"But, Father, you must take care of yourself, you really must take care of yourself. You do too much. For the sake of religion you ought to spare yourself a little."

The whole party joined in advising him with affectionate interest. A maiden of seven-and-thirty, a sportive, gushing thing, whose confessor he was, even said, half seriously and half in jest:

"Why, Father, if you were to die, what would become of me?"

A sally which made the guests laugh, but somewhat disconcerted the very proper director of souls. The Marquesa wished to hinder him this afternoon from delivering the address with which he usually favoured them; but he insisted.

Meanwhile the room had been filling. Mariana Calderon had come in with Esperancita, the Cotorrasos, Pepa Frias, and Irene. She, poor child, looked pale and ailing; in fact, she had come straight from her room, to which she had been confined for some days with a nervous attack. When the party was large enough, the Marquesa invited them to retire to the Oratory. The ladies took front places near the altar, chairs and stools having been comfortably arranged for them, the gentlemen stood in the background and were provided only with a velvet-pile carpet to kneel on.

The meeting began by each one going through the prayers of the Rosary after Padre Ortega. The ladies did this with edifying precision and devotion, their ivory fingers, on which diamonds and emeralds twinkled like stars, piously crossed or clasped, their pretty heads bent low--they were quite bewitching. The Creator must surely hearken to their prayers, if it were only out of gallantry. Not the least humble, the least engaging and edifying figure of them all was Pepa Frias. A black mantilla was most becoming to her russet hair and pink and white complexion. The same may be said of Clementina, who was taller, with more delicate features, and in no respect inferior in brilliancy and beauty of colouring. The languid and artistic att.i.tudes affected by the fair devotees were no doubt intended to appeal to the Divine Will; but, as a secondary end, they were no less certainly meant to edify the escort of men who looked down on them. And, if by any chance there could have been a Freethinker among them, what confusion and shame must have possessed his soul on seeing that all that was most elegant and distinguished of the _High-life_ of Madrid was enlisted in the service of the Lord.

Prayer being over, two of the ladies, accompanied by a baritone "Savage," went up into the gallery, and while another gentleman played the organ, they sang some of the finest airs from Rossini's _Stabat Mater_. As they listened, the pious souls felt a vague craving for the Opera house, for La Tosti and Gayarre, and confessed regretfully, in the depths of their hearts, that the amateur performance promised them in Heaven would be a stupendous and eternal bore. After the music came Padre Ortega's homily or lecture. The priest was accommodated on a sort of throne of ebony and marble in the middle of the chapel, the ladies moved their chairs and cushions, so as to face him, and the gentlemen formed an outer circle, and after a few moments of private meditation to collect his ideas, he began in a gentle tone to speak a few slow and solemn words, on the subject of the Christian Family.

As we know, Father Ortega was a priest quite up to the mark of modern civilisation, who kept his eye on the advance of rationalistic science that he might pounce down on it and put it to rout. Positivism, evolution, sociology, pessimism, were all familiar words to him, and did not frighten him, as they did most of his colleagues. He was on intimate terms with them, and fond of using them to confute the pretensions of modern learning. What he esteemed to be his own strong ground, was the demonstration of the perfect compatibility of science with faith, the Harmony (with a capital H) between Religion and Philosophy. His discourse on the Family was profound and eloquent. To Father Ortega, that which const.i.tuted the Family was a reverence and love for tradition, reverence and love for the past. "The Family is Tradition--the tradition of its glory and of its name, of honour, virtue, and heroism; and all these may be summed up in two words: respect for elders--love and reverence, that is to say, for all that is highest and most conservative in the race."

Starting from this theorem, the preacher inveighed against revolution as against a gale from h.e.l.l, blowing down all that was old, and clearing the ground for all that was new; against the barbarous hostility of our time to the beliefs, the manners, the laws, the inst.i.tutions, and the glories of the past.

"The banners of revolution are inscribed with the motto: 'Despise the Elders,'" said he, "as though old creeds, old manners, old inst.i.tutions, old aristocracies--though like everything human, they fall far short of perfection--did not represent the labours of our forefathers, their intelligence, their triumphs, their soul, life, and heart. And this being the case, how could revolutionary science, which casts its stupid contumely on everything ancient and venerable, fail to besmirch even our great ancestors with its scorn? One element of dissolution in the Family was the attack on property, directed by the revolutionary faction. This aggression was not merely adverse to the const.i.tution of society, it was still more directly hostile to that of the Family. Property, inheritance, and the patrimony, what were they but the outcome of reverence for our forefathers on the one hand, of love for our children on the other? Property consolidates the present, the past, and the future of the Family; it is the spot where it has grown up and spread; the soil which, when the progenitors pa.s.s away, a.s.sures them of rest beneath the tree of posterity, which shall grow up from it and call them blessed!"

