Misericordia (Dedalus European Classics)

by Benito Perez Galdos

  With a woman’s curiosity, she could not help peering at the parcels Ponte had brought. “Let’s see what you’ve got there. I shan’t let you waste your money, you know. Let’s look: a light coloured bowler hat: I like it, it’s very nice. No one has better taste than you. Top boots: how smart! What fine feet you have, many women would envy you. Ties: one, two. Look Obdulia, how pretty: the green one with the red spots. A belt – a kind of girdle corset – that should be most useful to help you keep your figure. And what’s this? Ah, spurs. But Frasquito, what do you want spurs for?”

  “Because he’s going riding!” said Obdulia enthusiastically. “Will you pass this way? Oh what a pity we shan’t see him: who would live in such a nasty interior flat as this, without even a tiny glimpse of the street?”

  “Nonsense, girl, we’ll ask our neighbour, Doña Justa the midwife, if she’ll let us go and look out of her window when the cavalier rides by. Poor Nina, she would really enjoy watching him.”

  Ponte explained his unexpected return to horse riding by claiming that he had promised to go on a pleasure trip to the Pardo with some friends “from the best society.” He alone was going on horseback, the others were going by bicycle or on foot. There followed a lively discussion of various sporting activities, which was interrupted by the arrival of Juliana, who had been a frequent visitor at her mother-in- law’s house since the news of their inheritance. She was an attractive and lively woman, with a pale complexion and beautifully arranged magnificent black hair. She wore a thick rug for a cloak and a silk kerchief on her head in gaudy colours; her boots were elegant and her outfit showed her to be clean and careful with her clothes.

  “Where on earth am I? In the Retiro or the Alameda de Osuna?” She said, at the sight of the abundant foliage of bushes and flowers. “Why all this vegetation?”

  “All Obdulia’s idea,” replied Doña Paca, cowed by the masterful though at times jocular manner of her daughter-in-law. “This mania to turn my house into a forest is costing me a fortune.”

  “Doña Paca,” said Juliana when she had her alone in the dining-room, “don’t be weak, let me guide you and I won’t let you down. You’ll soon be as ruined as before if you give in to Obdulia’s silly whims. There is no pension so large that it will survive without order. I would get rid of both the flora and the fauna – and I include that badly painted orang-utan you’ve brought home with you. You should kick him out.”

  “Poor Ponte is going to his boarding house tomorrow.”

  “Take my advice, because I’m good at managing – and let me hear none of that nonsense about an account book. If you’re methodical, you keep it all in your head and don’t need an account book. I can’t even write numbers, but look how I manage. Do what I say: move to an apartment with a reasonable rent and live like a lady on a comfortable pension without giving yourself airs or showing off. Follow my example: I carry on as I did and shan’t stop working until I see what the legacy amounts to and what income the property provides. Get the idea of a town house out of your daughter’s head if you don’t want to find yourself out on the street. Employ a servant to do the cooking and stop the flow of cash going to Botín’s shop every day.”

  Doña Francisca agreed to every word of this without daring to put up a single objection to such sensible ideas. She was numbed by the authority they seemed to possess in the mouth of the speaker. Juliana did not realise the strength of her influence, nor did her mother-in-law realise how completely she submitted to it. It was the eternal predominance of will over whim, of reason over folly.

  “Until Nina returns,” ventured Doña Paca timidly, “I asked Botín.”

  “Forget Nina, Doña Paca, and don’t count on her even if we do find her, which is very doubtful. She’s a good person but quite worn out, and no use to you any more. Anyway, how do we know that she wants to return? She may have gone off of her own free will. She likes gadding about and you won’t be able to do anything with her if you stop her spending half the day walking the streets.” Pressing home her advantage, Juliana repeated her advice that her mother-in-law should employ a general maid. Such a one was her cousin Hilaria, young, strong, clean and hardworking – and as honest as the day. She would soon see the difference (Juliana pronounced this “deference”) between Hilaria’s honesty and the robbery of others.

