Maximina Part 34

It was difficult to persuade the modiste to alter it; but finding that both of them were firmly resolved, she saw nothing else to do, and she and Maximina put their heads together to remedy it as well as they could.

In the evening, after the table was set and Uncle Manolo was gone, the young couple were left alone with the servants.

Maximina shut herself in her room to dress, and Miguel did the same.

When he had finished his toilet he ordered all the lamps to be lighted.

Shortly after the house was illuminated, Maximina came from her room, looking like a rosebud.

"Oh, how sweet!" exclaimed Miguel, when he saw her coming into the study, where he was selecting the books to be scattered over the tables.

The young wife smiled and blushed.

"Come, don't make sport of me!"

"Why should I make sport of you, darling, since you are lovelier than ever!"

In point of fact, Maximina, who had grown much prettier since her marriage, now beamed in all the fresh and artless beauty with which Heaven had endowed her.

Her dress was of a delicate brown, and to cover the opening they devised an under-handkerchief of a very fine grenadine.

Miguel took her by the hands and looked at her for several moments, his eyes beaming with love. The maids crowded around the door and looked in to see their mistress.

"Isn't it true that my wife is very pretty?" he asked of them.

"Most beautiful, senorito!"

"She is just a very virgin!" exclaimed Juana.

"Not quite!" replied Miguel, mischievously.

"Stop it, _tonto_, stop it!" she exclaimed, in embarra.s.sment, tearing herself from his hands and starting to run.

They sat down to table as usual, but ate very little: Maximina especially had no appet.i.te for anything; they kept constantly interrupting each other to suggest some detail that was lacking, and more than once Maximina jumped up to attend to it herself.

Then they went to the parlor and waited patiently for their guests.

Maximina was trembling with excitement. Miguel showed a nervous joy, for he was not certain that the 'fiesta' would prove to be a success, and he was afraid of anything ridiculous. He gave his wife his arm, and they began to promenade up and down the parlor, glancing at the mirrors as they pa.s.sed them. Maximina hardly recognized herself: she was surprised to appear such a respectable and elegant senora.

"Do you see!" said Miguel; "everything depends on appearances in this world: these people who are coming are neither more nor less respectable than we are; consequently you have no reason to be afraid."

In spite of these encouragements, Maximina kept growing more timid; each instant she imagined that she heard steps on the stairs.

"Come now; imagine that I am a guest coming this very moment...."

(_Miguel went to the anteroom and came back again, making low bows_).

"Senora, at your feet!... How do you do this evening? It is a genuine honor and a great satisfaction to be present at this _soiree_, where my friend Miguel wants to show everybody how happy he is in his choice....

But he deserves this happiness ... he is an excellent young man; you also, senora, will have little reason to repent. The truth is, I have been anxious to see him married; and though he is to be envied, all of his friends, including myself, wish him greater happiness every day of his life.... (Come, wife, say something.)"

Maximina, standing motionless in the middle of the parlor, listened, with her mouth open and a smile on her lips.

"Answer, wife.... Come now; I see that you will never be a star of society.... Nor is there any reason why you should be," he added gently.

And suddenly, taking her by the waist, he darted with her through the parlor, making a few turns of a waltz.

At that instant the bell rang. Both stopped as though petrified and instantly let go of each other: Miguel went into his study. The servant opened the door, and a young man made his appearance, who proved to be none other than Gomez de la Floresta.

Miguel had forgotten that the reading of his drama was the pretext for the party, and he felt some slight vexation to see him, ma.n.u.script in hand; but he received him no less cordially.

The three sat down in the study and talked for a long while, as the poet was far ahead of time.

The next to arrive was Utrilla, the ex-cadet of the military school, whom Miguel had taken pains to invite, not only on account of the friendship that existed between them, but also because of his pity for his blind love for Julita, and the hope that she might at last come to return it. He was in evening dress, the same as Gomez de la Floresta.

Then came in quick succession his cousins Enrique and Serafina, Mendoza, Julita and her mother, with Saavedra, _Rosa de te_ and Merelo y Garcia, the De Ramirez ladies, and Miguel's cousins, Vicente and Carlitos; Asuncion and two other young ladies whose names we do not remember, and a few other guests.

What Miguel had foreseen came to pa.s.s: Maximina, smiling and blushing, received the people without any of those meaningless and polite phrases which are customary on such occasions; but her naturalness and modesty made a great and very favorable impression on every one. La Senora de Ramirez said to Miguel in an aside:--

"How good your wife must be, Rivera!"

"What makes you think so?"

"It is enough to see her face."

"Yes; she is very _simpatica_," said one of the girls, with a condescending tone.

The guests formed groups, and were conversing gayly. Gomez de la Floresta was burning with impatience.

At last Miguel, not so much to gratify him, as to have everything pa.s.s off in good form, invited him to begin the reading of the play: he took his stand by the side of the fireplace, under a gas-fixture; the people scattered themselves at their convenience on the chairs and sofas; a servant brought on a waiter various refreshments, and placed them as well as he could on the mantel-piece near the poet.

Gomez de la Floresta coughed two or three times, cast a troubled glance over his audience, and then began the reading of his drama, which was ent.i.tled _The Serpent's Hole_, and was cast in the time of Carlos II.,[35] the _Bewitched_.

As we know the author, there is no need of saying that the lyric note prevailed in it; that it was couched in sonorous verse, that it abounded in elegant and exotic adjectives; in writing it he had put under contribution the beautiful and picturesque phrases of our _Esmaltes y Camafeos_,[36] of Theophile Gautier, and the no less beautiful but more spontaneous ones of our own Zorilla.

The result was a composition of beautiful words in diapason, producing a notable musical effect, alternating with some phrase or sentence _a la_ Victor Hugo. Not a single character said anything in a straightforward manner: instead of telling who they were and whence they came, they drowned themselves by antic.i.p.ation in a river or cascade of Oriental pearls, moonbeams, dewdrops, perfumes of Arabia, sunsets and sapphires and emeralds, so that the thread of the discourse was lost, and no one could gather the least idea of its character and tendency.

When he was half through the act, the Countess de Losilla and her two daughters came in, later than all the rest, since they lived the nearest of all. Their entrance for a few moments interrupted the reading; all arose, and Maximina hastened to greet them.

All the ladies looked sharply and eagerly at the young ladies' dresses and jewelry, which were in the highest degree elegant and original, especially that of Filomena, who had a remarkable genius for inventing and combining adornments, departing from the fashion when she pleased, or changing it according to her own caprice; she knew how to make the most of her extreme slenderness by wearing dresses such as would have been unbecoming to any other girl, and she took pains by her extraordinary manner of brushing her hair to make the strange originality of her face more brilliant.

During the interruption the poet fortified himself with a gla.s.s of currant juice.

Then the reading began anew. At the end of the act, there were signs of approbation, especially among the young ladies, to whom, though they had not understood a word, it had sounded very fine. A few gentlemen remained in the parlor while the dramatist was resting: he and one or two others had gone into the corridor to smoke.

"What does _Rosa de te_ think about it?" asked one of the gentlemen, addressing the young critic.

_Rosa de te_ reddened, and spoke a few incoherent words.

"Leave him, leave him alone with his grief!" said Miguel, who happened to be in this group. "When the heroes of comedies and novels do not adopt resolutions, it makes him desperate."

The drama was finished at eleven o'clock, to the great and ill-concealed satisfaction of each and all of the company.