CHAPTER XVI
NIGHT
Orbajosa slept. The melancholy street-lamps were shedding their lastgleams at street-corners and in by-ways, like tired eyes struggling invain against sleep. By their dim light, wrapped in their cloaks, glidedpast like shadows, vagabonds, watchmen, and gamblers. Only the hoarseshout of the drunkard or the song of the serenader broke the peacefulsilence of the historic city. Suddenly the "Ave Maria Purisima" of somedrunken watchman would be heard, like a moan uttered in its sleep by thetown.
In Dona Perfecta's house also silence reigned, unbroken but for aconversation which was taking place between Don Cayetano and Pepe Rey,in the library of the former. The savant was seated comfortably inthe arm-chair beside his study table, which was covered with papersof various kinds containing notes, annotations, and references, allarranged in the most perfect order. Rey's eyes were fixed on the heap ofpapers, but his thoughts were doubtless far away from this accumulatedlearning.
"Perfecta," said the antiquary, "although she is an excellent woman, hasthe defect of allowing herself to be shocked by any little act of folly.In these provincial towns, my dear friend, the slightest slip is dearlypaid for. I see nothing particular in your having gone to the Troyas'house. I fancy that Don Inocencio, under his cloak of piety, issomething of a mischief-maker. What has he to do with the matter?"
"We have reached a point, Senor Don Cayetano, in which it is necessaryto take a decisive resolution. I must see Rosario and speak with her."
"See her, then!"
"But they will not let me," answered the engineer, striking the tablewith his clenched hand. "Rosario is kept a prisoner."
"A prisoner!" repeated the savant incredulously. "The truth is that I donot like her looks or her hair, and still less the vacant expressionin her beautiful eyes. She is melancholy, she talks little, sheweeps--friend Don Jose, I greatly fear that the girl may be attacked bythe terrible malady to which so many of the members of my family havefallen victims."
"A terrible malady! What is it?"
"Madness--or rather mania. Not a single member of my family has beenfree from it. I alone have escaped it."
"You! But leaving aside the question of madness," said Rey, withimpatience, "I wish to see Rosario."
"Nothing more natural. But the isolation in which her mother keepsher is a hygienic measure, dear Pepe, and the only one that has beensuccessfully employed with the various members of my family. Considerthat the person whose presence and voice would make the strongestimpression on Rosarillo's delicate nervous system is the chosen of herheart."
"In spite of all that," insisted Pepe, "I wish to see her."
"Perhaps Perfecta will not oppose your doing so," said the savant,giving his attention to his notes and papers. "I don't want to take anyresponsibility in the matter."
The engineer, seeing that he could obtain nothing from the goodPolentinos, rose to retire.
"You are going to work," he said, "and I will not trouble you anylonger."
"No, there is time enough. See the amount of precious information thatI collected to-day. Listen: 'In 1537 a native of Orbajosa, calledBartolome del Hoyo, went to Civita-Vecchia in one of the galleys ofthe Marquis of Castel Rodrigo.' Another: 'In the same year two brothersnamed Juan and Rodrigo Gonzalez del Arco embarked in one of the sixships which sailed from Maestricht on the 20th of February, and whichencountered in the latitude of Calais an English vessel and the Flemishfleet commanded by Van Owen.' That was truly an important exploit ofour navy. I have discovered that it was an Orbajosan, one Mateo DiazCoronel, an ensign in the guards, who, in 1709, wrote and publishedin Valencia the 'Metrical Encomium, Funeral Chant, Lyrical Eulogy,Numerical Description, Glorious Sufferings, and Sorrowful Glories of theQueen of the Angels.' I possess a most precious copy of this work, whichis worth the mines of Peru. Another Orbajosan was the author of thatfamous 'Treatise on the Various Styles of Horsemanship' which Ishowed you yesterday; and, in short, there is not a step I take in thelabyrinth of unpublished history that I do not stumble against someillustrious compatriot. It is my purpose to draw all these names out ofthe unjust obscurity and oblivion in which they have so long lain. Howpure a joy, dear Pepe, to restore all their lustre to the glories, epicand literary, of one's native place! And how could a man better employthe scant intellect with which Heaven has endowed him, the fortune whichhe has inherited, and the brief period of time on earth allowed to eventhe longest life. Thanks to me it will be seen that Orbajosa is theillustrious cradle of Spanish genius. But what do I say? Is not itsillustrious ancestry evident in the nobleness and high-mindedness ofthe present Urbs Augustan generation? We know few places where all thevirtues, unchoked by the malefic weeds of vice, grow more luxuriantly.Here all is peace, mutual respect, Christian humility. Charity ispractised here as it was in Biblical times; here envy is unknown; herethe criminal passions are unknown, and if you hear thieves and murderersspoken of, you may be sure that they are not the children of thisnoble soil; or, that if they are, they belong to the number of unhappycreatures perverted by the teachings of demagogues. Here you will seethe national character in all its purity--upright, noble, incorruptible,pure, simple, patriarchal, hospitable, generous. Therefore it is thatI live so happy in this solitude far from the turmoil of cities where,alas! falsehood and vice reign. Therefore it is that the many friendswhom I have in Madrid have not been able to tempt me from this place;therefore it is that I spend my life in the sweet companionship of myfaithful townspeople and my books, breathing the wholesome atmosphere ofintegrity, which is gradually becoming circumscribed in our Spain to thehumble and Christian towns that have preserved it with the emanations oftheir virtues. And believe me, my dear Pepe, this peaceful isolation hasgreatly contributed to preserve me from the terrible malady connaturalin my family. In my youth I suffered, like my brothers and my father,from a lamentable propensity to the most absurd manias; but here youhave me so miraculously cured that all I know of the malady is what Isee of it in others. And it is for that reason that I am so uneasy aboutmy little niece."
