The Fourth Estate Volume I Part 27

And although this rude interruption was rebuked with a prompt "s.h.!.+" it was evident that they had had enough of Navarro.

At last the celebrated man of Sarrio, the standard-bearer of all progress, the ill.u.s.trious patrician, Don Rosendo Belinchon, reared his majestic figure behind the table.

[_Silence! s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+ Silence, gentlemen! Attention! A little attention, please._]

These were the cries that proceeded from the crowd, although n.o.body dared move a finger, such was the anxiety of all to hear the president's remarks.

Like all men of a really superior mind and clear intelligence, Don Rosendo wrote better than he spoke. Nevertheless, his quiet mode of speech gave an impression of dignity that was wanting in the orators who had preceded him.

"Gentlemen [pause], I thank [pause] all the people [pause] who have a.s.sisted [pause] this afternoon [pause] at the meeting which I have had the honor to convene. [Much longer pause, rife with expectation.] I have a real pleasure [pause] in seeing gathered together in this place [pause] the most ill.u.s.trious persons of the town [pause], and all those who, for one reason or another, are of consequence and importance."

[_Bravo! Very good! Very good!_]

After this exordium, received in such a flattering style, the orator maintained that he was moved by the desire to raise the intellectual tone of Sarrio. Then he added that the object of this meeting had only been that of raising this tone. [_Long applause._] He considered himself too weak and incompetent to accomplish the task. [_No, no. Applause._]

But he counted on--at least he thought he could count on--the support of the many men of feeling, patriotism, intelligence, and progress dwelling in Sarrio. [_Thunders of applause._] The means that he considered most efficacious to raise Sarrio to its rightful height, and to make it compete worthily with other towns, and even maritime towns of more importance, was the creation of an organ that would support its political, moral, and material interests. "And, gentlemen [pause], although all the difficulties are not yet overcome [pause], I have the pleasure of informing this ill.u.s.trious a.s.sembly [_Attention! s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+

Silence!_] that perhaps in the ensuing month of August [_Bravo! Bravo!

Loud and frantic applause that interrupted the orator for some minutes_]--that perhaps in the ensuing month of August [_Bravo! Bravo!

Silence!_] the town of Sarrio will have a biweekly paper."

[_Loud applause. Navarro threw his hat upon the stage. Several other spectators followed his example._] Alvaro Pena and Don Feliciano Gomez employed themselves in picking them up and returning them to their owners. Don Rosendo's face shone with an august expression, and his lips, wreathed with a happy smile, revealed the two symmetrical rows of teeth, eloquent proof of dental skill.

"In spite of these expressions of regard [pause], for which I thank you from the bottom of my soul [pause], pride does not blind me. My want of power [_No, no. Applause_.] makes me fear that the organ about to be started may not come up to the expectations of the public."

[_Voices from various sides: "Yes, it will. We are sure it will."

Applause._]

"But if, perhaps [pause], the lack of cleverness can be atoned for by faith and enthusiasm, it will certainly be so. My humble pen and my modest fortune are at the disposal of the town of Sarrio."

[_Vehement signs of approbation._]

"The new paper," continued the orator, "has a great mission to fulfil.

This mission consists in starting the reforms and the advancement which the town requires." The necessity of these reforms and advancement was known to all the world. The covered market was absolutely indispensable; the road to Rodillero was the constant desire of both places; and as to the slaughter-house, Don Rosendo asked with surprise how the town could consent to the existence of a focus of filth like the present one, which was a perfect disgrace to the place.

Gabino from his seat had listened to the speakers with marked disdain and disgust. He turned about in his chair as if it were hurting him, and he was filled with an overwhelming desire to cry out to the orators: "a.s.ses! Fools!" as he was accustomed to in the Club, or to slash out at them with one of his fiercest sarcasms. These fooleries thoroughly upset him. It was not surprising, when we recollect the state of the ex-sailor's liver. He breathed with difficulty, he ground his teeth, he smiled sarcastically, and was paralyzed with rage, thus showing his disapprobation of all that had been said, all that was being said, and all that would be said. Occasionally he gave vent to a "Bah!" or a "Pooh!" or a "Pshaw!" and other peculiar sounds not less significant.

Finally, in the middle of Don Rosendo's discourse, either because his grave eloquence was incontrovertible, or because the applause exasperated him to an intolerable degree, Gabino left the place and walked up and down in front of the door of the theatre in a pitiable state of agitation. In a few minutes he returned, and then went up into the gallery. Then, hearing Don Rosendo touch upon the matter of the slaughter-house, he left his seat, and, arriving in the first row, cried out excitedly, "This is not fair play."

On hearing the remark Don Rosendo stopped suddenly, dumb and pale. A loud murmur of surprise ran through the whole theatre. Some cried, "Out with him!" Others said, "s.h.!.+ s.h.!.+" and the eyes of all, after being directed to the gallery, were turned to the chairman. Don Rosendo, quite agitated, said with a hoa.r.s.e voice:

"Gentlemen, if these remarks have shown that I have had any unworthy thoughts in the convocation of this meeting, my delicacy forbids me to remain in the chair, and I retire."

