Dona Perfecta
CHAPTER V
WILL THERE BE DISSENSION?
A little later Pepe made his appearance in the dining-room.
"If you eat a hearty breakfast," said Dona Perfecta to him, inaffectionate accents, "you will have no appetite for dinner. We dinehere at one. Perhaps you may not like the customs of the country."
"I am enchanted with them, aunt."
"Say, then, which you prefer--to eat a hearty breakfast now, or to takesomething light, and keep your appetite for dinner."
"I prefer to take something light now, in order to have the pleasureof dining with you. But not even if I had found anything to eat inVillahorrenda, would I have eaten any thing at this early hour."
"Of course, I need not tell you that you are to treat us with perfectfrankness. You may give your orders here as if you were in your ownhouse."
"Thanks, aunt."
"But how like your father you are!" said the senora, regarding the youngman, as he ate, with real delight. "I can fancy I am looking now at mydear brother Juan. He sat just as you are sitting and ate as you areeating. In your expression, especially, you are as like as two drops ofwater."
Pepe began his frugal breakfast. The words, as well as the mannerand the expression, of his aunt and cousin inspired him with so muchconfidence that he already felt as if he were in his own house.
"Do you know what Rosario was saying to me this morning?" said DonaPerfecta, looking at her nephew. "Well, she was saying that, as a manaccustomed to the luxuries and the etiquette of the capital and toforeign ways, you would not be able to put up with the somewhat rusticsimplicity and the lack of ceremony of our manner of life; for hereevery thing is very plain."
"What a mistake!" responded Pepe, looking at his cousin. "No one abhorsmore than I do the falseness and the hypocrisy of what is called highsociety. Believe me, I have long wished to give myself a completebath in nature, as some one has said; to live far from the turmoilof existence in the solitude and quiet of the country. I long forthe tranquillity of a life without strife, without anxieties; neitherenvying nor envied, as the poet has said. For a long time my studies atfirst, and my work afterward, prevented me from taking the rest whichI need, and which my mind and my body both require; but ever since Ientered this house, my dear aunt, my dear cousin, I have felt myselfsurrounded by the peaceful atmosphere which I have longed for. You mustnot talk to me, then, of society, either high or low; or of the world,either great or small, for I would willingly exchange them all for thispeaceful retreat."
While he was thus speaking, the glass door which led from thedining-room into the garden was obscured by the interposition betweenit and the light of a dark body. The glasses of a pair of spectacles,catching a sunbeam, sent forth a fugitive gleam; the latch creaked, thedoor opened, and the Penitentiary gravely entered the room. He salutedthose present, taking off his broad-brimmed hat and bowing until itsbrim touched the floor.
"It is the Senor Penitentiary, of our holy cathedral," said DonaPerfecta: "a person whom we all esteem greatly, and whose friend youwill, I hope, be. Take a seat, Senor Don Inocencio."
Pepe shook hands with the venerable canon, and both sat down.
"If you are accustomed to smoke after meals, pray do so," said DonaPerfecta amiably; "and the Senor Penitentiary also."
The worthy Don Inocencio drew from under his cassock a large leathercigar-case, which showed unmistakable signs of long use, opened it, andtook from it two long cigarettes, one of which he offered to our friend.Rosario took a match from a little leaf-shaped matchbox, which theSpaniards ironically call a wagon, and the engineer and the canon weresoon puffing their smoke over each other.
"And what does Senor Don Jose think of our dear city of Orbajosa?" askedthe canon, shutting his left eye tightly, according to his habit when hesmoked.
"I have not yet been able to form an idea of the town," said Pepe. "Fromthe little I have seen of it, however, I think that half a dozen largecapitalists disposed to invest their money here, a pair of intelligentheads to direct the work of renovating the place, and a couple ofthousands of active hands to carry it out, would not be a bad thingfor Orbajosa. Coming from the entrance to the town to the door of thishouse, I saw more than a hundred beggars. The greater part of them arehealthy, and even robust men. It is a pitiable army, the sight of whichoppresses the heart."