Then, for above an hour, the learned Father proved the existence, on the most solid foundations, of the Christian family. Its bases were religion, tradition, and property. He spoke with decision, in a simple, convincing style, and emphatic but correct language. His audience were deeply attentive and docile, quite persuaded that it was the Holy Ghost which spoke by the mouth of the reverend preacher, commanding them to cherish tradition and religion, but, above all, property. The sublime thought was so elevating that some of the gentlemen present felt themselves united for all eternity to the Supreme Being by the sacred tie of landed estate, and registered a vow to fight for it heroically, and resist the pa.s.sing of any law which, directly or indirectly, might affect its integrity.

When he ended he was rewarded by smiles of approbation and repressed murmurs of enthusiasm. Every one spoke in a whisper, out of respect to the sanct.i.ty of the spot. The bold damsel who just now had asked Father Ortega what she could do without him, flew to kiss his hand, with a succession of sounding smacks which made the rest of the company exchange meaning smiles of amus.e.m.e.nt, and the priest drew it away with evident annoyance. Once more, some ladies and gentlemen went up into the gallery and executed, in every sense of the word, some religious music by Gounod. Finally, all the saintly souls left the little chapel and returned to the drawing-room.

The Marquesa de Alcudia, a restless nature that knew no peace, at once proceeded to carry out her promise to her nephew. He saw her take Mariana aside; they quitted the room together. By-and-by they returned, and Castro could see that he had been the subject of their parley by the timid and affectionate glance bestowed on him by Esperancita's mother.

Then he saw his aunt retire with Padre Ortega into a corner where they had a private consultation, and again he suspected that he was their theme. The priest looked towards him two or three times with his vague, short-sighted eyes. He had taken care not to go near Esperanza, but they had exchanged smiles and looks from afar. The girl seemed surprised at his sudden reserve; for the last few days Pepe had been a.s.siduous. She was beginning to be uneasy, and at last crossed the room to speak to him.

"You were not at the Opera last night; are you keeping Lent?"

"Oh, no!" said he, with a laugh. "I had a little headache and went to bed early."

"I do not wonder. What could you expect? You were riding a horse in the afternoon that did nothing but shy. He is a handsome beast, but much too lively. At one moment I thought he would have you off."

Castro smiled with a superior air, and the girl hastened to add: "I know you are a fine horseman; but an accident may happen to any one."

"What would you have done if I had been thrown?" he asked, looking her straight in the face.

"How do I know!" exclaimed the girl with a shrug, but she blushed deeply.

"Would you have screamed?"

"What strange things you ask me," said Esperanza, getting hotter and hotter. "I might perhaps--or I might not."

Just then the Marquesa de Alcudia addressed her.

"Esperanza, I want to speak to you."

And as she pa.s.sed her nephew she said in a low voice:

"Prudence, Pepe! Asides are not in your part."

Any less superior soul would have felt some anxiety at seeing the two women leave the room together, some uneasiness as to the issue of this all-important interview; but our friend was so far above the common herd in this, as in other matters, that he could chatter with the company with as much tranquillity as though his aunt and Esperanza had gone to discuss the fashions. When they presently returned, Esperanza's little face was in a glow, her eyes beaming with an expression of submission and happiness, which, but for fear of committing a deadly sin in Lent, we might compare to that of the Virgin Mary on the occasion when she was visited by the Angel Gabriel.

The meeting still preserved a sanctimonious tone. These chastened souls could not forget that they were celebrating the Fasting in the Wilderness. The young ladies round the piano piously abstained from singing anything frivolous; their voices were modulated to the _Ave Marias_ of Schubert and Gounod, and other songs no less redolent of sacred emotion. They talked and laughed in subdued tones. If one of the young men spoke a little recklessly the ladies would call him to order, reminding him that on a Friday in Lent certain subjects were prohibited.

The Spirit of G.o.d must indeed have been present with the meeting if we may judge from the resignation, the intense serenity, with which they all seemed to endure existence in this vale of tears. A placid smile was on every lip; the afternoon waned amid sacred song, mellifluous exhortation, and subdued mirth. The newspapers reported next day, with perfect truth, that these pious Fridays were quite delightful, and that the Marquesa de Alcudia did the honours in the name of the Almighty with exquisite grace.

