The Grandee Part 6

But Santos was remiss in the performance of the duty considered inc.u.mbent on all those who make large fortunes from the sugar trade in America--he failed to enter into matrimony with any lady, young or old, pretty or ugly.

None of his friends ever took a tradesman's daughter for a wife, and Garnet could not do less than they. On the contrary, as he was richer than any of them, it was natural that he should expect more social advantages. And so it came about that he fixed his prominent, bloodshot eyes upon the prettiest, richest, and most charming girl in the town--on n.o.body less than Fernanda Rosa. The fact aroused the astonishment and derision of the neighbourhood. For highly as money was esteemed in Lancia, it was not thought equal to the accomplishment of a feat like this. The pride of the province marry a fellow of his caste! The girl was angry and indignant. At first she considered it a joke; then she became annoyed, and finally she ridiculed the idea. At last she became used to Garnet's attentions, and it pleased her self-love to be a subject of adulation, which she unmercifully snubbed in return. But Santos was pertinacious in his courtship. With the persistence of a fly which dashes against gla.s.s, trying a hundred times to pa.s.s through the obstruction, neither repulses, ridicule, nor rude remarks rebuffed him for long. He returned the next day, metaphorically speaking, to break his head against the cold disdain of the proud heiress. He really thought that the real obstacle to the realisation of his hopes was the Conde de Onis. He acknowledged that Fernanda was somewhat attracted to him, or, as he thought, to his t.i.tle, and he seriously considered going to Madrid to buy one of the same rank as that of his rival. But when he was told that the papa set no store by such things, he gave up the idea.

In the meanwhile, he vowed revenge on the gallant count, and hated him with a deadly hatred, which he showed by never losing an opportunity of making fun of his ugly, old-fashioned, dilapidated house. The count was rich in land, but his income could not be compared with that of the opulent Garnet.

"And if not, you will see the day that he marries what a change will be effected in the place," continued Manuel Antonio; "we shall have banquets, and b.a.l.l.s, and _fetes champetres_ every day."

"But suppose Fernanda does not like b.a.l.l.s?" said Emilita Mateo, who was dancing with Paco Gomez, and had her back to the group.

"I do not know that I have mentioned Fernanda," said the Chatterbox severely.

"I thought you were talking of Don Santos marrying, and I supposed you meant with her."

"Then do not suppose any more, but attend to your dancing with Paco, for I reckon he has been waiting five minutes."

Paco was a very slender young man, so tall that he reached the lintels of the doorways, with a head about the size of a potato, and such a thin face that he really only seemed to walk about by permission of his undertaker. And with these physical peculiarities, he was the wittiest person of the place.

"Well, my child!" he exclaimed, standing in front of the Chatterbox.

"The only thing for which I should regret dying would be to be deprived of the pleasure of seeing such bewitching creatures as yourself."

With this he gave his beard a derisive sort of touch.

We know that Manuel Antonio could not bear anybody's hands near him in public.

"Be off, you jackdaw, be off!" he returned, with visible irritation as he pushed him away.

"But are you not fetching? Why, my man, if this were lost to view! Look what a mouth! Goodness alive, what shaped eyes! Did you ever see such a texture of the skin?"

And as he touched him again, Manuel repulsed him with a hard push of real anger.

"Caramba! how cross you are to-day!" said the Conde de Onis.

"It does not matter," returned Paco with a sigh, "white hands never offend."

At that moment it was his turn to figure in the _riG.o.don_, and he went off with Emilita.

Maria Josefa, who had been dancing a little way off, now came up with her partner, a lieutenant of the battalion of Pontevedra.

"Why, Don Santos, you are cruel! Why do you not go and keep Fernanda company? She is quite alone."

This was true, for the little friend of the rich heiress having found a partner for the dance, Fernanda was sitting by herself.

"Yes, yes, you ought to go, Santos," said Manuel Antonio; "see, the girl has left an empty chair by her side; she could not give a stronger hint."

So saying, he winked at the count, who confirmed his statement by saying: "I think it would only be polite."

Garnet cast a sharp glance at the speaker and surlily returned:

"Then why don't you go yourself and sit by her side?"

"For the simple reason that we have nothing to talk about. But with you it is quite different."

"That is understood, Senor Conde. I am not a child," he murmured very crossly.

"Although you are not a child in age," said Amalia, intervening to prevent discord, "you are one in the frankness and spontaneity of your sentiments, and in the freshness of heart, that other people younger than you are remiss in. Children love with more simplicity and fervour than men."

"But men do something more heroic--they marry," said Paco Gomez, who was again standing near with his partner.

"There are occasions when they do not marry either," returned Manuel Antonio, making an imperceptible grimace, by which it could be seen that he was thinking of Maria Josefa.

"Very well," returned that gentleman, abandoning the argument; "but it must be allowed that there are cases when such an act would require a heroism beyond human nature."

The old maid who overheard this last remark, cast a withering look at the speaker.

"Human nature, indeed!" she retorted with displeasure, "human nature sometimes a.s.sumes such eccentric forms that heroism would appear out of place."

However, Paco Gomez was not a whit confused, and merely touched his face with comic gestures, feigning a dumb submission, which made the others laugh. Amalia, seeing the conversation was getting dangerous, changed the subject by exclaiming:

"Look, see what Don Santos has been doing whilst we have been busy talking!"

And, in fact, the Indian had quietly left his seat and glided into a chair by Fernanda's side.

She glanced at him coldly, and hardly deigned to respond to his ceremonious and pompous greeting. Nevertheless, the red face of Garnet shone like that of a G.o.d sure of his omnipotence. With his large, broad, fat hands spread out on his knees, his body bent forwards, and his head raised as much as the fat nape of his neck would permit, he disclosed a row of large teeth as his lips wreathed in a beneficent smile. Trying, according to his wont, to make conversation, he said:

"Have you noticed in what quarter the wind is?"

The young lady made no reply.

"It does not signify now," he continued, "as all the fruit is gathered in, but if it had come sooner, we should not have had a chestnut nor a grain of maize left, he! he!"

To judge from the expression of pleasure which shone in his eyes, Garnet delighted in giving utterance to this remark.

"But it is not cold here, eh? I am not cold, he! he! On the contrary I feel hot. It is because your eyes are two coals--they are burn----"

Another time he would have finished the word burning without any hesitation, but to excuse his confusion, he feigned a cough which made his purple face look as if he were suffering strangulation.

The beauty, who had kept her eyes fixed on s.p.a.ce, now turned her head towards her adorer, and looked at him with a vague, absent expression, as if she did not see him. She then got up, and without vouchsafing a word, took a seat a little way off. So the Indian was left with the same stereotyped smile on his face, like the petrified grimace of a satyr.

But when he saw the eyes of the others fixed derisively upon him, he suddenly became cross and peevish.

"What has this Garnet to do with the ladies?" said Paco Gomez to the count. "As I was saying the other day, you do not need to go to America for rich women. Your face is your fortune."

"Look, my dear count, you ought to go and sit by her side. You will see she won't get up then," said Manuel Antonio.

"Yes, yes, you ought to go, Luis," said Maria Josefa, "we shall be able to see then whether she is in love with you or not. Really, Amalia, ought he not to go?"

"Yes, it seems to me that you ought to sit by her side," said the lady in measured, trembling tones.

"Do you think so?" asked the count, looking earnestly at her.

"Yes, go," returned the lady, with perfect serenity, avoiding his eyes.