Alvaro Pena, who was never so happy as when he had a duel on hand, hastened to say in a loud voice, with his characteristic arrogance:

"Look out, Don Rudesindo, Miranda must give you satisfaction. Would you like to leave it to me to settle?"

The good manufacturer felt as if he would willingly have eaten the words he had let drop, but Pena was such an impetuous fellow. Why the devil had he said he would like to kick Don Pedro downstairs, when, in truth, he had just met him as he was leaving home, and had pa.s.sed him without uttering a word! But more than twenty people were now present, and he was in the wretched position of being obliged to reply to the officer in the least aggressive tone he could command:

"Very well, you may do so if you think it is worth the trouble."

"But it is not a case of worth. Do you think you are only on our side to be exposed to such low remarks? Why, they are an insult to you. I say, Don Feliciano, a word with you."

Don Feliciano and he then conferred together in a corner for a few short minutes, and then sallied forth into the street. Don Rudesindo remained apparently calm, but inwardly much incensed against Pena, against the Club, against himself, and against the mother who bore him. What necessity was there for him to embroil himself, a married man with children, whose whole life had been spent in working like a slave to ama.s.s a little capital? And now that he had got it--for this fellow's humbug--it was a fine thing! And the manufacturer could hardly swallow the sips of cognac with which he was regaling himself.

The affair was quickly arranged. Don Pedro Miranda was quite taken aback at the visit of Pena and Don Feliciano. He said that he had no recollection--that he had no spite whatsoever against Don Rudesindo, on the contrary--But Pena interrupted him by saying:

"Very well, Don Pedro, we can't listen to all that. Just name two friends, who will arrange with us."

The poor proprietor suggested Gabino Maza and Delaunay, and as one of these was a choleric, fiery man, and the other a bad-hearted fellow, no pacification was possible. All explanations were refused. The duel was arranged to take place in the early morning, and swords were the weapons to be used.

When Don Rudesindo heard it, he cursed the day he saw the light, and his adversary threw himself onto a sofa and asked for a cup of lime juice.

However, there was nothing to be done but to obey the call of honor, and we dare not say whether they were impelled thereto by their own free will or by extraneous circ.u.mstances.

At six in the morning Pena and Don Feliciano on one side, and Maza and Delaunay on the other, dragged them from their homes to the old cemetery. What lugubrious fancies pa.s.sed through Don Pedro Miranda's head as he journeyed thither! They were only comparable to those that a.s.sailed Don Rudesindo on the same journey. Before arriving, Pena said to him:

"I am quite sure, Don Rudesindo, that you will settle him, and I feel primed with courage. Don't push yourself, but you have a difficult part to play, very difficult!"

The manufacturer would have sacrificed all his property at that moment to have found it not only difficult but impossible.

"Don Pedro is not firm on his legs; besides, he is short in the arm.

But, as you know, in fighting there is nothing certain, and it is always the unexpected that happens. If you have any last requests to make, make them before we arrive."

Don Rudesindo shuddered. He remained silent for some time as he walked along, and finally, drawing some papers from his pocket, he gave them to his friend, saying in a stifled voice:

"If I perish give these to Senor Benito."

Two tears then gathered in his eyes.

"Do you mean Senor Benito the Rat?" asked Pena.

Don Rudesindo did not hear him. He had walked quickly on to hide his emotion. Why the name of his clerk should upset him so much at that moment we can not explain. Perhaps in the great crises of life we are suddenly apprised of the existence of strong, deep feelings. .h.i.therto unsuspected.

The old cemetery, to be put in order a short time later, was then overrun with gra.s.s and briers.

The wooden crosses had rotted away, and the only evidence of its being the home of the dead lay in the two skulls encrusted in the wall on either side of the gate.

These skulls were certainly not conducive to raising Don Rudesindo's spirits. We do not know about Don Pedro, but we suspect that the effect was no more pleasant upon him.

Some time was spent in finding a convenient spot, as the nettles and briers rendered it impossible for the combatants to take their places.

While Pena and the seconds of the other side busied themselves about this most solemn task, good Don Feliciano Gomez committed the indiscretion (G.o.d bless him for it!) of going up to Don Pedro Miranda, who, with his white face, frightened eyes, and his inside upset by the fabulous amount of lime juice he had imbibed that night, was leaning against the wall, waiting for the seconds to finish their task, and looking like a criminal condemned to death.

"h.e.l.lo, Don Pedro! Cold, eh? Caramba! what a morning! Look here; fancy a man leaving his bed for this! Goodness gracious! [_Silence, interrupted by a few groans from the unhappy Miranda._] I would have given my little finger, not to have had to a.s.sist at such an atrocity! But they say it was a favor that can not be refused. Well, I suppose it can not when it is a matter of a serious offense. But what is the serious offense in this case? Come, let us see, let us hear. What is it? Would to G.o.d!

would to G.o.d! [_Fresh silence and fresh groans from Don Pedro, who finished by dropping his head resignedly upon his breast as if he were putting it upon the block._] How much better it would be to be in bed taking chocolate, eh, my boy?" continued Don Feliciano, putting his hand upon his shoulder with great familiarity. To this remark Miranda uttered an almost inaudible guttural sound of a.s.sent.

"Yes, I should think so," said the merchant. "For whatever they say, I can not believe that you want to kill Don Rudesindo, a neighbor who has been your friend up to a little while ago, who has grown up with you and went to school with you."

"I do not want--at all," murmured Don Pedro, as if his head were still upon the block.

"That's right!" exclaimed Don Feliciano, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. "I said so, and Don Rudesindo feels the same. Then who wants to kill whom? Come, let us hear." And he cast his eyes around, seeking for an answer to his question.

Pena, Maza, and Delaunay were at some distance, hidden among the cypresses. Don Rudesindo, also leaning against the wall, was about fifty paces off.

Then the merchant, filled by a sudden and heavenly inspiration, made a sign for him to approach.

Don Rudesindo came slowly toward him with a timid, hesitating step.

"Tell me, dear fellow, have you any desire to kill Don Rudesindo?" asked the merchant of Miranda.

"None whatever," he murmured.

"Have you any wish to wound him?"

"Hardly. I have always esteemed Don Rudesindo," stammered the man of property.

"Eh? What? What do you say?" cried Don Feliciano in a tone of triumph.

"That you have always esteemed Don Rudesindo? Eh, my dear fellow? You said so?"

"Yes, senor."

"Tell me, Don Rudesindo" (taking a few steps toward the cider manufacturer), "do you wish to kill Don Pedro, a neighbor who has. .h.i.therto been your friend, who has grown up with you, and who went with you to Don Martia's school?"

"I? Why should I?" said the merchant, opening his eyes wide in distress.

"Would you wish to wound him?"

"No, nor do him the least harm. I have always considered him a real friend."

"How is this, eh? A real friend, eh? Then, in my humble opinion, I think you ought both to embrace each other."

Hardly had Don Feliciano uttered these words than Miranda and Don Rudesindo, by a simultaneous impulse, rushed into each other's arms, and embraced with such effusion that the bones in their bodies were all but broken.

Don Feliciano at the same time bared his bald, retreating forehead, and, waving his hat wildly for some minutes, he shouted:

"Hurrah!"

I do not know to whom this hurrah was addressed if not to the astute spirit to whom he owed his brilliant idea.

At that moment the seconds approached and gazed with surprise at what was going on.

They tried to look pleased at the turn the affair had taken, and soon went their different ways. But that evening at the Club Pena sharply reprimanded Don Feliciano for his conduct, going so far as to say that he had put him in a ridiculous position, and that, did he not look upon him as a friend of long standing and older than himself, he would ask satisfaction.