The party at length dispersed. All these souls, so blessed and refreshed by faith, trooped out of the Alcudia Palace and made their way home, where they sat down to dine on hot turtle soup, mayonnaise of salmon, and salads of Brussels sprouts, beginning with prawns to sharpen their appet.i.tes. But, indeed, the hours of silent prayer and communion with the Divinity had already done this. Nothing is more effectual in giving tone to the stomach than the sense of union with the Omnipotent, and the hope that, albeit there are fire and eternal torments for pickpockets and those misguided souls who do not believe in them, for all Christian families--those, that is to say, who believe in property and in their ancestors--there are certainly comfortable quarters in reserve, with an eternity of salmon mayonnaise and prawns _a la Parisienne_.

CHAPTER XIV

AN EXCURSION TO RIOSA.

The Duke de Requena had given the last shake to the tree; the orange dropped into his hands golden and juicy. At a given moment his agents in Paris, London, and Madrid, bought up more than half of the Riosa shares.

Thus the management, or, which was the same thing, the mine, was practically his. Some who had suspected his game, declined to sell, especially in Madrid, where the banker was well-known; and if he had not made haste to take the decisive step, the price would undoubtedly have become firmer. Llera scented the danger and gave the signal. It was a happy day for the Asturian when he received the telegrams from Paris and London. His hatchet-face was as radiant as that of a general who has just won a great battle. His clumsy arms waved in the air like the sails of a windmill, as he told the tale to the various men of business who had come to the Duke's counting-house to ask the news. Loud Homeric laughter shook his pigeon-breasted frame, he hugged his friends tightly enough to choke them; and when the Duke asked him a question, he answered even him with a touch of scorn from the heights of his triumph.

And yet he was not to get the smallest percentage on this immense transaction; not a single dollar of all the millions which were to come out of that mine would remain in his hands. But what matter! His calculations had proved correct; the scheme he had worked out with such secrecy, perseverance, and wonderful energy and skill, had come to the desired issue. His joy was that of the artist who has succeeded--a joy compared with which all the other delights on earth are not worth a straw.

The Duke's satisfaction was of a different stamp. His vanity was indeed flattered by this brilliant success; he honestly thought that he had achieved an undertaking worthy to be recorded on marble and sung by poets. A proceeding which was in truth no more than a swindling trick, within the letter of the law, was by some strange aberration of the moral faculty transfigured into a glorious display of intellectual power--and that not alone in his own eyes, but in those of society at large. To celebrate his success, and at the same time to see for himself what improvements must be effected in the working of the mine to make it as productive as he intended it should become, he planned an excursion thither with the engineers and a party of his friends. At first they were to be eight or ten; by degrees the number grew, and when the day came round they formed a party of above fifty guests. This was chiefly owing to Clementina, who was greatly fascinated by the notion of this journey. Thus what had been in the Duke's mind a little friendly "day out," had, under her manipulation, acquired the proportions of a public event, a much talked-of and ostentatious progress, which for some days absorbed the attention of the fashionable world.

Salabert had a special train made up for his party; the servants and provisions were despatched the day before. Everything was to be arranged to receive them worthily. It was the middle of May, and beginning to be hot. By nine in the morning the station of Las Delicias was crowded with carriages, out of which stepped ladies and gentlemen, dressed for the occasion; the women in smart costumes considered appropriate for a day in the country, the men in morning suits and felt hats. But to these apparently unpretending garments they had contrived to give a stamp of individual caprice, distinguishing them, as was but right, from all the shooting coats and wide-awakes. .h.i.therto invented. One had a flannel suit, as white as snow, with black gloves and a black hat; another was in the inconspicuous motley of the lizard, crowned by a blue hat with a microscopic brim; a third had thought it an opportunity for turning out in a black jersey suit, with a white hat, white gloves, and boots. Many had hung a n.o.ble field-gla.s.s about their shoulders, by a leather strap, that they might not miss the smallest details of the landscape, and several flourished Alpine sticks, as if they were contemplating a perilous clamber over cliffs and rocks.