  “Oh, but Nina is very good,” exclaimed Doña Paca, squirming in her daughter-in-law’s talons to defend her friend.

  “Very good, yes, and we should help her, of course, and see that she gets enough to eat. But believe me, Doña Paca, you won’t get anywhere without my cousin. I’ll send her along this very evening, at nightfall to settle your doubts and rid you of all your worries.”

  “All right, my girl, let her come and take over the housekeeping. By the way, there’s a roast chicken going to waste. I can’t face any more chicken. Will you take it?”

  “Of course, I’ll take it.”

  “There are also four cutlets. Ponte ate out.”

  “I’ll take those too.”

  “Shall I send Hilaria with them?”

  “No, I’ll take them myself. Now, what’s the best way? I’ll put it all on a dish and the dish in a cloth, like this, and I’ll take it by the four corners.”

  “And this piece of tart? It’s very good.”

  “I’ll wrap it in a newspaper. Heavens, look at the time! What do you want all that fruit for? You’ve only got apples and oranges. Let me have it: I’ll put it in my handkerchief.”

  “You’re going to be as laden as a donkey.”

  “No matter. Now to return to business: I’ll be back tomorrow, to see how things are going and to tell you what you must do. Watch out – no going back to the old ways. If my lady mother-in-law goes astray the moment my back is turned and begins to squander money and do silly things …”

  “No, no, my girl, what an idea!”

  “Of course, you’ve only got to say the word and I won’t interfere at all. It’s up to you, but you’ll have to face the consequences. However, I should prefer you to have proper management, no worries and not to get into the clutches of moneylenders the way you did before.”

  “Of course you’re absolutely right. You’re the one who knows what should be done, Juliana. You may be a bit overbearing but who can criticise you for that after the way you’ve got my Antonio under control? You’ve turned him from a good-for-nothing into a decent man.”

  “That’s because I won’t give in to him. I read him the riot act from day one. I yell at him when he’s lazy and keep him on the straight and narrow. He’s more scared of me than robbers are of the Civil Guard.”

  “And he loves you!”

  “Of course. One’s husband loves one, provided one wears the trousers, the way I do. This is how it goes in houses great and small all over the world.”

  “You’ve got wit, Juliana!”

  “God certainly gave me brains as you’ll find out. Well, I must go. I’ve got things to do at home.”

  While these two talked, Obdulia said that she would never forgive her brother for bringing such a common person into the family, someone who said “deference” for “difference” and made all sorts of other mistakes. They would never get on together. When she left, Juliana kissed Obdulia and shook Frasquito’s hand, offering to iron his shirt fronts and cuffs for him, at the usual price, and to “turn” his clothes as cheaply or cheaper than the cheapest tailor. What’s more, she could tailor herself and if he’d like to try her out, she’d make him a suit every bit as smart as any from the tailor’s shops he patronised. She made all Antonio’s clothes and no one could say that he wasn’t well dressed. And she’d made a jacket for her uncle Bonifacio which he wore for the first time when he went back to his village (Cadalso de los Vidrios) for their festival, and everyone there admired it so much that the mayor borrowed it and had one cut like it. Ponte thanked her, politely sceptical whether ladies can make men’s clothes. They all went to the door to see her off, helping her load herself up with all
the various parcels and packets which she happily carried off.

  37

  Obdulia, anxious for her sister-in-law, who had intruded so vulgarly, not to have the advantage, told her mother that they could not be properly looked after by simply employing a general maid – since Juliana had brought in the cook, she would bring in the chambermaid. This led to an argument, during which Obdulia produced so many reasons in support of hiring extra staff, that Doña Francisca had to agree that it was essential. How could one live without a chambermaid? Obdulia had already chosen a girl for this important role who was a model of refinement and had been trained in service in the houses of the wealthy. She was free at the moment and living with the family of the decorative artist employed by the firm of undertakers. She was called Daniela, a remarkably pretty girl and extraordinarily hard working. By this time Doña Paca was longing for such a model creature so that she could wallow in the luxury of the service she would provide.

