Pepita Ximenez Part 16

As for the opinion entertained by two or three ingenious friends of mine that the reverend dean, if he were the author, would have used a different style in his narration, saying "my nephew" in speaking of Don Luis, and interposing, from time to time, moral reflections of his own, I do not think it an argument of any great weight. The reverend dean proposed to himself to tell what had taken place, without seeking to prove any thesis, and he acted with judgment in narrating things as they were, without a.n.a.lyzing motives or moralizing. He did not do ill, either, in my opinion, in concealing his personality, and in avoiding the use of the word _I_, which is a proof, not only of his humility and modesty, but of his literary taste also, for the epic poets and historians who should serve us as models, do not say _I_, even when speaking of themselves, and are themselves the heroes of the events they relate. The Athenian Xenophon, to cite an instance, does not say _I_ in his "Anabasis" but speaks of himself in the third person, when necessary, as if the historian of those exploits were one person, and the hero of them another. And there are whole chapters in which no mention at all is made of Xenophon. Only a little before the famous battle in which the youthful Cyrus met his death, while this prince was reviewing the Greeks and barbarians who formed his army, and when that of his brother Artaxerxes was already near, having been descried on the broad, treeless plain afar off, first as a little white cloud, then as a black spot, and, finally, clearly and distinctly--the neighing of the horses, the creaking of the war-chariots armed with formidable scythes, the cries of the elephants and the sound of warlike instruments reaching the ears of the spectators, and the glitter of the bra.s.s and gold of the weapons, irradiated by the sun, striking their eyes--only at that moment, I repeat, and not before, does Xenophon appear in his own person; then he emerges from the ranks to speak with Cyrus, and explains to him the cry that ran from Greek to Greek; it was no other than what in our day we call the watchword; and on that occasion it was "_Jupiter the Savior, and victory!_"

The reverend dean, who was a man of taste, and very well versed in the cla.s.sics, would not be likely to fall into the error of introducing himself into the narrative, and mixing himself up with it, under pretext of being the uncle or tutor of the hero; and of vexing the reader by coming out at every step a little difficult or slippery, with a "Stop there!" or "What are you about to do?" or, "Take care you do not fall, unhappy boy!" or other warnings of a like sort. Not to open his lips, on the other hand, or manifest disapprobation in any way whatever, he being present at least in spirit, would, in the case of some of the incidents related, have been but little becoming. In view of these facts, the reverend dean, with the discretion which was characteristic of him, may possibly have composed the _paralipomena_, without disclosing his ident.i.ty to the reader. This much is certain, however--he added notes and comments of an edifying and profitable character, where such or such a pa.s.sage seemed to require them. But these I have suppressed, for the reason that notes and comments are now out of fas.h.i.+on, and because this little book would be beyond measure voluminous if it were printed with these additions.

I shall insert here, however, in the body of the text, the comment of the reverend dean on the rapid transformation of Don Luis from spiritual-mindedness to the reverse, as it is curious and throws much light on the whole matter.

"This change of purpose of my nephew," he says, "does not disappoint me.

I foresaw it from the time he wrote me his first letters. I was deceived in regard to Luisito in the beginning. I believed him to have a true religious vocation; but I soon recognized the fact that his was a vain poetic spirit. Mysticism was the form his poetic imaginings took, only until a more adequate form presented itself.

"Praised be G.o.d, who has willed that Luisito should be undeceived in time! A bad priest he would have made, if Pepita Ximenez had not so opportunely presented herself. His very impatience to attain to perfection at a single bound would have caused me to suspect something if I had not been blinded by the affection of an uncle. What! are the favors of Heaven thus obtained all at once? Is it only necessary to present one's self in order to triumph? A friend of mine, a naval officer, used to relate that, when he was in certain cities of America, being then very young, he sought to gain favor with the ladies with too much precipitation, and that they would say to him in their languid American accent: 'You have but just presented yourself, and you already want to be loved. Do something to deserve it, if you are able.' If these ladies answered thus, what answer will not Heaven give to those who hope to gain it without merit, and in the twinkling of an eye? Many efforts must be made, much purification is needed, much penance must be done, in order to begin to stand well in the sight of G.o.d, and to enjoy his favors. Even in those vain and false philosophies that have in them anything of mysticism, no supernatural gift or grace is received without a powerful effort and a costly sacrifice. Iamblichus was not given power to evoke the genii, and cause them to emerge from the fountain of Gadara, without first spending days and nights in study, and mortifying the body with privations and abstinences. Apollonius of Tyana is thought to have mortified himself finely before performing his false miracles.