The special train included two saloon cars, a sleeping car, and a luggage van. The cream of Madrid society proceeded to settle itself, with the noisy glee befitting the occasion. There were more men than women; the ladies had, indeed, for the most part, excused themselves, not caring particularly for the prospect of visiting a mine. Still there were enough to lend grace to the expedition, and at the same time to subdue its tone a little. There were some whose fathers or husbands were connected with the business: Calderon's wife and daughter, Mrs. Biggs, Clementina, and others. There were some who had come out of friendship for these--Mercedes and Paz Alcudia, for instance, who were inseparable from Esperanza. There were more again who could never bear to be absent from any ploy: Pepa Frias, Lola, and a few more. Among the men were politicians, men of business, and t.i.tles new and old. As they got into the train the servile a.s.siduity of the station-clerks betrayed how great an excitement was produced by the mere pa.s.sage through the office of these potentates and grandees.

Last of all, and most potent of all, came the Duke de Requena, who, taking out his handkerchief, waved it from a window as a signal for departure. A whistle sounded, the engine responded with a long and noisy yell, then, puffing and snorting, the train began to move its metallic segments, and slowly quitted the station. The travellers waved their hands from the windows in farewell greetings to those who had come to see them off.

Great was the excitement and clatter as the train flew across the barren plains around Madrid. Every one talked and laughed at once, as loud as possible, and what with this and the noise of the train, no one could hear. By degrees a sort of chemical diffusion or elective affinity took place. The Duke, seated in a coupe or compartment at the back of the train, found himself the centre of a group of financial and political magnates. Clementina, Pepa Frias, Lola, and some other women formed another party, with such men as preferred a lighter and more highly spiced style: Pinedo, Fuentes, and Calderon. The young men and maidens were exchanging witticisms which seemed to afford them infinite amus.e.m.e.nt. One of the incidents which most enchanted them was the appearance of Cobo Ramirez at the window, in a guard's coat and cap, demanding the tickets. Cobo, who had been in the foremost carriage, had clambered along by the foot-board, not without some risk, since the train was going at a tremendous speed. He was hailed with applause.

Then the young people sent notes to their friends in the other saloon, the young men inditing love-letters. The heir of Casa-Ramirez took charge of them all, and went to and fro between the cars very nimbly, considering his obesity. This amused them greatly for some time. The love-letters, written in pencil, were read aloud, with much applause and laughter.

Raimundo was content to talk to the Mexican and Osorio. Osorio had really taken a liking to him. Though but a boy in looks the banker discerned that he was intelligent and well-educated, and among the "Savages" such endowments as these conferred pre-eminence. The young man had, too, succeeded in adapting himself very sufficiently to the atmosphere which for the time he breathed. Not only was his dress visibly modified by the refinements of fashion and good taste, but his tone and manners had undergone a very perceptible change. In his behaviour to Clementina he was still the timid lad, the submissive slave, who hung on every word and gesture of his mistress; his love was taking deeper root in his heart every day. But in social intercourse he had accommodated himself to what he saw around him. He did all in his power to repress the impulses of his loving and expansive nature. He a.s.sumed a grave indifference, an almost disdainful calm; ridiculed everything that was said in his hearing, unless it bore on the manners and customs of the Savage Club; learned to speak in a joking, ironical voice, like his fellow "Savages," and above all was on his guard against ever uttering any scientific or philosophical notions, for he knew by experience that this was the one unpardonable sin. He even kept his own counsel when one of his new a.s.sociates roused him to a feeling of warmer sympathy and regard than the others. Affection is in itself so absurd that it is wise to bury it in the depths of your soul, or you expose yourself to some rebuff, even from the object of your affection. Such things have been known. Thanks to his diligence, and to an apprenticeship, which to him was a very cruel one, he extorted much more respect, and was looked on as a man of consummate _chic_, a height of happiness which it is given to few to attain to in this weary world beneath the stars.

When Cobo had made several journeys from one car to the other, in no small danger, as the train was flying onwards, Lola, with a mischievous look, first at Clementina and then at Alcazar, said to the young man:

"Alcazar, will you venture to go to the next carriage, and ask the Condesa de Cotorraso for her bottle of salts? I feel rather sea-sick."

Now Raimundo was, as we know, but a frail creature, who had never gone through the athletic training of these young aristocrats, his friends.

The scramble along the foot-boards at the pace at which the train was going, which was to them mere child's play, was to him a service of real danger. He was apt to turn giddy when only crossing a bridge or climbing a tower. He was fully aware of this, and hesitated a moment; still, for very shame he could but reply:

"I will go at once, Senora," and he was about to act on her orders.

But Clementina, whose brows had knit at her friend's preposterous demand, stopped him, exclaiming:

"You certainly shall not go, Alcazar. We will make Cobo go for it next time he returns."

The young man stood doubtful with his hand on the door; but Clementina repeated more positively, colouring as she spoke: