Maximina Part 42

Miguel burst into a laugh, and laying his hand familiarly on the man's shoulder, he said:--

"That gave you a good scare, didn't it? Now I am somewhat repaid for the one that you just gave me."

"But what the deuce does this mean?..."

"Calm yourself; my houses are not mortgaged. You will have the pleasure of ruining me on the day least expected," replied the young man, with bitter irony.

The symptom of a smile seemed to be coming into Eguiburu's face, but it suddenly vanished again:--

"Are you in earnest?"

"Yes, man, yes; don't have any apprehension."

Then the smile that had vanished once more appeared, insinuating and benevolent, on the money lender's lips.

"What a joker you are, Senor de Rivera! No one can ever tell whether you are in earnest or joking."

"Then you are certainly very wrong to be so calm at this moment."

Eguiburu grew serious again:--

"No! I cannot believe that you would jest on matters so ... so...."

"So sacred, you mean?"

"That is it--so sacred."

"However, you will confess that you haven't the papers with you."

"Certainly not; you are a talented man ... and a perfect gentleman besides...."

"Come now; don't flatter me; there is no need of it."

They went to the door, talking as they went. Eguiburu felt an anxiety that he tried in vain to hide; he gave his hand three or four times to Rivera; his face and att.i.tude changed more than a score of times, and when Miguel told him to put on his hat, he placed it, all twisted and rumpled, on the back of his head. He tried to change the conversation to prove that he was perfectly convinced of the good word of his surety. He asked him with much interest about his wife and the baby, taking great pains to inquire about the details of the occurrence. Nevertheless, when he was already on the stairway, and Miguel was just about to close the door, he asked in an indifferent and jovial tone, and yet betraying keen anxiety:--

"Then that was merely a joke, was it, Rivera?"

"Have no anxiety about it, man!" replied Miguel, laughing.

But as soon as he was left alone, the laugh died on his lips; he stood for a moment with his fingers on the latch; then he went with slow step back to his study, sat down at the table, and leaned his head on his hand, with his eyes covered. Thus he sat a long time in thought. When he got up, they were swollen and red as though he had slept too long. He went to his wife's room; as he pa.s.sed through the corridor he felt a little chill.

She was still awake. Beside the bed a cot had been placed for Placida.

"Who was your visitor?" she asked.

"It was no consequence; a man came to speak with me about the paper."

There must have been something peculiar in Miguel's voice in making this simple reply, for his wife looked at him anxiously for some time. To free himself from this scrutiny, he went on to say:--

"How rested I am; I had a nap."

He kissed her forehead, then lifted the spread, contemplated for a moment his sleeping son, and touched his lips to the little head; then he kissed his wife again, and left the room. When he went to bed he s.h.i.+vered, and nevertheless felt that his cheeks were on fire.

For a long time he lay in bed, with his eyes wide open and the lamp lighted. A throng of melancholy thoughts pa.s.sed through his mind; a thousand forebodings and fears attacked him. Like all men of keen imagination, he leaped to the worst conclusions; he saw himself ruined, obliged with his wife to leave the social circles in which they had been accustomed to move: he also remembered his son.

"My poor boy!" he exclaimed.

And he was on the point of sobbing; but he made a manly effort to control himself, saying:--

"No! weep for lost money? Such things are done only by fools and misers.

A man who has a wife like mine, and a son such as she has just given me, has no right to ask anything more of G.o.d. I am young; I have good health; if worse comes to worst, I can work for them."

As he murmured these words, he gave a violent puff to the light, and had sufficient self-control to calm himself, and was soon asleep.

XVII.

On the following morning, as soon as he was dressed, and after spending by his wife's side a much shorter time than circ.u.mstances required, he left the house and hastened to Mendoza's.

Mendoza at this time was lodging at one of the best and most central hotels of Madrid. When Miguel reached there, he was still asleep.

Nevertheless, he went to his room, and took it upon himself to open the shutters like a friend whose familiarity was limitless.

"_Hola!_ I see that you sleep just the same as when you were not a great man."

Mendoza rubbed his eyes, and looked at him in amazement.

"What does this mean, Miguelito? Why so early in the morning?"

"My dear Perico, the first thing that you must do is to get rid of this condescending tone. When there are people present, I am perfectly willing for you to condescend, and I will call you 'most ill.u.s.trious lords.h.i.+p' if you like; but when we are alone, just remember that I am not your va.s.sal."

"You are always just the same, Miguel," replied Mendoza, a little exasperated.

"That is the advantage that you have over me: I am always the same; you are always changing and playing a new and brilliant role in society. I am satisfied, however, with mine--so satisfied that the fear of having to be different is what brings me here so early in the morning to disturb your dreams of glory."

"What do you mean?"

"That having up to the present time been considered a person 'well fixed,' or, to use the expressions affected by us literary fellows, being an Hidalgo of 'ancient stock,' and having 'five hundred _sueldos_ guerdon,' I--but you don't know what this means?"

"No!" replied Mendoza, with an impatient gesture.

"Well, it is very simple. If you should give me a slap (which I am sure you will not), I should get 'five hundred _sueldos_ guerdon,' or fine.

On the other hand, if I should give you one (which is perfectly possible), there would be no need of your spending a sou.... Well then, having up to the present time played this role in society, I should feel it to the bottom of my soul to be obliged to try that of the poverty-stricken or the vagabond, which I have never studied."

"I don't understand you."