"That is what charity is for," declared Don Inocencio. "Apart from that,Orbajosa is not a poor town. You are already aware that the best garlicin all Spain is produced here. There are more than twenty rich familiesliving among us."
"It is true," said Dona Perfecta, "that the last few years have beenwretched, owing to the drought; but even so, the granaries are notempty, and several thousands of strings of garlic were recently carriedto market."
"During the many years that I have lived in Orbajosa," said the priest,with a frown, "I have seen innumerable persons come here from thecapital, some brought by the electoral hurly-burly, others to visit someabandoned site, or to see the antiquities of the cathedral, and theyall talk to us about the English ploughs and threshing-machines andwater-power and banks, and I don't know how many other absurdities. Theburden of their song is that this place is very backward, and that itcould be improved. Let them keep away from us, in the devil's name!We are well enough as we are, without the gentlemen from the capitalvisiting us; a great deal better off without hearing that continualclamor about our poverty and the grandeurs and the wonders of otherplaces. The fool in his own house is wiser than the wise man inanother's. Is it not so, Senor Don Jose? Of course, you mustn't imagine,even remotely, that I say this on your account. Not at all! Of coursenot! I know that we have before us one of the most eminent young men ofmodern Spain, a man who would be able to transform into fertile landsour arid wastes. And I am not at all angry because you sing us the sameold song about the English ploughs and arboriculture and silviculture.Not in the least. Men of such great, such very great merit, may beexcused for the contempt which they manifest for our littleness. No, no,my friend; no, no, Senor Don Jose! you are entitled to say any thing youplease, even to tell us that we are not much better than Kaffirs."
This philippic, concluded in a marked tone of irony, and all of itimpertinent enough, did not please the young man; but he refrained frommanifesting the slightest annoyance and continued the conversation,endeavoring to avoid as far as possible the subjects in which theover-sensitive patriotism of the canon might find cause of offence. Thelatter rose when Dona Perfecta began to speak to her nephew about familymatters, and took a few turns about the room.
This was a spacious and well-lighted apartment, the walls of which werecovered with an old-fashioned paper whose flowers and branches, althoughfaded, preserved their original pattern, thanks to the cleanliness whichreigned in each and every part of the dwelling. The clock, from thecase of which hung, uncovered, the apparently motionless weights andthe voluble pendulum, perpetually repeating No, no, occupied, with itsvariegated dial, the most prominent place among the solid pieces offurniture of the dining-room, the adornment of the walls being completedby a series of French engravings representing the exploits of theconqueror of Mexico, with prolix explanations at the foot of eachconcerning a Ferdinand Cortez, and a Donna Marine, as little true tonature as were the figures delineated by the ignorant artist. In thespace between the two glass doors which communicated with the gardenwas an apparatus of brass, which it is not necessary to describe furtherthan to say that it served to support a parrot, which maintained itselfon it with the air of gravity and circumspection peculiar to thoseanimals, taking note of everything that went on. The hard and ironicalexpression of the parrot tribe, their green coats, their red caps,their yellow boots, and finally, the hoarse, mocking words which theygenerally utter, give them a strange and repulsive aspect, half serious,half-comic. There is in their air an indescribable something of thestiffness of diplomats. At times they remind one of buffoons, and theyalways resemble those absurdly conceited people who, in their desire toappear very superior, lo
ok like caricatures.
The Penitentiary was very fond of the parrot. When he left Dona Perfectaand Rosario conversing with the traveller, he went over to the bird,and, allowing it to bite his forefinger with the greatest good humor,said to it:
"Rascal, knave, why don't you talk? You would be of little account ifyou weren't a prater. The world of birds, as well as men, is full ofpraters."
Then, with his own venerable hand, he took some peas from the dishbeside him, and gave them to the bird to eat. The parrot began to callto the maid, asking her for some chocolate, and its words diverted thetwo ladies and the young man from a conversation which could not havebeen very engrossing.