risks since the before- 
 mentioned disciples of Mars had arrived. Besides 
 this, the Polentinos^ country, being cut off from the 
 movement and bustle consequent on traffic, news- 
 papers, railways and other agents, which it is not 
 necessary to enumerate now, did not approve of 
 the turmoil thus created in its peaceful existence. 
 
THE TROOP. 
 
 147 
 
 Whenever a propitious juncture had been 
 offered it had displayed in the same manner a 
 lively dislike to submit to the central authority 
 that either for good or evil governs us ; and again 
 calling to mind its last year’s privileges, and 
 ruminating over them, as does the camel over the 
 grass it has eaten on the preceding day, there 
 often arose from this independence the most 
 deplorable results, which at times caused the 
 governor of the province no little trouble. In 
 the history of Orbajosa there had always been such 
 a precedent, or, to put it more clearly, turbulent 
 ancestry. No doubt it retained some energetic 
 fibres from those remote periods in its bosom, 
 which, according to Lord Cayetano’s enthusiastic 
 opinion, had been commemorated by unheard of 
 epic battles ; and, although in visible decline, it 
 still showed its violent anxiety to perform great 
 exploits, even should they be savage and extrava- 
 gant. Having given to the world so many 
 eminent sons, it, doubtless, wished that its actual 
 vassals, the Caballucos, Merengues and Pelos- 
 malos, should revive the glorious deeds of former 
 years. 
 
 Whenever there were factions in Spain, this 
 town wished to prove that it did not exist in vain 
 on the face of the earth, by becoming the theatre 
 of real war. Its genius, its situation, its history, 
 had caused it to be chosen as a secondary place 
 for raising recruits. This country had supplied 
 this national fruit in 1827, during the Seven 
 Years’ War, in 1848, and at other periods of our 
 history. Parties and partisans were always popu- 
 lar, a dismal circumstance arising from the War 
 of Independence, one of a number of good things 
 which have had their origin in infinite detestable 
 
148 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 matters. Corruptio oplimi pessima. And as the 
 popularity of parties and partisans coincide, and 
 is always on the increase, so grew hatred for all 
 who entered Orbajosa with pretexts of delegation, 
 or as instruments of the central power. Soldiers 
 were always received badly there, and whenever an 
 old inhabitant gave a narration in which there was 
 crime, theft, assassination, violation, or any other 
 dreadful event, he added, ‘This happened when 
 the troop came ! ’ 
 
 And having said so much, I may add that the 
 battalions which arrived there on the day we have 
 already referred to, did not pass through the streets 
 until it was sufficiently light for them to see 
 clearly. 
 
 As the date of this event is of no importance, I 
 need only say that it happened at no very distant 
 period, nor at a very near one, as might have been 
 said of Orbajosa (in romances, Urbs Augusta^ 
 some modern savants^ who have examined the 
 garlic fields, declare that it is the best growing 
 garlic country in the world), that it is neither very 
 near to nor distant from Madrid ; neither can I 
 assure you that its glorious foundations are laid 
 either to north, east, south or west (they may be 
 in any of these directions), that those Spaniards 
 who may so desire may cast round their eyes and 
 smell the flavour of the garlic. He who wishes to 
 discover its exact situation must search amongst 
 the municipal schedules. 
 
 The regiments were received with very poor 
 grace, and accommodated in the worst rooms in the 
 houses. The young girls of the town were truly 
 not so displeased, but such a vigilance was kept 
 over them, and they could not decently show their 
 joy at the arrival of such a mob. The few soldiers 
 
THE TROOP, 
 
 149 
 
 who were sons of the district were the only ones 
 who were welcomed. The rest were looked upon 
 as intruders. 
 
 At eight o’clock in the morning a lieutenant 
 colonel of cavalry entered with his billet Lady 
 Perfecta Polentinos’ house. The servants received 
 him, by her ladyship’s orders, for she was in a de- 
 plorable condition of mind, and did not wish to go 
 down to meet the soldiery, and had given orders 
 that the colonel should be quartered in the only 
 available room in the house, the one occupied by 
 Pepe Rey. 
 
 ‘They must manage as well as they can,’ said 
 Lady Perfecta, with a sour expression, ‘ and if they 
 are not suited they may turn into the street.’ 
 
 Was it her intention to vex her infamous 
 nephew, or had she really no other available room 
 in her house ? We do not know, neither have the 
 chroniclers of this true story said a word en- 
 lightening us on this important question. What 
 we do know is, that far from the two comrades 
 being annoyed that they were to lodge together, 
 they were greatly delighted, for they were old 
 friends. They experienced a great and joyous 
 surprise on meeting each other, and did not cease 
 asking questions and uttering exclamations, pon- 
 dering on the singular accident which had united 
 them in such a situation, and on such an oc- 
 casion. 
 
 ‘ Pinzon . . . you here ! But how is this ? I 
 did not expect you were coming. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ I heard it said that you had set out for these 
 lands, Pepe Rey, but did not expect to meet with 
 you in horrible, savage Orbajosa.’ 
 
 ‘ But what a happy occurrence ; indeed it is a 
 most happy one, providential. . . . Pinzon, be 
 
150 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 tween you and me, we will do something start- 
 ling here.’ 
 
 ‘ And we shall have plenty of time to meditate 
 on it,’ replied the other, sitting down on the bed 
 where the engineer was resting, ‘ for it seems we 
 are to lodge together here. Who the devil’s house 
 is this ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Man, it is my aunt’s. Speak more respectfully. 
 Do you not know my aunt ? . . . But see ! I 
 will get up.’ 
 
 ‘Very well, and I will get to bed, for I need rest 
 very much. . . . What a road, friend Pepe, what a 
 road, and what people.’ 
 
 ‘Tell me, have you come to fight in Orbajosa?’ 
 
 ‘Fight?’ 
 
 ‘ I say it because perhaps I may help you.’ 
 
 ‘ What a town ; but what a town ! ’ exclaimed the 
 military man, taking off his helmet, laying to one 
 side his sword and shoulder-belt, his travelling 
 pouch and cloak. ‘ This is the second time that 
 we have been sent here. I swear to you that the 
 third time I shall take French leave.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not speak badly of these good people. But 
 at what a time you have come ! I could believe 
 that God has sent you to my assistance, Pinzon 
 ... I have a terrible project in view, an adven- 
 ture, if one might so term it, a plan, my friend 
 . . . and I should scarcely have known how to 
 proceed without you. A moment ago I was full of 
 anxiety, thinking if I could only find a friend here, 
 a good friend. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Project, plan, adventure . . . one of these, sir, 
 mathematician ; do you wish to direct the globe, 
 or perhaps it is a love affair. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ It is serious, very serious. Get to bed, sleep a 
 little, and then we can talk.’ 
 
THE TROOP, 
 
 151 
 
 ‘ I shall get to bed, but not to sleep. You can 
 tell me anything you wish. Only I beg of you 
 that you will talk as little as you can of Orbajosa.^ 
 
 ‘ It is precisely of Orbajosa that I wish to speak 
 to you. So you also have an antipathy to this 
 corner of notable clowns ? ^ 
 
 ‘These garlic people. . . . We call them garlic- 
 growers . . . well, they may be notable if you 
 like, but to me they sting like the fruit of their 
 country. It is a town ruled by men who inspire 
 distrust, who teach superstition and hatred of 
 mankind. When you have related all you wish I 
 will tell you something ... a quarrel, half playful, 
 half-earnest, which took place here last year when 
 I was here. When you hear it you will laugh, and 
 I shall rid myself of my anger. . . . But what is 
 past is past.' 
 
 ‘What has happened to me is not at all funny.' 
 
 ‘ But the reasons for my abhorrence of these 
 people are various. I must inform you that it 
 was here that, in '48 some cruel partisans 
 assassinated my father. He was a brigadier and 
 had left the service. The governor had sent for 
 him, and he was on his way to Villahorrenda to set 
 out for Madrid, when he was set upon by half-a- 
 dozen villains. . . . There are several races of 
 warriors here. The Aceros, Caballucos, Pelos- 
 malos ... an expeditious periodical, as they are 
 termed by those who know well what they are 
 talking about.' 
 
 ‘ I suppose that the arrival of two regiments and 
 some cavalry will not be to the taste of these 
 delightful people?' 
 
 ‘ 1 know that well enough. We have come to 
 overrun the country. We have plenty of am- 
 munition. The Government dares not dismiss the 
 
152 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 greater part of the bodies of magistrates without 
 despatching some troops to these towns. As this 
 land is so turbulent; as two neighbouring pro- 
 vinces are similarly aifected ; and, as besides, this 
 municipal district of Orbajosa has such a brilliant 
 history in all the civil wars, we were afraid that the 
 savages here would occupy the roads and destroy 
 all that they could lay their hands on.’ 
 
 ‘ Wise precaution ! But for my part, I should 
 think that as long as these people continue to 
 increase, as long as there remains a stone, there 
 will be no peace in Orbajosa.’ 
 
 ‘ Exactly my opinion,’ said the military man, 
 lighting a cigar. ‘ It seems to me that the partisans 
 are flattered in this country. All those who devas- 
 tated the territory in 1848, and at other periods, 
 or if not they, their sons, are employed in the 
 offices, the magistracy, as couriers ; they are con- 
 stables, sacristans, judicial commissioners. Some 
 of them are timid noblemen, and are they who 
 arrange the elections, and have influence in Madrid, 
 pronouncing doom ... in fact, it is terrible.’ 
 
 ‘Tell me, may I hope that these partisans will 
 perform such deeds in these days ? If it is so, you 
 will demolish the town, and I will help you.’ 
 
 ‘ If I am right . . . they will,’ said Pinzon, ‘ for 
 the factions of the two neighbouring provinces 
 spread like a curse from God. And, between us, 
 friend Rey, I believe it will last long. Some 
 laugh and assure themselves that there cannot be 
 another civil war like the last. They do not know 
 the country, they do not know Orbajosa and its 
 inhabitants. I insist that things are now so 
 strained, that we shall have a new, cruel and bloody 
 struggle, which will last God only knows how long. 
 What do you think ? ’ 
 
THE TROOP, 
 
 153 
 
 ‘Friend, when in Madrid, I laughed at all that 
 was said about the possibility of a civil war, that 
 would be as long and terrible as the Seven Years^ 
 War ; but now, that I am here. . . . ’ 
 
 ‘That is exactly the case in these enchanted 
 countries ; one only has to look around at these 
 men and to listen to two words, to know the foot- 
 ing they are on.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, yes ... I am scarcely able to explain 
 my ideas very clearly, or on what I have founded 
 them ; but here I have looked at things in a 
 different light, and believe in the possibility of long, 
 fierce wars.’ 
 
 ‘ Exactly.’ 
 
 ‘ But now, something other than a general war 
 engages my attention, a private matter in which I 
 am interested, which I mentioned to you a short 
 time since.’ 
 
 ‘ You tell me that this is your aunt’s house. 
 What is her name ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Lady Perfecta Rey, of Polentinos.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! I know the name. She is an excellent 
 person, and the only one that I have not heard 
 the garlic-growers speak badly of. When I was 
 hear last time I heard her kindness, charity and 
 virtues mentioned everywhere.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, my aunt is very good, very amiable,’ said 
 Rey. 
 
 Then there was a short silence. 
 
 ‘ Ah ! now I remember . . . ’ exclaimed Pinzon 
 suddenly. ‘How things go out of one’s head. 
 . . . Yes, they told me in Madrid that you were 
 about to marry a cousin. All was known. Is it 
 to the pretty, heavenly Rosarito ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Pinzon, we will talk about it quietly.’ 
 
 ‘ I suppose that there is opposition ? ’ 
 
^54 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘ More. Terrible strife. I require powerful 
 friends, active, of great experience in difficult 
 affairs, very cunning and bold.’ 
 
 ‘ Man, this is more serious than a combat.’ 
 
 ‘ Much more serious. I could easily fight with 
 a man. With women, with invisible enemies who 
 work in the dark, it is impossible.’ 
 
 ‘ We will see. I am listening attentively.’ 
 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Pinzon stretched himself out 
 full-length on the bed to rest. Pepe Rey drew a 
 chair up, and, leaning his elbow on the bed and his 
 head on his hand, began his conference, consulta- 
 tion, explanation of his plan, or whatever it might 
 be, and spoke for a long time. Pinzon listened to 
 him with deep attention, saying nothing, with the 
 exception of a few questions as to events, and in 
 order to enlighten himself on any particular point. 
 When Rey had finished Pinzon looked serious. 
 He stretched himself and yawned slightly, for he 
 had not slept for three nights, and then said, — 
 
 ‘ Your plan is dangerous and difficult.’ 
 
 ‘ But not impossible.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no ! nothing is impossible in this world. I 
 will think well about it.’ 
 
 * I have meditated on it well.’ 
 
 ‘ And you are resolved to carry it out ? See I 
 these things are not the custom. It might not 
 succeed, and it would not promise well in that case 
 for the perpetrator.’ 
 
 ‘ I have resolved.’ 
 
 ‘ For my part, although it is a dangerous and 
 serious affair — very serious — I am disposed to help 
 you, come what may.’ 
 
 ‘ I can rely on you ? ’ 
 
 ‘To the death,’ 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TERRIBLE COMBAT — STRATAGEM. 
 
 IHE first shots were soon fired. At 
 dinner-time, after acquainting Pinzon 
 with his plan, the first condition of 
 which was for the two friends to 
 feign non-acquaintance with each 
 other, Pepe Rey went to the dining-room. There 
 he met his aunt, who had just returned from the 
 cathedral, where she had been, as was her custom, 
 all the morning. She was alone, and seemed to 
 be in deep thought. The engineer remarked that 
 under that pale, marble countenance there was a 
 certain beauty ; it was like the clouds originating 
 from the reflection of the sun’s rays. She immedi- 
 ately recovered her sinister clearness on seeing 
 him ; but again, on rapidly glancing at her nephew’s 
 face, her usual kind expression was imprinted on 
 her studious features. 
 
 There was silence during the meal. They did 
 not wait for Lord Cayetano, for he had gone to 
 Mundogrande. When they had nearly finished 
 eating, Lady Perfecta said, — 
 
 ‘And this military fellow, whom the governor 
 has sent us to-day, is he not coming to dinner ? ’ 
 
 155 
 
LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 156 
 
 ‘He seems more sleepy than hungry/ replied 
 the engineer, without looking at his aunt. 
 
 ^ Do you know him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have not seen him before.’ 
 
 ‘ Then we shall be amused by the lodgers our 
 governor has sent us. Here, must we provide beds 
 and food for these stray people from Madrid, to be 
 ready at any hour they are disposed for them.’ 
 
 ‘it is because they are afraid that parties will 
 rise,’ said Pepe Rey, feeling as though a spark 
 were kindled in his veins, ‘ and the Government has 
 decided to crush the Orbajosians, to crush them, 
 to reduce them into dust.’ 
 
 ‘ Man, pity, pity for God’s sake, do not pulverise 
 us ! ’ exclaimed her ladyship, sarcastically. ‘ What 
 unfortunate creatures we are ! Have mercy, man, 
 and let these unhappy people live ! And so, will 
 you assist the troops in this great work of crush- 
 ing us ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am not military. I shall only applaud when 
 I see the germs of civil war extirpated, with in- 
 subordination, discord, highway robbery and bar- 
 barousness, which exist here to the shame of our 
 epoch and country.’ 
 
 ‘All that!’ 
 
 ‘Orbajosa, dear aunt, holds scarcely anything 
 but garlic and banditti ; for bandits are those who, 
 in the name of a political or religious opinion, take 
 up arms and seek for adventures every tour or five 
 years.’ 
 
 ‘Thanks, thanks, dear nephew,’ said Lady Per- 
 fecta, becoming paler. ‘Since Orbajosa consists 
 of these alone. . . . Then why have you come 
 here to seek more amongst us ? ’ 
 
 Pepe felt the rebuff. His soul kindled. It was 
 very difficult for him to behave towards his aunt 
 
TERRIBLE COMBAT-STRATAGEM. i57 
 
 with the consideration that her sex, state and 
 position merited. He spoke in an outburst of 
 violence, and with an irresistible impetuosity, and 
 he launched forth at his interlocutor, — 
 
 ‘ I came to Orbajosa,’ said he, ‘ because you 
 sent for me; you concerted with my father. . . 
 
 ‘ Yes, yes, it is true,' replied her ladyship, inter- 
 rupting him quickly and recovering her usual sweet- 
 ness, ... ‘ I do not deny it. It is true that I was 
 culpable. I am guilty of your tediousness, of your 
 licentiousness, of all the disagreements that have 
 taken place in my house since you arrived.' 
 
 ‘ I am pleased you acknowledge it.' 
 
 ‘Of course, you are a saint. I ought really to 
 go on my knees before your perfection, and beg 
 pardon, ought I not ? ' 
 
 ‘ Lady,' said Pepe Rey, seriously, forgetting his 
 dinner, ‘you should blush to jest with me in such 
 a despicable manner. I should never have come 
 here. . . . No, I should have been happier had I 
 never come to Orbajosa when you asked me.' 
 
 ‘ That is certain. Your father and I arranged 
 that you should wed Rosarito. You came here to 
 make her acquaintance. I then accepted you as 
 my son. ... You seemed to love Rosarito. . . .' 
 
 ‘ Pardon me,' objected Pepe. ‘ I loved, and was 
 loved by Rosarito ; you appeared to accept me as a 
 son ; you received me with false cordiality, employed 
 all the aris of cunning, from the hrst moment, to 
 annoy me, and hinder the fulfilment of my father’s 
 proposal ; you tried, even from the first day, to 
 make me despair, to weary me ; and, with your lips 
 wreathed with smiles and uttering tender words, 
 you have martyred me, consuming me with a slow 
 fire; you have worked against me secretly and 
 raised up lawsuits ; you deprived me of the official 
 
IS8 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 commission with which I was charged at Orbajosa; 
 you have deprecated me in the town ; you caused 
 me to be ejected from the cathedral; you have 
 kept me apart from my heart’s elect; you have 
 mortified your daughter by an inquisitorial seclu- 
 sion, which has almost cost her her life, and which 
 would have done, had not God helped her.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta became scarlet. But this lively 
 proof of her offended pride and her discovered 
 thoughts passed rapidly away, leaving her pale, 
 with a greenish tint. Her lips trembled. Throw- 
 ing down her dinner, she suddenly rose. Her 
 nephew also rose. 
 
 ‘ My God ! Holy Virgin of Help ! ’ exclaimed 
 her ladyship, raising both hands to her head and 
 behaving as though she were in the last stage of 
 despair. ‘Is it possible that I deserve such atro- 
 cious insults ? Pepe, my son, is it you who speak 
 so ? If I have really done all that you have said, 
 then truly I am very sinful.’ 
 
 She threw herself on a sofa and hid her face in 
 her hands. Pepe, approaching her slowly, observed 
 his aunt’s anguish and the tears which she had shed 
 abundantly. In spite of his conviction, he could 
 not conquer the slight pity which she aroused in 
 him, and, feeling timid, he experienced some pain 
 for having spoken so violently and long. 
 
 ‘ Dear aunt,’ he proceeded, putting his hand on 
 her shoulder, ‘if you reply to me with tears and 
 sighs, you will disturb, but not convince me. 
 Reasons, not sentiments, are wanting. Speak to 
 me, tell me that I am mistaken, prove it to me 
 also, and I will acknowledge my error.’ 
 
 ‘Leave me. You are not my brother’s son. If 
 you were, you would not have insulted me as you 
 have done. So I am a schemer, a comedian, a 
 
TERRIBLE COMB A T—STRA TA GEM, 1 59 
 
 hypocritical harpy, a diplomatic for embarrassing 
 marriages ? ’ 
 
 So saying, her ladyship uncovered her face, and 
 contemplated her nephew with a beatific expres- 
 sion. Pepe was perplexed. The tears, as also 
 his father’s sister’s sweet voice, could not be in- 
 significant phenomena to the mathematician’s soul. 
 The words stuck in his throat as he begged pardon. 
 A man of great energy as a rule, every accident 
 of sensibility, every agent that acted on his heart, 
 changed him suddenly into a child. A mathema- 
 tical matter. It is said that Newton was the 
 same. 
 
 ‘I should like to give you reasons that would 
 suffice,’ said Lady Perfecta, motioning that he 
 should sit down near her. ‘ I should like to re- 
 move your displeasure. That you might see if I 
 am good, if I am indulgent, if I am humble. . . . 
 I think you would withdraw, that you would deny 
 absolutely all that you have accused me of. . . . 
 No, no, I will not deny it.’ 
 
 The engineer was silent with astonishment. 
 
 ‘ I do not deny it,’ continued her ladyship. 
 ‘What I do deny is the injurious construction 
 you have put upon it. And what right have you 
 to judge me without knowing anything but what 
 you guess and conjecture? Have you such su- 
 preme intelligence that you should judge those 
 around you, and pass sentence on them? It is 
 God alone who knows one’s intentions.’ 
 
 Pepe felt still more astonishment. 
 
 ‘ Is it not lawful to sometimes employ in this 
 world indirect means for the fulfilment of a good 
 and honourable end ? What right have you to 
 judge such actions of mine that you do not 
 understand ? I, dear nephew, treating you with a 
 
i6o LAD V PERFECT A. 
 
 sincerity which you do not deserve, confess to 
 you that if I have effectually made use of subter- 
 fuges to bring about a good end, that I have, at 
 the same time, followed that which was beneficial 
 to you and to my daughter. . . . Do you not 
 understand ? You must be ignorant. ... Ah ! 
 your grand mathematical knowledge, as also that of 
 German philosophy, is not capable of penetrating 
 the subtilties of a prudent mother.’ 
 
 ‘You astonish me more and more,’ said the 
 engineer. 
 
 ‘You may be as much astonished as you will, 
 but confess your barbarity,’ said the lady, gaining 
 courage ; ‘ acknowledge your levity and your brutal 
 treatment of myself in accusing me as you have 
 done. You are an inexperienced boy, with no 
 knowledge but what you have gained from books, 
 which teach nothing of mundane matters, or of 
 those of the heart. You have learnt but to make 
 roads and wharves. Ah ! my young man, one does 
 not enter the human heart by railway tunnels, nor 
 reach its depths by boring as in mines. One does 
 not read the conscience with naturalists’ micro- 
 scopes, nor decide the culpability of one’s neigh- 
 bours’ opinions by the measure.’ 
 
 ‘ For God’s sake, dear aunt ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Why do you call on God if you do not believe 
 in Him ? ’ asked Lady Perfecta in a solemn tone. 
 ‘ If you believed in Him, if you were a good Chris- 
 tian, you would not venture perfidious judgment 
 on my conduct. I am a pious woman ; do you 
 hear ? I have a tranquil conscience ; do you hear ? 
 I know what to do, and why I do it ; do you hear ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I hear, I hear, I hear.’ 
 
 ‘ God, in Whom you do not believe, sees what 
 you cannot see — the intention. I say no more ; I 
 
TERRIBLE CO MB A T^STRA TAGEM. 1 6 1 
 
 wish to enter into no longer explanations than is 
 necessary. Perhaps you will understand me when 
 I say that I wished to achieve my desire without 
 causing scandal, without offending your father, 
 without offending you, without having to give an 
 explanation to people. ... I will say nothing of 
 that, for you should understand, Pepe. You are a 
 mathematician. You see what is before you, and 
 no more ; brutal nature, and no more ; strokes, 
 angles, weights, and no more. You see the effect, 
 but not the cause. He who does not believe in 
 God does not see the cause. God is the supreme 
 intention of the world, and he who does not ac- 
 knowledge Him judges as you judge, foolishly. For 
 example, in the tempest you note but the destruc- 
 tion, the fiery ravages, the consequent misery, the 
 earthquake’s desolation ; and yet, proud sir, in all 
 these apparent calamities, one may seek for the 
 goodness of the intention. . . . Yes, sir, the inten- 
 tion of Him who is always good, and never com- 
 mits evil.’ 
 
