📚 *Napoleón en Chamartín* de Benito Pérez Galdós nos transporta a los días turbulentos de la invasión napoleónica en España. En esta apasionante novela de los *Episodios Nacionales*, Galdós retrata con maestría los efectos del avance francés en la vida cotidiana de los madrileños, mientras nos introduce a personajes llenos de vida, contradicciones y patriotismo. 🇪🇸⚔️
🔍 A través de los ojos del joven Gabriel Araceli, el lector presencia la entrada triunfal de Napoleón en Chamartín y el impacto psicológico y social que marcó a toda una nación. Esta obra mezcla ficción y realidad en un relato lleno de emociones, intriga, crítica social y heroísmo.
📌 En este episodio descubrirás:
– El trasfondo histórico de la Guerra de la Independencia
– El contraste entre la nobleza, el pueblo y el invasor
– Una narrativa ágil, profunda y conmovedora
🎧 Si te apasiona la historia de España, los conflictos épicos y la literatura clásica, este relato es para ti. ¡Acompáñanos en este viaje por la memoria y la resistencia! 🙌
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-Napoleón en Chamartín 📖🔥 ¡Intriga histórica en España![https://youtu.be/niCNpeJXx9k]
-🌴🏴☠️ La isla del tesoro: ¡Aventura y Misterio en el Mar! 🏝️💀[https://youtu.be/F_vSKb8–5s]
-Napoleón en Chamartín 📖🔥 ¡Intriga histórica en España![https://youtu.be/niCNpeJXx9k]
-La piedra angular: novela 📚💎[https://youtu.be/i7l1UKwz1RM]
👇 Déjanos tu comentario: ¿Qué opinas del retrato que hace Galdós de la ocupación francesa?
#BenitoPérezGaldós #Napoleón #Chamartín #HistoriaDeEspaña #Audiolibros #EpisodiosNacionales #GuerraIndependencia #NapoleónEnChamartín #NarraciónHistórica #ClásicosEspañoles #ChamartínMadrid #LiteraturaHistórica #EspañaSigloXIX #NovelaHistórica #GaldósAudiolibro #LibrosNarrados #ClásicosEnEspañol #Napoleónico #ResistenciaEspañola #AhoraDeCuentos
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In this installment of the National Episodes, Benito Pérez Galdós immerses us in a crucial moment in Spanish history: Napoleon’s entry into Chamartín. Through the eyes of the young Gabriel de Araceli, an exceptional witness to the events, we learn about the devastating effects of the French occupation and the moral dilemmas faced by those living in its shadow. With a masterful blend of history, drama, and reflection, Galdós presents a vivid portrait of the resistance, fear, and hope that marked those turbulent days of the Spanish Peninsular War. Chapter 1. Mr. Diego Hipólito Félix de Cantalicio Afán de Ribera, Alfoz, etc., etc., Count of Rumblar and Peña Horadada, lived the following life in Madrid: He would get up late, and after winding his watches, he would go to the barber, who in just over an hour and a half would fix his hair on the outside, something that only God could do on the inside . Then he would give his body clock the necessary nourishment, as Comella would say, which clock would extend even further than the half-dozen Jesús buns, softened in two ounces of chocolate. Immediately afterward, Don Diego continued the process of dressing and putting on his shoes, not accomplished in two bursts, but with all the composure, poise, spaciousness, and restraint that the nature of the times demanded. Once outside , he headed toward a house on Cuesta de la Vega, where, it is said, the discreet heir apparent lived, with whose lineage the House of Rumblar had arranged a genealogical and utilitarian council. This visit was not of long duration, and soon Don Diego would leave to head swiftly toward Magdalena Street, where a gentleman from Mañara lived, to whom he was a most devoted and faithful friend. Most days they ate together, and then read the _Gazette_, the _Patriotic Weekly_, the _Literary Memorial_ and whatever printed papers came from Valencia, Seville or Bayonne, a task that entertained them until nightfall; and finally, at the precise hour when the streets of Madrid were covered with that cloak of pleasant darkness that the illuminating positivism of these times has torn into a thousand pieces, our two gallants would go out together, muffled in long cloaks, and sometimes in very different clothes from the one they wore during the day. Here, according to the intelligent authors who have studied Don Diego de Rumblar, the true existence of that illustrious young man began, and it is also true that all the chroniclers, although they disagree on some of the details of these scandalous adventures, agree in stating that the aforementioned Mañara always accompanied him, and that they almost never failed to visit a very high lady, who was undoubtedly such because she lived on the third floor of Calle de la Pasión, and was named _Zaina_ or _Zunga_, because on this point there is a lamentable disagreement between authors, chroniclers, historians and other serious people who have dealt with the exploits of such a famous woman. Given the inconvenience of applying to Ignacia Rejoncillos the two nicknames that her friends gave her, I have decided to always call her _Zaina_, and in truth I do not know why they gave her that name, because although chestnut horses are called _zainos_, I do not know if this corresponds to hair of the same color. The fact is, however, that the word also means _traitor_, _false_ and _unreliable in dealings_, and it remains to be seen whether Uncle Rejoncillos’s daughter, alias _Mano de Mortero_, deserved those epithets, and, therefore, to be