Chapter XXIV

"The first part of my plan has 'gang agley'; now let us see if I shall be luckier in the second," said Don Alfonso, on leaving Miguel's house.

That afternoon, while his eyes were wandering at haphazard over the throng of carriages flying up and down the Castellana, he was deeply engaged in concocting the most odious and villanous plans, which we shall shortly find him carrying into execution.

During the days that followed, he began to show more attention and love to his cousin than ever, spending long hours in her company. This sudden ardor on her lover's part was sufficient to turn Julita's head completely. The asperity of her restless and ardent temperament had already for some time been changing into mildness. Don Alfonso, owing to _la brigadiera's_ blameworthy carelessness, had got into the habit of taking certain liberties with her, innocent enough in themselves, but extremely dangerous. When he had made her his slave, he asked her one day:--

"Julita, do you want to marry me?"

"What a question!" exclaimed the girl, growing crimson as a poppy.

"Well, then, let us have it understood that you accept me as your husband."

"Who told you so, jackanapes."[58]

"You have told me with those sharp eyes of yours ever since I knew you! You can't deny it, Julia!"

"_Tonto! tonto!_ you insufferable fellow!" exclaimed the girl, trying to be angry.

"Let us not speak any more of that. That matter is settled. In the first place, we have both agreed, La Senorita Dona Julia Rivera on the one hand, and Don Alfonso Saavedra on the other, that we wish to enter into wedlock. Now then, how to carry our project into effect? I have already reached the twenty-fifth year of my age--if you did not know it before, you know it now." (Julia laughed.) "Consequently the law authorizes me to marry whenever I wish, without my mother's consent. Still this permission is indispensable for me, in the first place, on account of the frantic affection which she professes for me; on account of the duty that I owe her of not going against her wishes or causing her a grief which the poor woman does not deserve; and in the second place, through a selfish consideration, which is likewise of much weight. I have been a wretch, Julita; a prodigal who has in a few years run through the fortune that I inherited from my father. The result of that is that I now find myself at my mother's mercy, and she, be it said in the interest of truth, has not hitherto been niggardly toward me. But as you can easily imagine, I don't know what might happen if I married against her wishes. Now then, I confess with shame, I am not used to working, nor even if I wanted to work should I know what to set my hand to. So then, we must tell my mamma, if we are to get married. To-morrow I will write her, and if, as I have no reason to doubt, she has no objection to our marriage, we can immediately set the time for it."

What a sleepless night Julita spent! and yet how happy a night it was!

Don Alfonso took it for granted that their marriage was settled, and even spoke of it as though it had already taken place. The talks which they had during the four days which elapsed between the letter and its answer were almost all concerned with the preparations to be made for the wedding,--what they would do after they were joined, etc. Julia waited impatiently for the mamma's answer from Seville. As for _la brigadiera_, as Don Alfonso was her right eye, she had never taken her into consideration at all. By his advice she had not said a word to her about it as yet.

At last the letter came.

Would that it had never come! Saavedra entered his aunt's house with his face pale and dark lines under his eyes, and with a mortal sadness depicted on it. In order to accomplish this theatrical effect he had spent the previous night in a drunken spree. Julia's face changed when she saw him; then instantly she knew by intuition what news he had brought. When they had taken their seat together by the piano, the place where they had carried on almost all their secret conversations, the _caballero_ exclaimed in a tone full of sorrow, and hiding his face in his hands:--

"How unhappy I am, Julita!"

She was silent for a few moments, and then said:--

"Your mother does not consent to our marriage,--is that it?"

Don Alfonso did not reply. Silence reigned for some time. Finally Julia broke it in a trembling voice:--

"Don't take it so to heart, Alfonso. Instead of helping me, you take away my courage."

"You are right, my beauty! even in this I am selfish. I ought to consider that beside the grief that you feel as keenly as I do, if you love me, you have had an insult put upon you."

"No, no," the young girl hastened to say; "I do not feel that it is an insult. All I feel is that I cannot be yours."

Saavedra gave her a fascinating look of love, and pressed her hand warmly.