[_No, no! Go on! Go on! Long live the president!_]

"I am sure, gentlemen," said the orator, visibly moved, "that the individual who has just called out is not a resident of Sarrio; he was not born in Sarrio! He can't belong to Sarrio!"

Somebody having murmured that the interlocutor was of Nieva, great indignation and confusion reigned in the theatre. A formidable cry of "Down with the bullfinches! Viva Sarrio!" It must be mentioned that the people of Nieva were called bullfinches on account of the great number of these birds there, while the people of Sarrio are called in Nieva chaffinches for a similar reason.

The excitement having at last abated, Don Rosendo acknowledged the applause with thanks and acceded to the persuasions of the audience, and returned to his place.

"Before again occupying this seat [the president had retired to the back of the stage], I must say that if this popinjay or bullfinch [_laughter_] wants to force from me an opinion on the subject of the slaughter-house, I have no objection to giving it, because I am always straightforward. [_Great interest. You could have heard a pin drop._] I solemnly declare, gentlemen, that in my opinion the new slaughter-house ought not to be put anywhere but on the rubbish chute."

The orator terminated his eloquent speech with a few more words, and the meeting broke up.

The audience left the theatre, half asphyxiated, as much by the many emotions experienced in a short time as by the hundred and four degrees of heat in the place.

CHAPTER XII

THE STORY OF A TEAR

All this happened in exalted spheres, while in the obscure regions of private life events were transpiring which, albeit not so memorable, were of some importance to those concerned.

On the day following the interview already narrated between Venturita and Gonzalo, the young man did not appear at his betrothed's; he remained at home, feigning a seizure of violent toothache. Such at least was the news that reached Cecilia through Elvira, the maid, who met Don Melchor's servant on the market-place. As the young man did not appear the next day either, the family thought he was still suffering, but Venturita and Valentina were not deceived. The embroideress avoided meeting the girl's eyes, perhaps from fear of embarra.s.sing her, or because she herself felt embarra.s.sed without knowing why. Venturita was as merry as ever; and Cecilia, the only one anxious enough to be silent, took a toothache mixture from her wardrobe, copied out a prayer to Saint Polonia which had been given her, and calling Elvira mysteriously aside, she said with a deep blush:

"Elvira, will you be so kind as to take this bottle and paper to Senor Gonzalo?"

"Now, at once?"

"As soon as you can. If you have nothing to do just now---- But I don't want it to be talked about."

"All right, senorita," returned the pale little brunette, smiling kindly, "n.o.body shall know a word about it. Your mother was just asking for some starch, so I will go and get some."

When Gonzalo received the little packet, he was overwhelmed with remorse, and paced up and down the room in agitation. Three or four times he was on the point of taking his hat, going to the Belinchons'

house, and letting things go on as before. All the feelings of honor, kindness, and goodness inherent in him, the voice of reason which spoke for Cecilia--in one word, the good angel which every man has within him, impelled him to this course. But he could not drive the pretty, graceful image of Venturita from his mind: the fire of her eyes seemed still to pierce his soul, the sweet, voluptuous touch of her golden hair--in fact, his bad angel held him back. Gonzalo was a man of physical health, powerful muscles, rich blood, but with a weak will. Evil spirits fear delicate const.i.tutions more than a fine one like his. The battle fought by his good and bad angels did not last long; it was soon decided in favor of the latter by means of a note from Venturita brought by the other maid of the house. It ran thus:

"Don't be impatient. To-day I will speak to mama. Trust in me.

VENTURITA."

The look of the maid as she gave this note seemed, in spite of her smile, to convey a tacit reproach, which somewhat upset him. He dismissed her with a handsome tip; and on opening the letter with a trembling hand, he noticed the sandal perfume, always used by Venturita, and as it recalled to his mind the bewitching, beautiful girl, it set chords vibrating in his being which had hitherto remained untouched. He put the letter to his lips, and intoxicated with pa.s.sion, he kissed it effusively many times.

Poor Cecilia! She had taken the first piece of paper that came to hand, and without waiting for perfumes, she generally wrote to her lover in pencil.

If women only knew the importance of these wretched details!

Venturita had been hovering about her mother all day, waiting for an opportunity of speaking privately to her. In the evening, when the needlewomen had gone, the mother and daughter were at last alone.

Cecilia had retired to her room, a prey to a depression that she had tried to combat by work during the day. Dona Paula was seated in an armchair with her eyes fixed on the window, looking at the last rays of the setting sun, in a melancholy, pensive att.i.tude unusual in her. She seemed to forebode the trouble that was coming. Venturita put the embroidery frames away in a corner, covered them over with a cloth, arranged the chairs in order and dragged the work-basket to one side so that it should not be in the way.

"Have the lights brought," said Dona Paula.

"Why?" returned the girl, taking a low chair by her side. "It is all tidy now."

Her mother turned her eyes again to the window, and resumed her melancholy att.i.tude. At the end of some minutes' silence Venturita took her parent's hand and raised it affectionately to her lips. Dona Paula turned her head with surprise. Seldom, nay never, had her youngest daughter given this respectful kiss. She smiled sweetly, and taking her by the chin, she said:

"Are you pleased with the dress?"