  Hilaria arrived that evening and her first task was to deliver a message from Juliana to Doña Francisca, which seemed more in the nature of a command. Madam was not to make any more purchases, but when she needed anything was to let Juliana know, because she knew how to manage things and get the best value for money. Item two: madam must keep half her pension money back to get the huge number of objects, including clothing, which were still reclaimable out of pawn and she had to give priority to those pawn tickets which were about to fall due. Like this she would be able to get back many useful belongings in a few months. Doña Paca welcomed Juliana’s far sighted good advice and agreed to follow it faithfully – agreed in fact to obey her. It had not occurred to her to go through the stacks of pawn tickets which she had put away, carefully guarded in various folders as she was in such a fluttery state, because of the extraordinary events of the last few days, Benina’s absence and, let’s face it, the perfume of the flowers which filled the house. But she would do it now, yes indeed, she would do it now. If Juliana really wanted to do the unpleasant job of getting the things out of pawn, well so much the better. The new cook replied that she could do it just as well as her cousin, and settled down to getting the supper at once, which Doña Paca and Obdulia found much to their taste.

  The chambermaid joined the family the next day and both daughter and mother found her services so essential that they were amazed how they had lived so long without missing them. Daniela was as much of an obvious hit on the first day as Hilaria. She did everything well, so neatly and thoughtfully, foresaw her two mistresses’ needs and wishes and carried them out promptly. And what good manners she had, how sweet and affable she was, how humble and how keen to please. Each girl seemed to be challenging the other, competing in a race to win their mistresses’ goodwill. Doña Francisca was in seventh heaven, marred only by the size of the apartment, which was so small that the four women could hardly turn round.

  Juliana, it must be said, viewed the chambermaid’s arrival with disapproval and considered her to be quite unnecessary, but because she did not want to come into conflict so soon said nothing, intending to sack her as soon as she had consolidated the authority she had begun to enjoy. In other matters she advised and carried out such sensible measures that even Obdulia had to admit that she was masterly in the art of management. She also got busy house hunting for them, but insisted on such high standards of convenience, airiness and cheapness that no decision could be made until the whole of Madrid had been searched. Frasquito had of course been despatched to his boarding house and was glad to go. Doña Paca had no bedroom to put him in, and it would have been difficult to put him up even in the corridor, which was full of tropical and alpine plants. Moreover it would have been neither right nor proper that a gentleman with a reputation for being something of a toff and a roué should live with four women, three of them young and pretty. Faithful to the respect he owed her, he visited Doña Francisca daily, morning and afternoon and one Saturday he announced that the trip to the Pardo would take place on the Sunday, when he proposed to test out his skill in horsemanship.

  With what pleasure and curiosity did the four women come out onto their neighbour’s balcony to see the horseman pass by! He came looking very gallant and upright on an enormously tall horse and saluted and wheeled so that the beast could show its paces. Obdulia waved her handkerchief and Doña Paca, full of affection for her friend, could not help calling down to him: “For heaven’s sake, Frasquito, do be careful of that creature. Don’t let it throw you and give us all a shock!”

  The brave cavalier spurred his horse and trotted in the direction of the Calle de Toledo. He then took the Calle de Segovia and continued to the Ronda until he met his friends at the Puerta de San Vicente. Antonio Zapata’s party of cyclists consisted of four good-humoured young men bent on an amusing excursion, and as soon as they spied Ponte and his gigantic mount they greeted him with cheers and jests. Before they set off towards the Puerta de Hierro, Frasquito and Zapata talked about the main cause of their trip. Zapata said that he had obtained an order of release for both Benina and her Moor at last and with considerable difficulty. They set off gaily and as they rode along, a race developed between the rider of the horse of flesh and blood and those on iron steeds, each one provoking the others with merry shouts and hearty taunts. One of the cyclists, a racing champion, circled round the rest then shot ahead. They all went faster than Frasquito’s nag, which he kept at a walk or a gentle trot, determined not to do anything foolish.