"Mamma does not speak unkindly of you. If she had said anything that could be construed as derogatory to you, I should know well how to reply to it. It will be better for you to read her letter for yourself," he said, taking it from his pocket.

This letter had been written by Saavedra himself, counterfeiting her penmanship and sending it to a friend to be mailed back from Seville; it was a document remarkable for its ingenuity. Julia's name was not mentioned in it; the mamma deeply lamented, because she had dreamed of a brilliant match for her dear boy; he well knew who she was. This had been the hope of all her life, she had pledged her word, and all the relatives were counting upon it; finally, that as now she was getting old and feeble, this disappointment would certainly cause her death.

The effect caused by this letter on the young girl was exactly what its author intended. Instead of quenching the fire, it made it burn all the more fiercely; jealousy was the principal fuel in this case.

"Who is the woman whom they want you to marry, Alfonso?" asked Julita timidly, while big tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I don't know, I don't know, let me alone!" he exclaimed, with a gesture of despair.

"Tell me, Alfonso: I am very anxious to know."

"What difference does it make who she is? I hate her, I detest her."

"At any rate, I want to know what her name is."

"She is the Countess de San Clemente."

"Is she young?"

"Much older than you are: she is at least twenty-five or twenty-six."

"Is she pretty?"

"How do I know? What difference does it make to me whether she is pretty or homely?"

"But is she pretty?"

"They say she is; but I tell you that it makes no difference to me."

The girl was silent for a long time; her heart beat violently. At length she said in a melancholy tone, giving her lover an anxious look:--

"They will persuade you, Alfonso. At last you will agree to marry her."

The Andalusian _caballero_ looked at her with an angry face, and exclaimed with energy:--

"They might tear me in pieces before such a thing happened!"

"You cannot be perfectly sure of it," said she, looking at him with the same anxiety; "they will continue working at you, working at you; they will get you so entangled that finally there will be no way out of it but to yield."

"No, I swear to you, no! Come, don't speak any more of this, Julita, for this sort of talk annoys me very much."

For a moment the young girl's eyes sparkled joyfully. Then the same expression of unhappiness came back into them.

Five or six days passed. Don Alfonso redoubled his manifestations of affection. Nevertheless, such oppressive unhappiness weighed upon the lovers that they were obliged to remain long moments in silence, with their heads down and their eyes fixed on vacancy. Julita often shed tears, and Saavedra, also overwhelmed with sorrow put forth useless efforts to console her. The truth was they saw no way out of their difficulties. The horizon was absolutely shut in and dark.

"I haven't any profession whatever," said the _caballero_. "If we were to marry, we should starve to death.... That is the result of having educated me for a rich man!"

"As for starving to death, I don't believe it," said Julita, her face deeply flushing. "Mamma and I are not rich, but we can live decently.... It is clear that for you who are accustomed to another sort of life, it would be very hard ... but ..."

"Oh, don't speak of that, Julia!" exclaimed the _caballero_, with the gesture of a man whose dignity was wounded.... "It is lowering me too much to believe that I could consent for you to support me.... But even if I were so low as that, still I could not do it, because I do not want to be my mother's murderer."

The girl said no more, and, as often before, the tears began to slide down her cheeks.

"Does your mother have any suspicion of what is going on?"

"No."

"Then be very careful. You know as well as I do how peculiar she is; if she had a suspicion that my mamma objected, she would spoil the whole business, and I should never consent to set my foot in this house again."

One evening, after quite a number of days had passed, the _caballero_ came with his face brighter than it had been for some time. Instead of sitting down near the piano, the lovers went and stood in the bay-window. After painting things in very black colors as usual and lamenting a long time, Don Alfonso said to his cousin:--

"As I have been thinking of nothing else than this all day and all night, certain means of escaping from this difficulty have occurred to me. I have not told them to you, for they are very absurd. Still, as last night I was walking up and down my room without being able to sleep, one scheme came into my head, and this one is very sure but very bold ... so much so that I am afraid to tell it to you."

"Is it so bad as all that?"

