Maximina Part 31

"Are you sure that they are true?"

"Perfectly sure."

"Stuff and nonsense! Then I have made a mistake in this too!" said the girl, sighing with graceful irony.

"Cousin, cousin! what a wretched opinion you have of me. If you realized what this heart of mine suffers, and how completely ensnared it is in your net!"

"Cousin, cousin! you are too big a fish to fall into my net!"

"Then I swear to you that I am yours, that I have no other thought than you, and were I put to death for it, I have been able this long time to have no other thought than of you.... Do you know why I did not write to you while I was in Seville?..."

"Yes; because you did not care to."

"Nothing of the sort; it was so as to see if absence would not quench the flame that is consuming me...."

"Flames! the idea! Hush! hush! don't be absurd!"

"Laugh as much as you will; but it does not prevent it from being true, that I have been pa.s.sing through a cruel struggle, and that I have suffered too much to write you.... 'Why?' I asked myself. 'It is vain to have hopes, since they would be surely disappointed. Were not the rebuffs that she gave me sufficient?' ... For, cousin, you have a special talent for rebuffing a man; you not only give them once, but you delight in repeating the punishment, and then trying it another day with all the refinements of cruelty. I have set down in my note-book the rebuffs, the saucy answers, and even the insults which you gave me in one short fortnight.... It is a perfect marvel!... Look!... Under the head of hard words, you have called me _old_ seven times, _audacious_ twenty-seven times, _fool_ twenty-two times, _proud_ six times, _my son_ once, _goose_ once, _a genuine Don Juan_ once, _impolite_ once: total, sixty-six insults!... There you have it...."

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Julia, laughing heartily, and giving a slap at the note-book which sent it to the ground.

"It is the simple truth," rejoined Don Alfonso, picking it up. "And in spite of all that, I am stupid enough to go on loving you, or, to express myself better, to love you more and more every day, as is proved by my visit to Santander. Since I left you, Julia, I have not had a moment's peace; and though I have tried every possible way of distracting my thoughts so as to forget you, still ever your graceful form would come before my eyes. In Madrid I suffered much, because I was always kept hovering between fear, hope, and despair; but in Seville, far from you, I missed those sufferings, and it seemed to me that the pleasure of seeing you, of hearing your voice, and living under the same roof were a sufficient compensation for them, and even an advantage....

I don't know what has come over me; either I am mad, or you have bewitched me. I have been all over the world, and have known many women, but I swear not one ever kept me so stirred up, so disquieted, so beside myself as you have. And I am telling you the truth, as you well know, since you have only to look into my face...."

In very truth, Don Alfonso, in saying these words, appeared moved and trembling. And as his character, though affable, was cold and impa.s.sive, with touches of scorn, this emotion which he manifested caused double effect. He had taken possession of one of Julia's hands, and pressed it between his. The girl, rosy and smiling, exclaimed with a somewhat altered voice:--

"You paint things in such a lively fashion that I cannot help believing you."

"Yes, believe me, believe me, cousin!" said Saavedra, pa.s.sionately kissing the hand which he held. "For although you do not love me, it fills me with pleasure to know that you know that I adore you with all my soul. My lot is cast; on your lips now hangs my fate. I deserve that you should destroy me for the incredible stupidity of having supposed, when I went away, that you loved me, and telling you so. How that act weighed upon me afterwards! I could not find hard names enough for myself...."

"Then, see here; go on calling yourself hard names ... for having once called yourself such without reason," said Julia, glancing at him half in malice, half in earnest.

"Can it be possible?" exclaimed Saavedra, anxiously.

"Quite possible."

"So that I...."

"Do you want me to feed you the truth with a spoon, cousin?" she asked, with some show of impatience.

"Ay! lovely cousin! most fascinating cousin! divine cousin! how happy you make me!"

Don Alfonso at the same moment took her into his arms, and pressed his lips to her cheek again and again, in spite of the girl's strenuous resistance.

"That'll do! that'll do!" she said, trying hard to be angry, and only half succeeding.

At that moment a white form appeared at the grating, and said, in a shrill voice:--

"Julia! Julita!"

She tore herself out of her cousin's arms, and hastened down to the gate:--

"Esperanza! wait; I am coming."

It was one of the neighbors with whom she had been driving that afternoon, and who now came to invite her to dinner, and a dance afterwards.

Don Alfonso also arose, and went to the gate, and gave the young lady a look which, if she had been made of gun-cotton, would have caused an explosion; but quickly controlling himself, he greeted her with all courtesy....

Julia, somewhat confused, declined the invitation, under the pretext that her mamma had the neuralgia.

The neighbor, not less confused, and looking from one to the other, did not see fit to insist, and immediately withdrew to tell what she had seen, and what she had not seen.

As it was now dark, the cousins went into the house, where, after hearty greetings had been exchanged between aunt and nephew, the dinner was served.

While it lasted, Julia's cheeks were rosy as they had not been for months; her eyes shone with happy light, and in all her gestures and motions was betrayed the lively emotion that agitated her, and a joy which was not affected as at other times.

XIV.

Miguel had for some time been planning to gather a few friends at his house to celebrate, not only his marriage, but also the early prospect of an heir.

Although he did not confess it, he also flattered himself with the idea of showing them his suite, which, now entirely furnished, was like a silver cup, all bright and new and glorious to see; and there was also the boyish, though very pardonable, vanity of making his appearance before society as a hospitable housekeeper and the head of a family.

Maximina, on hearing the plan, was troubled and confused; it had never entered into her calculations to "do the honors" of a reception, especially as her husband had a.s.sured her that such a thing on their part would be presumptuous.

Whenever Miguel took her out for the evening to the house of any of their friends, she always felt constrained and awkward, without knowing what to say or do, and not taking her eyes from him, so that she might get courage. What would it be now when she would be obliged to greet everybody, to say to each some pleasant word, and to foresee and antic.i.p.ate their every desire?

"Oh, Miguel! I should die of mortification."

He laughed at her timidity, and even found an additional incentive for his plan at the thought of seeing his wife, so girl-like, so innocent, and so timid, "officiating as senora."

At first he thought of having a breakfast, but soon gave that up because their dining-room was only large enough to seat a dozen guests.

Then it occurred to him to give an afternoon tea, which was a form of entertainment very fashionable at the time; but even this seemed too small to Miguel.

After many hesitations he made up his mind that it should be a 'reunion'

or 'soiree,' with a lunch of preserved oranges. The excuse for it should be to hear the reading of a drama which one of the _Independencia_ staff, Gomez de la Floresta, had written, and which had not yet been put upon the stage on account of the cabals of Ayala, Garcia Gutierrez, and other small fry, who ruled the theatres with a high hand, and "monopolized them."

"But didn't you say that this play was very dull, and that you had been bored to death when you heard it?" asked Maximina.

"That is the very reason. At this kind of 'reunion' it is absolutely indispensable that the thing read should be bad, so that all that follows after the reading may seem excellent to the guests. With this drama you can bring on champagne that cost only thirty reals, and it will be drunk like nectar."

Maximina did not understand very well this logic of her husband's, and she looked at him with very wide eyes; but seeing that he added nothing to make it clearer, she went to another subject,--that of the invitations.

"Whom would you invite?"