 This confusing, subtle, mysterious dialect did 
 not convince Rey ; but he did not wish to argue 
 with his aunt by the rugged path of such argu- 
 ments, and simply said, — 
 
 ‘ Good ; I respect intentions. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Now that you seem to recognise your error,’ 
 continued the pious lady, becoming each time 
 bolder, ‘ I will confess something else, and that is 
 that I see I was wrong to adopt such a system, 
 although my object was a good one. Taking into 
 consideration your violent character, taking into 
 consideration your incapacity to understand me, I 
 ought to have looked the question in the face, and 
 said to you, “ My nephew, I do not wish you to 
 espouse my daughter.” ’ 
 
LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 162 
 
 ‘ That is the language you should have used 
 towards me from the first day/ replied the engin- 
 eer, breathing more freely, as though he felt relieved 
 of a great weight. ‘I thank you much for those 
 words. After the stabs I have received in the dark, 
 this blow in full daylight is very agreeable to me.^ 
 
 ‘ Then I repeat the blow,’ affirmed her ladyship, 
 with as much force as displeasure. ‘You know it 
 now. I do not wish you to marry Rosarito.’ 
 
 Pepe kept silence. There was a long pause, 
 during which each watched the other attentively, 
 as though each found the other’s face the most per- 
 fect work of art. 
 
 ‘ Do you not understand what I said ? ’ repeated 
 she. ‘ Let all rest, there will be no wedding. 
 
 ‘ Permit me, dear aunt,’ said the young fellow 
 firmly, ‘ I am struck dumb with this intimation. 
 In the state at which things have arrived, your 
 negative is of little value to me.’ 
 
 ‘ What do you say ? ’ shouted Lady Perfecta 
 loudly. 
 
 ‘ What you hear. I shall marry Rosarito.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta rose up indignantly, majestically, 
 terribly. Her attitude was that of a mother pro- 
 nouncing an anathema. Rey remained sitting, 
 serene, courageous, with the passive courage of a 
 profound persuasion and unquestionable resolution. 
 All his aunt’s rage had no effect on him ; although 
 she threatened him, he did not even move an eye- 
 lash. He was thus. 
 
 ‘You are a madman. Marry you to my 
 daughter ! marry you to her ! I will not ! . . .’ 
 
 Her ladyship’s trembling lips articulated these 
 words with a truly tragic accent. 
 
 ‘You do not wish it ! . . . She thinks other- 
 
 wise. 
 
TERRIBLE COMBAT-STRATAGEM. 163 
 
 ‘ I do not wish it ! . . repeated the lady. 
 ‘Yes, I say it and repeat it. I do not wish it, I 
 do not wish it.’ 
 
 ‘ She and I desire it.’ 
 
 ‘ Fool ! are you and she the only people in the 
 world ? Are there no parents, no society, no con- 
 science, no God ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Because there is society ; because there is con- 
 science; because there is God,’ affirmed Rey, 
 seriously, rising and raising his arm, and pointing 
 to heaven, ‘I say and repeat that I will marry 
 her.’ 
 
 ‘ Miserable, proud man ! And if you will 
 trample all down, do you think there are no 
 laws to impede your violence?’ 
 
 ‘ Because there are laws, I say and repeat that 
 I will marry her.’ 
 
 ‘ You respect nothing.’ 
 
 ‘ Nothing that is unworthy of respect’ 
 
 ‘And my authority, and my will, I . . . am 
 I nothing?’ 
 
 ‘Your daughter is all to me; the rest nothing.’ 
 
 Pepe Key’s firmness was like the boast of an 
 incomparable strength, with a perfect conscious- 
 ness of the same. He dealt successive strokes 
 and bruises, without the least attenuation. His 
 words were like, if such a comparison be per- 
 mitted, a fierce artillery. 
 
 Lady Perfecta fell again on the sofa, but not to 
 weep, and a nervous ^convulsion shook her limbs. 
 
 ‘It seems that for this infamous atheist,’ she 
 said, with great fury, ‘there exist no social customs, 
 nothing more than a whim. He is an unworthy, 
 avaricious man. My daughter is rich.’ 
 
 ‘ If you think to wound me by this subtle artifice, 
 pretending to wrongly interpret my sentiments. 
 
164 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 that you may injure my dignity, you make a mis- 
 take, dear aunt. You say I am avaricious. God 
 knows I am.’ 
 
 ‘You have no dignity.’ 
 
 ‘That is only an opinion like all else. The 
 world may believe in your infallibility, I do not. 
 I am far from believing that what you say has any 
 weight before God.’ 
 
 ‘ But are you sure of what you say ? But do 
 you still persist after my refusal? You trample on 
 all. You are a monster, a bandit ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I am a man.’ 
 
 ‘ A wretch ! We will finish : I deny you my 
 daughter ; I deny her to you.’ 
 
 ‘ Then I shall take her ! I shall take no more 
 than is mine.’ 
 
 ‘ Leave my presence ! ’ exclaimed her ladyship, 
 rising hastily. ‘ Fool, do you think my daughter 
 will consent?’ 
 
 ‘ She loves me, as I do her.’ 
 
 ‘You lie, you lie ! ’ 
 
 ‘ She told me so herself. Allow me as regards this 
 question to rather believe her than her mamma.’ 
 
 ‘ When did she tell you, for you have not seen 
 her for many days ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I saw her last night, and she swore to me before 
 the Christ in the chapel that she would be my 
 wife.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! scandalous and libertinous ! What is this ? 
 My God ! what dishonour ! ’ exclaimed Lady Per- 
 fecta, again placing her hands to her head, and 
 taking several steps through the room. ‘ Did 
 Rosarito leave her room last night.’ 
 
 ‘ She came out to see me. It was early.’ 
 
 ‘ How vile your conduct is ! You have behaved 
 like thieves, like common seducers.’ 
 
TERRIBLE CO MB A T—STRA TA GEM. 1 6 5 
 
 ‘ I have behaved according to your school. My 
 intention was good.’ 
 
 ‘ And she came down ! . . . Ah ! I suspected 
 it. This morning at dawn I surprised her dressed 
 in her room. She told me she had been for I 
 know not what. ... You are the real criminal, 
 you. . . . She is a disgraceful girl. Pepe, I 
 might have expected anything from you, even such 
 an outrage. . . . All is finished. March off! 
 You no longer exist for me. I pardon you, as 
 long as you go. . . . I will not say a word of this 
 to your father. . . . What horrible egotism ? 
 No, there is no love in you. You do not love my 
 daughter.’ 
 
 ‘ God knows that I adore her, and that is sufficient 
 for me.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not name God with your lips, blasphemer ; 
 and hold your peace 1 ’ exclaimed Lady Perfecta. 
 
 ‘ In the name of God, Whom I dare invoke, for I 
 believe in Him, I tell you that my daughter shall 
 never be your wife. My daughter shall be saved, 
 Pepe. My daughter shall not be condemned to 
 live in hell, for hell it would be in a union with you.’ 
 
 ‘Rosarito shall be my spouse,’ repeated the 
 mathematician, with pathetic calmness. 
 
 The pious lady was still more irritated by her 
 nephew’s serenity. With a catch in her voice she 
 spoke thus : — 
 
 ‘ Do not think to frighten me with your threats. 
 I know what I say. For, can you trample down 
 a dwelling, a family? can you trample on human 
 and divine authority ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I will trample down all,’ said the engineer, al- 
 most losing his calmness, and expressing himself 
 with some agitation. 
 
 ‘ You will trample on all ! Ah ! I saw well that 
 
i66 LAD Y PERFECTA. 
 
 you were a barbarian, a savage, a man who lives 
 by violence/ 
 
 ‘No, dear aunt, I am gentle, upright, honour- 
 able, and an enemy to violence ; but, between you 
 and me, between us, this is the law, and I am 
 destined to observe it ; to save this poor tormented 
 creature, an angel of God, who is being martyred 
 unjustly. It is this spectacle, this injustice, this 
 unheard of violence that converts my rectitude 
 into barbarism, my reason into strength, my 
 honour into violence like to that of assassins 
 and thieves ; it is this spectacle, my lady, that in- 
 duces me not to regard your law, and that induces 
 me to take no notice of it, and to trample on 
 all. This that appears an extravagance, is an in- 
 evitable law. I shall act as does society when a 
 brutality as illogical as irritating is opposed to its 
 march. It passes over it and destroys it by a 
 ferocious attack ; such am I at this moment — I 
 even do not recognise myself. I was reasonable 
 and am a brute; I was respectful and am now 
 insolent ; I was cultured and have become savage. 
 You have brought me to this extremity, irritating 
 me and drawing me from the good road which I 
 was tranquilly travelling. Whose fault is it, yours 
 or mine ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yours! yours!’ 
 
 ‘ Neither you nor I can decide. I believe that 
 we both want to do right. You, with violence and 
 injustice; I, with injustice and violence. We 
 have each become as barbarous as the other, and 
 we will fight and wound each other unmercifully. 
 God permits it. My blood will fall on your con- 
 science, yours will be on mine. ... I will finish 
 there, lady, I do not wish to vex you with useless 
 words. Now we shall begin our exploits.’ 
 
TERRIBLE COMB A T-^STRA TA GEM, 167 
 
 ^ Our exploits, well,^ said Lady Perfecta, bellow- 
 ing rather than speaking. ‘ I believe Orbajosa is 
 not deficient in a Civil Guard. ^ 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, lady. I leave this house. I think 
 we shall meet again.’ 
 
 ‘ Go ! go ! go ! ’ she shouted, pointing to the door 
 with energetic gesture. 
 
 Pepe Rey went out. Lady Perfecta then 
 muttered some incoherent words, which were 
 clearly an expression of her anger, and fell on 
 a chair with either a nervous attack or from 
 fatigue. The servants came to her assistance. 
 
 ‘ Go for Mr Inocencio ! ’ she shouted ; ‘ at once 
 . . . quickly, and tell him to come.’ 
 
 And then she bit her handkerchief. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 RUMOURS — FEARS. 
 
 HE day following this lamentable dis- 
 pute various rumours respecting Pepe 
 Rey and his conduct ran all over 
 Orbajosa, from house to house, dis- 
 trict to district, from the casino to 
 the apothecary's, and from the ‘Descalza Walk' 
 to the gate ‘Baidejos.' All repeated them, and 
 commentaries were so freely made, that, had Lord 
 Cayetano gathered them up and compiled them, 
 they would have formed a rich ‘memento' of 
 Orbajosian benevolence. Amongst the divers 
 kinds of reports spread, some had reached a 
 culminating point, one of them being as follows : — 
 
 ‘ That the engineer had been so furious because 
 Lady Pertecta had refused to allow Rosarito to 
 marry an atheist, that he had raised his hand 
 against his aunt.' 
 
 The young man had taken lodgings in the widow 
 Cusco's house, an establishment which was mon- 
 tado^ as 'tis said. It was neither the highest nor 
 the lowest of the most handsome in the country. 
 He was frequently visited by Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Pinzon, to learn what each had done in respect to 
 the web they were weaving, and for which the 
 1 68 
 
R UMO URS— FEARS. 
 
 169 
 
 soldier possessed the most happy dispositions to 
 make it efficacious. He was constantly conceiving 
 some new fancy, hastening to act upon what he 
 had thought of with excellent spirits, and saying to 
 his friend, — 
 
 ‘ The paper that I am doing, dear Pepe, cannot 
 be counted as one of the most graceful things ; but 
 to cause disgust to Orbajosa and its inhabitants I 
 would go on all fours.’ 
 
 We do not know what subtle means the cunning 
 military man, who was an adept in the world’s 
 ways, used ; but it is certain that, after having 
 lodged for three days in the house, he had gained 
 the goodwill of all. He greatly pleased Lady 
 Perfecta, who could not hear his zealous praises as 
 to the good order of the household unmoved, as 
 also his remarks on the grandeur, piety and august 
 magnificence of her ladyship. He had stood on 
 good terms with Mr Inocencio from the first. 
 Neither the mother nor the confessor prevented his 
 talking to Rosarito (to whom they had allowed 
 liberty since the ferocious cousin’s absence) ; and 
 by his sparing courtesy, his clever flattery and able 
 address, he had acquired considerable power, and 
 even familiarity, in the Polentinos’ house. But 
 the object on which he centred his skill was a 
 servant, by name Librada, whom he seduced 
 (casually speaking) to carry messages and little 
 notes to Rosarito, of whom he pretended to be 
 enamoured. The girl could not resist the briber, 
 thereby realising many kind words and much 
 money ; but she was ignorant as to who sent the 
 notes, and, although she liked Mr Jose much, had 
 she known that this was a new trick of his, she 
 would not have betrayed her ladyship for all the 
 money in the world. 
 
 H 
 
70 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 One day Lady Perfecta, Mr Inocencio, Jacintito 
 and Pinzon were all in the orchard. They were 
 discussing the troop, and the mission that had 
 brought it to Orbajosa ; and Mr Confessor had 
 condemned the tyrannical conduct of the Govern- 
 ment, and, almost without knowing it, Pepe Rey^s 
 name was mentioned. 
 
 ‘ He is still at the lodging house,’ said the little 
 lawyer. ‘ I saw him yesterday, and he wished to 
 be remembered to you. Lady Perfecta.’ 
 
 ‘ He is very insolent. ... Ah ! Mr Pinzon, 
 you must be astonished to hear me use such 
 language in mentioning a nephew . . . you know 
 . . . that gentleman who occupied the room which 
 you now have.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I know ! Not that I know him personally, 
 but by sight and fame. He is our brigadier’s in- 
 timate friend.’ 
 
 ‘ The brigadier’s friend ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, lady, of him who commands the brigade 
 since it came to this country, and which he has 
 distributed in different towns.’ 
 
 ‘ And where is he ? ’ questioned her ladyship. 
 
 ‘ In Orbajosa.’ 
 
 ‘I believe he lodges in the Polavieja’s house,’ 
 said Jacintito. 
 
 ‘ Your nephew,’ continued Pinzon, ‘ and Brigadier 
 Batalla are very intimate, very so, and one sees 
 them together at all times in the town streets.’ 
 
 ‘ Then, my friend, I conceive a bad opinion of 
 this Mr Chief,’ replied Lady Perfecta. 
 
 ‘ He is ... he is unfortunate,’ said Pinzon in a 
 tone as though of commiseration for such a hard 
 sentence. 
 
 ‘ I do not include those present, Mr Pinzon, and 
 believe in your honour,’ affirmed her ladyship. 
 
R UMO URS—FEARS, 
 
 171 
 
 ‘ I cannot deny that there are some models in the 
 Spanish army. . . J 
 
 ‘Our brigadier was an excellent military man 
 before he gave himself up to spiritualism. . . 
 
 ‘ Spiritualism ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It is a sect that calls on spirits and hobgoblins 
 by rapping on tables ! ’ exclaimed the canon, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 ‘ For curiosity — only for curiosity,’ said Jacintito, 
 emphatically. ‘I have sent for Allan Cardec’s 
 work from Madrid. It is well to be informed 
 about everything.’ 
 
 ‘ But is it possible that there can be such absur- 
 dities? Jesus! Tell me, Pinzon, is my nephew 
 of this sect of rappers on benches ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I fancy that it was he who initiated our brave 
 Brigadier Batalla.’ 
 
 ‘But, Jesus 1’ 
 
 ‘ It is so ; and then he fancies,’ said Mr Ino- 
 cencio, unable to resist laughing, ‘he shall speak 
 with Socrates, St Paul, Cervantes and Descartes, 
 as I can now speak to Librada, to beg her for a 
 match. Poor Mr Rey 1 Well, said I, that such a 
 head contained no good.’ 
 
 ‘ For the rest,’ continued Pinzon, our brigadier 
 is a good soldier. If he sins somewhat, he is 
 excessively hard. He takes all orders from the 
 Government literally, and, if people here vex him 
 much,' he is capable of not leaving a stone standing 
 of Orbajosa. Yes, I warn you, that you may be 
 careful.’ 
 
 ‘ But this monster will cut off all our heads. Ay 1 
 Mr Inocencio, these visits of the troops recall to 
 my mind all that I have read of in the lives of the 
 martyrs, when a Roman proconsul was elected in a 
 Christian town. . . .’ 
 
172 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘ That is not a very good comparison/ said the 
 confessor, looking at the soldier over his spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 ‘ It is a little sad ; but I really felt I ought to 
 tell you,’ declared Pinzon, benevolently. ‘Now, 
 sirs, you are at our mercy.’ 
 
 ‘ The country authorities,’ objected Jacintito, ‘ still 
 behave well however.’ 
 
 ‘I believe you are mistaken,’ replied Pinzon, 
 who was observing her ladyship and the confessor 
 with deep interest. 
 
 ‘An hour ago the justice of the peace for 
 Orbajosa was dismissed.’ 
 
 ‘ By the provincial governor ? ’ 
 
 ‘ The governor has put in his place a delegate 
 from the Government, who should arrive this 
 morning. All the magistracy leave to-day. The 
 minister has so commanded, fearing, I do not 
 know why, that they were not favourable to the 
 central authority.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, well we are, . . .’ murmured the canon, 
 frowning and protruding his lower lip. 
 
 Lady Perfecta meditated. 
 
 ‘We have also to dismiss some of the judges 
 of the principal causes, amongst others, him of 
 Orbajosa.’ 
 
 ‘The judge! Periquito ! Is not Periquito the 
 judge?’ exclaimed Lady Perfecta, with the voice 
 and gesture of one who who has had the mis- 
 fortune to be stung by a viper. 
 
 ‘ He who was judge in Orbajosa is no longer so,’ 
 said Pinzon. ‘They will send the new one to- 
 morrow.’ 
 
 ‘ An unknown 1 ’ 
 
 ‘ An unknown ! ’ 
 
 ‘A rogue, perhaps. . . , The other was so 
 
R UMO URS— FEARS, 
 
 173 
 
 honourable, . . said her ladyship, uneasily. ‘ He 
 never lost me a cause which I intrusted to him. 
 Do you know who is to be the new justice of the 
 peace ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Tell me who is to be the chief magistrate.’ 
 
 ‘See, I will tell you from whence comes the 
 deluge, and then we will finish,’ said the canon, 
 rising. 
 
 ‘ Of course we must thank Mr Brigadier ; are we 
 at his mercy ? ’ 
 
 ‘For a few days, neither more nor less. Do 
 not be angry with me. In spite of my uniform, I 
 am an enemy to martial law ; but we are com- 
 manded to fire . . . and we fire. There could not 
 be a worse office than ours.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, it is so,’ said her ladyship, concealing her 
 fury badly. ‘ You have confessed it. . . . What 
 with neither justice of the peace nor judge. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Nor provincial governor.’ 
 
 ‘ They may also take away our bishop, and send 
 a monkey in his place.’ 
 
 ‘ There is only that wanting. ... If they dare 
 do it,’ murmured Mr Inocencio, lowering his eyes, 
 ‘they do not seem to stop at trifles.’ 
 
 ‘ And it is all because they are afraid that parties 
 may arise in Orbajosa ! ’ exclaimed her ladyship, 
 crossing her hands and trembling from head to 
 foot. ‘ Frankly, Pinzon, I do not know how it is 
 that even the stones do not rise up. I wish no ill 
 to you, but it is quite possible that they will con- 
 vert even the water we drink into mire. ... You 
 tell me that my nephew is an intimate friend of 
 the brigadier ? ’ 
 
 ‘ So intimate that they are never separate all day 
 long; they were companions at college. Batalla 
 loves him like a brother, and does anything that he 
 
174 
 
 LADY FERFECTA. 
 
 wishes. In your place, lady, I should feel un- 
 easy.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! my God ! I fear a trample-down ! ’ ex- 
 claimed she, restlessly. 
 
 ‘ Lady,’ said the canon, energetically, ‘ before 
 consenting to this honourable house being trampled 
 down, before consenting to the least injury being 
 done to this very noble family, I, my nephew . . . 
 all the neighbours in Orbajosa . . . .’ 
 
 Mr Inocencio did not conclude. His anger was 
 so great that he could not speak. He took several 
 martial steps, and then came and sat down. 
 
 ‘ I think these fears are vain,’ said Pinzon. ‘ In 
 a case of necessity, I . . .’ 
 
 ‘And I . . .’ repeated Jacinti to. 
 
 Lady Perfecta was staring at the glass door of 
 the dining-room, where a graceful figure might be 
 seen. As she gazed, her ladyship’s face became 
 darkly clouded with fear. 
 
 ‘ Rosarito come here, Rosarito,’ she said, recover- 
 ing from her shock. ‘ I fancy that you look better 
 and happier to-day — yes. Do you not think that 
 Rosarito looks better ? As though she could be 
 otherwise.’ 
 
 All agreed that she looked most happy. 
 
 
f 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 FEAR IS EXCITED. 
 
 T this time the Madrid periodicals pub- 
 lished the following : — 
 
 ‘ It is not certain that any party 
 will rise in Orbajosa and its neigh- 
 bourhood. They write to us from 
 that locality, saying, “ That that country is little dis- 
 posed for war, and that they consider Brigadier 
 Batalla’s presence useless at that point. . . 
 
 ‘ It is said that Brigadier Batalla will quit Orba- 
 josa, where the army is not required to give proof 
 of its strength, and will go to Villa] uan de Nahara, 
 where there are several parties. . . . 
 
 ‘ It is now certain that the Aceros are in league 
 with some horsemen near to Villa] uan, the nearest 
 to the judicial district of Orbajosa. The governor 
 of the province of X — has telegraphed to the 
 Government, saying that Francis Aceros entered the 
 Roquetas, where he levied money and begged food. 
 Domingo Acero (Faltriquera) is roving in the ridges 
 of the mountain Jubileo, actively pursued by the 
 Civil Guard, who have killed one man and appre- 
 hended another. Bartholomew Acero is he who 
 set fire to the civil registry of Lugarnoble, retaining 
 175 
 
176 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 the justices of the peace and two principal inhabi- 
 tants as hostages. . . . 
 
 ‘ In Orbajosa complete tranquillity reigns, accord- 
 ing to the letter we have seen, and there they only 
 think of field labours and of the near harvest of 
 garlic, which promises to be magnificent. The im- 
 mediate district is infested with parties ; but Briga- 
 dier Batalla gives a good account of them. . . 
 
 In effect, Orbajosa was quiet. The Aceros 
 were a fighting dynasty, which merited, according 
 to some, to figure in a collection of romances, and 
 had taken for their share the adjoining province, 
 but the insurrection did not spread to the Episcopal 
 town. It seemed as though modern education had 
 at last overcome the desire for conquest, and that 
 the delights of an enduring peace might be enjoyed. 
 And it is certain that even Caballuco, one of the 
 most prominent in the historical contumacy of 
 Orbajosa, had distinctly given everyone to under- 
 stand that he had no wish to quarrel with the 
 Government nor to enter into engagements which 
 might cost him dear. 
 
 Whatever people may have said, the violent 
 character of Ramos had become softened by time, 
 and the fieriness which he had inherited from the 
 Caballucos — fathers and grandfathers — had cooled 
 down slightly although his ancestors had been the 
 best race of warriors that had devastated the earth. 
 And besides, in these days,, the new provincial 
 governor had held a conference with this import- 
 ant personage, receiving from his lips the greatest 
 assurances that he would contribute to public peace, 
 and avoid all occasion of disturbance. He brought 
 forward trustworthy witnesses to prove that he 
 was living in love and companionship with the 
 soldiers, sharing a meal with one or another ser- 
 
FEA/^ IS EXCITED. 
 