  Nothing special occurred on the outward journey. At their destination they were joined by Polidura and other friends on foot, who had started out in the early morning. They had a merry lunch, paid for jointly, as agreed by Frasquito and Antonio, paid a quick visit to the place where the beggars were assembled, liberated the two captives and, letting Benina and Almudena go on ahead, they made their way home later that afternoon. Fate decreed that the return journey should not be as happy as the outward, for one of the cyclists, called Pedro Minio (or Red Lead), his real name not a nickname, was a real red devil and had drunk more than was good for him at lunch. He started to play games on his machine, weaving in and out of narrow places, until during one such manoeuvre he rode straight into a tree, damaged a hand and a foot and was incapable of pedalling further. Misfortune did not stop here, for past the Puerta de Hierro, quite close to the Nurseries, Frasquito’s mount – no doubt tired of being continually circled by a mad rush of bicycles and finding that he was not being properly guided – decided to get rid of his silly tiresome rider. They passed some ox carts carrying brushwood for the ovens of Madrid, and either taking fright or pretending to do so the horse began to buck and buck again until it succeeded in despatching its elegant rider heavenwards. Ponte fell like a half filled sack and lay motionless until his friends came to lift him up. No bones were broken and luckily his head was not seriously damaged, for he remained conscious and as soon as they got him to his feet, he began to shout, as red as a turkey cock, accusing the carter of being to blame for the accident. Taking advantage of the confusion, the horse bolted towards Madrid in a bid for freedom, avoiding the passers-by who tried to stop it, and within a few minutes was out of sight of Zapata and his friends.

  Benina and Almudena, at their slow pace, had already passed the Nurseries when Benina saw Ponte’s nag come racing by like the wind and she realised what had happened. She had feared it, because Frasquito was not up to such pranks and in any case he was too old to tempt fate in this foolish way. But she decided not to stop to find out the details because she was anxious to reach Madrid quickly so that Almudena could rest. He was feverish and exhausted. They plodded along and at the Puerta de San Vicente, as night was beginning to fall, they sat down to rest, expecting to see the party pass by with the victim on a stretcher. But although they stayed there for half an hour, they did not see them and continued their journey past the Virgen del Puerto, intending to reach the Calle Imperial via the Calle de Segovia. They were both in a pitiable state – Benina was barefoot and her black clothes we
re torn and dirty; the Moor looked old, his face was green and gaunt and both showed in their emaciated cheeks the hunger they had suffered and the oppression and misery of their enforced detention in what was more like a dungeon than a poorhouse.

  Benina was haunted by the thought of Doña Paca and wondered continually what her reception would be at home. Sometimes she thought that she would have a rapturous reception; at others she feared that she would find Doña Francisca angry because she had begged, and especially so because she had done so with a Moor. But nothing baffled her more than the changes she would find in the family according to vague hints dropped by Antonio when they had left El Pardo. Doña Paca and Obdulia and he were rich! How was that? It had come suddenly, overnight, brought by Don Romualdo – that Don Romualdo! She had invented him and from the dark recesses of her imagination a real person had emerged, working miracles, bringing riches, and converting the mythical gifts of King Samdai into reality. Rubbish! It was impossible. Nina was suspicious: it was all a joke of that tease Antoñito, and instead of finding Doña Francisca swimming in abundance, she would find her, as ever, drowning in a sea of deceits and misery.

  38

  She was trembling when she arrived at the Calle Imperial, and told the Moor to stand by the wall and wait for her as she went upstairs to find out if she could get permission for him to lodge in what had been her home.

  “You won’t leave me, my friend?” said Almudena.

  “Are you crazy? Would I leave you now you are sick and we’re both in such a bad way? Don’t even think such nonsense. Wait for me here. I’ll take you over there, at the entrance to the Calle de la Lechuga.”

  “You won’t deceive me? You’ll come back soon?”