"I am rejoiced that the air of Orbajosa has proved so beneficial toyou," said Rey, unable to resist the jesting mood that, by a strangecontradiction, came over him in the midst of his sadness. "With me ithas agreed so badly that I think I shall soon become mad if I remain init. Well, good-night, and success to your labors."
"Good-night."
Pepe went to his room, but feeling neither a desire for sleep or theneed of physical repose,--on the contrary, a violent excitation of mindwhich impelled him to move, to act,--he walked up and down the room,torturing himself with useless cavilling. After a time he opened thewindow which overlooked the garden and, leaning his elbows on theparapet, he gazed out on the limitless darkness of the night. Nothingcould be seen, but he who is absorbed in his own thoughts sees with themental vision, and Pepe Rey, his eyes fixed on the darkness, saw thevaried panorama of his misfortunes unroll itself upon it before him. Theobscurity did not permit him to see the flowers of the earth, nor thoseof the heavens, which are the stars. The very absence of light producedthe effect of an illusory movement in the masses of foliage, whichseemed to stretch away, to recede slowly, and come curling back like thewaves of a shadowy sea. A vast flux and reflux, a strife between forcesvaguely comprehended, agitated the silent sky. The mathematician,contemplating this strange projection of his soul upon the night, saidto himself:
"The battle will be terrible. Let us see who will come out of itvictorious."
The nocturnal insects whispered in his ear mysterious words. Herea shrill chirp; there a click, like the click made with the tongue;further on, plaintive murmurs; in the distance a tinkle like that ofthe bell on the neck of the wandering ox. Suddenly Rey heard a strangesound, a rapid note, that could be produced only by the human tongue andlips. This sibilant breathing passed through the young man's brain likea flash of lightning. He felt that swift "s-s-s" dart snake-like throughhim, repeated again and then again, with augmented intensity. He lookedall around, then he loo
ked toward the upper part of the house, and hefancied that in one of the windows he could distinguish an object likea white bird flapping its wings. Through Pepe Rey's excited mind flashedinstantly the idea of the phoenix, of the dove, of the regal heron, andyet the bird he saw was noting more than a handkerchief.
The engineer sprang from the balcony into the garden. Observingattentively, he saw the hand and the face of his cousin. He thoughthe could perceive the gesture commonly employed of imposing silence bylaying the finger on the lips. Then the dear shade pointed downward anddisappeared. Pepe Rey returned quickly to this room, entered the hallnoiselessly, and walked slowly forward. He felt his heart beat withviolence. He waited for a few moments, and at last he heard distinctlylight taps on the steps of the stairs. One, two, three--the sounds wereproduced by a pair of little shoes.
He walked in the direction whence they proceeded, and stretched outhis hands in the obscurity to assist the person who was descending thestairs. In his soul there reigned an exalted and profound tenderness,but--why seek to deny it--mingling with this tender feeling, theresuddenly arose within him, like an infernal inspiration, anothersentiment, a fierce desire for revenge. The steps continued to descend,coming nearer and nearer. Pepe Rey went forward, and a pair of hands,groping in the darkness, came in contact with his own. The two pairs ofhands were united in a close clasp.
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