 177 
 
 geant at the tavern, and even said that he was 
 destined to receive a good position in the magis- 
 tracy in the capital of the province. Oh ! how 
 difficult it is for the historian, who aspires to impar- 
 tiality, to truly portray the opinions and thoughts 
 of notable people, whose names have been well- 
 known to the world. I do not know one who has 
 been able to do so, and the want of certain dates 
 gives rise to lamentable equivocation. In presence 
 of such finished works as Brumario’s military expe- 
 dition Rome sacked by Borbon, the destruction 
 of Jerusalem, what philologer, or what historian is 
 able to determine the thoughts that preceded or 
 followed in the heads of Bonaparte, Charles V., 
 and Titus ? Our responsibility is immense ! To 
 partly relieve ourselves from it, we relate words, 
 sentences, and even conversations of this same 
 Orbajosian emperor, and by these means each may 
 form the opinion which seems to him most correct. 
 
 There can be no doubt whatever that Christobel 
 Ramos went out, and at night, from his house, 
 and, traversing the street of the Constabulary, saw 
 three labourers, who, mounted on mules, were com- 
 ing in an opposite direction to him, and, on ques- 
 tioning them as to their destination, they replied 
 that they were going to Lady Perfecta^s house, to 
 carry her the various first fruits of their orchards, 
 and some money due on the approaching rent-day. 
 These men were Mr Pasolargo, a young man named 
 Frasquito Gonzalez, and the third, who was of 
 medium stature and coarse complexion, was called 
 Vejarruco, although his real name was Joseph 
 Stephen Romerio. This occurred, according to 
 authenticated dates, at night, and two days after 
 the conversation which took place between Lady 
 Perfecta and Pinzon, which was related in the last 
 
178 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 chapter, and which he, who so desired, has been 
 able to read. Caballuco walked with the three 
 companions, soliciting the good company of these 
 men, and entered her ladyship’s house with them.. 
 He then gave Librada some messages of little im- 
 portance which a neighbour had confided to him, 
 whilst the three labourers before mentioned, with 
 Mr Lycurgus, entered the dining-room (it was a 
 strange coincidence that Lycurgus was present) and 
 commenced a conversation relating to the harvest 
 and their houses. 
 
 Her ladyship was in an ugly humour, and 
 harshly reproached them for the dryness of the 
 heavens and the barrenness of the earth — phe- 
 nomena for which the poor men were not to blame. 
 
 Mr Inocencio made his appearance on the scene. 
 
 When Caballuco came in, the good canon sal- 
 uted him affectionately, and signed to him to take 
 a seat by his side. 
 
 ‘Here is this person,’ said her ladyship con- 
 temptuously, ‘ It seems it is a falsehood all they 
 say of this worthless man ! Tell me, Caballuco, is 
 it true that the soldiers dealt you some blows this 
 morning.’ 
 
 ‘ Me ! me ! ’ said the Centaur, rising indignantly, 
 as though he had received a great insult. 
 
 ‘ So 'tis said,’ added her ladyship. ‘ Is it not 
 true? I believed it, for why should such a thing 
 be said ? . . . They spat at you, and you thought 
 yourself honoured by the military men’s saliva.’ 
 
 ‘ Lady ! ’ vociferated Ramos energetically, ‘ saving 
 the respect I owe you, who are my mother, more 
 than my mother, my lady ! my queen ! . . . then I 
 say, saving the respect I owe to the person who 
 has given me all I possess . . . saving the re- 
 spect. » . 
 
IS EXCITED, 179 
 
 ‘ What ? it seems to me that you intend to say a 
 great deal, and say nothing.’ 
 
 ‘ Then I say, saving the respect, it is a calumny 
 about the blow,’ he added, expressing himself with 
 much difficulty. ‘ All talk about me if I come in 
 or if I go out, if I go or if I come . . . and all, 
 what for? Because I wish to hold myself aloof 
 from any revolt in the country. Peter is well in 
 his house, ladies and gentlemen. Why has the 
 troop come ? ... it is unfortunate ; but what are 
 we to do ? . . . Who has dismissed the justice of 
 the peace, secretary and judge? ... it is un- 
 fortunate. I wish the stones of Orbajosa would 
 rise against them, but I have passed my word to 
 the governor, and even now I . . .’ 
 
 He scratched his head, frowned gloomily, and, 
 each time becoming more surly, proceeded, — 
 
 ‘ I am a brute, heavy, ignorant, ardent, obstinate 
 or anything you like, but I have no desire to be a 
 knight.’ 
 
 ‘ Pity on Cid Campeador,’ said Lady Perfecta, 
 with the greatest scorn. ‘ Do you not think as I 
 do, Mr Confessor, that there is not now one man 
 in Orbajosa who has any shame ? ’ 
 
 ‘ That is a grave opinion,’ replied the capitular, 
 without looking at his friend, or raising his medi- 
 tative face from his hand, on which he rested it. 
 ‘ It seems to me that this neighbourhood has ac- 
 cepted the heavy military yoke with the greatest 
 submission.’ 
 
 Lycurgus and the three labourers laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 ‘ When the soldiers and new authorities,’ said 
 her ladyship, ‘ have relieved us of our last dollar, 
 as well as of the honour of the town, we will send all 
 the valiant men in Orbajosa to Madrid in a glass 
 
i8o LAD Y PERFECTA, 
 
 urn, that they may be either placed in the 
 museum, or serve as a sign in the streets.^ 
 
 ‘ Hurrah for her ladyship ’ ! exclaimed he who 
 was known as Vejarruco, gaily. ‘ What she has just 
 said is as good as gold. But do not tell me there 
 are no brave men, for I am for the Aceros, and 
 had I not three sons and a wife, and might be 
 crippled, and if . . / 
 
 ‘But you have not given your word to the 
 governor ? ’ questioned her ladyship. 
 
 ‘To the governor ! ^ exclaimed Frasquito Gonz- 
 alez. ‘There is not a greater rogue in the country 
 who deserves to be shot. Governor and Government 
 are all the same. The priest foretold to us on 
 Sunday all sorts of high-sounding things about the 
 heresy and offences against religion, which are com- 
 mitted in Madrid. . . . Oh! I heard him. . . . And, 
 finally, he wept in the pulpit, saying that religion 
 has now no defenders.’ 
 
 ‘ Here is the great Christobel Ramos,’ said her 
 ladyship, bringing her hand down heavily on the 
 centaur’s shoulder. ‘Mounted on horseback, he 
 traverses the square and the field, to attract the 
 soldiers’ attention ; they see him, shiver at the hero’s 
 fiery countenance, and run away dead with fear ! ’ 
 
 Her ladyship finished her sentence with an 
 exaggerated laugh, which sounded more offensive 
 from the profound silence the others observed, 
 Caballuco turned pale. 
 
 ‘Mr Pasolargo,’ continued the lady becoming 
 serious, ‘ when you came here to-night, I was about 
 to send for your son Bartholomen, as I require 
 him here. I must have some good men in 
 my house ; and even then the morning sun 
 may behold my daughter and me assassinated.’ 
 
 ‘ Lady 1 ’ exclaimed all. 
 
FEAR IS EXCITED, i8i 
 
 ‘ Lady ! ^ shouted Caballuco, rising, ‘ are you in 
 jest or earnest ? ’ 
 
 ‘Messrs Vejarruco and Pasolargo,^ continued 
 her ladyship, taking no notice of the local bragga- 
 docio, ‘ I am not safe in my house. No one in 
 Orbajosa is, much less 1. My soul is troubled, 
 I cannot close my eyes all night.’ 
 
 ‘ But why ? Who frightens you ? ’ 
 
 ‘We will seel’ exclaimed Lycurgus, ardently, 
 ‘if I, old and infirm, am not capable of fighting 
 against all the Spanish army, if they touch her 
 ladyship’s skirt. . . .’ 
 
 ‘With Mr Caballuco,’ said Frasquito Gonzalez, 
 ‘ we are more than enough.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no,’ said her ladyship, with cruel sarcasm. 
 ‘ Do you not see that Ramos has given his word 
 to the governor. . . .’ 
 
 Caballuco sat down again, and putting one knee 
 over the other, crossed his hands on them. 
 
 ‘ I steer clear of cowards,’ added their mistress 
 implacably ; ‘ I have nothing to say to such. Per- 
 haps I am in danger of seeing my house attacked, 
 of having my dear daughter snatched from my 
 arms to be trampled on and insulted in a most 
 infamous manner ! ’ 
 
 She could not continue. Her voice was smothered, 
 and she began to weep disconsolately. 
 
 ‘ Lady, for God’s sake, be calm ! Come . . . 
 there is no reason yet, . . .’ said Mr Inocencio, 
 hastily, with an expression of great affliction. ‘ One 
 should always be resigned, and try to bear the 
 calamities that God sends.’ 
 
 ‘ But . . . who ? . . . lady. . . . Who has 
 frightened you with such shameful tales?’ ques- 
 tioned one of the four. ‘ Orbajosa would rise up 
 to defend your ladyship.’ 
 
i 82 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘ But who, who ? ’ repeated the others. 
 
 ‘Come, do not trouble her with importunate 
 questions,’ said the confessor officiously. ‘You 
 may retire.’ 
 
 ‘ No, no ; I may want them,’ said her ladyship, 
 quickly, drying her tears. ‘ The presence of good 
 servants is a great consolation to me.’ 
 
 ‘ Cursed be my race ! ’ said Lucas, giving a blow 
 on his knee, ‘if all these foolish reports are not 
 the work of her ladyship’s nephew ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Of Mr John Key’s son ? ’ 
 
 ‘ From meeting him in the station at Villahor- 
 renda, and his speaking to me with his mellifluous 
 voice and courtly phrases,’ proffered Lycurgus, ‘ I 
 took him to be a gentleman . . . not that I wish 
 to be wanting in respect to her ladyship. . . . But 
 I knew him. ... I stamped him from that very 
 day, and I am not mistaken. I know very well, 
 as ’tis said, that the clew is manufactured for the 
 thread, that the cloth is known by the design, 
 and the lion by its claws.’ 
 
 ‘ Say nothing against this unfortunate youth in 
 my presence,’ said she of the Polentinos, severely. 
 ‘ However great his faults, charity forbids us to talk 
 about them and make them public.’ 
 
 ‘ But charity,’ said Mr Inocencio, energetically, 
 ‘does not prevent us taking precautions against 
 evil ; and it is of this we are treating. Now that 
 the chief characters and valour of Orbajosa are so 
 much decayed ; now that this town is disposed to 
 offer its face for the soldiers to spit at, we must 
 unite to defend ourselves.’ 
 
 ‘I will defend myself as well as I can,’ said 
 Lady Perfecta, resignedly, crossing her hands. 
 ‘ The Lord’s will be done ! ’ 
 
 ‘ What a noise about nothing I . . . For the life 
 
FEAR IS EXCITED. 
 
 183 
 
 of ! . . . How frightened all are in this house ! 
 . . I exclaimed Cabullaco, half in fun, half in 
 earnest. ‘ One would imagine that Mr Pepe is a 
 region ^ (read legion) ‘ of devils. Do not be alarmed, 
 my lady. My little nephew, John, who is thirteen, 
 will guard the house, and we will see, nephew for 
 nephew, which can do the most.’ 
 
 ‘ We already know what your courage and boasts 
 are worth,’ replied the lady. ‘Poor Ramos! you 
 wish to impose on us by your show of bravery, 
 whilst I have found out that it is worthless.’ 
 
 Ramos grew slightly pale, fixing on her ladyship 
 a singular look, in which were mingled fear and 
 respect. 
 
 ‘Yes, man ; do not look at me so. I now know 
 that I must not rely on braggarts. Would you 
 wish me to tell you plainly what I think of you ? 
 You are a coward 1 ’ 
 
 Ramos moved as though he felt an itching in 
 different parts of his body, displaying great un- 
 easiness. His nostrils expanded, and he sniffed 
 the air like a horse. This corporeal combat was 
 caused by torment, passion, savagery, which con- 
 sumed and raged within his breast. After trying 
 to utter some words, and chewing others, he rose 
 and roared in this manner : — 
 
 ‘ I will cut off Mr Rey’s head 1 ’ 
 
 ‘What foolishness ! You are a brute as well as 
 a coward 1 ’ she said, paling. ‘ Who spoke here of 
 killing? Yes; I do not wish anyone to be killed, 
 much less my nephew, whom I love in spite of his 
 wrong-doing 1 ’ 
 
 ‘ Homicide 1 What atrocity 1 ’ exclaimed Mr 
 Inocencio, scandalised. ‘ This man is mad ! ’ 
 
 ‘ To kill 1 . . . The very idea of a homicide 
 horrifies me, Caballuco,’ said her ladyship, closing 
 
184 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 her gentle eyes. ‘ Poor man ! When you have 
 desired to display courage you have howled like 
 a carnivorous wolf. Get away from here, Ramos ; 
 you alarm me.’ 
 
 ‘ Did not your ladyship say you were frightened ? 
 Did you not say they would destroy the house, and 
 steal the girl ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I am afraid so.’ 
 
 ‘And it is the act of one man,’ said Ramos, 
 scornfully, again sitting down. ‘It is the act of 
 Mr Pepe Poquita Cosa with his mathematics. I 
 did wrong in saying I would slice his neck. With 
 an effeminate man of his stamp he should 
 have his ear taken off and thrown into the 
 river.’ 
 
 ‘ So, you laugh now, beast. It is not alone my 
 nephew who will commit all these acts of injustice 
 which I have mentioned, and which I fear ; if it 
 were he alone, I should not be alarmed. I should 
 command Librada to guard the door with a broom 
 . . . and that would suffice. . . . No, it is not he 
 alone ; no.’ 
 
 ‘ Then whom ? ’ 
 
 ‘Are you a donkey? Do you not know that 
 my nephew and the brigadier who commands this 
 confounded troop confabulate ? 
 
 ‘ Confabulate ! ’ exclaimed Caballuco, pretending 
 that he did not understand the words. 
 
 ‘ They are cronies,’ said Lycurgus. ‘ They talk 
 together ; that means they are cronies. I under- 
 stood what her ladyship meant.’ 
 
 ‘ It reduces itself to this, — That the brigadier and 
 officials are hand and glove with Mr Jose; and 
 whatever he desires, the soldiers desire also ; and 
 that these soldiers are capable of violence and 
 barbarity, since such is their office.’ 
 
FEAR IS EXCITED. 185 
 
 ‘And we have no justice of the peace to 
 appeal to.’ 
 
 ‘Nor judge.’ 
 
 ‘Nor governor. That is to say, we are at the 
 mercy of these infamous men.’ 
 
 ‘Some soldiers,’ said Vejarruco, ‘carried off the 
 prettiest of Uncle Julian’s daughters yesterday, and 
 the poor man could not find her on returning to 
 his house ; but she was found crying and barefooted 
 near to the old fountain with a broken pitcher.’ 
 
 ‘ Poor Mr Gregory Palomeque ! the notary of 
 Naharilla Alta,’ said Frasquito. ‘These rogues 
 stole all the money he had in his house, but the 
 brigadier, when questioned, said it was a lie.’ 
 
 ‘ Tyrants 1 tyrants not born of women ! ’ proffered 
 another. ‘ I say that I do not agree with the 
 Aceros. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ And what is known of Francisco Aceros ? ’ 
 questioned Lady Perfecta, quietly. ‘ I should be 
 sorry if he were unfortunate. Tell me, Mr 
 Inocencio, was not Francisco Acero born at 
 Orbajosa? ’ 
 
 ‘No; he and his brothers are from Villajuan.’ 
 
 ‘I am sorry for Orbajoso,’ continued her lady* 
 ship. ‘ This poor city is disgraced. Do you know if 
 Francisco Aceros has passed his word to the gover- 
 nor that he will not annoy these poor soldiers in 
 their attacks on maidens, in their acts of impiety, 
 sacrilege, and infamous felony ? ’ 
 
 Caballuco gave a start. He felt as though he 
 were stung, as though wounded by a blow from a 
 sabre. He face flushed and his eyes shone, whilst 
 he shouted thus : — 
 
 ‘ I have passed my word to the governor, for the 
 governor promised me that it would have a good 
 result.’ 
 
i86 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 ‘Barbarian, do not shout. Speak like a man, 
 and we will listen to you.’ 
 
 ‘ I promised that neither I nor my friends would 
 raise parties in the land of Orbajosa. ... To all 
 those who have desired to sally out to play at war 
 I have said, — “ Go with the Aceros, that we may 
 not be troubled here. . But there are many 
 honourable men — yes, lady — and good — yes, lady 
 — and valiant — yes, lady — who are scattered about 
 in the villages, and commons, and mountains, each 
 in his dwelling, eh? And I have but to say half 
 a word, eh ? and they will all take out their guns, 
 eh ? and will hasten either on horseback or on foot 
 where I will. . . I am not a grammarian, but I 
 know how to give my word, for I did give it, and if 
 I do not go out it is because I do not wish to do 
 so ; and if I desire parties there will be parties, and 
 if I do not wish it, no ; for I am whom I am, the 
 same man as ever, as you all know. . . . And as I 
 said before, I am no grammarian, am I ? and they 
 do not tell me things in my dreams, do they ? and 
 if they wish me to go out they will declare it aloud, 
 will they ? for why has God given us a tongue but for 
 to say this and that. Her ladyship well knows who 
 I am, as well as she knows that I am indebted to 
 her for the shirt I wear, and for the bread I eat 
 to-day, and for the first chickpea that I sucked 
 when I was vexed, and for the coffin in which they 
 put my father when he died, and for the physicians 
 and medicine that cured me when I was ill ; and 
 ..er ladyship well knows that if she said to me, — 
 “Caballuco, break your head,” I should go to a 
 corner and break it against the wall ; her ladyship 
 knows well that if she told me it was day, although I 
 know it is night, that I should equivocate and 
 declare it was day ; her ladyship knows well that I 
 
FEAJ^ IS EXCITED. 
 
 187 
 
 love her more than anything else under the sun. 
 ... To a man of so much heart, if she says, — 
 “ Caballuco, stop animal, do this or do the other ; 
 take back your words and oaths, they are dreams,’’ 
 I should pinch here and strike there.’ 
 
 ‘ Come, man, calm yourself,’ said Lady Perfecta 
 kindly. ‘ You are choking like those Republican 
 orators who come here to preach free religion, free 
 love, and I know not what other free things. . . . 
 Let them bring you a glass of water.’ 
 
 Caballuco took a piece of rag and used it as a 
 handkerchief, rolled it up into a ball, passed it 
 over his broad forehead and over the back of his 
 head to dry himself, for he was covered with per- 
 spiration. They brought him a glass of water, and 
 the canon, with a meekness befitting his sacerdotal 
 character, took it from the servant’s hands, pre- 
 sented it to Ramos, and held the salver whilst he 
 drank. The water, as it ran down Caballuco’s 
 throat, produced a gurgling sound. 
 
 ‘Now bring me another, Madame Librada,’ 
 said Mr Inocencio, ‘ I feel a burning sensation 
 within.’ 
 
HAPTER XXI 1. 
 
 AROUSED. 
 
 regards the parties/ said Lady 
 Perfecta, when the others had fin- 
 ished drinking, ‘ I tell you to act as 
 your conscience directs.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not listen to its dictation,’ 
 shouted Ramos. ‘ I shall obey your ladyship’s 
 will.’ 
 
 ‘ Then I will give you no advice on such a serious 
 matter,’ replied she, with the circumspection and 
 suavity which became her so well. ‘ It is serious, 
 very serious, and I cannot advise you.’ 
 
 ‘ But your ladyship’s opinion. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ My opinion is that you shall open your eyes and 
 see, open your ears and hear. . . . Consult your 
 heart. ... I grant you that you have a large heart. 
 . . . Consult that judge; that counsellor knows 
 much, and do as it commands you.’ 
 
 Caballuco reflected, pondering on all that a sword 
 might ponder on. 
 
 ‘ We reckoned those in Naharilla Alta yesterday, 
 said Vejarruco, ‘and there were thirteen fit for a 
 great undertaking. . . . But as we were afraid her 
 ladyship would be angry, we have done nothing. 
 It is now time to clip.’ 
 
 i88 
 
AROUSED. 
 
 189 
 
 ‘ Do not you busy yourself with the clipping, 
 said her ladyship. ‘ There is time. That will not 
 be neglected.^ 
 
 ‘ My two boys,’ proffered Lycurgus, ‘ were disput- 
 ing together yesterday ; one wished to go to Fran- 
 cisco Acero, and the other did not. I said to them, 
 — ‘‘ Patience, my sons, and all will go ; I should 
 hope that they make as good bread here as in 
 France.” ’ 
 
 ‘ I said this evening to Roque Pelosmalos,’ de- 
 clared Mr Pasolargo, ‘ that when Mr Ramos would 
 go so far as to say that, that he had already all his 
 arms at hand. What a pity that the two brothers 
 Burguillos have gone to work the estate of Lugar- 
 noble ! ’ 
 
 ‘You go and seek them,’ said her ladyship 
 quickly. ‘ Mr Lucas, you prepare a horse for 
 Uncle Pasolargo.’ 
 
 ‘ I, if her ladyship wishes it, and Mr Ramos like- 
 wise,’ said Frasquito Gonzalez, ‘will go to see if 
 Robustiano, the mountain guard, and his brother 
 Peter would also like. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ It seems to me a good idea. Robustiano is not 
 afraid to come to Orbajosa, although he owes me 
 something. You may tell him that I forgive him 
 the six and a half dollars. . . . These poor fellows, 
 who so generously sacrifice themselves for an 
 opinion, are easily pleased. ... Is it not so, Mr 
 Inocencio ? ’ 
 
 ‘Here is our good Ramos,’ replied the canon, 
 ‘ tells me that his friends were displeased with him 
 on account of his lukewarmness, but when they 
 saw he was determined, placed all their boxes of 
 cartridge in their girdles.’ 
 
 ‘ But what ! are you determined to lend assist 
 ance ? ’ asked her ladyship. ‘ I have not advised 
 
LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 190 
 
 you to that, and if you do it, it is by your own de- 
 sire. Neither has Mr Inocencio recommended 
 anything of the sort to you. Well, if you have so 
 decided, you must have powerful reasons for so act- 
 ing. ... Tell me, Christobel, would you like to 
 sup ? What will you have, then ? . . . candidly ? ’ 
 
 ‘As to my having advised Mr Ramos to take the 
 field,^ said Mr Inocencio, looking over his spec- 
 tacles, ‘ her ladyship is right in that. I, as a priest, 
 could advise no such thing. He knows what others 
 are doing, and that they are even up in arms ; but 
 it seems to me improper — very improper — and I 
 have no wish to imitate them. I would carry my 
 scrupulosity to the extreme by not saying a word 
 to Mr Ramos on the difficult question of his rising 
 in arms. I know that it is Orbajosa’s wish ; I 
 know that all the inhabitants of this noble city 
 would bless him ; I know that deeds worthy to be 
 transmitted to history will be done ; but, neverthe- 
 less, allow me to observe a discreet silence.’ 
 
 ‘You have spoken well,’ added Lady Perfecta. 
 ‘ I do not like priests to meddle in such matters. 
 An illustrious clergyman should so conduct him- 
 self. We well know that, in solemn, grave circum- 
 stances, for instance, when country and faith have 
 been in peril, there have been priests who have in- 
 cited men to fight, and have even done so them- 
 selves. Well, even God has taken part in celebrated 
 battles, under the form of angels or saints, so that 
 His ministers might well do it. During the war 
 against the infidels how many bishops commanded 
 the Castillian troops ? ’ 
 
 ‘Many. And some were noted warriors. But 
 these times are not like those, lady. It is true that, 
 if we consider things seriously, faith is in greater 
 danger now than formerly. . . ; For what do these 
 
AROUSED. 
 
