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Deceived again! It was the Countess de Losilla, who came to offer her services "for everything." The young ladies did not come down for reasons easy to imagine.
"But, Rivera, how pale you are!"
"Senora, there is no small reason for it," he replied peevishly.
"But why, my son?" she demanded. "If there is no complication, as we have reason to hope, there is nothing more natural and harmless."
Miguel, in his turn, had to use strong efforts to repress his indignation. "Natural for me to have a son! How stupid the aristocracy are!" he said to himself.
Maximina received this visit gratefully, but with some feeling of embarra.s.sment. The countess began to take the direction of affairs, like a consummate strategist, calmly and unhesitatingly giving every order.
From this moment Miguel remained entirely eclipsed; the maids paid absolutely no heed to him, and he found himself obliged to wander like a lost soul up and down the corridors. Once when he attacked Juana to bid her take the _tila_ in a gla.s.s, and not in a cup, she told him to leave her in peace, that he knew nothing about such things. And he had to put up with it!
At last the midwife came. Miguel followed her, more dead than alive, to the room, but the countess shut the door in his face. Then after a little she opened it again, and by the smile on the face of all he saw that all was going well.
"Senorito, it is all right," said the _comadre_.
"What! is there no need of calling the doctor?"
"Not in the least, thank G.o.d! I will answer for it."
He became calm, as though a divinity had spoken from the clouds. But in the course of ten minutes he suddenly lost faith; that woman might be deceiving him or deceiving herself; who could have any confidence in such people? He cautiously approached the chamber, and said, putting his head in at the door:--
"It seems to me that I had better call in the doctor.... For safety's sake--nothing more," he added, timidly.
"As you please, senorito," replied the _comadre_, dryly, and with a scornful gesture.
"Rivera, for Heaven's sake! Haven't you heard her say that she would be responsible?" said the countess.
"Well, well, if she will be responsible," he replied, somewhat abashed.
And then he asked with affected coolness:--
"How soon?"
The women all laughed aloud. The midwife replied in a condescending tone:--
"Senorito, don't worry. It will be when G.o.d wishes, and all will be well!"
He began to wander again like a shade through the corridors, not a little disgusted and anxious. The result was that every one found him ridiculous on this occasion and even laughed in his very face, and yet he could not persuade himself that it was right for him to intrust his happiness and his very life in the hands of an ignorant woman. He would have been more than glad to call a counsel of all the eminent physicians of the court. "If there is the least complication, I will choke her to death!" he said to himself, in a perfect fury. And with this consolatory threat he felt relieved.
After a little while his step-mother arrived, and she also immediately began to give orders. She was followed by the senora of the third floor, the wife of an employe of the Tribunal de la Rota.[38] Behind her came a maid bringing an enormous picture of San Ramon Nonnato, and this she placed in Maximina's room, with two lighted candles at the side of it.
This lady likewise began to give directions as soon as she arrived. It really seemed as if everybody had the right to issue orders except the master of the house, toward whom all those ladies, and even the maid-servants, took delight in showing a profound and no less unjustified contempt.
"Why, however you look at it," he said to himself, with eminent truth, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking gloomy and annoyed, "I am the husband, and, besides, I am, or, at least, shall be, the ... the ... which is the same thing."
The poor fellow did not open his month unless to make some blunder, worthy at least of a disdainful smile.
Once, catching sight of his wife standing up and leaning on Juana and the _comadre_, it occurred to him to suggest that she would be better off in bed. The representatives of the female s.e.x, like one body, fulminated such a terrible look at him that we cannot possibly explain why it did not reduce him to ashes. _La brigadiera_, striving to contain herself and soften her voice, said to him:--
"Miguel, you are disturbing us. I beg of you to leave us, and we will send for you in good time."
He obeyed in spite of himself: as he left the room he saw such a sad and loving look in his wife's eyes, that he was on the point of opening the door again and saying:--
"Ladies, see here! I am the master, this is my wife, and you depart whence you came!"
But he came to the conclusion that the dispute might annoy Maximina, and he swallowed his chagrin.
Now, absolutely condemned to ostracism in the corridors, he walked up and down in them for a long time, listening to all the noises in the bedroom. He was anxious to hear his wife's voice, even though it were in tones of anguish; but there was nothing: he could hear all the others, but not hers.
"How is it going?" he asked of the countess, who was starting for the kitchen.
"Very well, very well. Don't you be troubled."
An hour pa.s.sed, and, worn out by his incessant walking up and down, he went to the parlor and threw himself upon a sofa. He sat there for some time, with his eyes wide open, trying to conquer the drowsiness that was taking possession of him in spite of himself. But at last he yielded: he stretched out his feet, settled his head comfortably, yawned tremendously, and soon was sleeping like a log.
It was broad daylight when three or four women precipitately invaded the parlor, shouting at the top of their voices:--
"Don Miguel!... Rivera!... Senorito!"
"What is the matter?" he cried, looking up in alarm.
"Nothing, except that you have a son! Come, come!"
And they pulled him with them to the chamber, where he saw his wife, still seated in an easy-chair, her face pale, but beaming with celestial happiness. At the same instant he saw Juana in one corner with a _something_ in her hands that was squalling horribly! He could not bear to look at _it_ for an instant, but turned his face to his wife and kissed her tenderly.
When Miguel left the room, his heart was in his mouth.
When he found himself alone he began to weep like a child.
"Poor little wife!" he murmured. "She suffered without a complaint, and there I was sleeping like a brute! I shall never forgive myself for such selfishness as long as I live!... Still, it was the fault of those women," he added, with a sudden wrath; "those meddlesome persons who drove me out of the room."
His remorse quickly subsided, and gave way to a thousand pleasant emotions of paternity. He wanted to go in a second time; but the women!
always those women!--they blocked his way, saying that the infant was not yet washed and swaddled, or his wife put to bed.
When all this was accomplished, he went into her room; his wife was lovelier than ever as she lay in bed, with a lace cap adorned with blue ribbons on her head, and wearing a clean white night-dress. He sat down at the head of the bed, and the two looked at each other in amazement; under the pretext of feeling of her pulse, he pressed her hand long and tenderly. _La brigadiera_ then presented him a bundle of clothes, saying:--
"Here you have your son."
Miguel took the bundle and lifted it close to his eyes, and saw a little round red face without a nose, its eyes shut, and its forehead depressed, and from its comparatively enormous mouth issued sounds that were farthest from melodious.
"How ugly it is!" he said aloud.
A cry of indignation escaped from every one of the women, even his wife.
"What an atrocious thing to say, Rivera!"--"How can you imagine such a thing!"--"What makes you think that it is ugly, senorito?"--"It is certainly one of the loveliest babies that I ever saw, Rivera."--"Do you expect it at this time of its life to have perfect features?"
"Give it here, give it here!" said _la brigadiera_, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from his hands.