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During the last act the girls yawned in an angelic manner; the gentlemen exchanged expressive winks under the poet's very nose. Then came encouraging and prolonged applause! All broke out into eulogies, and predicted great things for the piece.
Gomez, overwhelmed, flushed, and trembling from head to foot, acknowledged the compliments by laying his hand on his heart, really believing that his work was already saved from the "claws of the public."
The poor fellow had no idea that many of those who were applauding him had all ready a howl for the "first night" of his play, in vengeance for the forced applause that they had given him.
After this the ladies went to the library, where supper was served. The gentlemen took their places in the rear, and there began that buzzing of flat and conventional phrases between both s.e.xes, which const.i.tutes what has been called the "witchery of the salon."
At that moment, after Gomez de la Floresta's drama, nothing that was said could fail to seem clever or to excite the mirth of the guests; something, and it is not extravagant to say much, was contributed to this desirable state of things by the sight of the well-laden and decorated table, which in its final state was the work of Uncle Manolo.
Saavedra had been sitting the whole evening behind Julia, whispering clever things in her ear, while Utrilla, seated not far from them, and suffering as though they were roasting him on a gridiron, gazed at them fiercely, and planned how he might call his rival to one side, and demand an explanation as soon as the chance presented itself. We already know that in the matter of explanations he was no amateur.
It is befitting that we say a few words in regard to the state in which Julia's relations with her cousin and the ex-cadet were placed.
Don Alfonso had spent a few days at the Astillero with his aunt and cousin, and during this time he had settled his love-affair with Julia on a firm basis.
Then he went to Paris, intending to arrange his business, and return to Spain for good. In the first days of September he really returned to Madrid, but he did not lodge at his aunt's; reasons of delicacy, which he explained to Julia, compelled him to this.
While he was in Paris he wrote few letters, and these in the fluent terms of cousinly rather than lover-like affection. Julia's pride forbade her asking any explanations; but when he returned he hastened to give them, telling her in rather obscure terms that he wanted to keep his relations with her secret for a time, so as conveniently to settle his affairs, and announce their engagement to his family at the earliest possible moment, and thus realize the union which he so eagerly desired.
This secret and somewhat underhanded conduct, instead of dampening Julia's ardor, each day made her more and more her cousin's slave.
Don Alfonso, when he was not sleeping, spent almost all the hours of the day at his aunt's house; he was often there to dinner, and likewise often went to drive or to the theatre with them.
As for our _bizarre_ cadet, his fate could not have been more desolate.
Julita had broken off entirely with him; and on this account he had fallen into such a decline that it was pitiful to see him: his sallow complexion had turned green; his bones could be counted even at a long distance; only one thing had grown in his body, and that was his Adam's apple; this had reached really fantastic proportions.
As Miguel was going along the vestibule, he felt that some one touched his shoulder.
It was Utrilla.
"Don Miguel, I want to ask a favor of you."
"You shall, my dear boy."
"It is absolutely necessary that you and some other friend this very moment carry my challenge to this Senor Saavedra. I thought of doing it myself, but I am rather excited, and I do not care to let myself cause a scandal in your house."
Miguel remained a moment undecided, and then said:--
"My dear fellow, you must understand that as Senor Saavedra is my sister's cousin, and as the motive of the trouble is for her sake, I could not possibly mix myself up in such an affair.... But as you are my very dear friend, and as I would desire to save you annoyance, I will do what I can for you. It is necessary, however, that you promise not to take any step in this business, and to leave the entire direction of it to me."
"I promise you."
Miguel wanted to gain time and save the poor lad, and his own family as well, a serious unpleasantness.
"I ought to warn you," he said afterwards, with a smile, "that Saavedra is one of the most famous of marksmen."
"That makes no difference to me," rejoined Utrilla, making a gesture worthy of Roland or Don Quixote.
The brigadier's son looked at him surprised at such valor, at once ridiculous and heroic.
On returning to the parlor, after giving a few directions, he casually fell in with Filomena, who was coming from the dressing-room with a box of rice-powder in her hand.
"I was anxious to meet you so as to whisper in the tenderest, tenderest voice that you are angelic, maddening!" said the heathen, approaching her with an insinuating smile, and bringing his mouth close to her ear.
"Come now, none of your nonsense, you bad boy! With such a young and lovely wife, aren't you ashamed to be making love to the girls?"
He suddenly grew serious; but quickly coming to himself, he retorted with a laugh:--
"The priest's benediction was not able to rob me of my innate qualities, and one of them was the love of the beautiful."
"You men are all alike; _art! beauty!_ Little words by which you try to conceal your lack of shame!"
"Thanks, Filo, for at least having used the plural. It is to be understood under all circ.u.mstances that I reserve the right of admiring you."
The girl shrugged her shoulders, and made a disdainful face, and suddenly taking the powder-puff, she dabbed it upon his cheek.
"Hold on, hold on!" said Miguel, catching her by one arm; "you don't escape me without wiping it off!"
"What! do you imagine that I am afraid to do it?" she asked, giving him a provoking smile.
And without further delay she began to rub it off with her handkerchief.
Miguel's eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, and as his lips were not far from the girl's head, he bent over quickly and touched them to her forehead.
Filomena straightened herself up with equal rapidity, and giving him a look that was half severe and half mischievous, said:--
"You had better be a little careful!"
When she had finished, Miguel said:--
"To reward you for this good deed I am going to offer you my arm to take you back to the parlor."
The girl took it without saying a word. After the kiss she had grown serious.
When they went in, everybody was there before them. Maximina, who was sitting on a sofa talking with Saavedra, looked at them with a mixture of surprise and desolation which would have touched Miguel if he had taken time to think about it.
A girl was seated at the piano and playing the first strains of a waltz.
Uncle Manolo came very politely to invite Maximina, and she allowed herself to be taken out for the dance. Then Miguel, after a moment of hesitation (caused either by remorse or because he knew how jealous his wife was of Filomena), finally asked the girl to waltz.
"You dance very well, niece," said Uncle Manolo, stopping a moment to rest. "Who taught you?"
"Miguel."
"I am not surprised then; Miguelito has always been a famous dancer."
Maximina had present proof of it, and to her sorrow, for her husband at that moment floated by them, scarcely touching the floor, and holding in his arms his light burden. The young wife did not for a moment lose them from sight. The next time that they crossed in front of her, they were promenading, and the girl had his arm. Miguel looked at his wife, and she replied with a forced smile.
"How does my wife dance, uncle?"