 191 
 
 armies that occupy our city and immediate towns 
 represent? What do they represent? Are they 
 other than the infamous instruments which use 
 their perfidious conquests for the extermination of 
 faith ; of those atheists by which Madrid is infested ? 
 
 . . . We know it well. There are in that centre of 
 corruption, scandal, irreligion and disbelief, some 
 malignant men who, having sold themselves to the 
 stranger for gold, are employed to destroy the seed 
 of faith in our Spain. . . . Do you believe this ? 
 They allow us to say Mass, and you to hear it, as a 
 consideration, through shame . . . but in better 
 days. . . . For my part, I am calm. I am a man 
 who does not trouble himself with any temporal or 
 mundane interest. Lady Perfecta knows it well ; 
 all know it well who know me. I am peaceful, and 
 the triumph of evildoers does not frighten me. I 
 know well that we may expect terrible times ; that 
 when we dress ourselves in our sacerdotal garb, our 
 life hangs by a thread ; for Spain, do not doubt it, 
 will see scenes similar to those of the French Re- 
 volution, when thousands of pious priests perished 
 in a day. . . • But I do not worry. When the 
 headsman calls I will offer my neck ; I shall have 
 lived long enough. For of what use should I be ? 
 None — none.' 
 
 ‘ I will eat the dogs ! ' exclaimed Vejarruco, show- 
 ing his fist, as hard and strong as a hammer, ‘ if we 
 cannot exterminate all this thievish rabble.' 
 
 ‘ They said that next week they would commence 
 to destroy the cathedral,' declared Frasquito. 
 
 ‘ I suppose that they will destroy it with picks 
 and hammers,' said the canon, laughing. ‘There 
 are artifices which these tools do not possess, and 
 which are more edifying. We well know that, ac- 
 cording to pious tradition, our beautiful chapel of 
 
1^2 
 
 LADY PEJ^FECTA. ' 
 
 Sagrario was destroyed by the Moors in a month, 
 and rebuilt by angels in a single night. . . . Let 
 them — let them destroy it ! ’ 
 
 ‘In Madrid, as the cure related to us the other 
 night,’ said Vejarruco, ‘there are so few churches 
 left that some priests say Mass in the streets ; and 
 as they are molested, and people say injurious 
 things about them, and also spit at them, many 
 do not like to say it.’ 
 
 ‘ Here, fortunately, my sons,’ declared Mr Ino- 
 cencio, ‘ we have no such scenes. And why ? Be- 
 cause they know what class of men you are ; because 
 they are acquainted with your ardent piety and your 
 courage. . . . The first who laid hands on our 
 priests and worship would not gain much. . . . 
 Poor Spain ! so holy, so humble and so good ! 
 Who would have thought you would have been 
 brought to this extremity ? . . . But I maintain 
 that impiety will not triumph. No, sir. There are 
 still courageous men ; still men like our ancestors. 
 Is it not true, Mr Ramos ? ’ 
 
 ‘There are; yes, sir,’ replied Ramos. 
 
 ‘ I have a blind faith in the triumph of God’s 
 law. All will rally in its defence. Or, if not some, 
 there will be others. Each will gain the palm of 
 victory, and with it eternal glory. The evildoers 
 will perish, if not to-day, to-morrow. He who goes 
 against God’s law will fall ; there is no remedy. It 
 may be in this way, it may be in another ; but he 
 will fall. Neither his subtilty, nor his hiding-places 
 nor his artillery will save him. God’s hand is raised 
 against him and his heresy. Let us pity him, and 
 hope for his repentance. . . . And as to you, my 
 sons, do not hope that they will enlighten you as 
 to the steps they really intend to take. I know 
 that you are good ; I know that your generous de- 
 
AROUSED. 
 
 193 
 
 termination, and the noble object you have in view 
 will wash away all stain of sin by the shedding of 
 your blood, perhaps. I know that God will bless 
 you; that your victory, even as your death, will 
 render you sublime in the eyes of God and man. 
 
 I know that you will deserve psalms and praises, 
 and all kinds of honours ; but, notwithstanding this, 
 my sons, my lips shall not incite you to battle. I 
 have done nothing yet, neither will I now. Try to 
 regulate the impetuosity of your noble hearts. If 
 you are ordered to remain in your houses, remain in 
 them ; if you are ordered to sally forth, sally forth 
 in good time. I resign myself to become a martyr, 
 and bow my neck to the headsman, if this wretched 
 troop continues here. But if a noble, ardent and 
 pious impulse of OrbajosTs sons will contribute to 
 the great work of the extirpation of the country’s 
 calamities, I shall hold myself to be the most 
 happy of men, if only in being one of your country- 
 men ; and all my life of study, of penance, of re- 
 signation, will not seem to me to be of as much 
 merit in the sight of heaven, as one day alone of 
 your noble heroism.’ 
 
 ‘ You could not say more, or anything better 1 ’ 
 exclaimed Lady Perfecta, with great enthusiasm. 
 
 Caballuco had leaned down on his bench, with 
 his elbows on his knees. When the canon had 
 finished speaking, he took hold of his hand and 
 kissed it fervently. 
 
 ‘ No better man was ever born of woman,’ said 
 Lycurgus, wiping, or pretending to wipe, away a 
 tear. 
 
 ‘ Long life to the confessor ! ’ shouted Frasquito 
 Gonzalez, throwing his cap up boldly to the 
 ceiling. 
 
 ‘Silence,’ said Lady Perfecta. ‘Sit down, 
 
 I 
 
194 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 Frasquito. You are one of those who make a 
 great noise and do little/ 
 
 ‘Blessed be God, who has inspired you with 
 these golden words ! ’ exclaimed Christobel, ex- 
 cited to admiration. ‘What two persons I have 
 before me ? Whilst these two live, what does the 
 world wish for more ? All the people in Spain 
 should be thus. . . . But how can they be so 
 when there are but rogues left ? In Madrid, where 
 the Court is, whence come the laws and commands, 
 all is robbery and deception. Poor religion, how 
 you have been treated ! . . . We only see sinners. 
 
 . . . Lady Perfecta, Mr Inocencio, by my father’s 
 soul, by my grandfather’s soul, by my soul’s 
 salvation, I swear that I wish to die.’ 
 
 ‘To die!’ 
 
 ‘May these thievish dogs kill me. Let them 
 say they killed me, because I could not circum- 
 vent them ! I am very small.’ 
 
 ‘ Ramos, you are great,’ said her ladyship, 
 solemnly. 
 
 ‘ Great 1 great ! . . . My heart is very great. 
 But have I strong fortified places ? have I horses ? 
 have I artillery ? ’ 
 
 ‘That is a thing, Ramos,’ said Lady Perfecta, 
 smiling, ‘that I should not trouble about. Has 
 not the enemy what you are wanting in ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ Then make them give it up. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ They are to give it up, yes, lady. When I say 
 that they are to give it up. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Dear Ramos!’ exclaimed Mr Inocencio, ‘yours 
 is an enviable position. . . . Detach yourself ; 
 elevate yourself above the vile multitude ; behave 
 as did the greatest heroes of the world. . . . 
 You are able to say that God’s hand guides yours 
 
AROUSED, 
 
 195 
 
 . . . Oh ! what grandeur and honour ! My friend, 
 it is not flattery. What purpose ! what activity ! 
 what valour ! . . . No, men of such temper must 
 not die ! The Lord is with them, and the enemy^s 
 bullet and steel are turned away from them. . . . 
 Do not be alarmed. . . . Why should such men 
 be frightened of the cannons and fire-arms of the 
 heretics ? Dear Caballuco, on seeing you, on 
 seeing your valour and noble bearing, I am re- 
 minded of, without being able to help it, the 
 verses in the romance on the conquest of the 
 Empire of Trapisonda : — 
 
 The valiant Roldan arrived, 
 
 With all the weapons, armed, 
 
 On stout Briador, 
 
 His powerful horse. 
 
 And strong Durlindana 
 Well-girded at his side. 
 
 A lance like a lateen, 
 
 The strong shield buckled on . . . 
 
 By the visor of his helmet 
 Fire came darting out ; 
 
 Smoting with the lance. 
 
 As with a fine rush. 
 
 He all the army meeting. 
 
 Fiercely threatened them. 
 
 ‘Very good !’ exclaimed Lycurgus, clapping his 
 hands. ‘ And I say, like Mr Renialdos : — 
 
 No one in Don Renialdos’ touch. 
 
 If he wishes to be free ! 
 
 He who wishes otherwise 
 Will be well paid. 
 
 For all the rest of the world 
 Escapes not from my hands 
 Without some pieces staying to make. 
 Or being corrected severely.’ 
 
196 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘ Ramos, you wish to sup ; you wish to have 
 something now ; is it not so ? ^ asked her ladyship, j 
 
 ‘ Nothing, nothing,’ replied the centaur, ‘ unless 
 I happen to take a dish of gunpowder.’ 
 
 So saying, he gave a great horse-laugh, took 
 several steps through the room, watching the 
 others attentively, and, pausing before the group, 
 fixed his eyes on Lady Perfecta, and in a voice of 
 thunder, uttered these words, — 
 
 ‘ I say that which I have always said, “ Life to 
 Orbajosa ; death to Madrid ! ” ’ 
 
 And he gave such a blow on the table that the 
 house-roof shook. 
 
 ‘ What tremendous strength ! ’ said Mr Ino- 
 cencio. 
 
 ‘ What fists you have ! . . .’ 
 
 All looked at the table which had been broken 
 asunder. 
 
 They then gazed on Renialdos or Caballuco, 
 and could scarcely admire him sufficiently. Un- 
 doubtedly there was beauty in his countenance, in 
 his green eyes, animated by a strange feline splen- 
 dour, in his black hair, in his herculean body ; there 
 was a certain air, too, of greatness, a resemblance 
 to those great races that governed the world. But 
 in his general aspect there was a pitiful degenera- 
 tion, and it was difficult to recognise nobility and 
 heroism in his present brutality. In comparison 
 with Lord Cayetano’s celebrated men, he was as 
 the mule to the horse. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 MYSTERY. 
 
 E conference lasted some time after 
 the event we last referred to; but 
 we will dwell no longer on it, as it is 
 not indispensably necessary to the 
 good understanding of this history. 
 They at last retired, Mr Inocencio, as was his cus- 
 tom, being the last to do so. The canon and her 
 ladyship had scarcely had time to interchange two 
 words when an aged and very confidential servant 
 entered, a woman who was Lady Perfecta's right 
 hand ; and the latter, on perceiving that she was 
 anxious and troubled, suspected that some evil had 
 happened in the house. 
 
 ‘1 cannot find the young lady anywhere,’ said 
 the servant in reply to her ladyship’s question. 
 
 ‘ Jesus 1 Rosarito ! . . . where is my daughter?’ 
 
 ‘ Our Lady of Succour, protect me 1 ’ shouted the 
 penitentiary, taking up his hat, and preparing to 
 follow her ladyship. 
 
 ‘ Search for her well. . . . But were you not 
 with her in her room ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, lady,’ replied the old servant tremulously, 
 ‘ but the devil tempted me, and I fell asleep.’ 
 
 197 
 
198 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 ‘Cursed b 3 your sleepiness! . . . Jesus, mine! 
 What is the matter ? Rosarito ! Rosarito ! . . . 
 Librada ! ^ 
 
 They went upstairs, they came down ; and then 
 they returned upstairs, taking a light, and searching 
 everywhere. Presently they heard the penitentiary 
 calling from the staircase in a jubilant tone, ‘ Here 
 she is ! here she is ! She is coming.’ 
 
 An instant later mother and daughter met face to 
 face in the gallery.’ 
 
 ‘ Where were you ? ’ questioned Lady Perfecta, 
 in a severe tone, examining her daughter’s face. 
 
 ‘ In the orchard,’ replied the young girl, more 
 dead than alive. 
 
 ‘ In the orchard at this hour? Rosarito ! . . 
 
 ‘ I was warm ; I sat down near the window, 
 dropped my handkerchief out, and then went down 
 to find it/ 
 
 ‘ Why did you not send Librada for it ? ... 
 Librada ! Where is that girl ? Has she also 
 slept? . . .’ 
 
 Librada presently came. Her pale countenance 
 expressed consternation and guilt. 
 
 ‘ How is this ? Where were you ? . . .’ de- 
 manded her ladyship in terrible anger. 
 
 ‘ Then, lady ... I went to get the clothes that 
 were in the room near the street . . . and I fell 
 asleep.’ 
 
 ‘ Everyone has slept here to-night. It seems to 
 me that no one in my honse will sleep to-morrow. 
 Rosarito, you may retire.’ 
 
 Understanding that it was necessary to act 
 promptly and energetically, her ladyship and the 
 canon began immediately to make investigations. 
 Questions, threats, entreaties, promises were em- 
 ployed with consummate skill to inquire into the 
 
MYSTERY. 
 
 199 
 
 truth of the incident. Not a shadow of culpability 
 rested on the old servant ; but Librada confessed 
 plainly, between tears and sighs, all her knavery, 
 which may be comprised in the following : ‘ That 
 Mr Pinzon, shortly after he began to lodge in the 
 house, had sent notes to Miss Rosarito. He had 
 given money to Librada, so she said, that ne might 
 employ her as a messenger to carry these love-letters 
 and tender messages. The young lady showed no 
 anger, rather pleasure, and thus several days had 
 passed in this manner. Finally, the servant de- 
 clared that Rosarito and Mr Pinzon had that night 
 concerted that the young lady should see him, and 
 talk with him outside of the window of his room, 
 which looked out on to the orchard. They had 
 conhded in the maid-servant, who offered to warn 
 them by means of a song, should anyone be liivcly 
 to discover them in the act. According to arrange- 
 ment, Pinzon was to leave his room at his usual 
 hour, and, returning at nine, was to re-enter it, from 
 which, as also from the house, he would sally clan- 
 destinely later, and would come back muffled up at a 
 still more advanced hour. In this way he would not 
 be suspected. Librada was on the watch for Pinzon, 
 who entered, well wrapped up, and without speak- 
 ing a word. He went into his room, just as the 
 young lady descended into the orchard. Librada, 
 whilst the interview lasted, established herself as 
 sentry in the gallery, in order to advise Pinzon if 
 any danger were at hand ; and he, at the end of an 
 hour, went out again, still well covered by his cloak, 
 and without speaking.' 
 
 When this contession was concluded, Mr Ino- 
 cencio asked the miserable girl, — 
 
 ‘ Are you sure that he who entered and went out 
 was Mr Pinzon ? ' 
 
200 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 The criminal did not reply, but she looked 
 greatly perplexed. 
 
 Her ladyship inquired angrily, — 
 
 ‘ Did you see his face ? ' 
 
 ‘ But who could it be, if it were not he ? ’ replied 
 the young woman. ‘ I am certain it was he. He 
 went straight to his room ... he knew the way 
 well.’ 
 
 ‘Tis strange,’ said the canon; ‘living in the 
 house, he has no necessity to employ such means. 
 
 . . . He might have pretended to be ill, and re- 
 mained away. Is it not so, lady ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Librada ! ’ exclaimed her ladyship, with in- 
 creased anger, ‘ 1 swear by God that you shall go 
 to the house of correction ! ’ 
 
 She then crossed her hands, pressing the fingers 
 of one with the other so fiercely that she drew 
 blood. 
 
 ‘ Mr Inocencio ! ’ she exclaimed, ‘ we shall die 
 . . . there is no remedy but death.’ 
 
 She then began to weep disconsolately. 
 
 ‘ Courage, my lady,’ said the priest, pathetically. 
 
 ‘ Much courage. ... It is precisely now that you 
 must have much. This requires serenity and a 
 big heart. 
 
 ‘ Mine is immense,’ said she of the Polentinos 
 between sobs.’ 
 
 ‘ Mine is very small . . .’ said the canon ; 
 ‘ but we shall see.’ 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 EANWHILE Rosarito, her heart palpi- 
 tating, unable to weep, unable to be 
 calm, pierced with the cold steel of 
 an immense sorrow, with her thoughts 
 travelling swiftly from the world to 
 God, and from God to the world, stupefied and 
 half mad, was in her room late at night, on her 
 knees, her hands crossed, with her nude feet on 
 the floor, her burning temples resting on the side 
 of the bed, in the dark, alone, and in silence. 
 She was careful not to make the slightest noise, 
 that she might not attract her mother’s attention, 
 the latter sleeping, or appearing to sleep in the 
 next room. She raised her thoughts to heaven 
 in this strain : — 
 
 ‘ Lord, my God, how is it that formerly I did 
 not know how to lie, and now I know? How is 
 it that formerly I did not know how to dissimulate 
 and now I know? Am I an infamous woman? 
 
 . . . This that I feel, and what has happened to 
 me, is the fall of those who are never able to rise 
 again. . . . Have I ceased to be good and 
 honoured ? . . . I do not recognise myself. Am 
 
 201 
 
202 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 T myself, or is it another placed in this situation ? 
 . . . What terrible things in so few days ! How 
 many divers sensations ! My heart is consumed 
 with so much feeling ! . . . Lord, my God, do 
 You hear my voice, or am I condemned to pray 
 eternally without being heard ? . . . I am good, 
 no one will convince me that I am not good. To 
 love, to love very much ; is that wrong? . . . But 
 no . . . this is no illusion, no deception. I am 
 worse than the worst women on earth. A large 
 snake within me kills me and envenoms my heart. 
 . . . What is this that I feel ? Why do You not 
 kill me, my God ? Why do You not condemn me 
 to hell for eternity? ... It is dreadful, but I 
 confess it, I confess it to God alone. Who hears me, 
 and I will confess it to the priest. I abhor my 
 mother. And why is this ? I cannot understand 
 it. He has not said a word against my mother to 
 me. I do not know how I have come to this. . . . 
 How wicked I am ! The devils have taken posses- 
 sion of me. Lord, come to my aid, for I cannot 
 conquer bv myself. . . . A terrible impulse draws 
 me from this house. I wish to fly, I wish to run 
 far from here. If he does not carry me off I shall 
 go and creep behind him through the streets. . . . 
 What divine joy is this within my breast which is 
 mingled with such bitter pain ? . . , Lord God, 
 my Father, enlighten me ; I wish to love only. I 
 do not wish rancour, which is devouring me, to 
 rise. I do not wish dissimulation, falsehood, 
 deceit to take root. To-morrow I will go out into 
 the street and will shout in the middle of it, and 
 to all who pass will say : “I love, I detest.^’ . . . 
 My heart will unbosom itself in this manner. . . . 
 How happy I should be could I conciliate all ; 
 love and respect everyone ! Holy Virgin, protect 
 
THE CONFESSION, 
 
 203 
 
 me ! . . . Again that terrible idea ! I do not 
 wish to think it, but it comes. I do no not wish 
 to feel it, but I do feel it. Ah ! I cannot deceive 
 myself in that particular. I can neither destroy it 
 nor diminish it . . . but I can confess it, and I 
 do confess it, saying : “ Lord, how I detest my 
 
 mother ! ” ' 
 
 At last she fell into a lethargy. In her uncertain 
 sleep imagination reproduced all that had hap- 
 pened that night, deforming it, without altering its 
 essence. She heard the cathedral clock chime 
 nine ; she saw, with joy, the old servant sleeping 
 beatifically, and then she left the room quickly, 
 noiselessly; she softly descended the staircase, 
 not moving a step until she was certain of not 
 making the slightest sound. She went out to 
 the orchard, giving a glance at the servants’ room 
 and the kitchen ; in the orchard she stopped a 
 moment to look at the sky, which was dark and 
 spangled with stars. The wind was hushed. Not 
 a breath disturbed the profound calm of the night. 
 It seemed as though it was silently and fixedly 
 attentive, resembling eyes which gaze without 
 moving an eyelash, and ears that lie in ambush, 
 in the expectation of a great adventure. . . . Night 
 was observing. She then approached the glass 
 door of the dining-room and cautiously looked 
 through from a certain distance, fearing that those 
 within might observe her. By the light from the 
 dining-room lamp she could distinguish her 
 mother’s shoulders. The penitentiary was seated 
 to the right, and his profile was discomposed in 
 an extraordinary manner; his nostrils were dis- 
 tended like the beak of some strange bird, and 
 all his figure resembled a black, dense mass, 
 with angles here and there, acute and risible. 
 
204 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 Caballuco faced him, more like a dragon than a 
 man. Rosarito could see his green eyes, resembl- 
 ing two large lanterns of convex glass. Each 
 movement, as also the powerful size of the animal 
 inspired her with fear. Lycurgus and the other 
 three presented a grotesque appearance. She 
 had seen elsewhere, no doubt in the clay puppets 
 at the fair, a similar stupid smile, similar clumsy 
 features and expressionless gaze. The dragon 
 waved his arms, and, as they moved, they gave 
 one the idea of the revolutions of a milFs sails, 
 whilst the green globes turned round like the 
 lanterns at a chemist’s, from one side to the 
 other. She felt blinded. The conversation 
 seemed interesting. The confessor waved his 
 wings. He was like a little bird who wished 
 to fly, but was unable. His beak lengthened 
 and twisted. He shook his feathers with symp- 
 toms of fury, and then, drawing in and becom- 
 ing calm, hid his plucked head under his wing. 
 Then the little clay figures acted as though they 
 wished to be taken for persons, and Frasquito 
 Gonzalez succeeded in passing for a man. 
 
 Rosarito felt an inexplicable awe in presence 
 of this friendly concourse. She withdrew from 
 the glass door, and, proceeding step by step, 
 looked around on all sides to see if she were 
 observed. Although she could see no one, she 
 fancied that a million eyes were fixed on her. 
 . . . But her fears and confusion were dis- 
 persed unexpectedly. In the window of the 
 room occupied by Mr Pinzon a blue man ap- 
 peared, the buttons shining on his dress like 
 so many glow worms. She approached. At 
 the same moment she felt herself lifted up by 
 some strong arms, as though she were a feather, 
 
THE CONFESSION. 
 
 205 
 
 and was placed rapidly in the middle of the 
 chamber. All changed. Suddenly a report 
 sounded, a heavy blow which shook the house 
 even to its foundations. Neither one nor the 
 other suspected the cause of the clamour. They 
 trembled and were silent. 
 
 It was the moment that the dragon had broken 
 the dining-room table. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. — AN UNDISCOVERED 
 FUGITIVE. 
 
 HE scene changes. A beautiful, clear, 
 humble, joyful room is seen, both 
 commodious and of surprising neat- 
 ness. A fine rush-mat covers the 
 floor, and the white walls are adorned 
 with fine prints of saints, and sculptures of dubious 
 artistic value. The ancient mahogany furniture 
 shines brilliantly from the Saturday polishing, and 
 the altar, where a pompous Virgin, in blue and 
 silver dress, is adored by the faithful, is covered by 
 a thousand geegaws, half sacred, half profane. 
 There are, besides missals, much holy water, a 
 timepiece with Agnus Dei, a plaited palm from 
 Palm Sunday, and no few flower-pots of inodorous 
 artificial flowers. An enormous oak shelf holds a 
 rich and choice library ; here is Horace, the 
 epicurean and sybarite, by the side of tender Virgil, 
 in whose verses we see the inflammable Didoes 
 heart palpitate and consume itself ; Ovido, the 
 long-nose, as sublime as obscene and flattering, 
 near Martial, the cunning linguist and wit ; Tibu- 
 lus, the impassioned, near Cicero, the great ; 
 
 206 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS, 
 
 207 
 
 severe Titus Livius near terrible Tacitus, shoot 
 of the Caesars ; Lucretius, the pantheist ; Juvenal 
 stripped of his plumes ; Plato, he who imagined 
 that the best comedy of ancient times was giving 
 turns to a milPs wheels ; Seneca, the philosopher, 
 of whom it is said that the best act of his life 
 was death ; Quintiliano, the rhetorician ; Salustus, 
 the rogue, who said so much about virtue ; both 
 Plinys, Suetonio and Varon ; in a word, all the 
 Latin letters, from when one lisps his first word 
 with Livius Andronicus, even to Rutilius, with 
 whom one breathes his last sigh. 
 