considered the flower and mirror of _zainería_. But I do not wish to stray from my main objective, which now is to say which places Don Diego went and which ones he did not; and firm in this purpose, I affirm and swear in truth, and without any honorable person being able to contradict me, that Don Diego and Mr. de Mañara went at night to a meeting of incipient masonry of the silly genre, which was held on the street of Tres Cruces, and to another of the funereal comic genre, which had its room, if my memory serves me right, on the street of Atocha, old number 11, in front of San Sebastián. In these meetings, in addition to the many pantomimes common to this famous order, verses were read and speeches delivered, literary pieces of which I hope to give some sample to my patient readers. Especially on Atocha Street, where the Rosy Cross lodge was located, the rite was such that sometimes I was on the point of bursting, restraining the convulsions of my laughter, because that, gentlemen, if it were not a cage of funny lunatics, it was like one eggplant to another. In a very dark room, lit by faint lights hung all in black, these Masons met, and so that everything there would be mysterious, they had at the head of the room a Holy Christ accompanied by the compass, set square, and trowel, and on the right hand side, as it were, next to the Gospel, a skeleton very well placed in an armchair, with its head resting on its hand, in a meditative gesture, and below it a small sign that read: _Learn to die well_. I must point out that in that year Spanish Freemasonry was purely and simply the innocence of our grandparents, a dull and graceless imitation of what those blessed ones had heard concerning the _Grand Orient of England_ and the _Scottish Rite_. I believe that before 1809, the time when the French formally established Freemasonry, in Spain being a Freemason and being nothing were one and the same thing. And don’t tell me that Charles III, the Count of Aranda, the Count of Campomanes, and other famous figures were Freemasons. Since I’ve never considered them fools, I presume this assertion is the result of the excessive zeal of those proselyte seekers who, not finding any around them, carry their recruiting banner through the fields of history, hoping to grab hold of Father Adam himself if they catch him off guard. After 1809, it was a different story. From those two children’s lodges, which I knew on the street of Tres Cruces and on that of Atocha, and where a few unemployed people rejoiced with candid ceremonies, emerged the famous lodge of the _Estrella_, that of _Santa Justa, patron saint of Corsica_, the society of knights and ladies _Philocoreitas_, that of the _Philadelphians_ of Salamanca, the National Grand Lodge that was in the building formerly occupied by the Inquisition, the lodge of Santiago el Mayor in Seville, and those of Jaén, Orense, Cádiz, and other cities. Meddling in the National Grand Lodge, I heard talk of things more serious and grave than the little _philosophical speeches in verse_ that were thrown at the skeleton of the _Rose Cross_; I heard talk a lot about politics, about equality; It was then that the word “democratism” spread from mouth to mouth and became very fashionable, but then disappeared, only to reappear half a century later, although in a different form and perhaps in a different meaning. From the larva of those lodges, it is not risky to affirm that the chrysalis of clubs soon emerged, which in turn, as the fickle century progressed, gave rise to the butterfly of committees. But once again, I unwittingly stray from my subject, and it must not be so, but I return to tell you that the Count of Rumblar, as soon as he had scattered his soul over the matter of the skeleton and talked endlessly for an hour, went in search of more agreeable entertainment; And this is where the opportunity to mention Zaina comes in handy , because it was around eleven o’clock when the young man I’m talking about entered her salons, accompanied not only by the aforementioned Mañara, but also by Don Luis de Santorcaz, who always joined him at the Rosa Cruz to stay together until dawn. It is worth keeping in mind that Zaina was not the only great lady of those aristocratic neighborhoods who opened wide the doors of her house and her soul to our three friends, and by my faith, if I had to list all the illustrious houses in the San Lorenzo and San Millán quarters, which in those days entertained a small number of regulars – why not say it in French? – it would surely fill this entire book and a half more. But without renouncing to be chroniclers of the soirees of that Madrid high life, why not say it in English? I will be very brief for now, gentlemen: pay attention to me, and do not interrupt me with exclamations of admiration, which would make me lose, To my chagrin, the thread of the story. The salons of La Zancuda, on Ministriles Street, opened very early, and there was a certain serious etiquette, with little fandango and even less seguidillas, which is why the crowd was scarce. La Zancuda was a woman of great charm, despite her very ugly name; but she didn’t like disturbances, because her husband, or whatever he was, Mr. Regodeo, was something of a diplomat, a stiff, serious, and frowning man, and who, in this matter of circumventing with the most subtle perspicacity the intricacies of