And in our own day the Krausists, who behold G.o.d, as they affirm, with corporeal vision, are forced to read and learn beforehand the whole "a.n.a.lytics" of Sanz del Rio, which is a much harder task and a greater proof of patience and endurance than to flagellate the body until it looks like a ripe fig. My nephew desired, without effort or merit, to be a perfect man, and--see how it has ended! The important thing now is that he shall make a good husband, and that, since he is unsuited for great things, he may be fit for smaller ones--for domestic life, and to make Pepita happy, whose only fault, after all, is to have fallen madly in love with him, with all the ingenuousness and violence of an untamed creature."

Thus far the comments of the reverend dean, written with easy familiarity, as if for himself alone; for the good man was far from suspecting that I would play him the trick of giving them to the public.

Don Luis, in the middle of the street, at two o'clock in the morning, was occupied with the thought, as we have said, that his life, that until now he had dreamed might be worthy of the "Golden Legend," was about to be converted into a sweet and perpetual idyl. He had not been able to resist the lures of earthly pa.s.sion. He had failed to imitate the example set by so many saints, among others by St. Vincent Ferrer with regard, to a certain dissolute lady of Valencia; though, indeed, the cases were dissimilar. For if to flee from the diabolical courtesan in question was an act of heroic virtue in St. Vincent, to flee from the self-abandonment, the ingenuousness, and the humility of Pepita would, in him, have been something as monstrous and cruel as if, when Ruth lay down at the feet of Boaz, saying to him, "I am thy handmaid; spread therefore thy skirt over thine handmaid," Boaz had given her a blow and sent her about her business! Don Luis, then, when Pepita surrendered herself to him, was obliged to follow the example of Boaz, and exclaim: "Daughter, blessed be thou of the Lord; thou hast shewed more kindness in the latter end than at the beginning." Thus did Don Luis justify himself in not following the example of St. Vincent, and other saints no less churlish. As for the ill success of the design he had entertained of imitating St. Edward, he tried also to justify and excuse it. St.

Edward married for reasons of state, and without entertaining any affection for Queen Edith; but in his case and in that of Pepita Ximenez there were no reasons of state, but only a tender love on both sides.

Don Luis, however, did not deny to himself--and this imparted to his present happiness a slight tinge of melancholy--that he had proved false to his ideal; that he had been vanquished in the conflict. Those who have no ideal, who have never had an ideal, would not distress themselves on this account. Don Luis did distress himself; but he presently came to the conclusion that he would subst.i.tute a more humble and easily attained ideal for his former exalted one. And although the recollection of Don Quixote's resolution to turn shepherd, on being vanquished by the Knight of the White Moon, here crossed his mind with ludicrous appositeness, he was in no way daunted by it. He thought, in union with Pepita Ximenez, to renew, in our prosaic and unbelieving time, the golden age, and to repeat the pious example of Philemon and Baucis, creating: a model of patriarchal life in these pleasant fields, founding in the place where he was born a home presided over by religion, that should be at once the asylum of the needy, the center of culture and friendly conviviality, and the clear mirror in which the domestic virtues should be reflected; joining in one, finally, conjugal love and the love of G.o.d, in order that G.o.d might sanctify and be present in their dwelling, making it the temple in which both should be his ministers, until, by the will of Heaven, they should be called to a better life.

Two obstacles must first be removed, however, before all this could be realized, and Don Luis began to consider with himself how he might best remove them.

The one was the displeasure, perhaps the anger, of his father, whom he had defrauded of his dearest hopes. The other was of a very different and, in a certain sense, of a much more serious character. Don Luis, while he entertained the purpose of becoming a priest, was right in defending Pepita from the gross insults of the Count of Genazahar by the weapons of argument only, and in taking no vengeance for the scorn and contempt with which those arguments were listened to. But, having now determined to lay aside the ca.s.sock, and obliged, as he was, to declare immediately that he was betrothed to Pepita and was going to marry her, Don Luis, notwithstanding his peaceable disposition, his dreams of human brotherhood, and his religious belief, all of which remained intact in his soul, and all of which were alike opposed to violent measures, could not succeed in reconciling it with his dignity to refrain from breaking the head of the insolent count. He knew well that dueling is a barbarous practice; that Pepita had no need of the blood of the count to wash from her name the stain of calumny; and even that the count himself had uttered the insults he had uttered, not because he believed them, nor perhaps through an excess of hatred, but through stupidity and want of breeding. Notwithstanding all these reflections, however, Don Luis was conscious that he would never again be able to respect himself, and, as a consequence, would never be able to perform to his taste the _role_ of Philemon, if he did not begin with that of Furabras, by giving the count his deserts; asking G.o.d, meantime, never again to place him in a similar position.