 But whilst making this useless, though rapid 
 enumeration, we have not observed that two 
 women have entered the room. It is very early, 
 but in Orbajosa they rise early. The birds are 
 singing even though they are imprisoned ; the bells 
 are ringing for church ; and even the goats, who are 
 going to be milked at the house doors, are tinkling 
 their little bells merrily. 
 
 The two ladies who have just entered the dwell- 
 ing have come from hearing Mass. They are 
 dressed in black, and each carries in her right 
 hand her book of devotion, and her rosary 
 wrapped round her fingers. 
 
 ‘Your uncle cannot be long now,’ said one 01 
 them ; ‘ we left him beginning Mass ; but he must 
 
 have already finished, and will now be in the 
 sacristy, taking off his vestments. I should have 
 been glad could I have waited to hear the Mass, 
 but to-day is a day of much fatigue for me.’ 
 
 ‘ I have only heard the prebend’s to-day,* said 
 the other. ‘The prebend says his in a breath, 
 and I think I have not profited by it, for I was 
 so preoccupied I could not help thinking of the 
 terrible things that are happening to us.’ 
 
2o8 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 ‘What is to be done? . . . We must have 
 patience. . . . We will see what advice your uncle 
 gives us.’ 
 
 ‘ Ay ! . . .’ exclaimed the second, heaving a 
 deep pathetic sigh. ‘ My blood boils.’ 
 
 ‘ God will protect us.’ 
 
 ‘ To think that a person like you, a lady like you, 
 should be threatened ! . . . Last night, Lady 
 Perfecta, I did as you wished. I went to the 
 widow Cuzco’s lodging-house, and I begged for 
 new information. Mr Pepito and Brigadier Batalla 
 are always conferring together. . . . Ay, Jesus, my 
 God and my Lord ! . . . they confer about their 
 infernal plans and despatch bottles of wine. They 
 are two lost ones, two drunkards. Doubtless they 
 discuss some great wickedness. When I was busy- 
 ing myself last night in your interests, when I was 
 at the lodging-house, I saw Mr Pepito go out, and 
 I followed him. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ And where did he go ? ’ 
 
 ‘To the casino, yes, lady, to the casino,’ re- 
 plied the other, slightly confused. ‘ Then he re- 
 turned to his house. Ay ! how my uncle repre- 
 hended me for having remained so late in this 
 espionage^ . . . but I could not help it . . . Divine 
 Jesus, help me ! I could not help it; seeing such 
 a person as you in so much danger renders me 
 mad. . . . No, no, lady, I will do my best, that 
 these rogues shall not assault the house and carry 
 off Rosarito.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta, for it was she, fixed her eyes on 
 the floor, and meditated. She was pale and 
 anxious. At last she exclaimed, — 
 
 ‘ But I do not see how it can be prevented.’ 
 
 ‘ I see,’ replied the other, quickly (the con- 
 fessor’s niece and Jacintito’s mother), — ‘I see a 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. 
 
 209 
 
 very simple way, the way that I have already pro- 
 posed to you, and which you do not like. Ah ! 
 my lady, you are too good. On occasions like 
 this it is better not to be quite so good ... to 
 set aside one’s scruples. For, will that offend 
 God?’ 
 
 ‘ Maria Remedios,’ said her ladyship, haughtily, 
 ‘ do not talk nonsense.’ 
 
 ‘ Nonsense ! . . . You, with your wisdom, will 
 not go to your nephew’s rooms. What could be 
 more simple than what I propose ? Since there is 
 no justice to protect us, we ourselves must be the 
 great dispensers of justice. Have you not in your 
 house men who would serve you in anything? 
 Tnen, call them and say, “ See, Cabal luco, Paso- 
 largo, or whoever it may be, to-night you must 
 muffle up well, so that no one will recognise you ; 
 take a trustworthy friend with you and go to the 
 corner of Santa Fez Street. Wait a little, and 
 when Mr Jose Rey passes the Triperia Street to go 
 to the casino, for he is sure to go to the casino ; 
 do you understand well? when he passes, meet 
 him and give him a fright. . . .” ’ 
 
 ‘ Maria Remedios, do not be silly,’ replied her 
 ladyship with magisterial dignity. 
 
 ‘ Nothing more than a fright, lady : hearken well 
 to what i said, a fright. What is the matter, have 
 I counselled a crime ? . . . J esus, my Father and 
 Redeemer ! The idea alone fills me with horror, 
 and I seem to see signs of blood and fire before 
 my eyes. . . . Nothing like that my lady. . . . 
 A fright, and nothing more than a fright, by which 
 that villain will understand that we are well de- 
 fended. He goes alone to the casino, quite alone, 
 and there he is joined by his friends, they of the 
 sabre and helmet. Fancy, he might receive a 
 
210 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 fright, and, perhaps, some broken bones ; no serious 
 wounds, understand ... for in this case he might 
 be intimidated and flee from Orbajosa, or keep his 
 bed a fortnight. That is it, recommend them to 
 give him a good fright. No killing. . . . Caution 
 them on that point, but let him feel their hands 
 ^well.^ 
 
 ‘ Maria, ^ said Lady Perfecta, haughtily, ‘ you are 
 incapable of an elevated idea, of a great and salu- 
 tary resolution. That which you counsel me to is 
 a cowardly indignity.^ 
 
 ‘ Well, I shall hold my peace. . . 
 
 ‘ Oh, dear me, what a fool lam!’ exclaimed the 
 confessor’s niece, humbly. ‘ I shall keep my 
 fooleries to console you when you have lost your 
 daughter.’ 
 
 ‘ My daughter I . . . lose my daughter 1 . . .’ 
 exclaimed her ladyship, suddenly carried away by 
 anger. ‘To hear it mentioned makes me furious. 
 No, no, I will not lose her. If Rosarito does not 
 detest this lost man, as I desire, she shall detest 
 him. I shall use my authority as a mother. . . . 
 We will uproot her passion, or rather, her caprice, 
 as the tender herb is uprooted before it has had 
 time to make roots. ... No, that cannot be, 
 Remedies. Happen what may, it shall not be 1 
 That madman is not worth her, nor any such other 
 infamous men. . . . Before seeing her the spouse 
 of my nephew, I will accept any evil that may 
 come, even death.’ 
 
 ‘Rather death, rather buried and making food 
 for the worms,’ affirmed Remedies, folding her 
 hands as though she were praying, ‘than to see 
 her in the power of. . . . Ay! lady, do not be 
 offended if I tell you something ; it is that it would 
 be great weakness to allow Rosarito to have any 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. 
 
 211 
 
 more secret interviews with this bold man. The 
 case of last night, according to my uncle, appears 
 to me to be an infamous trick of Mr Jose's to 
 accomplish his object by means of scandal . . . 
 Many do so. . . . Ay, Divine Jesus, I do not 
 know how anyone could look at the face of any 
 man unless he were a priest ! ' 
 
 ‘ Silence ! silence ! ' said Lady Perfecta, vehe- 
 mently, ‘do not talk to me about last night. 
 What a horrible affair! Maria Remedies ... I 
 understand how anger may make one lose one's 
 soul for ever. I burn. . . . Unhappy me, that I 
 should see such things, and am not a man ! . . . 
 But if they told the truth about last night, then I 
 have my doubts. Librada swore and swore again 
 that it was Pinzon who entered. My daughter 
 denied all. My daughter never lies ! . . . I in- 
 sisted in my suspicions. I think that Pinzon is a 
 rascal, but nothing more. . . .' 
 
 ‘We come back to the same point, that this 
 prosperous mathematician is the author of all the 
 evil. ... Ay I my heart did not deceive me the 
 first time that I saw him. . . . Then, my lady, 
 you may resign yourself to even more terrible 
 doings if you do not decide to call Caballuco and 
 say, “ Caballuco, I hope that. . . ' 
 
 ‘ Coming back to the same ? Well, you are 
 simple I . . .' 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes ; I am very simple, I know it ; but if I 
 cannot improve, what can I do? I say what I 
 think, although I am not learned.' 
 
 ‘ What you think of ; this vulgar nonsense about 
 a beating and a fright, anyone might think of. 
 You have no brain, Remedios j when one wishes to 
 resolve a great problem, you bring forward such 
 absurdities. I have a resource more worthy of 
 
212 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 noble, well-born people. . . . To thrash, what 
 stupidity 1 Besides, i do not desire my nephew 
 to receive a scratch by my orders ; that, oy no 
 means. God will chastise him in the way He 
 tiiinks best. We have only to work in such a way 
 taat God's designs may not be frustrated, Maria 
 Remedies ; in these ahairs one must appeal directly 
 to the cause of tilings. But you do not understand 
 such language . . . you see nothing but tne sur- 
 tace.’ 
 
 ‘ Thus it is,' said the cure’s niece, humbly. ‘For 
 God has denied me much ; 1 understand none of 
 these sublimities.’ 
 
 ‘ Yoa should go to the bottom — to the bottom 
 of things, Remedios. Do you understand now.'” 
 
 ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ xviy nephew is not my nephew, woman ; he is 
 the biaspneaier, tne sacrilegious man, the atheist, 
 tne djinagogue. . . . Do you know wnat a dema- 
 gogue IS i ’ 
 
 ‘ One of those who burned Paris with petroleum, 
 and devastated the churches and hred at the images, 
 
 . . . You see I know that well.’ 
 
 ‘ Then my nephew is all that. . . . Ah ! if 1 were 
 alone m Oroajosa I But, no, my daughter. My 
 nephew, by a series of fatalities, which are so 
 many proofs of. the evils that God at times permits 
 for our chastisement, represents the army, the 
 Government authority, the justice ol the peace, 
 the judge ; my nephew is not my nephew ; be 
 is the nation's ohicial, Remedios ; he is that 
 second nation, comprised of those lost ones who 
 govern in Madrid, and who do so by their mate- 
 rial strengtn ; ol that apparent nation, for the 
 real one is silent, and pays and suffers ; of that 
 fictitious nation wuich signs the decrees, pronounces 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. 
 
 213 
 
 discourses, and makes a farce of Government, a 
 farce of authority, a farce of all. This is my nephew 
 to-day ; you must accustom yourself to see the in- 
 side of things. My nephew is the governor, the 
 brigadier, the new justice of the peace, the new 
 judge ; for all favour him on account of the unani- 
 mity of his ideas ; they are his flesh and blood, 
 wolves of the same pack. . . . Understand this 
 well ; we have to protect ourselves against all these, 
 for all are one, and one is all; they must be at- 
 tacked in common, and not with thrashings near a 
 street corner, but as our grandfathers attacked the 
 Moors — the Moors, Remedios ! . . . My daughter, 
 understand this well ; open your mind, and let an 
 idea that is not vulgar enter therein ; . . . elevate 
 yourself ; raise your thoughts, Remedios. . . 
 
 Mr Inocencio’s niece was struck with astonish- 
 ment at so much grandeur. She opened her month 
 to say something consistent with such marvellous 
 thought, but only breathed a sigh. 
 
 ‘ As the Moors,^ repeated Lady Perfecta. ‘ It is 
 a question of Moors and Christians. And you 
 fancy that, by frightening my nephew, all will be 
 ended ! How foolish you are ! Do you not see 
 that his friends support him ? Do you not see 
 that we are at the mercy of this rabble? Do you 
 not see that that lieutenant is capable of setting 
 fire to my house if he is annoyed ? . . . Do you 
 not understand that? Do you not comprehend 
 that we must dive to the bottom? Do you not 
 comprehend the immense grandeur, the terrible 
 extension of my enemy, who is not a man, but a 
 sect? . . . Do you not comprehend that my 
 nephew, opposed to me as he is to-day, is not only 
 a calamity but a plague? . . . Against it, dear 
 Remedios, we have a battalion from God, who will 
 
214 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 annihilate the infernal militia from Madrid. I tell 
 you it will be great and glorious. . 
 
 ‘ If it ends so. . . 
 
 ‘ But you do not doubt it ? We shall see terrible 
 things here to-day ! . . .’ said her ladyship, very 
 impatiently. 
 
 ‘ To-day, to-day ! What time is it ? Seven. 
 So late, and nothing happened? . . 
 
 ‘ Perhaps my uncle may know then, for here he 
 is. He is coming upstairs.' 
 
 ‘ Thanks be to God ! . . .' said Lady Perfecta, 
 rising to go out to meet the confessor. ‘ He will 
 tell us some good news.' 
 
 Mr Inocencio entered hurriedly. His expressive 
 countenance indicated that his soul, consecrated 
 to piety and Latin studies, was not as tranquil as 
 usual. 
 
 ‘ Bad news,' he said, placing his hat on a chair 
 and unfastening the strings of his mantle. 
 
 Lady Perfecta turned pale. 
 
 ‘ They are seizing people,' added Mr Inocencio, 
 lowering his voice, as though each chair hid a 
 soldier. ‘ They suspect, no doubt, that here their 
 troublesome yoke will not be borne, and are going 
 from house to house, laying hands on all those 
 who have a reputation for courage.' 
 
 Her ladyship flung herself on to a chair, and 
 pressed her fingers tightly on the arms of it. 
 
 ‘ Will there be many who will stay to be appre- 
 hended ? ' asked Remedies. 
 
 ‘ Many of them . . . but very many,' said Mr 
 Inocencio, in a patronising manner, ‘have had 
 time to get away, and have gone with arms and 
 horses to Villahorrenda.' 
 
 ‘ And Ramos ? ' 
 
 ‘ I was told at the cathedral that they are search- 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. 
 
 215 
 
 ng for him with the greatest perseverance. . . . 
 Oh, my God! to thus apprehend these unhappy 
 people who, so far, have done nothing. . . . See, 
 I do not know how the good Spaniards can be 
 patient. Lady, my Lady Perfecta, in reflecting on 
 the prisoners, I have forgotten to tell you that you 
 must immediately return to your house.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, at once. . . . Are these bandits sur- 
 veying my house ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Perhaps. Lady, we are at a woful period,’ said 
 Mr Inocencio, with solemn and anxious accent. 
 
 ‘ May God protect us ! ’ 
 
 ‘In my house I have half-a-dozen well-armed 
 men,’ replied her ladyship, greatly changed. ‘ What 
 iniquity. Are they capable of also apprehending 
 these ? ’ 
 
 ‘It is certain that Mr Pinzon will have de- 
 nounced them. Lady, I repeat that it is a woful 
 time j but God will protect the innocent.’ 
 
 ‘ I am going. Do not omit to come.’ 
 
 ‘Lady, when I have dismissed the class . . . 
 for I think, as there is so much alarm in the town, 
 that the little ones should have holiday to-day ; 
 but, class or no class, I will come. I do not wish 
 your ladyship to go alone, for these lazy soldiers 
 patrol all the streets, smoking. . . . Jacintito ! 
 Jacintito 1 ’ 
 
 ‘ It is not necessary, I will go alone.’ 
 
 ‘ Let Jacintito go,’ said his mother. ‘ He should 
 be up now.’ 
 
 They heard the hasty footsteps of the little 
 lawyer coming downstairs from the higher floor. 
 He came in, his face aflame, and out of breath. 
 
 ‘ What is the matter ? ’ questioned his uncle. 
 
 ‘In the Troyas’ house,’ said the young fellow, 
 ‘ in their house . . . there.’ 
 
2i6 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 ‘ Finish at once.’ 
 
 ‘ Is Caballuco.’ 
 
 ‘ He is thei:e ? In the Troyas’ house ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir. ... He spoke to me from the 
 terrace, and told me that he was afraid he would 
 be discovered there.’ 
 
 ‘Oh! how tiresome 1 . . . This blockhead will 
 allow them to apprehend him 1 ’ exclaimed Lady 
 Perfecta, tapping the floor restlessly with her foot. 
 
 ‘ He might come here, and we could hide him.’ 
 
 ‘Here!’ 
 
 Canon and niece stared at one another. 
 
 ‘ Let him come down,’ said Lady Perfecta, 
 vehemently. 
 
 ‘ Here?’ repeated Mr Inocencio, looking annoyed. 
 
 ‘Here,’ replied her ladyship. ‘I know of no 
 other house so secure.’ 
 
 ‘ He might easily go out by my bedroom window,’ 
 said Jacintito. 
 
 ‘ Well, if it is indispensable.’ 
 
 ‘Maria Remedies,’ said her ladyship, ‘if this 
 man is taken, all is lost.’ 
 
 ‘ I am silly and simple,’ replied the canon’s niece, 
 putting her hand on her bosom, and heaving a 
 sigh, which, doubtless, could be heard in the street ; 
 ‘ but he shall not be taken.’ 
 
 Her ladyship went out quickly, and shortly after- 
 wards the centaur was installed in the study, used 
 only by the canon when writing his sermons. 
 
 We do not know how far Brigadier Batalla’s ears 
 reached, but it is certain that this diligent soldier 
 had information whenever the Orbajosians varied 
 their plans, and each day an addition was made 
 to the prisons of those who in our rich insurrec- 
 tional language are designated caracterizodos. 
 The great Caballuco had, for a wonder, escaped 
 
UNFORESEEN SUCCESS. 
 
 217 
 
 by taking refuge in the Troyas’ house ; ^but, not 
 believing himself secure there, as we have seen, 
 he had gone to the holy, unsuspected house of 
 the good canon. 
 
 At night, the troops distributed in different parts 
 of the town, exercised the greatest vigilance on 
 those who entered and sallied; but Ramos managed 
 to evade the military precautions. He reanimated 
 the people, and a multitude of men gathered to- 
 gether in the villages round Villahorrenda, meeting ; 
 at night to ^disperse again in the daytime. To 
 prepare the arduous bhsiness of an insurrection, 
 Ramos scoured the neighbourhood, collecting arms 
 and men, and as the columns gave way before the 
 Aceros, in the land of Villajuan of Nahara, our 
 chivalrous hero performed much in a short time. 
 
 At night he audaciously dared to enter Orbajosa, 
 sometimes by cunning, at others by bribery. His 
 popularity, and the protection that he received 
 within the town itself, served in a certain manner 
 as safeguard, and it might with truth be said that 
 the troop did not display the same rigour towards 
 this intrepid champion that it did towards the in- 
 significant men in the locality. In Spain, and 
 chiefly in war time, which is always demoralising, 
 one sees the infamous condescensions towards the 
 great, whilst unimportant people are persecuted 
 mercilessly. However it may have been, either 
 by audacity, bribery, or we know not what. Cab- 
 alluco entered Orbajosa, recruiting more men, 
 gathering arms together and collecting money. 
 For the greater security of his person, or, perhaps, 
 to disguise his intentions, he did not put foot in 
 his own house, scarcely went to Lady Perfecta's, 
 and then only to treat on important subjects, and 
 partook only of supper in the house of one or 
 
 K 
 
2i8 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 Other of his friends, always preferring the respect- 
 able domicile of some priest, and chiefly that of 
 Mr Inocencio, when to-morrow he might be re- 
 ceiving the dismal asylum of the prison. 
 
 Batalla had telegraphed to the Government say- 
 ing that ‘ he had discovered a factious conspiracy, 
 and was apprehending the authors of it, and the 
 few who managed to escaped were dispersed and 
 fugitive, actively pursued by our columns.’ 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MARIA REMEDIOS. 
 
 OTHING is more interesting than to 
 seek for the origin of those successes 
 which amaze and trouble us, and 
 nothing more gratifying than to find 
 it. When we see impetuous pas- 
 sions openly struggling and manifesting themselves, 
 carried away by natural instinctive impulse, which 
 always accompanies human observation, we desire 
 to discover the hidden source from which such a 
 turbulent river has drawn its waters ; we experi- 
 ence a sensation very similar to the delight of 
 geographers and seekers of lands. 
 
 God has conceded this delight to us now, for 
 in exploring the hidden workings of those hearts 
 which have palpitated in this history, we have dis- 
 covered a fact, which is surely the engenderer of 
 facts more important than those we have narrated ; 
 a passion which is the first drop of water in the 
 turbulent current whose course we have observed. 
 Let us now continue the narration. We left her 
 ladyship of the Polentinos without concerning our- 
 selves as to what might have taken place on the 
 morning of her dialogue with Maria Remedies. 
 She hurried anxiously to her dwelling, where she 
 219 
 
220 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 was obliged to submit to Mr Pinzon^s excuses and 
 courtesies, who assured her that as long as he 
 existed her house should not be surveyed. Her 
 ladyship replied in a haughty manner, without 
 deigning to glance at him, which caused him to 
 beg urbanely for explanations for such disdainful 
 treatment; and for reply she told Mr Pinzon, 
 arrogantly, that he might leave her house, as his 
 conduct had been so perfidious whilst in it. He 
 and Lord Cayetano quarrelled. However, as we 
 are now interested in another subject, we will 
 leave the Polentinos and the lieutenant-colonel 
 to settle their affairs as they can, and will ex- 
 amine another of those sources already mentioned. 
 
 We will take Maria Remedies, an estimable 
 woman, to whom it is necessary to consecrate a 
 few lines. She was a lady, a real lady; for in 
 spite of her low origin, the virtues of her uncle, 
 Mr Inocencio, likewise of base origin, raised by 
 his ordination as by his learning and respectibility, 
 had effused extraordinary splendour on the whole 
 family. 
 
 Remedies’ love for Jacintito was one of the most 
 vehement passions that could exist in a maternal 
 heart. She loved him deliriously ; her son’s wel- 
 fare was to her of more importance than any other 
 human affair; she believed him to be the most 
 perfect model of beauty and talent created by God, 
 and flattered herself that she would see him 
 happy, great and powerful all the days of his life, 
 and he would then participate in eternal glory. 
 Maternal sentiment is the only one that, with the 
 very holy and noble, admits of exaggeration ; the 
 only one that delirium does not wear out. Never- 
 theless, a singular phenomenon occurs which is 
 common in life, and this is, that if this exaltation 
 
MARIA REMEDIOS. 
 
 221 
 
 of maternal affection does not coincide with ab- 
 solute purity' of heart, it only misleads and is 
 converted into a lamentable frenzy, which may 
 contribute the same as any other uncontrolled 
 passion to great faults and catastrophes. 
 
 Maria Remedies passed in, Orbajosa for a 
 model of virtue, and likewise of nieces — perhaps 
 she really was so. She was kind to all who were 
 in need, never gave cause for spiteful report or 
 murmurs, never meddled in intrigues. She was 
 pious, without carrying it to hypocriticab extremes, 
 practised charity, ruled her uncle’s house with 
 supreme cleverness, was well received, admired 
 and courted everywhere in spite of an almost in- 
 tolerable feeling of suffocation that produced 
 a habit of sighing and a dismal tone of 
 voice. 
 
