Froth Part 39

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A PIOUS MATINeE.

A few days after the ball, at eleven in the morning of a Friday in Lent, the most elegant of "Savages" woke from his calm and sound slumbers, fully determined to marry Calderon's little daughter. He opened his eyes, glanced at the hippic decorations which ornamented the walls of his room, stretched himself gracefully, drank a gla.s.s of lemonade which stood by his bedside, and prepared to rise. It cannot be positively a.s.serted that the resolution had been formed during sleep, but it is quite certain that it was the birth of a mysterious travail which he had not consciously aided. When he went to bed Castro had only the vaguest thoughts of this advantageous alliance; on waking, his determination to sue for Esperanza's hand, by whatever process it had been elaborated, was irrevocable. Let us congratulate the happy damsel, and for the present devote our attention to studying the n.o.ble "Savage" in the act of perfecting the beautiful object which Nature had achieved in creating him.

His servant had prepared his bath. After looking in the gla.s.s to study the face of the day--his own--he took up some dumb-bells, and went through a few exercises. Then taking a foil, he practised a score or so of lunges, and finally he delivered a dozen or more punches on the pad of a dynamometer. Having accomplished this, the moment was come for him to step into the water. He was still splas.h.i.+ng and sponging, when into his room, unannounced, walked the poor crazy Marquis Manolo Davalos.

"Pepe, I want to speak to you about a very important matter," said he, with an air of mystery, his eyes wilder than ever.

"Wait a minute; I am tubbing."



"Then make haste; I am in a great hurry."

Davalos rose from the chair into which he had dropped, and began walking up and down the room with a sort of feverish agitation, to which his friends had become accustomed. He could not remain still for five minutes. Any one else going through half the exercise he took in the course of the day would have been utterly exhausted before night. Castro watched him at first with contemptuous raillery in his eye; but he grew serious as he saw Manolo go up to the table and begin to play with a neat little revolver which Castro kept by his bedside.

"Look out there, Manolo! It is loaded."

"So I see, so I see," said the other with a smile; and turning round sharply, he added: "What do you think Madrid would say if I shot you dead?"

Pepe Castro felt a chill run down his spine, which was not altogether attributable to the cold bath, and he laughed rather queerly.

"And you know I could do it with impunity," his visitor went on, "as I am said to be mad----."

"Ha, ha, ha!" Castro laughed hysterically.

He was no coward; on the contrary, he had a reputation for punctilio and courage; but, like all fighting men, he liked a public. The prospect of an inglorious death at the hands of a maniac did not smile on his fancy.

The example of Seneca, Marat, and other heroes who had been killed in their bath did nothing to encourage him, possibly because he had never heard of them. Davalos came towards him with the revolver c.o.c.ked, saying:

"What will they say in town, eh? What will they say?"

Castro was as cold as though he were up to his chin in ice instead of water with the chill off. However, he had presence of mind enough to say:

"Lay down that revolver, Manolo. If you don't, you shall never see Amparo again as long as you live." Amparo was the fair _demi-mondaine_ whom we have already seen at the Duke's ball. She had ruined the Marquis, a widower with young children, who had seriously intended to marry the woman; and his brain, none of the strongest at any time, had finally given way, when his family had interfered to protect him from her rapacity.

"Never again! Why not?" he asked, dejection painted on his face, as he lowered the weapon.

"Because I will not allow it; I will tell her never to let you inside her doors."

"Well, well, my dear fellow, do not be put out, I was only in fun," said the lunatic, replacing the revolver on the table.

Castro jumped out of the bath. No sooner was he wrapped in the turkish towel, with which he dried himself, than he seized the weapon and locked it away. Easy in his mind now, though annoyed by the fright his crazy friend had given him, he began talking to him in a tone of contemptuous ill-humour, while, standing before his gla.s.s, he lavished on his handsome person, with the greatest respect, all the care due to its merits.

"Now, then, out with it, man, out with the great secret. One of your fool's errands as usual, I suppose. I declare, Manolo, you ought not to be allowed in the streets. You should go somewhere and be cured," he said, as he rubbed his arms with some scented unguent which he selected from the collection of pots and bottles of every size arrayed before him.

The Marquis put his hand in his pocket, took out his note-book, and from it a letter in a woman's hand, saying with some solemnity:

"She has just written me this note. I want you to read it."

Pepe did not even turn his head to look at the doc.u.ment his friend held out to him. Absorbed at the moment in blending the ends of his moustache with his beard, he said in an absent-minded way:

"And what does she want?"

Davalos stared in surprise at the small interest he took in this precious missive.

"Shall I read it to you?"

"If it is not very long."

Manolo unfolded it as reverently as though it were the autograph of a saint, and read with deep emotion:

"MY DEAREST MANOLO.--Do me the favour to send me by the bearer two thousand pesetas,[D] of which I am in urgent need. If you have not so much about you, bring me the money this evening.--Always and entirely yours,

"AMPARO."

"My word! She is a cool hand. I suppose you did not send the money?"

"No."

"Quite right."

"Well, I had not got it. It is on purpose to see if you can help me that I have come here."

Castro turned round and contemplated his visitor with a look of surprise and irritation. Then, addressing himself to his gla.s.s again, he said:

"My dear Manolo, you are the greatest fool out. I am sure that when your aunt dies you will let that hussy spend the money for you as she has spent your own fortune."

The Marquis was in a fury.

"Do you know where the real wrong is?" he said. "It lies with my family, who, without rhyme or reason, interfere to prevent my marrying her. As my wife--as the mother of my motherless children--they would have been happy, and so should I!"

Castro stared at him in blank amazement. Tears stood on the Marquis's pale cheeks. Pepe made a grimace of contemptuous pity, and went on combing his moustache. After a few minutes' silence, he said:

"I am very sorry, old fellow. I have not got two thousand pesetas; but if I had I would not lend them to you for such a purpose, you may be very sure."

Davalos made no reply, but again paced the room.

"Whom can I ask?" he suddenly said, stopping short.

"Try Salabert," said Castro, with a short laugh.

Manolo clenched his fists and ground his teeth; his eyes glared ominously, and with a stride he went up to Pepe, who drew back a step, and prepared to defend himself.

"Such a speech is a gross insult!--an insult worthy of a bullet or a sword thrust! You are a coward--in your own house!"

His eyes started in a really terrific stare; but he did not succeed in provoking his friend. He ultimately controlled himself with a great effort, only flinging his hat on the floor with such violence as to crush it. Castro stood perfectly still, as if turned to stone. So often before he had jested with the crazy fellow, and said far rougher things, without his ever dreaming of taking offence, and now, by pure chance, as it seemed, he flew into this unaccountable rage. He tried to soothe him by an apology, but Manolo did not listen. Though he had got past the first impulse to struggle with him, he raged up and down like a caged wild beast, muttering threats and gesticulating vehemently. However, he soon broke down:

"I should never have believed it of you, Pepe," he murmured in a broken voice. "I should never have supposed that my best friend would so insult me--so stab me to the heart."

"But bless me, man----!"

Froth Part 39

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Froth Part 39 summary

You're reading Froth Part 39. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: Armando Palacio Valdes already has 698 views.

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