The Grandee Part 16

Some days after the practical joke of Paco Gomez on Don Santos, there a.s.sembled at the famous party, besides three or four youths, the same Paco, Manuel Antonio, Don Santos, Captain Nunez, Don Cristobal, Maria Josefa Hevia, and two of the Mateo girls.

They were not yet thinking of playing. They were all seated excepting Paco, who was walking up and down the drawing-room, telling them the joke he had the other night at the theatre with Manin the majordomo of Quinones. Since the latter had been paralysed, his well-known companion had to go about the town without his shadow. But in consideration of the regard shown him by his master, the guests of Don Pedro took a good deal of notice of him, and in spite of the rusticity of his manners and the countrified aspect of his attire, they greeted him familiarly when they met him in the street, invited him into a cafe, and sometimes took him to the theatre. It was Manin here, and Manin there, the great peasant had made himself famous, not only in Lancia, but in the whole of the province. Those short breeches, those white woollen stockings with coloured stripes, that green cloth jacket and wide brimmed hat, gave him an original aspect in the town, where it would be difficult to find a man in such attire.

He was an unfailing source of astonishment to strangers, especially as they saw him a.s.sociate on an equal footing with the senores of the place; for they seemed to seek his society not only out of respect for the Grandee, but because they found pleasure in Manin's uncouth manners.

Besides, Manin was a celebrated bear-hunter, and it was reported that he had occasionally had deadly struggles with the beasts. Those who were partial to that kind of sport professed great regard and respect for him. Nevertheless, the enemies that the majordomo had in his village laughed sarcastically, and said that the bears were all a farce, and he had never seen one in his life, much less struggled with them. They added that Manin had never been anything more than a country clown, until Don Pedro took it into his head to raise him from his obscure position.

Impartiality obliges us to give this evidence, but we can take it for what it is worth. It must, however, be confessed that the conduct of Manin gave it a semblance of truth, for although he often offered to take his friends bear-hunting, he never kept his promise. But perhaps this was due to his respect for the well-being and safety of the bears of his country. Is it sufficient evidence for dubbing a man a mere country clown? n.o.body could say so. It would be more logical to a.s.sume that the celebrated Manin, like everybody who rises above the common herd, was a victim of the insinuations of the envious.

So Paco, with his usual freedom, quite regardless of the presence of ladies, told how he and some other friends who had a theatre ticket took Manin to the stage box. The majordomo had never before seen women dancers. When they first appeared on the scene, Manin, thinking that they had bare legs, was perfectly scandalised and fixed his eyes, glowing with anger and indignation, upon them. "But you have not seen the best," Paco said, "wait a bit." When the orchestra began to play, the dancers shook their castanettes, and with a turn they raised their legs as high as their heads. "Shame!" exclaimed the poor fellow, clapping his hands to his face. "What will happen next?"

Paco told the story quite naturally, as he walked up and down the drawing-room, with his head down, and his hands in his trousers-pockets.

The young ladies felt inclined to blush, and everybody laughed excepting Garnet, who was still smarting from the joke of the other day.

From his corner, where he sat like a sulky bear, he cast grim and angry glances at Paco. What had happened in Estrada-Rosa's house, when the Indian went to ask for the hand of the senorita? Not a word could be got out of Don Juan nor his daughter; but a certain little servant-maid informed the world that Don Juan refused him with the deepest scorn, that Garnet made mention of his millions and maintained that Fernanda would never have a chance of a better marriage. Then Don Juan got in a rage, called him a sponger, and sent him off with offensive epithets.

Every time Paco caught one of the angry glances, he smiled and winked at Manuel Antonio.

"I say, Carmela," he said, coming to a stand before a little picture painted in oils, "where did you buy this San Juan?"

"Jesus! senor," exclaimed Carmelita; "it is not a San Juan, but a Salvador! See how the poor little fellow is laughing!"

"Ah! so it is a Salvador. What is the difference?"

The Senoritas de Mere, hearing such a question, went nearly wild with amus.e.m.e.nt. They laughed till the tears came.

"Ay, what, Paquito! Ay, what, my heart! You don't know the difference between a San Juan and a Salvador?"

And they laughed and laughed again. They had not heard anything so funny for many years. When they were a little more composed, they dried their tears and used their handkerchiefs vigorously. Paco, who liked to see them so merry, went on to inquire:

"But come, when did you buy this Salvador, that I never saw till now?"

"It was in Nuncia's room, my dear; but it did not do there, because it came in the way of the bed, and so we put it here."

"It was given to Carmela when papa was alive," said Nuncita, "by a painter from Madrid who spent a few days here."

"Were you young then?" asked Paco, gravely, turning to Carmelita.

"Yes, very young."

"Was the painter famous?"

"Very."

"Then I know who it was. It was Murillo."

"No; I don't think that was his name."

"Then it was Velasquez."

"That name sounds more like it. He was a young man, very short, and very gallant. Was he not, Nuncia?"

"Did he not address some soft words to you?"

Nuncita lowered her eyes and blushed.

"Who would recollect these things now?"

"He was very much in love," continued Carmelita; "and at the same time he was most well-bred and clever."

"Of an amorous disposition, did you say? It can be no other than Velasquez."

"He was not named Velasquez, he was called Gonzalez," interposed Nuncita, timidly.

And after this remark she blushed again.

"That's it! Gonzalez!" exclaimed her sister, recollecting.

"Well, it is all the same; he would be a contemporary of his--of the great race of painters of the seventeenth century," remarked Paco, not the least put out by the laughter of the guests, who were astonished at the innocence of the poor women.

"How did he make love to thee?" he continued, with a caressing touch of Nuncita's cheek. "It seems to me you were very coquettish, eh, Carmela?"

This remark was provocative of a smile from the company.

"Carmela, _por Dios_! and are these gentlemen going to make believe I was a coquette?" exclaimed the "child" in real concern.

"They would only believe the truth, girl," said Paco. "Now, don't you recollect you lent a willing ear to the ecclesiastical attorney, called Don Maximo, and no sooner had he left the house than you were talking on the balcony with Lieutenant Paniagua?"

Nuncita smiled with pleasure at the recollection of those times, and replied as she lowered her eyes with gracious timidity:

"Don Maximo came to the house every day, but it was never a question of love."

"Neither a courts.h.i.+p nor a refusal?" asked Paco. "Then confess that the one you really liked was the lieutenant, and done with it."

"What! you were in love with a soldier?" asked Emilita, with pleasant volubility, as she cast a teasing glance at Nunez. "Then you must have had bad taste."

The Pensioner became suddenly serious and his moustache went up in horror at his daughter's sally, but he was immediately calmed at seeing that the captain, instead of being offended, only returned a loving smile, and like all the rest treated it as a joke.

"She is not the only one who has had such bad taste," said Carmelita, with marked insinuation, delighted at the chance of making such a clever hit.

"And who was this lieutenant? Some useless puppy, like we have here?"

continued Emilia, with the same taking levity.

"Gently, gently, Emilia!" returned Paco. "Paniagua was lieutenant of the third regiment of infantry of Flanders, and a very brave man."

"No, dear, no," interposed Nuncita, "to put the matter right, he was of the Royal Guard."

"Was he not an archer?"

"No, dear heart, I say he was of the Royal Guard."