The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 115

For Satan's regions down below."

CHAPTER XI.

After a night of sleepless anguish, Anna rose, apparently more tranquil; drawing some slight hope from the determination she had taken to speak with Rita; show her the precipice toward which she was running blindly, and persuade her to recede.

Anna had a dignity that would have impressed any one in whom the n.o.ble quality of respect had not been suffocated by pride--the worst enemy of man because the most daring; no other like it elevates itself in the presence of virtue; no other is so obstinate and so lordly; no other so hides perversity under forms of goodness; no other so falsifies ideas and qualifies and condemns as servile that sentiment of respect which entered into the world with the first benediction of G.o.d. Pride sometimes wishes to elevate itself into dignity, but without success, for dignity never seeks to set itself up at the cost of another, but leaves and maintains everything in its own place; its att.i.tude being even more n.o.ble when it honors than when it is honored.

Dignity owes its place neither to riches nor knowledge, and least of all is it indebted to pride. It is the simple reflection of an elevated soul which feels its strength. It is natural, like the flush of health; not put on like the color of those who paint. But there are beings who place themselves above everything else, and rest with portentous composure upon a fake and insecure base, parading an intrepidity and an arrogance which they do not a.s.sume who rest on the firm rock of infallible justice and eternal truth. Rita, treading a crooked path with fearless step and serene countenance, was one of these beings.

The good sense of the villager, who felt profoundly what we have expressed, and understood perfectly the character of both women, defined it better in their concise laconism when, in speaking of Anna, they said, "Aunt Anna teaches without talking;" and of Rita, "She fears neither G.o.d nor the devil."

Rita was sewing when Anna entered. The latter deliberately drew the bolt of the door and sat down facing her daughter-in-law.

"You already know, Rita," she said calmly, "That I was never pleased with your marriage."

"And have you come to receive my thanks?"

Without noticing the question Anna continued:

"I had penetrated your character."

"It was not necessary to be a seer to do that," replied Rita, "I am perfectly open and frank. I say what I think."

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"The evil is not in saying what you think, but in thinking what you say."

"It is plain that it would be better for me to play the dead fox, or still water, like some who appear flakes of snow, but are in reality grains of salt."

This was a fling at Elvira which Anna fully understood, but of which she took no notice, and proceeded.

"Notwithstanding, I was deceived. I had not entirely fathomed you."

"Go on," said Rita, "there is a squall to-day."

"I never thought that what has come to pa.s.s would happen."

"Now it escapes and rains pitchforks," said Rita.

"Since," proceeded Anna, "you do not fear to deceive my son--"

"Ho, is that the matter?" said Rita coolly.

"And kill my poor daughter--"

"That will do," interrupted Rita, "there is where the shoe pinches; because Ventura does not want to marry a spectre, that to go out has to ask permission of the gravedigger, I must answer for it. And for no other reason than because he is gay and likes better to jest with one who is cheerful like me than to drink herb-tea with her, can I help it?"

Anna allowed Rita to conclude, her countenance showing no alteration except a mortal paleness.

"Rita," she said, when the latter had finished, "a woman cannot be false to her marriage vows with impunity."

"What are you saying!" exclaimed Rita, springing to her feet and throwing away her work, her cheeks and eyes on fire. "What have you said, madam? I fake to my marriage vows? To that which your eyes did not see you have brought in your hand! I false! I! You have always borne me ill-will, like a mother-in-law in fact, and a bad mother-in-law, but I never knew before that the saint-eaters bore _such_ testimony."

"I do not say that you are so," replied Anna, in the same grave and moderate tone which she had observed from the beginning, "but that you are in the way, that you are going to be false if G.o.d does not prevent it by opening your eyes."

"Now, as formerly, and always a prophetess, Jonah in person, and" (she added between her teeth) "may the whale swallow you also."

"Yes, Rita, yes," said Anna, "and I have come--"

"To threaten me?" asked Rita, with an air of bold defiance.

"No, Rita, no, my daughter; I have come to beg of you in the name of G.o.d, for the love of my son, for the sake of your children, and for your own sake, to consider what you are doing, to examine your heart while there is yet time."

"Did Perico send you?"

"No, my dear son suspects nothing, G.o.d forbid that we should awaken a sleeping lion."

"Well, then, why do you put yourself into so wide a garment? Go along!

The one who is being hanged does not feel it but the witness feels it!

Perico, madam, is not and never has been jealous; neither does he suspect the fingers of his guests, or go in quest of trouble. He is no dirty hypocrite, crying to heaven because people joke, and he does not bully because somebody draws a few buckets of water for his wife when she is was.h.i.+ng. Do you think that I shall lose my soul for that?"

"Rita, Rita, do not trifle with men."

"Nor you with women. Good heavens! it would seem that I am scandalizing the town."

"Consider, Rita," continued Anna with increased severity, "that with men an affront is often the cause of bloodshed."

"You would bathe in rose-water," responded Rita "if matters seemed to be running a little toward the fulfilment of those predictions of yours about _kindred blood not harmonizing_, and others of the same kind, by which you wished to prevent your son from marrying; and you were disappointed; {672} and you will be now if you attempt, as I see you are attempting, to make trouble between us. I know what I am doing; Perico is a lover of quiet, and knows the wife he has. Leave us in peace, and we will live so, if you do not heat your son's skull by your meddling; you take care of the wedding finery of your daughter, the flower of the family."

At this string of taunts and insults, the prudent long-suffering of that respectable matron, wavered for an instant; but the angel of patience that G.o.d sends to women from the moment they become mothers, to help them bear their crosses, vanquished, and Anna went out, looking at Rita with a sad smile, in which there was as much or more compa.s.sion than contempt.

The worthy woman remained in a state of depression and anguish, on account of the failure of the step she had taken, and determined to open her heart to Pedro, in order to have him send his son away.

Finally there was a guard wanting at the estate on which Ventura had served, and he was called to fill the place. This absence, though interrupted by frequent visits to the village, gave some respite to the afflicted Anna, who said to herself, "a day of life is life."

CHAPTER XII.

In the mean time the happy Christmas holidays arrived. They had arranged for the children a beautiful birth-place, which occupied the whole front of the parlor, covering it with aromatic pistachio, rosemary, lavender, and other odorous plants and leaves. Perico brought these things from the field with all the pleasure of a lover bringing flowers to his bride.

On Christmas day, Perico heard ma.s.s early, and went to take a walk to his wheat-field, having been told that there were goats in the neighborhood.

He returned home about ten o'clock, and found the children alone.

"How glad we are, father, that you have come," they shouted, running joyfully toward him. "They have all gone and left us."

"Where then are Mamma Anna, and Aunt Elvira?"

"They went to high ma.s.s."