 But in Lady Perfecta’s house this excellent 
 woman suffered a species of capitio diminutio. 
 In remote times, and at an unlucky one for the 
 good confessor’s family, Maria Remedios (if it is 
 true, for so people said) had been a laundress in 
 the Polentinos’ house. And, no doubt, on this 
 account Lady Perfecta treated her haughtily ; but 
 no. She felt a truly fraternal affection for her; 
 they dined together, prayed together, confided 
 their troubles, helping each other mutually in their 
 charities and devotions, as in the household 
 matters . . . but there had always been an in- 
 visible line, impossible to cross, between the 
 parvenue and the ancient lady. Lady Perfecta 
 addressed Maria familiarly, and always behaved 
 with a certain formality. The confessor’s niece 
 felt small in her ladyship’s presence, and her inborn 
 humility took a strange air of sadness. She saw 
 that the good canon was looked upon at the house 
 
222 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 as an infallible counsellor ; she saw her idolised 
 Jacintito in almost friendly familiarity with the 
 young lady, and notwithstanding the poor mother 
 and niece frequented the house as seldom as 
 possible. Maria Remedies felt slightly put aside 
 in Lady Perfecta^s house, and found this disagree- 
 able, for even in that sighing spirit, as in all living 
 people, there was a little pride. ... To see her 
 son married to Rosarito ; to see him rich and 
 powerful; to see him related to Lady Perfecta, 
 to a lady ! . . . Ah ! this would be heaven and 
 earth to Maria Remedios, this life and the next, 
 the present and the future, the supreme totality of 
 existence. For years her heart had been full of 
 this sweet light of hope. For this she was good 
 and bad ; for this she was religious and humble, 
 or terrible and daring ; for this she lived, for, with- 
 out this idea, Maria, who was the incarnation of 
 her project, would not have existed. Physically, 
 Maria Remedios could not have been more insig- 
 nificant, She was remarkable for a surprising 
 vigour which made her appear younger than she 
 really was ; and she always dressed in black, 
 although her widowhood had been of some 
 duration. 
 
 Five days had passed since the entrance of 
 Caballuco into the confessor’s house. Night was 
 falling. Remedios came into her uncle’s room 
 with a lighted lamp, and, putting it down on the 
 table, confronted the old man, who since mid-day 
 had sat on his chair immovable and meditative, as 
 though he had been fastened to it. His chin 
 rested on his palm, and his brown beard had not 
 been shaved for three days. 
 
 * Did Caballuco say that he was coming here to 
 sup to-night ? ’ he questioned his niece. 
 
MARIA REMEDIOS, 
 
 223 
 
 ‘Yes, he will come. The poor fellow is most 
 secure in these respectable houses.’ 
 
 ‘But I do not have them all here notwith- 
 standing the respectability of my house/ replied 
 the confessor. 
 
 ‘ How valiant Ramos exposes himself ! And I 
 am told that at Villahorrenda and in its neigh- 
 bourhood are many men. ... I do not know how 
 many. . . . What have you heard ? ’ 
 
 ‘That the troops are committing all kinds of 
 barbarities. . . .’ 
 
 ‘It is a wonder that these cannibals have not 
 searched my house. I swear to you, that if I saw 
 one of those incarnate pantaloons entering my 
 house, I should die without uttering a word.’ 
 
 ‘ Willingly, we are willing,’ said Remedies, 
 sighing from the depths of her soul. ‘ I cannot 
 help thinking of Lady Perfecta’s tribulation. . . 
 Ah, uncle ! you should go there.’ 
 
 ‘Shall I go to-night? ... The troops are in 
 all parts of the town. You think that the soldiery 
 is but a caprice. . . . Her ladyship is well pro- 
 tected. The other day her house was searched, 
 and they apprehended the six armed men that were 
 there, but have allowed them to return. We have 
 no one to defend us in case of attack.’ 
 
 ‘I have sent Jacintito to her ladyship’s house 
 that he may keep her company for a short time. If 
 Caballuco comes he will tell us what is passing 
 there. ... I cannot help thinking of these plots 
 the marauders are preparing against our friend. 
 Poor lady ! poor Rosarito 1 . . . When I think 
 that this might have been prevented had Lady 
 Perfecta followed the advice I gave her two days 
 ago. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Dear niece,’ said the confessor phlegmatically. 
 
224 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘ we have done all that human beings could do to 
 realise our holy purpose. ... We can now do no 
 more. We are ruined, Remedies. Rest assured 
 of that, and do not be obstinate : Rosarito cannot 
 be our idolised J acintito’s wife. Y our golden dream, 
 your happy ideal that at one time seemed possible 
 to us, and to which I have devoted all the forces of 
 my understanding, is now but a chimera ; it is 
 dispersed like smoke. Grave stupefaction, one 
 man's wickedness, the undoubted passion of the 
 young girl and others things have changed the 
 order of dreams. We were going to conquer, and 
 we are already conquered. Ay, my neice ! Assure 
 yourself of one thing. Henceforward Jacintito 
 merits much more than that mad girl.' 
 
 ‘ Caprice and stubbornness ! ' replied Maria, with 
 displeasure almost amounting to disrespect. ‘ What 
 is the matter with you now, uncle ? All the great 
 heads are becoming light. . . . Lady Perfecta 
 with her sublimities, and you with your cavillations, 
 are useful in some things. It is a pity that God 
 made me so silly, and gave me this brick and 
 mortar understanding, as her ladyship describes it, 
 for had it been otherwise I would have settled the 
 question.' 
 
 ‘You?' 
 
 ‘If you and she would have left me alone, it 
 should have been already settled.' 
 
 ‘ With thrashings ? ’ 
 
 ‘Do not alarm yourself, or open your eyes so 
 wide, for I do not wish to kill anyone. . . . See ! ' 
 
 ‘Beating,' said the canon, smiling, ‘is like 
 scratching. ... I know already.' 
 
 ‘ Bah ! . . . You would also tell me that I am 
 cruel and sanguinary. ... I have not courage to 
 kill a little worm \ you know well enough. . . 
 
MARIA RE ME DIOS. 225 
 
 You may now understand that I desire no man’s 
 death.’ 
 
 ‘ In resume^ my daughter, there are more things 
 to consider than one ; Mr Pepe Rey will carry oft* 
 the girl. It is impossible to prevent it. He is 
 prepared to try all means, including dishonour. 
 If Rosarito . . . how we have been deceived by 
 that circumspect countenance and those celestial 
 eyes, eh? ... if Rosarito, I say, does not want 
 him ... we shall see ... all might be arranged ; 
 but, ay 1 she loves him as the devil loves sin ; she 
 is ruined in criminal fire ; fallen, my niece, fallen 
 into an infernal libertinous trap. Let us be honour- 
 able and just ; considering the ignoble pair, we 
 cannot think better of one than the other.’ 
 
 ‘You do not understand women, uncle,’ said 
 Remedies, with fawning hypocrisy. ‘You are a 
 holy savant ; you do not understand that that is 
 only a passing caprice of Rosarito’s — one that can 
 be cured by two blows on the mouth, or half-a- 
 dozen lashes.’ 
 
 ‘ Niece ! ’ said Mr Inocencio, seriously and sen- 
 tentiously, ‘ when greater things have passed, little 
 caprices are not called little caprices, by any means.’ 
 
 ‘ Uncle, you do not know what you are saying,’ 
 replied the niece, whose face had become suddenly 
 inflamed. ‘ How are you capable of supposing that 
 of Rosarito ? . . . What atrocity ! I defend her ; 
 yes, I defend her. . . . She is as pure as an angel ! 
 
 . . . See ! uncle, such things make me blush, and 
 treat you haughtily.’ 
 
 As she said this, the good priest’s face was over- 
 shadowed with sadness, which made him look ten 
 years older. 
 
 ‘ Dear Remedies,’ he said, ‘ we have done all that 
 is humanly possible, and all that we could in con- 
 
226 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 science dare do. Nothing could be more natural 
 than our desire to see Jacintito related to this great 
 family — the first in Orbajosa. Nothing could be 
 more natural than our desire to see him landlord of 
 the seven town houses, of the pasture ground of 
 Mundogrande, of the three orchards at Arriba and 
 Encomienda, besides the outlying rustic farms that 
 this young girl possesses. Your son is worthy of 
 much — we all know it well. Rosarito liked him, 
 and he liked her. It seemed a fait accompli. Even 
 her ladyship, without being very enthusiastic — no 
 doubt, owing to our origin — seemed well disposed, 
 as she esteems and venerates me much as confessor 
 and friend. . . . But, unfortunately, that wretched 
 young man turned up. Her ladyship told me that 
 she had made an arrangement with her brother, and 
 dared not withdraw from it. Grave conflict ! But 
 what did I do on sight of it ? Ah ! you do not 
 know. I am frank with you ; had I found Mr de 
 Rey a man of good principles, capable of rendering 
 Rosarito happy, I would not have intervened ; but 
 the young fellow appeared to me a calamity, and, 
 as spiritual director of the house, I was obliged to 
 take steps in the matter — and I took them. I now 
 know that I placed the prow, as His vulgarly ex- 
 pressed. I unmasked his vices, discovered his 
 atheism, revealed to the view of the whole world 
 the poverty of that materialised heart; and her 
 ladyship convinced herself that she was delivering 
 her daughter up to vice. ... Ah ! how anxious I 
 have been ! Her ladyship vacillated ; I fortified 
 her wavering mind ; I advised her of the lawful 
 means that she might employ against her nephew, 
 to get rid of him without scandal ; I suggested in- 
 genuous ideas to her, and, when she showed me re- 
 peatedly her pure conscience bathed in tears, I 
 
MARIA REMEDIOS, 
 
 227 
 
 tranquillised her, telling her that any means were 
 lawful to rid ourselves of such a ferocious enemy. 
 
 I never recommended either violent or sanguinary 
 measures, or any sort of atrocity, only subtle 
 stratagems that could not be sinful. I am tranquil, 
 dear niece. But you well know how I have fought, 
 that I have worked like a negro. Ah ! when I 
 returned to my home at night, and said, “ Mari- 
 quilla, we are doing well — we are doing very well ! 
 you were wild with delight, and kissed my hands a 
 hundred times, saying that I was the best man in 
 the world. Why are you now infuriated, spoiling 
 your noble character and peaceful qualities ? Why 
 are you angry with me ? Why do you say I am 
 stubborn, and call me, in a polite manner, “Juan 
 Lanas ? ” ^ 
 
 ‘Why, because you,’ said the woman, her irrita- 
 tion in nowise diminished, ‘ are so suddenly intimi- 
 dated.’ 
 
 ‘ It is because all is against us, woman. That 
 wretched engineer, favoured by the troop, is the 
 cause of all. The little girl loves him — the little 
 girl. ... I do not wish to say more. It cannot be 
 — I tell you that it cannot be.’ 
 
 ‘ The troop ! So you believe, as does Lady 
 Perfecta, that there will be war, and that to get 
 rid of Mr Pepito it is necessary for one-half of the 
 nation to go to war with the other half. . . . Her 
 ladyship has become mad, and you are following 
 her example.’ 
 
 ‘ I think with her. Given the intimate connec- 
 tions of Rey with the soldiery, the personal question 
 attains force. . , . But, ah ! my niece, if our valiant 
 men were only hopeful for two days, they might 
 kick the troops out of the town, now that things 
 have turned as they have. For I see that the 
 
228 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 greater part are surprised, even before fighting, 
 and, as Caballuco is hiding and setting a trap for 
 them, it discourages all of them. Good principles 
 have not sufficient strong material to rout the 
 ministers and emissaries of evil. . . . Ah ! my 
 niece, resignation — resignation ! ’ 
 
 Mr Inocencio, following his niece’s characteristic 
 sighed two or three times deeply. Maria, contrary 
 to all that he might desire, maintained a profound 
 silence. There was, or apparently was, no anger in 
 her, nor even the ordinary superficial sentiment- 
 ality natural to her ; nothing but a deep and modest 
 affliction. Shortly after her good uncle had con- 
 cluded his harangue, two tears rolled down her 
 rosy cheeks ; she sobbed with little restraint, and 
 little by little, more loudly, until it swelled into the 
 tumult of a sea which commences to be turbulent, 
 so boisterous was that wave of sorrow of Maria 
 Remedios, relieving itself in such a waste of tears. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A CANON^S TORMENT. 
 
 ESIGNATION ! resignation ! ’ Mr 
 Inocencio repeated. 
 
 ‘ Resignation ! resignation ! ^ said 
 his niece, drying her tears. ‘ Then 
 my dear son must always remain a 
 cut-purse, for he may be that in time. Lawsuits 
 decrease ; the day may be near when he will be a 
 lawyer to no purpose. Of what use is talent? 
 What is the use of so much study and taxing one’s 
 brains ? Ay ! we are poor. A day will come, 
 Mr Inocencio, when my poor son will not have 
 a pillow on which to rest his head.’ 
 
 ‘ Woman ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Man ! . . . And if not, tell me ; what heri- 
 tage do you expect to leave behind you when you 
 close your eyes ? Four rooms, six little pamphlets, 
 misery, and no more. ... We are going to 
 see times. . . . What times, Mr Uncle ! . . . 
 My poor son, whose health is so delicate, will 
 not he able to work . . . He has headache 
 now whenever he reads a book ; he has always 
 nausea and megrim when he works at night ! . . . 
 he is fated to beg from charity ; I shall have to 
 take in sewing, who knows . . . how shall we be 
 able to beg an alms ? ’ 
 
 229 
 
230 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 ‘ Woman ! ’ 
 
 ‘I know what I am saying. . . . Good times 
 are coming/ added this excellent woman, raising 
 her voice with each word she uttered. ‘ My God 1 
 what will become of us ? Ah ! A mother’s heart 
 alone feels these things. Only mothers are cap- 
 able of suffering so much pain for a son’s welfare. 
 You! how can you understand? No; it is one 
 thing to have sons and suffer sorrow for them, 
 and another to sing gori gori in the cathedral 
 and teach Latin at the institute. You see how 
 much the fact of being your nephew is worth to my 
 son ; and his having been so successful in his 
 studies ; and being the glory and beauty of Orba- 
 josa. . . . He will die of hunger, for we know 
 what law is worth, or he will be obliged to beg a 
 doom in Habana, where he will die of yellow 
 fever.’ 
 
 ‘ But, woman I ^ 
 
 ‘No, I will want, I will be quiet, I will molest 
 you no more. I am very impertinent, very mourn- 
 ful, full of sighs, and I cannot help it ; for I am a 
 tender mother and look to my beloved son’s wel- 
 fare. I shall die, yes, sir, I shall die, in silence and 
 drown my sorrow. I shall swallow my sobs that I 
 may not mortify Mr Canon. . . . But my idolised 
 son will understand me, and will not shut his ears 
 as you are now doing. . . . Ah, dear me 1 Poor 
 Jacintito knows that 1 would become a martyr for 
 him, and would afford him happiness at the cost of 
 my life. Poor little child of my womb ! He has 
 so much merit, and to live condemned to a medi- 
 ocre state, to a humble position ; why, Mr Uncle, 
 you will not be proud of him. ... For the more 
 smoky we become, so will you be remembered as 
 ihe son of Uncle Tinieblas, the sacristan at San 
 
A CANON^S TORMENT, 
 
 231 
 
 Barnardo . . . and I shall only be the daughter 
 of Ildefonso Tinieblas, your brother, he who sold 
 pots ; and my son will be Tinieblas’ grandson . . . 
 there will be darkness on our race, and we shall 
 never overcome it ; never shall we possess a foot of 
 ground to enable us to say, “That is mine,” 
 neither shall we shear a ewe belonging to us ; 
 neither shall we milk our own goat ; neither shall 
 we be able to raise our hands to the cup to drink 
 of our own threshing and winnowing ... all this 
 results from your little spirit, from your foolish out- 
 spoken heart.’ 
 
 ‘ But . . . but, woman ! ’ 
 
 The canon’s voice was louder each time he 
 uttered this sentence, and, with his hands to his 
 ears, he shook his head from one side to the other 
 with the sorrowful gesture of despair. The scream- 
 ing song of Maria Remedios became each time 
 more acute, and penetrated the unhappy stupefied 
 priest’s head like an arrow. But suddenly this 
 woman’s face was transformed ; her plaintive sobs 
 gave way to a harsh, crabbed tone ; she became 
 pale ; her lips trembled ; she clenched her fists ; 
 over her forehead hung some disordered locks ; her 
 eyes became still drier from the heat within her 
 breast ; she rose up, and, more like a harpy than a 
 woman, shouted in this manner : — 
 
 ‘ I am going away from here, I am going with 
 my son ! . . . We will go to Madrid ; I do not 
 wish my son to remain in this town. I am tired 
 of seeing my son sheltered under a cassock ; and 
 it shall be so no longer. Do you hear, Mr Uncle ? 
 My son and I are going ! You will never see us 
 again — never ! ’ 
 
 Mr Inocencio had crossed his hands, and re- 
 ceived his niece’s furious outbreak with the con- 
 
232 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 sternation of a criminal, to whom the presence of 
 the hangman declares that it is useless to hope.' 
 
 ‘ For God’s sake, Remedies,' he murmured, in a 
 dolorous tone, ‘ for the Holy Virgin’s sake. . . .' 
 
 Such a crisis and horrible eruption, so unlike the 
 niece’s gentle character, was as strong as rare ; and 
 sometimes there was an interval of five or six years 
 during which Mr Inocencio did not see Remedies 
 converted into a fury. 
 
 ‘ I am a mother ! . . . I am a mother ! . . . and 
 since no one else will look after my son, I will, even 
 I,’ roared the lioness. 
 
 ‘For Holy Mary’s sake, woman, do not alarm 
 yourself. . . . Do you see you are sinning? Re- 
 cite the “ Lord’s Prayer ” and a “ Hail Mary,” and 
 see if you cannot get over this.' 
 
 So saying, the confessor trembled and perspired. 
 Poor chicken in the vulture’s claws ! 
 
 The transformed woman finished him with these 
 words, — 
 
 ‘You are of no use; you are out of power. . . . 
 My son and I will go away from here for ever — for 
 ever ! I will secure a position for my son, I will 
 seek something profitable ; do you hear ? I would 
 sweep the streets with my tongue if I thought that 
 by it I should get something for him to eat ; I would 
 go round the earth likewise to seek a position for 
 my son, that he might rise, be rich, a great per- 
 sonage, a proprietor, a cavalier, a lord, anything that 
 he might possibly be — all — all.’ 
 
 ‘ God will take care of me ! ' exclaimed Mr 
 Inocencio, falling back in his chair, with his head 
 inclined on his breast. 
 
 There was a pause, during which the deep 
 breathing of the infuriated woman could be heard. 
 
 ‘ Woman,' said Mr Inocencio at last, ‘ I have 
 
A CANON'S TORMENT, 
 
 233 
 
 lost ten years of my life — I have become mad — 
 my blood boils. . . . May God grant me the 
 serenity to bear with you ! Lord ! patience, 
 patience is what I require. And you, niece, have 
 done me the favour of crying, sobbing, sighing, 
 snivelling and drivelling for ten years ; your cursed 
 dexterity with pots, which so enraged me, is pre- 
 ferable to this wild anger. If I did not suppose 
 you to be really good at the bottom. . . . See ! 
 after having confessed and received Holy Com- 
 munion this morning, you are not comporting 
 yourself well.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, but it is your fault — yours.’ 
 
 ‘ Because I say that in regard to Rosarito and 
 Jacintito you must have resignation ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Because, when all was going well, you turned 
 round and allowed Mr Rey to take possession of 
 Rosarito.’ 
 
 ‘And how could I prevent it? Her ladyship 
 spoke truly in saying that you had a mind of brick. 
 Do you wish I should take him by the shoulder 
 and turn him out? Or must I go out with a 
 sword and send away the whole troop, and then 
 confront Rey, and say to him, “ Leave the young 
 girl in peace, or I will cut off your head.” ’ 
 
 ‘ No ; but when I advised her ladyship to give 
 her nephew a fright, you opposed me instead of 
 supporting me.’ 
 
 ‘You are mad on this fright.’ 
 
 ‘Because by killing the dog an end is put to 
 his madness.’ 
 
 ‘ I could not recommend what you call a fright, 
 but which might turn out to be something very 
 serious.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, I am a murderer. Am I not, uncle ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I know that games with the hands are villain- 
 
234 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 ous games. Besides, do you think this man would 
 allow himself to be frightened ? And his friends ? * 
 
 ‘ He goes out alone at night. ^ 
 
 ‘ How do you know that ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I know all. I do not move a step without 
 being thoroughly informed. The widow Cuzco 
 reports all to me.’ 
 
 ‘ See ! do not send me mad. And who is to 
 give this fright ? . . . Are we ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Caballuco.’ 
 
 ‘ Is he so disposed ? ’ 
 
 ‘ No ; but he will do it if you order him to.’ 
 
 ‘ See ! woman, leave me in peace. I shall not 
 order such an atrocity. A fright ? And what is 
 it ? Have you mentioned it to him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir ; but he took no notice, or, rather, 
 refused me. In Orbajosa there are only two 
 persons whose orders he will execute — you and 
 Lady Perfecta.’ 
 
 ‘Then her ladyship may order him if she 
 wishes. I will never advise her to employ such 
 violent and brutal measures. Do you think that 
 when Caballuco and his fellows were treating of a 
 rising in arms that I would utter one single word 
 to incite them to shed blood ? No, no. . . . If 
 Lady Perfecta wishes it done. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ She likewise does not desire it. I was talking 
 with her for two hours this afternoon, and she said 
 that people preached that war favoured all means 
 but that she would not order one man to hurt 
 another with the sword. She was right in oppos- 
 ing severe treatment . . . but I do not wish 
 him to be wounded. I only wish him to be 
 frightened.’ 
 
 ‘ Then, if Lady Perfecta does not desire to give 
 orders that he may be frightened, neither do I. 
 
A CANON^S TORMENT, 
 
 235 
 
 Do you understand ? My conscience before 
 everything.^ 
 
 ‘ Good/ replied the lady. ‘You tell Caballuco 
 that he is to accompany me to-night ... You 
 need tell him no more.’ 
 
 ‘ Are you going out late ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I am going out ; yes, sir. Well, did I not go 
 out last night ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Last night ? I did not know. If you did go 
 out I am annoyed ; yes, madam.’ 
 
 ‘ You need simply say this to Caballuco, “ Dear 
 Ramos, I should be grateful if you would accom- 
 pany my niece on a certain errand to-night, and 
 protect her in case of danger ! ” ’ 
 
 ‘ I can do that. He is to accompany you . . . 
 to protect you. Ah ! sly woman ! you wish to 
 deceive me, to make me an accomplice in some 
 absurdity.’ 
 
 ‘ I . . . What are you thinking of? ’ asked 
 Maria Remedies, ironically. ‘ Ramos and I, 
 together, will destroy many people to-night.’ 
 
 ‘ No jests. I repeat that I shall advise Ramos 
 in nothing wrong. I fancied he was here. . . .’ 
 
 They heard a noise at the street door. Then 
 the sound of Caballuco talking with the servant, 
 and presently Orbajosa’s hero entered the 
 room. 
 
 ‘ News ! give us news, Mr Ramos ! ’ said the 
 priest. ‘ See 1 give us some hope in return for 
 supper and hospitality. . . . What is doing at 
 Villahorrenda ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Something,’ replied the valiant man, sitting 
 down and looking tired. ‘ You will soon see if we 
 are of any use.’ 
 
 Like all important persons, or those who wish 
 to appear so, Caballuco displayed great reserve. 
 
236 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘To-night, my friend, I will give you, if you 
 wish, the money that I have received for . . 
 
 ‘ I can do well without it. . . . Supposing the 
 troop should not allow me to pass } , , J said 
 Ramos, laughing brutally. 
 
 ‘ Be quiet, man. We know now that you may 
 pass whenever you wish. Then nothing further is 
 wanting. The military are people with wide 
 sleeves . . . and if they can weight them with 
 two dollars, eh ? Come, I see that you are not 
 badly armed. ... You are only wanting in a 
 cannon. Pistols, eh? . . . Knife also? . . 
 
 ‘With that one may manage,^ said Caballuco, 
 taking the firearms off his girdle, and showing its 
 horrible mouth. 
 