This matter, then, being decided upon, he resolved to bring it to an end as soon as possible. And as it appeared to him that it would be inexpedient, as well as in bad taste, to arrange the affair through seconds, and thus make the honor of Pepita a subject of common talk, he determined to provoke a quarrel with the count under some other pretext.

Thinking that the count, being a stranger in the village and a confirmed gambler, might possibly be still engaged at play in the club-house, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Don Luis went straight there.

The club-house was still open, but, both in the court-yard and the parlors, the lights were nearly all extinguished. In one apartment only was there still a light. Thither Don Luis directed his steps, and, on reaching it, he saw through the open door the Count of Genazahar engaged in playing _monte_, in which he acted as banker. Only five other persons were playing; two were strangers like the count; the others were the captain of cavalry in charge of the remount, Currito, and the doctor.

Things could not have been better arranged to suit the purpose of Don Luis. So engrossed were the players in their game that they did not observe him, who, as soon as he saw the count, left the club-house and went rapidly homeward.

On reaching his house the door was opened for him by a servant. Don Luis inquired for his father, and, finding that he was asleep, procured a light and went up to his own room, taking care to make no noise lest he should disturb him. There he took some three thousand reals in gold that he had laid by, and put them in his pocket. He then called the servant to open the door for him again, and returned to the club-house.

Arrived there, Don Luis entered the parlor in which the players were, walking noisily, and giving himself the airs of a fop. The players were struck with amazement at seeing him.

"You here, at this hour!" said Currito.

"Where do you come from, little priest?" said the doctor.

"Have you come to preach me another sermon?" cried the count.

"I have done with sermons," returned Don Luis, calmly. "The bad success of the last one I preached has clearly convinced me that G.o.d does not call me to that path in life, and I have chosen another. You, count, have wrought my conversion. I have thrown aside the ca.s.sock. I wish to amuse myself; I am in the flower of my youth, and I want to enjoy it."

"Come, I am glad of that," returned the count; "but take care, my lad, for, if the flower be a delicate one, it may wither and drop its leaves before their time."

"I shall take care of that," returned Don Luis. "I see you are playing; I feel inspired. You are dealing. Do you know, count, that it would be amusing if I should break your bank?"

"You think it would be amusing, eh? You have been dining liberally!"

"I have dined as I choose to dine."

"The youngster is learning to answer back."

"I learn what it is my pleasure to learn."

"d.a.m.nation!" cried the count, and the storm was about to burst, when the captain, interposing, succeeded in re-establis.h.i.+ng the peace.

"Come," said the count, when he had recovered his temper, "out with your cash, and try your luck."

Don Luis seated himself at the table, and took out all his gold. At sight of it the count regained his serenity completely, for it must have exceeded in amount the sum he had in the bank, and he already pleased himself in antic.i.p.ation with the thought of winning it.

"There is no need to cudgel one's brains much in this game," said Don Luis to the count; "I think I understand it already. I put money on a card, and if the card turns up, I win; and if the card opposed to it turns up, you win."

"Just so, my young friend; you have a strong understanding."

"And the best of it is that I have not only a strong understanding, but a strong will as well. But, though I may have the stubbornness of the donkey, I am not the complete donkey that many a one I know of is."

"What a witty mood you are in to-night, and how anxious you are to display your wit!"

Don Luis was silent. He played a few times, and was so lucky as to win each time.

The count began to be annoyed.

"What if the youngster should pluck me?" he said to himself. "Fortune favors the innocent."

While the count was troubling himself with this reflection, Don Luis, feeling fatigued, and weary now of the part he was playing, determined to end the matter at once.

"The object of all this," he said, "is to see if I can win all your gold, or if you can win mine. Is it not so, count?"

"Just so."

"Well, then, why should we remain here all night? It is getting late, and, according to your advice, I ought to retire early, so that the flower of my youth may not wither before its time."

"How is this? Do you want to go away already? Do you want to back out?"

"I have not the slightest desire to back out. Quite the contrary.--Currito, tell me, in this heap of gold here, is there not already more than there is in the bank?"

Currito looked at the gold and answered:

"Without a doubt."

"How shall I explain," asked Don Luis, "that I wish to stake on one card all that I have here, against what there is in the bank?"

"You do that," responded Currito, "by saying, 'I play _banco!_'"

"Well, then, I play _banco_," said Don Luis, addressing himself to the count; "I play _banco_ on this king of spades, whose companion will to a certainty turn up before his opponent the three does."