Maximina Part 30

"I have come to say _adios_, cousin."

"_Adios!_" exclaimed the girl dryly, and dropping her eyes upon the bed-spread.

Don Alfonso came to her, and audaciously taking her face between his hands and imprinting a kiss upon it, he said at the same time:--

"In spite of all this disdain and severity, I know well that you love me...."

The girl, confused and enraged by his impudence and what he said, exclaimed:--

"No, no! I do not love you! You lie!... Go this instant!"

"You love me, and I love you," replied Don Alfonso, smoothing her face with perfect unconcern.

"Fool! dunce! impudent!" cried the girl, with more and more anger, "I do not love you; but if I did, this would be enough to make me hate you!

Go!"

"I am not a dunce and I am not impudent. I confess humbly that I would die for you!"

"Die whenever you please, but go! Go this instant, or I will scream!"

"Don't trouble yourself any more; I am going," said he, with a smile: "I am going; but I leave my heart here. I will write you as soon as I reach Seville."

He left the room and shut the door; he remained a moment motionless, and then opened it again softly to look in. Julia had turned over and was sobbing, with her face hidden under the sheets.

XIII.

In point of fact, all the while that he was in Seville, he did not take pains to write her once, possibly because other beauties and other amus.e.m.e.nts used up his time; perhaps through calculation, perhaps for both reasons.

On the other hand, he frequently sent very tender epistles to his aunt, and never failed to express his regards for Julia.

These little lines of remembrance exasperated the girl beyond measure, and she used to hasten to her room as soon as she saw her mother with a letter in her hands, so as to escape the infliction.

The month of July came; _la brigadiera_ wrote to Seville announcing her departure for Santander,[32] in whose "Astillero" she rented a cottage for the two hottest months of the summer.

Saavedra replied, saying that he was going to Biarritz, and from there to Paris; he hoped that they would have a very pleasant time, and that Julia would enjoy it much.

Now it came to pa.s.s that one August afternoon as she was riding in the Alameda with a family which, like themselves, lived at the Astillero (her mother had not gone into town because she had an attack of neuralgic headache), Julia suddenly caught sight of her cousin in company with some young men. She grew terribly pale, and instantly blushed redder than a cherry. It was impossible for her nervous and ardent nature to control even the slightest impressions, still less those that touched her heart to the quick. She turned her head to avoid bowing to him, although she saw that he started to come toward her; at the next turn she did the same, and so for three or four times, putting on such a grave and frowning face that any one would willingly have foregone the pleasure of meeting her.

Even while she was acting in this way, her conscience told her that her conduct was very rude and strange, and after her emotion had grown a little calmer, she could not help saying to herself, "What a piece of folly I have just committed!"

And the next time, she faced Saavedra at a distance and bowed to him very courteously, though with marked affectation; then she grew serious again.

Either at her desire, because she was not enjoying her ride, or at the suggestion of her friends, they went home early.

Don Alfonso, who was on the lookout, noticed that they were going, and after a while he took leave of his friends and went to the wharf, where he hired a boat to take him across to the Astillero.

He reached there just at night-fall; after dismissing the oarsmen, he slowly climbed the shady hill, not caring to make inquiries of any one as to the situation of his aunt's cottage, and hoping that his good fortune would come to his aid.

It did not take him long to make the entire circuit of that charming resort, examining the recently built summer cottages, through whose windows lights were already beginning to s.h.i.+ne, and stopping in front of the garden gates to see if he might not get sight of some one of his aunt's maids, or even herself, or his cousin in person.

At last, in a small inclosure, where two magnificent magnolias grew, casting their shade over everything, he chanced to see, under an arbor covered with a honey-suckle vine, his cousin sitting on a rustic bench, with her elbows on a marble table and her face resting in her hands, in a thoughtful att.i.tude; she wore the same dress that she had worn while driving, and she had not even taken off her hat.

A strange light gleamed in the man's eyes. He went close to the grated gate, and made a sound just loud enough to be heard by the girl alone; she swiftly raised her head, and a sudden flame pa.s.sed over her face when she saw who it was that called her; then she went to the gate and opened it, greeting her cousin with a gracious smile to repay him, doubtless, for the cool treatment of the promenade.

Don Alfonso eagerly took both hands and pressed them warmly.

"Will you allow me?"

And without awaiting her answer, he raised them to his lips and kissed them no less eagerly. The girl quickly withdrew them, but the smile that lighted her face did not fade.

"I cannot escape my fate; I come to the Astillero, and the first person whom I meet is the one who most interests me."

"Yes, yes! the idea of saying that to me!" said Julia, just as gayly as before. "I am going to tell mamma. The last thing that she expects is to see you here."

"Haven't you told her?"

"She was lying down when I came, and I did not want to disturb her,"

replied the girl, blus.h.i.+ng at the lie that she was telling.

"Well then, let us not go indoors quite yet; I have something to talk with you about first."

And he went and sat down in the summer house and took off his hat. Julia hesitated a moment; but finally sat down beside him.

"Don't you know what I want to tell you?" he began, giving her a keen and loving look.

"I am not a gypsy, my dear."

"It happened to be a gypsy who told me while I was in Seville that a sly, witty little brunette was going to kill me with disdain."

"And you believed her, simpleton?"

"Why not?"

"Because the only thing that you would die of would be rascality."

"A thousand thanks, cousin."

"I do not deserve them. Go on."

"Well, then, as to what I was going to tell you.... Do you know I have so much on my mind that I don't know where to begin! I suffer from the same thing that troubles orators."

"Then rest a few minutes.... Would you like a gla.s.s of water?"

"There is no need; like the ten commandments, it all reduces itself to two truths,--loving you above all things, and blowing my brains out if you don't love me."