 ‘ By God and the Virgin ! ^ exclaimed Maria 
 Remedies, shutting her eyes and turning her face 
 away with fear. ‘ Take care of that lumber. It 
 horrifies me only to see it.^ 
 
 ‘ If you do not mind,’ said Ramos, putting up 
 the firearms, ‘ we will sup.’ Maria Remedies pre- 
 pared all quickly, that the hero might have no 
 cause for impatience. 
 
 ‘Let me ask you one thing, Mr Ramos,’ said 
 Mr Inocencio to his companion, when they were 
 taking supper ; ‘ have you much to do to- 
 
 night ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Indeed I have,’ replied the other. 
 
 ‘ It is the last night that I am coming to Orbajosa 
 — the last. I have to collect some young fellows who 
 are faltering here, and we are going to see how we 
 can transport the saltpetre and brimstone, which is 
 at Cirujeda’s house.’ 
 
 ‘ I would say,’ added the cure, kindly filling his 
 friend’s plate, ‘that my niece would like you to 
 accompany her for a short time. She has some- 
 
A CANON'S TORMENT, 
 
 237 
 
 thing or other to do, I know not what, and it is 
 late for her to go alone.’ 
 
 ‘Is she going to Lady Perfecta’s house?’ ques- 
 tioned Ramos. ‘ I have been there for a moment ; 
 and she did not wish to detain me,’ 
 
 ‘ How is her ladyship ? ’ 
 
 ‘Very well. To-night I am going to take the 
 six young fellows who are with her.’ 
 
 ‘ Man ! do you not think that they are wanted 
 there ? ’ asked Remedies, anxiously. 
 
 ‘ They are more needed at Villahorrenda. 
 There are brave men in the houses, are there not, 
 canon ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Ramos, that house must not be left un- 
 guarded,’ said the confessor. 
 
 ‘There are more than enough servants. But 
 do you think, Mr Inocencio, that the brigadier 
 will attack the houses in the neighbourhood?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes ; for you know that this engineer, with three 
 thousand dozen of devils . . .’ 
 
 ‘ As to that . . . the house is not deficient in 
 brooms,’ said Christobel, gaily. ‘They can but 
 marry at last. . . . After what has passed. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Mr Ramos,’ said Remedios, suddenly angry, 
 
 ‘ I fancy you do not understand much about people 
 marrying.’ 
 
 ‘ I tell you that I went to Lady Perfecta’s for 
 a moment to-night, and saw her ladyship and the 
 young lady, and they were reconciled. Lady Per- 
 fecta embraced Rosarito, and continually addressed 
 her tenderly.’ 
 
 ‘ Reconciled ! You have lost your head amongst 
 all this warlike preparation. . . . But, finally, will 
 you accompany me or not ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It is not to her ladyship’s house that she wishes 
 to go,’ said the priest, ‘ but to widow Cuzco’s. She 
 
238 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 was saying that she did not like to go alone, for 
 fear of being insulted.’ 
 
 ‘ By whom ? ’ 
 
 ‘You know well enough. By this engineer with 
 three or four thousand dozen devils. Last night 
 my niece saw him there, and received some in- 
 formation about him, for which reason she wishes 
 you to go with her to-night. The young fellow is 
 revengeful and petulant.’ 
 
 ‘I do not know if I can go . . answered 
 Caballuco, ‘ I have to take care now not to be dis- 
 covered. I cannot defy Mr Jose Pepita Cosa. If 
 I were not as I am now, with half my face con- 
 cealed, and the other half uncovered, I would have 
 broken his backbone thirty times. But what would 
 happen if I fell out with him ? He would discover 
 me; the soldiers would come down on me, and 
 “good-bye ” to Caballuco. To give him a blow in 
 the dark does not suit me ; it is unnatural, neither 
 will her ladyship consent to it. Treachery does 
 not suit Christobel Ramos.’ 
 
 ‘ But, man, are you silly ? . . . what are you talk- 
 ing about?’ said the confessor, with undeniable 
 symptoms of alarm. ‘I did not wish to counsel 
 you to ill-treat this gentleman. I would rather cut 
 out my tongue than advise such wickedness. The 
 wicked fall, it is true, but God fixes the moment, 
 not I. I do not recommend blows either. I 
 would rather administer ten dozen to any Christian 
 who would counsel such medicine. I only said to 
 you,’ he added, looking at the man over his 
 spectacles, ‘ that as my niece is going there, as is 
 probable, very probable, are you not Remedios ? . . . 
 as she may have somewhat to say to this man, 
 that I wished you not to abandon her, in case she 
 might be insulted. . . , ’ 
 
A CANON^S TORMENT, 
 
 239 
 
 ‘ I have much to do to-night/ replied Caballuco, 
 laconically and dryly. 
 
 ‘ You hear him, Remedies. Leave your errand 
 until to-morrow.’ 
 
 ‘ I cannot. I will go alone.’ 
 
 ‘ No, you will not go, my niece. We will keep 
 the festival peacefully. Mr Ramos has plenty to 
 do, and cannot accompany you. Only fancy, you 
 might be injured by that gross man ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Insulted ! . . . insulted ! He insult a lady ! ’ 
 exclaimed Caballuco. ‘ Come, that cannot be ! ’ 
 
 ‘ If you had nothing to do . . . bah ! bah ! I 
 should be tranquil.’ 
 
 ‘ I have plenty of occupation,’ said the centaur, 
 rising from the table, ‘but if it would oblige 
 you. . . .’ 
 
 There was a pause. The confessor closed his 
 eyes and meditated. 
 
 ‘ It would oblige me, Mr Ramos,’ he said at last. 
 
 ‘ Then there is no more to be said. We will go. 
 Madam Maria.’ 
 
 ‘ Now, dear niece,’ said Mr Inocencio, half-gaily, 
 half-seriously, ‘as we have finished supper, bring 
 me the basin.’ He gave a penetrating look at his 
 niece, and, accompanying these words with a cor- 
 responding action, said, ‘ I wash my hands of it.’ 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FROxM MR PEPE REY TO MR JOHN REY. 
 
 ‘Orbajosa, April 12th. 
 EAR FATHER, — Pardon me if, for 
 the first time, I disobey you by not 
 leaving here, or renouncing my 
 project. Your advice and entreaty 
 are worthy of a kind, honourable 
 father ; my obstinacy is worthy of a foolish son, 
 but a singular thing has taken place within me ; 
 obstinacy and honour are so intermingled and con- 
 founded that the idea of being dissuaded to for- 
 sake my cause confuses me. I am much altered. 
 I do not recognise these attacks of fury that con- 
 sume me. At one time I laughed at all violence, 
 at impetuous men’s exaggerations, as perverse 
 brutality. Now nothing 01 this sort astonishes me, 
 for I experience within myself at all hours a cer- 
 tain terrible capacity for perversity. To you I can 
 express myself as I do alone to God and my 
 conscience. 1 can tell you that I am a wretch, for 
 he wao is wanting in powerful moral strength to 
 castigate the passions and submit to the hard 
 regime of conscience is a wretch. I am deficient 
 in Christian uprightness, which fills the spirit of an 
 240 
 
PE PE KEY TO JOHN REY 
 
 241 
 
 offended man with a beautiful sense of elevation 
 over the offences received and over his enemies. 
 I have been weak enough to abandon myself to a 
 wild anger, letting myself down to the base level 
 of my detractors ; returning them blows equal to 
 those received, and trying to confound them by 
 means learned in their own unworthy school. 
 How I feel it that I have not you by my side to 
 help me on this road. Now it is late. Passions 
 give no hope. They are impatient, and they hurry 
 me along with shouts, and with the convulsion 
 of a dreadful, deadly thirst. I have succumbed. 
 I cannot forget the many times that you have told 
 me that anger is the worst of passions, for it unex- 
 pectedly transforms our characters, engendering all 
 other wickedness, and lending to all its infernal 
 fire. 
 
 ‘ But I have not known anger alone, it is also 
 a strong, expansive sentiment which has thrown 
 me into this state ; the deep and unalterable love 
 for my cousin, the only circumstance that can ab- 
 solve me ; and, if not love, pity has led me to defy 
 your terrible sister's fury and intrigues ; for poor 
 Rosarito, placed between her irresistible affection 
 and her mother, is to-day one of those most dis- 
 graced beings that exist on the earth. Her love 
 binds me and corresponds with mine, had I not 
 the right to open, as I could, the doors of her 
 house and draw her thence, employing the law 
 where I could reach it, and using force where the 
 law does not protect me? I believe that your 
 rigorous, moral scrupulosity will not answer me 
 in the affirmative to this question ; but I am 
 no longer that methodical, pure character con- 
 forming exactly to conscience. I am not he to 
 whom an almost perfect education gave a mar- 
 
 L 
 
242 
 
 LJDY PERFECT A. 
 
 vellous regularity ;to his sentiments ; I am now a 
 man like any other. By one single step I have 
 entered the common land of injustice and wrong. 
 Be prepared to hear of some savage deed, which 
 will be a work of mine. I will take care to let you 
 know what I do. 
 
 ‘ But the confession of my faults does not acquit 
 me of the responsibility of those grave affairs that 
 have occurred, and will occur, and which, though I 
 am partly the cause, will not all fall on your sister. 
 Lady Perfecta’s responsibility is certainly immense. 
 What will be the extent of mine ? Ah, dear father, 
 do not believe anything you may hear of me, but 
 only what I reveal to you. If it is said that I have 
 committed a deliberate villainy, answer that it is 
 false. Difficult — very difficult — is it for me to judge 
 myself in the present state of perturbation, but I 
 can truly assure myself that I have not deliberately 
 caused scandal. You well know how a favoured 
 passion is affected in its horrible growth by cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 ‘ The most bitter thing in my life is that I have 
 employed fiction, deceit and base dissimulation — I, 
 who was truth itself. I have lost my own form 
 . . . but does the soul incur this great perversity ? 
 Is it now only commencing, or is it near the end ? 
 I do not know. If Rosarito, with her celestial 
 hand, does not save me from this hell raging in 
 my conscience, I wish you would come and save 
 me. My cousin is an angel, and, in suffering for 
 me, has taught me many things that I did not 
 know before. Do not wonder at the incoherence 
 of what I write. Divers sentiments inflame me. 
 At times I am assailed by ideas worthy of my im- 
 mortal soul, but at others I fall into a lamentable 
 languor, and think of weak and deceitful men, 
 
PE PE REY TO JOHN REY. 
 
 243 
 
 whose baseness you pictured to me in such lively 
 colours in order to make me detest them. This 
 is what I feel myself to-day. I am disposed for 
 good and evil. I now know what prayer is, a 
 great reflective supplication; so personal that it 
 cannot be regulated by formulas learnt by heart ; 
 an expansion of the soul which even dares to seek 
 its origin ; the opposite of remorse, which is a con- 
 tradiction of the same soul, wrapping it round and 
 concealing it with the ridiculous pretension that no 
 one can see it. May God have mercy on me ! 
 You taught me many good things, but I am now 
 in practice, as engineers term it. I have surveyed 
 the land, so that my knowledge is enlarged and 
 settled. ... I am now fancying that I am not as 
 bad as I thought even. Is it so ? 
 
 ‘I finish this letter hurriedly. I am going to 
 despatch it by one of the soldiers who is going to 
 Villahorrenda, for I have no confidence in this 
 people’s courier.’ 
 
 ‘ April 14M. 
 
 ‘You would be much amused, dear father, could 
 you understand what thoughts the people of this 
 town have. You will now know that nearly all this 
 country is in insurrection. It was a foreseen thing, 
 and politicians have been deceived if they thought 
 it was only a two days’ affair. The hostility against 
 ourselves and the Government, shown in the spirit 
 of the Orbajosians, forms a part of them, like religi- 
 ous faith. As regards the particular question of 
 my aunt, I will relate a singular thing to you. It is 
 that the poor lady, who believes in feudalism to the 
 marrow-bone, has fancied that I was going to attack 
 her house to rob her of her daughter, as did the 
 
244 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 cavaliers of the Middle Ages, when they attacked 
 an enemy^s castle to perpetrate some act of injustice. 
 Do not laugh, it is true; such are these people’s 
 ideas. You will excuse me telling you that I am 
 looked upon as a kind of monster, as a species of 
 Moorish heretical king, and the military men with 
 whom I have become friendly here are considered 
 as deserving of the same opprobrium. In Lady 
 Perfecta’s house it is a current topic that the troops 
 and I have formed a diabolical, anti-religious coali- 
 tion, in order to deprive Orbajosa of its treasures, 
 faith and young girls. It is certain that your sister 
 believes literally that I am intending to assail her 
 house, and it is equally certain that a barricade has 
 been erected behind the door. 
 
 ‘ But that may not be by any means. They 
 retain the most antiquated notions here on society, 
 religion, state and property. Religious exaltation 
 causes them to employ strength against the Govern- 
 ment to defend a faith which no one has attacked, 
 and they maintain fiercely the spirit of vicious 
 feudal customs ; and, as they resolve their questions 
 by brutal strength, blood and fire, they destroy all 
 who think differently to them, not understanding 
 that people in the world employ other means. 
 
 ‘ Far from it being my intention to commit extra- 
 vagancies in her ladyship’s house, I have done my 
 best that she should not be molested ; whereas the 
 neighbours around her have not been free. Through 
 my friendship with the brigadier, she has not been 
 obliged, as was ordered, to make out a list of all 
 her men-servitors who have gone to join the faction ; 
 and, if her house was surveyed, I was assured that 
 it was only as a matter of form ; and if they dis- 
 armed the six men therein, they afterwards allowed 
 them to arm again, and took no steps to prevent it. 
 
PE PE REY TO 10 HN REY. 245 
 
 You may see by this how far my hostility towards 
 her ladyship extends. 
 
 ‘ It is true that I have the support of the chief 
 military men, but I have only utilised it to protect 
 myself from the insults and ill-treatment of these 
 implacable people. My probabilities of exit con- 
 sist in that the persons in authority, recently placed 
 by the military chief, are all friends. They, and 
 my moral strength together, are intimidating. I do 
 not know but that if I should find myself in the 
 house I might commit some violence, but assure 
 yourself that the assault and taking of the house is 
 a purely mad feudal assumption of your sister. 
 Circumstances have placed me in an advantageous 
 position. Anger, the passion that burns within me, 
 induces me to profit by it. I do not know even 
 when I shall go/ 
 
 ^ April i^th, 
 
 ‘Your letter has given me great consolation. 
 Yes, I can attain my object, using the resources 
 of the law alone, completely efficacious for this. I 
 have consulted the authorities here, and all con- 
 firm me in what you indicated to me. I am con- 
 tent. I have now inculcated into my cousin's soul 
 the idea of disobedience, which will, at least, be 
 supported by social laws. I will do as you com- 
 manded me ; that is to say, renounce the rather 
 ugly collusion with Pinzon ; I will destroy the 
 terrifying consolidation that I established with the 
 military j I will leave behind me the pride of being 
 in power with them ; I will put aside any adven - 
 tures, and, at an opportune moment, will act with 
 calmness, prudence, and all benignity possible. It 
 is better so. My coalition, half serious, half bur- 
 lesque, with the army was with the object of shield- 
 
2^6 
 
 LAD Y PERFECT A. 
 
 ing myself from the brutality of the Orbajosians 
 and my aunt’s servants and relations. Otherwise, 
 I have always repelled the idea of an armed 
 intervention. 
 
 ‘The friend who has favoured me has been 
 obliged to leave the house ; I am, however, in 
 slight communication with my cousin. The poor 
 girl has displayed a heroic courage in the midst 
 of her griefs, and will obey me blindly. You may 
 rest tranquil as to my personal security. For my 
 part, I have no fear, and am quite calm.’ 
 
 ‘ April 20th, 
 
 ‘ I cannot write more than two lines to-day. I 
 have much to do. All will be finished in a few 
 days. Do not write to me again here. You will 
 soon have the pleasure of embracing your son, 
 
 * Pepe.’ 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 PEPE REY TO ROSARITO POLENTINOS. 
 
 IVE Esterbanillo the key of the orch- 
 ard, and charge him to be careful of 
 the dog. The young fellow is mine, 
 body and soul. Fear nothing. I 
 shall be very sorry if you cannot 
 come down, as you did the other night. Do all 
 you can to manage it. I shall be there about mid- 
 night. I will tell you what I have done and what 
 I have to do. Be tranquil, my girl, for I have 
 abandoned all imprudent and brutal resources. I 
 will tell you all. It is long, and should be told 
 verbally. I seem to see your alarm and anguish 
 on not finding me near you. I have not seen you 
 for eight days. I swear to you that this absence 
 from you will soon end. My heart tells me that I 
 shall see you. Unhappy me if I do not see you ! ^ 
 
 247 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE ACT. 
 
 WOMAN and a man went into the 
 widow Cuzco's house about ten 
 o'clock, and came out of it about 
 half-past eleven. 
 
 ‘ Now, Madam Maria,' said the 
 man, ‘ I will accompany you to your home, for I 
 have much to do.' 
 
 ‘ Wait, Mr Ramos, for the love of God,’ replied 
 she. ‘ Why not go to the casino to see when he 
 comes out ? You heard just now. . . . He was 
 seen talking this afternoon to Estabanillo, the little 
 fellow from the orchard.’ 
 
 ‘But why do you seek Mr Jose?' questioned 
 the centaur, in a very bad humour. ‘ What does 
 it matter to us ? The nuptials with Lady Rosarito 
 seem to be just what should be, and there is nothing 
 for her ladyship to do but to let them take place. 
 That is my opinion.’ 
 
 ‘ You are an animal ! ’ said Remedies, angrily. 
 
 ‘ Madam, I am going.’ 
 
 ‘ Then, rude man, are you going to leave me in 
 the middle of the street ? ' 
 
 ‘ If you are not going at once to your house ; 
 yes, madam.’ 
 
 ‘ So it is . . . you leave me alone, exposed to 
 248 
 
THE ACT 
 
 249 
 
 insult. . . . Listen, Mr Ramos, Mr Jos^ will come 
 out of the casino now, as usual. I want to know 
 if he goes into his lodgings or not. It is a fancy, 
 nothing but a fancy.’ 
 
 ‘ I know that I have enough to do, and it will 
 soon strike twelve.’ 
 
 ‘ Silence,’ said Remedies ; ‘ let us hide ourselves 
 in this corner. ... A man comes up this street 
 of Triperia. It is he.’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Jose ... I know him by his step.’ 
 
 They hid, and the man passed on. 
 
 ‘ Let us follow him,’ said Maria Remedies, anxi- 
 ously. ‘ Let us follow him at a distance, Ramos.’ 
 
 ‘ Madam.^ . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Only to see if he goes into his lodgings.’ 
 
 ‘One minute only. Madam Remedies. Then 
 I shall go.’ 
 
 They followed at about thirty paces, that the 
 man might not discover them. The confessor’s 
 niece stopped, and pronounced these words, — 
 ‘ He is not going into the house.’ 
 
 ‘ He will go to the brigadier’s house.’ 
 
 ‘ The brigadier lives higher up, and Mr Pepe is go- 
 ing further down, he makes for her ladyship’s house.’ 
 
 ‘ Her ladyship’s ! ’ exclaimed Caballuco, walking 
 briskly on. 
 
 But they were mistaken ; the man they were 
 watching passed the home of the Polentinos and 
 went further. 
 
 ‘ Do you see him now ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Mr Ramos, let us follow him,’ said Remedios, 
 convulsively pressing the centaur’s hand. ‘ I have 
 a presentiment.’ 
 
 ‘We shall soon know, because the people will 
 finish him.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not go so fast ... he can see us. I 
 
250 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 thought so, Mr Ramos ; he is going in by the con- 
 demned door of the orchard/ 
 
 ‘ Madam, you are turning mad ! ’ 
 
 ‘Go on, we will see/ 
 
 It was a dark night, and the spies could scarcely 
 see where Mr de Rey had entered ; but a certain 
 click as of a rusty lock, and the fact of their not 
 meeting the young man all the length of the wall, con- 
 vinced them that he must have gone into the orchard. 
 Caballuco looked at his companion with an air of 
 stupefaction. He seemed struck with amazement. 
 
 ‘ What are you thinking of? Do you still doubt ?’ 
 
 ‘ What can be done ? ^ questioned the valiant 
 man, full of confusion. ‘ Shall we give him a 
 fright? ... I do not know what her ladyship 
 will think. To-night, when I saw her, the mother 
 and daughter appeared to be reconciled.’ 
 
 ‘ Do not be stupid. . . . Why notenter?’ 
 
 ‘ I wish those armed men were here now, for I 
 told them to leave to-night.’ 
 
 ‘And no doubt this villain reckoned on that. 
 Ramos, do not be a coward, go into the orchard.’ 
 
 ‘ How ; is not the door locked ? ’ 
 
 ‘You can get over the wall. . . . What a 
 blockhead ! If I were but a man.’ 
 
 ‘Then, higher up . . . there are some bricks 
 by which the children mount to steal the fruit.’ 
 
 ‘ Higher up, then. I am going to the principal 
 door to wake her ladyship if she sleeps.’ 
 
 The centaur mounted, not without some dif- 
 ficulty. Soon his head rose above the wall, and 
 he disappeared in the black density of the trees. 
 Maria Remedies ran until she arrived in the street 
 of the Constabulary, and, hammering at the door 
 with the knocker, called . . . called three times 
 with all her heart and soul. 
 
CHAPTER XXXL 
 
 LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 EE how calmly Lady Perfecta is en- 
 gaged in writing. We penetrate into 
 her room, in spite of the lateness 
 of the hour, and surprise her in a 
 grave task ; her mind divided be- 
 tween meditation and some long, conscientious 
 letters, which she inscribes with sure pen and 
 correct figures. Her face, hands and bust are 
 seen by the light from the lamp, whilst the shade 
 leaves the rest of her person and nearly all the 
 room in soft shadow. She looks like a luminous 
 figure, evoked by imagination in the midst of 
 vague shadows of fear. 
 
 It is strange that we have not, till now, made 
 an important asseveration, and this is that Lady 
 Perfecta was beautiful, or rather, she was still 
 beautiful, preserving in her countenance traces 
 of past beauty. Her country life, the absolute 
 absence of conceit, for she neither dressed nor 
 adorned herself, she abhorred fashion and despised 
 vain ceremonies, were the cause of her native 
 beauty not shining, or, at least, shining very little. 
 The intense yellowness of her face, indicating a 
 very bilious constitution, also deteriorated from it. 
 25 i 
 
252 
 
 LAnV PERFECTA. 
 
 Her eyes were black, her nose fine and delicate, 
 her forehead broad and clear ; all who took much 
 notice of her considered her a finished model of 
 a human figure. There was now during these 
 factions an expression of harshness and stubborn- 
 ness, which caused a feeling of antipathy. Her 
 glance, though accompanied by kindly words, 
 seemed to place an immeasurable distance be- 
 tween her and strangers ; but those living in the 
 house, that is to say, her near relations, felt drawn 
 towards her by a singular attraction. She was a 
 master in the art of governing, and no one equalled 
 her in the art of speaking the language most adapted 
 to each person. 
 
 Her bilious disposition and excessive intercourse 
 with devout persons and things, which exalted her 
 imagination fruitlessly, had aged her prematurely, 
 and, though feeling young, she did not appear so. 
 It might be said of her that, with her habits and 
 system of living, she had covered herself with 
 a crust, a stony lining, insensibility, and had shut 
 herself up within, as does the snail in its portable 
 house. Lady Perfecta seldom came out of her 
 shell. 
 