"Bad, no; but bold. It requires you to disregard certain social conventions and to show a great will power."

"Come, then, tell me. I am very curious to hear about it."

"Very well then, Julia; mamma, though you imagine her to be a hard woman, because of your childish recollections and because in reality she has a cold and serious exterior which prejudices against her, has a heart that is in reality very warm. She has given me unequivocal proofs of it, oftentimes forgiving me almost too quickly for very serious faults. Her character is as haughty as your mamma's; but these natures are easy to overcome; to make them yield it needs only that you humiliate yourself.... This is what I was thinking of last night:--If Julia had the courage to make a decided stroke and elope with me to Seville and present ourselves before her, I am certain that she would not hesitate to forgive us and grant us her blessing. No woman, however bad she is, would consent to let the daughter of her own cousin be dishonored."

"This scheme is madness. I cannot believe that you would propose to me such an atrocious thing!"

"I do not propose it. All I do is to report to you a thought which occurred to me. If I cannot tell you what my heart feels and what passes through my mind, whom shall I tell it to, Julia _mia_?"

"This is the last thing that you ought to have conceived!"

"I have thought so much that it is not strange if it were the last thing that I did conceive. The project would be very audacious, violent, and repugnant to you, but not a piece of folly as you say; it is a certain, infallible means of attaining what we desire."

"Well, then, even if it is certain and infallible, I will not hear to it, do you understand?"

Don Alfonso did not give up conquered. He continued to argue the point, not losing his calmness, adducing reasons, mentioning various examples which he had already prepared, and in a thousand skilful ways overcoming Julia's scruples. But even when the girl found herself cornered, captured in the net of her lover's sophistries, she suddenly grew angry and exclaimed, "Well, even if it be as you say, still I don't like it, I don't like it, and that is sufficient!"

Julia, though endowed with a rash and impetuous nature, had an undisturbed conscience; she was a good girl and that was the very reason why this scheme deeply wounded her sense of propriety. Nevertheless, Saavedra kept constantly tormenting her with the hope of shaking her.

The afternoon was now declining; the boudoir began to fill with shadows. Don Alfonso had at last exhausted all the powers at his command, and was still far from attaining his end.

"Very well," said he after a long silence, doing his best to hide his scorn and giving his words a peculiarly melancholy intonation, "I have eagerly tried to find some way of escaping from the painful situation in which we are. I propose to you the only practicable and certain method. You yourself have seen that it was so and you have comprehended the necessity of adopting some energetic plan. And yet you refuse to accept it. I respect the scruples which you entertain in regard to it, but you will permit me to tell you that the woman who really and truly loves will rise above them. If the love that you had for me were as great as you say...."

"Alfonso!"

"I know well that you love me--don't go to protesting.... But the fact is, that though we love each other very much, we are very unhappy and we find no way of escaping from it. What is left for us to do? Nothing but to part and never see each other again."

"O Alfonso!"

"Yes, Julia, yes; it must be: we must separate, and forever. Here all that we do is to torment ourselves cruelly. It is an infernal life to have happiness before our eyes and not be able to touch it. Before proposing this last recourse,--which is very harsh to be sure,--but absolutely indispensable,--I firmly decided to leave the country, in case you did not accept it. So to-morrow I take the train for Paris. I confess frankly I have not the strength to endure this tormenting situation."

The astute _caballero_ ceased speaking. Julia likewise was silent: a melancholy pallor spread over her lovely face; her eyes were fixed wildly on a point of space, and she sat motionless as a statue. Don Alfonso left her in this situation a long time without disturbing her eager and anxious thoughts, though he kept looking at her. Her pallor kept growing more and more pronounced.

When he felt that the right moment had arrived, the wily seducer went to take his hat which he had laid on the piano, and returning to the girl, and holding out his hand, he said in a trembling voice:--

"_Adios_, Julia!"

She retained it a moment, and then, giving him a desperate look, her face being now livid, said:--

"Don't go, Alfonso. Do with me what you please. I am ready to follow you."

The _caballero_, after assuring himself that his aunt could not see them, long held her tightly enfolded in his arms.