 Her confirmed habits, and that general kind- 
 ness that we have observed in her from the moment 
 of her appearance in our tale, were the cause of 
 her great prestige in Orbajosa. She still main- 
 tained relations with some excellent ladies in 
 Madrid, and by this means had caused her 
 nephew’s ruin. Now, at the moment of our 
 history, we find her sitting before her desk, which 
 is the only confident of her plans, and the de- 
 positary of her numerical calculations with the 
 villagers, and her moral calculations with God 
 and society. There, she wrote the quarterly letters 
 
LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 253 
 
 received by her brother; there, she edited the 
 notes to incite the judge and notary to entangle 
 Pepe Rey in lawsuits ; thence she flung the dart 
 that was to cause him to lose the minister's con- 
 fidence ; there, she consulted Mr Inocencio. But 
 to become acquainted with the scene of other 
 actions, the effects of which we have seen, we 
 should be obliged to follow her to the Episcopal 
 palace, and to the various houses of familiar 
 friends. 
 
 We do not know how Lady Perfecta had been 
 able to love. She detested with inflammatory 
 vehemence, like to that of a guardian angel, hatred 
 and discord amongst men. Such is the result 
 produced on a hard character, not naturally kind, 
 by religious exaltation, when this, instead of 
 nourishing principles as simple as beautiful in 
 the conscience derived from the truth revealed, 
 seeks its sap from narrow formulas, which render 
 it obedient only to interested priests. For, as 
 hypocrisy may be inoffensive, that is the very 
 reason why it exists in the purest hearts. It is 
 true that in that case it bears no good fruit. But 
 those hearts which are born without the seraphic 
 chastity, which establishes on earth a premature 
 Limbo, should be careful not to inflame them- 
 selves much by what they see on altars, choirs, 
 in the pulpits and sacristies, if they have not 
 previously erected in their own conscience an 
 altar, a pulpit and a confessional. 
 
 Her ladyship, leaving off writing for a time, pro- 
 ceeded to the adjoining room where her daughter 
 was. She had told Rosarito to go to bed; but 
 she, already accustomed to disobedience, was up. 
 
 ‘Why are you not asleep?^ questioned her 
 mother. ‘ I do not think of going to bed to-night. 
 
254 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 You^ know Caballuco has taken away the men that 
 we had here. Something might happen, and I 
 am watching. ... If I do not watch, what 
 will become of you and me ? ’ 
 
 ‘ What time is it ? ’ questioned the young girl. 
 
 ‘ It will soon be midnight. . . . You are not 
 afraid . . . but I am.’ 
 
 Rosarito trembled, and all indicated that she 
 was suffering the darkest anguish. Her eyes were 
 raised to heaven as though she would pray, then 
 she looked at her mother, expressing a lively 
 terror. 
 
 ‘ But what is the matter with you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Did you say that it was midnight ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ Then. . . . But is it already midnight ? ’ 
 
 Rosarito wished to speak, hung her head, in 
 which was passing a world of thoughts. 
 
 ‘ There is something the matter then . . . some- 
 thing has happened to you then,’ said her mother, 
 fixing her sagacious eyes on her. 
 
 ‘Yes ... I want to tell you,’ muttered the 
 young girl. ‘ I wish to say . . . nothing, no- 
 thing. I will sleep.’ 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! Rosarito ! your mother reads your 
 heart like a book ! ’ exclaimed Lady Perfecta, 
 severely. ‘You are agitated. I have told you 
 that I am ready to pardon you if you will repent ; 
 if you are a good, well-behaved girl. . . .’ 
 
 ‘ Well, then, am I not good ? Ah, mamma ! 
 mamma ! I shall die 1 ’ 
 
 Rosarito interrupted herself with a painful, 
 sorrowful sob. 
 
 ‘ Why these sobs ? ’ said her mother, embracing 
 her. ‘ If these are tears of repentance, blessed 
 be they.’ 
 
LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 255 
 
 ‘ I do not repent, I cannot repent,’ shouted the 
 young girl, with the violence of desperation, which 
 rendered her sublime. 
 
 She drew up her head, and on her countenance 
 was suddenly depicted inspired energy. Her hair 
 fell down over her shoulders. Never has been 
 seen a more beautiful picture of an angel about 
 to rebel. 
 
 ‘ But you are mad ; or what is this } ’ said Lady 
 Perfecta, placing both her hands on her daughter’s 
 shoulders. 
 
 ‘ I am going, I am going,’ said the young girl, 
 expressing herself with delirious exaltation. 
 
 And she threw herself across the bed. 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! Rosarito ! . . . my daughter. . . . 
 For God’s sake ! What is the matter?’ 
 
 ‘ Ah, mamma, lady ! ’ exclaimed the young girl, 
 embracing her mother. ‘ You frighten me.’ 
 
 ‘Truly, you deserve it. . . . What madness is 
 this?’ 
 
 ‘ You frighten me. ... I am going away, 
 going with him.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta felt as though a flame of fire rose 
 from her heart to her lips. She felt suflbcated, 
 and only her black eyes, blacker than night, replied 
 to her daughter. 
 
 ‘ Mamma ! my mamma ! I detest all that is not 
 him ! ’ exclaimed Rosarito. ‘ Hear me confess ; 
 for I wish to confess to all, and to you first.’ 
 
 ‘You are going to kill me, you are killing me.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish to confess that you may pardon me. . . . 
 This weight, this weight bears me down and does 
 not permit me to live.’ 
 
 ‘The weight of a sin. . . . Add to it God’s 
 curse, and essay to walk under the burden, dis- 
 graceful girl ! . . . I alone can take it from you.’ 
 
256 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 ‘ No, you no, you no ! ^ shouted Rosarito despair- 
 ingly. ‘ But you can listen to me, I wish to con- 
 fess all — all. . . . Then you may cast me out 
 from this house where I was born.’ 
 
 ‘ I cast you out ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Then I shall go.’ 
 
 ‘ Never ! I will teach you a daughter’s duties 
 which you have forgotten.’ 
 
 ‘ Then I shall flee. He will take me with him.’ 
 
 ‘ Has he told you so, has he advised you, has 
 he commanded you?’ questioned her mother, 
 flinging out these words like lashes at her 
 daughter. 
 
 ‘ I advised it. . . . We have concerted to- 
 gether to be married. That is it exactly, mamma, 
 dear mamma. I would love you. ... I know 
 that I ought to do so. . . . I shall be condemned 
 if I do not love you.’ 
 
 She opened her arms and, falling on her knees, 
 kissed her mother’s feet. 
 
 ‘ Rosarito ! Rosarito ! ’ exclaimed Lady Perfecta 
 in a terrible voice, ‘get up.’ 
 
 There was a short pause. 
 
 ‘ Has this man written to you?’ 
 
 ‘Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ Has he been to see you since that night ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ And you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I likewise. . . . Oh, lady, why do you look 
 at me so? You are not my mother.’ 
 
 ‘Would to God I were not. You may rejoice 
 in what you have done to me. I am being killed — 
 killed without remedy,’ shouted her ladyship, in the 
 greatest agitation. ‘ You say that this man. . . .’ 
 
 ‘Is my spouse. ... I shall be his protected 
 by law. ... You are not a woman, , . . Why 
 
LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 2S1 
 
 do you look at me in that manner and frighten 
 me? Mother, my mother, do not condemn me.’ 
 
 ‘You have already condemned yourself; it is 
 enough. Obey me and I will pardon you. . . . 
 Answer, when did you receive letters from this 
 man?’ 
 
 ‘ To-day.’ 
 
 ‘ What treason ! What infamy ! ’ exclaimed her 
 mother, rather roaring than speaking. ‘ Do you 
 hope to see each other ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes.’ 
 
 ‘ When ? ’ 
 
 ‘To-night.’ 
 
 ‘Where?’ 
 
 ‘ Here — here. I confess all — all. I know it is a 
 crime. ... I am an infamous girl but you, who 
 are my mother, will rescue me from this hell. You 
 must consent. . . . Say one word to me — only 
 one.’ 
 
 ‘This man here in my house,’ screamed Lady 
 Perfecta, taking a few steps, one might say leaps, 
 towards the centre of the room. 
 
 Rosarito followed her on her knees. At the same 
 moment three blows, three reports, three cannon- 
 ades were heard. It was Maria Remedies’ heart 
 knocking at the door with the knocker. The 
 house shook with a terrible trembling. Mother 
 and daughter remained like statues. Below, a 
 servant opened the door, and shortly after Maria 
 Remedies, more like a basilisk wrapped in a cloak 
 than a woman, entered Lady Perfecta’s room. 
 Her face, inflamed by anxiety, appeared as though 
 on fire. 
 
 ‘ He is there ! he is there ! ’ she cried, on entering. 
 ‘ He has gone into the orchard by the small door 
 which is condemned.’ 
 
LADY PERFECT A. 
 
 258 
 
 She had to take breath at each syllable. 
 
 ‘I understand now/ repeated Lady Perfecta, 
 uttering a cry like that of a wild beast. 
 
 Rosarito fell on the floor and became uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 ‘ Let us go below/ said Lady Perfecta, taking no 
 notice of her daughter. 
 
 The two women glided downstairs like two 
 snakes. The women-servants and man-servant 
 were in the gallery, not understanding what was 
 the matter. Lady Perfecta passed through the 
 dining-room and into the orchard, followed by 
 Maria Remedies. 
 
 ‘Fortunately Ca-Ca-Caballuco is here, ^ said the 
 canon’s niece. 
 
 ‘Where?’ 
 
 ‘In the orchard likewise. . . . He — he — he 
 
 got over the wall.’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta explored the obscurity, with her 
 eyes full of anger. Rancour lent her the singular 
 vision of the feline race. 
 
 ‘ I see something,’ she said. ‘ It has gone 
 underneath the bay trees.’ 
 
 ‘ It is he ! ’ shouted Remedies. ‘ But there goes 
 Ramos ! Ramos ! ’ 
 
 They could distinguish the colossal figure of the 
 centaur distinctly. 
 
 ‘ Under the bay-trees, Ramos ! Under the bay- 
 trees ! ’ 
 
 Lady Perfecta moved a few steps forward. Her 
 menacing voice, which vibrated with a terrible 
 accent, was heard to say, — 
 
 ‘ Christobel I Christobel ! kill him ! ’ 
 
 A shot was heard, and then another. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 ROM Lord Cayetano Polentinos to a 
 friend in Madrid, — 
 
 ‘Orbajosa, April 2 isl , 
 
 ‘ Dear Friend, — Send me without delay the 
 edition of 1562, which you have found amongst 
 the books that Corchuels left behind him. 
 
 ‘ Obtain it for as much as it may be worth. 
 For some time I have sought for it unsuccessfully, 
 and shall be delighted to possess it. Have you 
 met with a pot bearing on it the word “ Tractado,” 
 and the x in the date mdlxii put on crookedly? 
 If you should recognise it by these signs, telegraph 
 to me, as I am very anxious . . . although I 
 grant that the telegraph, by reason of these 
 importunate and fastidious wars, does not now 
 work well. I hope to receive a reply by post. 
 
 ‘ I shall soon come to Madrid, my friend, with 
 the object of printing this long-hoped-for work on 
 the Lineage of Orbajosa. I thank you for your 
 benevolence, my dear friend, but I can allow no 
 flattery. My work does not indeed merit the 
 pompous qualifications which you accord it. It is 
 259 
 
26 o 
 
 LABV PERFECTA, 
 
 a work of patience and study, a clumsy monument, 
 but solid and extensive, and intended to celebrate 
 the greatness of my beloved country. 
 
 ^ Poor and ugly in its form, I hold the idea that 
 engendered it a noble one. One which intends it 
 to open the eyes of this unbelieving, stubborn 
 generation to the marvellous feats and refined 
 virtues of our ancestors. God grant that the 
 studious youth of our country may interest them- 
 selves in this work, to which I have devoted all 
 my strength ! God grant that the abominable 
 studies and intellectual habits introduced by 
 licentious philosophy and erratic doctrines may 
 be consigned to oblivion ! God grant that we may 
 employ our wisdom to the contemplation of these 
 glorious ages, and that, penetrated by the sub- 
 stantial and beneficent sap of modern times, this 
 mad solicitude for mundane matters, and ridiculous 
 mania for appropriating strange ideas, may dis- 
 appear, with which our fine national organism 
 combats ! 
 
 ‘ I am much afraid that my desires will not be 
 fulfilled, and that the contemplation of past per- 
 fections will be circumscribed to the narrow 
 circulation met with to-day, through the whirlwind 
 of mad youth which runs after vain chimeras and 
 barbarous novelties. What things these are, my 
 friend ! I believe that some time hence our poor 
 Spain will be so disfigured that she will not 
 recognise herself when glancing into the mirror 
 of her pure history. 
 
 ‘ I do not wish to conclude this letter without 
 informing you of a disagreeable affair — the dis- 
 astrous death of an estimable young man well 
 known in Madrid, the road engineer, Mr Jose de 
 Rey, my sister-in-law’s nephew. This sad affair 
 
THE END, 
 
 261 
 
 took place last night in the orchard adjoining our 
 house, and no one seems able to form an exact 
 opinion as to the causes which induced the unfor- 
 tunate Rey to such a horrible and criminal 
 determination. According to what Perfecta told 
 me this morning on my return from Mundogrande, 
 Pepe Rey went into the orchard at twelve o’clock 
 (midnight) and drew a pistol at his right temple, 
 intending to kill himself. You may imagine the 
 consternation and alarm produced in this peaceful, 
 honourable house. 
 
 ‘ Poor Perfecta was so afflicted that we have 
 been frightened, but she is now better, and this 
 afternoon we have persuaded her to take a sopo- 
 rific. We employed all means to console her, and 
 she, being a good Christian, knows how to support 
 the greatest misfortunes with edifying resignation. 
 
 ‘ I will tell you here, my friend, in confidence, 
 that, in this attempt on his life, the young man 
 Rey must have been greatly influenced by a 
 contrary passion, remorse for his conduct, and 
 state of hypochondriacal bitterness which he 
 manifested. 
 
 ‘I liked him much. I believe he was not 
 deficient in excellent qualities, but here he was 
 not esteemed much, for not once have I heard 
 him well spoken of. According to what was said, 
 he held extravagant opinions and ideas ; scorned 
 religion ; entered the church smoking, and with 
 his hat on ; respected nothing, and for him there 
 was nothing in the world, of power, virtue, soul, 
 ideal, faith ; nothing but squares, lines, machines, 
 planes, picks, spades and theories. For truth’s 
 sake I would say that in his conversations with 
 me he always dissimulated such ideas, doubtless 
 fearing that he would be confounded by the grape- 
 
262 
 
 LADY PERFECT A, 
 
 shot of my arguments ; but in public there are a 
 thousand accounts of his heresies and stupendous 
 acts of injustice. 
 
 ‘ I cannot continue, dear friend, for at this 
 moment I hear gun-shots. As I am not enthusi- 
 astic about combats, nor am I warrior, my pulse 
 beats no faster. I will send you a few particulars 
 about this war. 
 
 ‘ Yours affectionately, etc., etc.’ 
 
 ‘ April 7.2.d» 
 
 ‘My Ever-remembered Friend, — There has 
 been a bloody affray to-day in the neighbourhood 
 of Orbajosa. The large body that was at Villa- 
 horrenda has attacked the troop with great 
 courage. Many have fallen on both sides. The 
 brave partisans are dispersed, but are still full of 
 spirit, and perhaps you may hear of some marvels. 
 Caballuco, son of that eminent Caballuco who was 
 so prominent in the last war, commands them, in 
 spite of a wounded arm. He it is who directs 
 their movements, and he is honourable and simple. 
 As we shall at last try to make a friendly com- 
 promise, I presume that Caballuco will be the 
 general of the Spanish army, by which much would 
 be gained. I deplore this war, which will attain 
 alarming proportions ; but I know that our country 
 braves are not responsible for it, having been pro- 
 voked to it by the Government’s audacity ; by the 
 demoralisation of its sacrilegious delegates ; by the 
 angry system with which the representatives of the 
 State attack those things most revered by the 
 people’s conscience, religious faith and purified 
 Spanish, that by fortune is preserved in those spots 
 not affected by destroying pestilence. 
 
THE END. 
 
 263 
 
 ‘ As to a town, the soul of which they wish to 
 destroy in order to infuse another which they 
 wish to degenerate, we will say this — that it is 
 natural such a town should wish to protect its 
 sentiment, customs and ideas from change, as he 
 who is beset by infamous robbers in the middle of 
 a solitary road. Let the sphere of the Govern- 
 ment’s spirit be raised by the pure, healthy 
 substance of my Lineage (pardon my vanity), and 
 then we shall have no wars. 
 
 ‘ I have here to treat of a very disagreeable ques- 
 tion. The priest, my friend, had refused to inter 
 the unhappy Rey in consecrated ground. I inter- 
 vened in this affair, impressing it on the bishop 
 that there would be a curse on such a refusal ; but 
 1 could do nothing. We have at last buried the 
 young fellow in the field of Mundogrande, where 
 my patient researches have brought to light the 
 rich archaeology that you are acquainted with. I 
 passed a very sad visit there, and even now the 
 painful impression I received, lasts. Mr Juan 
 Tafetan and I were the only mourners. Shortly 
 after came (strange thing !) those who are known 
 as the Troyas, and prayed for a long time by the 
 rustic tomb of the mathematician. Although it 
 seemed a ridiculous officiousness, I felt touched 
 by it. Respecting Rey’s death, public rumour 
 runs that he was assassinated — I do not know by 
 whom. It is asserted that he declared it, as he 
 lived for an hour and a half afterwards. He kept 
 the name of his murderer secret, so ’tis said. I 
 repeat this version without adding to or curtailing 
 it. Perfecta does not like to be spoken to on the 
 subject, and is always much afflicted when it is 
 mentioned. 
 
 ‘ The poor little girl had scarcely recovered from 
 
264 
 
 LADY PERFECTA, 
 
 the effects of one disgrace when another happened, 
 which tries us much. My friend, another victim 
 is added to the inherited funest infirmity of our 
 family. Poor Rosarito, from whom our care has, 
 till now, warded it off, has become mad. Her 
 incoherent words, her frightful delirium, her mortal 
 pallor recalls my mother and sister to my mind. 
 This is the most serious case that has been in my 
 family, for it is not simple frenzy, but real madness. 
 It is sad — very sad ; and I am the only one who 
 has escaped, and preserved my judgment sane and 
 entire, totally free from this evil. 
 
 ‘ I cannot give your messages to Mr Inocencio ; 
 he has suddenly taken a dislike to us, and will not 
 receive even his most intimate friends. But I am 
 sure he will wish to be remembered to you, and, 
 doubtless, will take in hand the translation of the 
 various Latin epigrams which you send him. . . . 
 Again I hear shots. It is said there will be a fight 
 this afternoon. The troop begins to march.’ 
 
 ‘ Barcelona, \sL 
 
 ‘ I have come here to place my niece, Rosarito, 
 in St Baudillo de Lobregat. The director of this 
 establishment assures me that hers is an incurable 
 case. She will receive admirable assistance in this 
 large asylum. My dear friend, should I likewise 
 fall at any time, take me to St Baudillo. I hope 
 soon to receive the proofs of my Lineage, I 
 thought of adding six sheets, for it would be a 
 great oversight not to publish the reasons for main- 
 taining that Matthew Diez, colonel, author of 
 Metrical Praise,^ was descended, by the maternal 
 side, from the Guevaras, and not from the Bur- 
 guillos, as the author of Floresta Afnena has de- 
 clared. I write this letter chiefly to inform you 
 
THE END, 
 
 265 
 
 of an incident. I have heard several people speak 
 of Pepe Key’s death here, who seemed to know 
 how it took place. I revealed that secret to you 
 when I was at Madrid, telling you what had tran- 
 spired shortly after the affair. It is very strange 
 that, as I only mentioned it to you, people here 
 should know all particulars ; how he had entered 
 the orchard, how he had discharged his pistol at 
 Ramos when he saw the latter attack him with 
 a knife, how Ramos despatched him cleverly. . . . 
 In fact, my dear friend, this must have been spoken 
 of unthinkingly to someone. I only told you this 
 family secret, thinking it would be safe with one 
 as prudent and discreet as yourself. 
 
 ‘ Good news ! good news ! I read in a periodical 
 that Caballuco has defeated Brigadier Batalla.’ 
 
 ‘ Orbajosa, December I2th, 
 
 ‘ I have some touching news to give you. 
 
 ‘ We now have no confessor ; not precisely that 
 he has passed to the better life, but that, since the 
 month of April, the poor man has been so afflicted, 
 so melancholy, so taciturn, that one scarcely recog- 
 nises him. There is none of that atticism, of that 
 correct, classic joviality which rendered him so 
 pleasing. He shuns men, shuts himself up in his 
 house, receives no one, scarcely takes any food, 
 and has broken off all relations- with the world. 
 If you were to see him you would not know him, 
 for he is only skin and bone. The strangest thing 
 is that he has quarrelled with his niece, and lives 
 alone — entirely alone — in a miserable hut at Baide- 
 jos. He has renounced his chair in the choir, so 
 ’tis said, and is going to Rome. Ah ! Orbajosa 
 loses much in losing its great Latin scholar. It 
 
 M 
 
266 
 
 LADY PERFECTA. 
 
 seems to me that years upon years will pass, and 
 we shall never have another. Our glorious Spain 
 is falling — is being annihilated — dies ! ^ 
 
 ‘ Orbajosa, Dece^nber 23^. 
 
 ‘ The young man who brings a letter of recom- 
 mendation to you is our dear confessor’s nephew, 
 a lawyer, likewise an author. He has been ad- 
 mirably educated by his uncle, and has sensible 
 ideas. He will indeed be sensible if he be not 
 corrupted in that muddy place of philosophy and 
 incredulity ! He is honourable, a worker, and a 
 good Catholic ; and will, I believe, make his way 
 at his desk, as your son did ! Perhaps he is a 
 little ambitious in regard to politics (as was your 
 son), and I think that he will not do badly in the 
 cause of order and tradition, when to-day youth 
 is perverted and rendered effeminate by those of 
 cascara amarga. His mother accompanies him, 
 an ordinary woman of no social standing, but who 
 has an excellent heart, and is very pious. Ma- 
 ternal love in her takes the form of worldly 
 ambition, and she says her son will become a 
 minister. Perhaps he may. 
 
 ‘ Perfecta wishes to be remembered to you. I 
 do not know what is the matter with her, but 
 she requires our greatest care. She has lost her 
 appetite in an alarming manner; yet I hear of 
 no pains, but am a little afraid she has jaundice. 
 The house is very dull since Rosarito left ; she 
 enlivened it with her smile and angelical goodness. 
 Now a dark cloud seems to overshadow us. Poor 
 Perfecta frequently mentions this cloud, which be- 
 comes blacker, whilst she becomes more yellow 
 each day. The poor mother obtains consolation 
 
THE END, 
 
 267 
 
 in her sorrow in religion, and she becomes more 
 exemplary and edifying. She passes nearly the 
 whole day in church, and dissipates her large 
 fortune in splendid ceremonies, novenas and bril- 
 liant manifestoes. Thanks to her, religion has 
 regained the splendour of former days in Orbajosa. 
 This should console us in the midst of the de- 
 cadence and falling away of our nation. 
 
 ‘To-morrow my proofs will go. I will add two 
 other sheets, for I have discovered another illus- 
 trious Orbajosian — Bernardo Amador de Soto — 
 who was the Duke of Osuna’s chaplain, whom he 
 served during the viceroyship of Naples, and who 
 appears to have done nothing — absolutely nothing 
 — in the conspiracy against Venice.’ 
 
CHAPTER XXXn 
 
 T is finished. We are now able to 
 decide if those persons who seemed 
 good were, really so. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBtjRGH. 
 
)