customs, almojarifazgos, or door taxes, wouldn’t trade places with the most famous in Seville and Ronda in that profession. Don Diego and his two friends rarely frequented this house, where it was usually as if they were at mass. In the salons of the _Pelumbres_ street of the Torrecilla del Leal, an old iron shop, there was all animation, all joy, not only because the owner of the house was one of the most wickedly graceful, most entertaining women and with the best hand at playing the castanets that ever existed at the beginning of the century, but because famous people in various arts and trades gathered there, such as the distinguished tanner _Tres pesetas_; _Mr. Medio diente_, one of our most illustrious trajineros from the Tanneries of Toledo, and _Majoma_, a meat tanner, who, when he recounted his travels through the different courts of the world, such as Melilla, Ceuta and the Rock, left everyone with their mouths open. And since Narcisa, Menegilda, and Alifonsa were also present, three splendid stars of the Manolesque firmament, one a seller of chestnuts, another of tripe and snails, and the last of all, of salt; since there was no shortage of wine, nor of bowling, nor of endless gossip, nor of the most delicious freedom of speech and hands, Don Diego took great pleasure in frequenting that house. It is true, and history should not remain silent on this point, that the gatherings usually concluded with a refreshing round of blows, which, in the dark and like rain from the sky, fell unexpectedly upon the select gathering; but these rather rejoiced than distressed Don Diego, who, being more concerned with giving them than receiving them, was in no hurry for a few more cardinals, nor would he renounce the Pelumbres festivities even if he carried the entire Roman conclave on his shoulders. Well, what shall I say about those extremely elegant and sumptuous parties of Rosa the Oranger, so famous throughout Madrid that some very conscientious historians claim to have seen more than one Prince cross the threshold of her tavern on Maldonadas Street? And if this last daring assertion were not true, it is true of dukes, marquises, counts, and viscounts, of which I can attest, having seen them. I cannot say the same about Princes and Kings, for of these I remember only those of cups, clubs, coins, and swords, who never missed a single night, and with complete familiarity and frankness allowed themselves to be led from hand to hand. That’s true: whatever the base envy and bad faith of those who remained there squeaky clean may say, the banker Juan Candil was an honest man, with a commendable background in that trade, and La Naranjera often said that cheating was not allowed in her house, which is why we believe that it was a game of law, and that everything said about Candil’s skillful hands and the marks on his grimy cards was either the musings of the patrons or the effect of that corrupt atmosphere that surrounds great institutions when they are established among unruly and quarrelsome people. And how Don Diego enjoyed himself in that house! And how much they loved and pampered him, and how everyone was full of praise for his generosity, his detachment, his nobility, and that grace with which he handed over the lost sum without any sign of affliction! Rumblar responded to this sentiment with such punctual attendance that if he had gone to the classroom he would have quickly made him a second Aristotle. But in that house and in those I mentioned before, he did not devote all his time to the kings, jacks and other royal family, for following In the general current of the times, there was much talk of politics. Uncle Mortar Hand often attended these meetings, and during his days of wandering, he always brought fresh news. Pujitos, a highly educated young man of great erudition, also attended, for he could read, albeit slowly and with a certain accent or sing-song, which is why that enlightened group was up to date with the national and foreign Gazettes and papers. It is worth noting that if Uncle Mortar Hand knew Iberian geography thoroughly thanks to his frequent scientific trips, to the despair of the State and the ruin of the treasury; if, due to this circumstance, he knew the position of the belligerent armies, Pujitos went much further: he soared on the wings of genius, and his thoughts hovered in the vertiginous heights of military and diplomatic art, like an eagle over the eminent peaks. These conversations didn’t last all night, and between games there was usually bolero and manchegas, as well as some of what scholars call palos, and the common people as well; but it is well known that for some people palos are a very tasty dessert, after the strong delicacies of love and wine. Alas! I can assure you that Don Diego was very happy with that life . But the gilded alcázar, the Medina al Fajara, the Baghdad, the Sybaris , and the Capua of his impressionable senses, were in the house of Zaina, that incomparable beauty; the one who, appearing in the mornings on the corner of Calle San Dámaso, inside her vegetable crate, would make the goddess Pomona herself envious on her pedestal of fruits and vegetables. And what shall we say of that peculiar grace with which she washed a lettuce, tearing off the outer leaves with her divine hands, paved with rings? What about the grace with which she arranged the little bunches of radishes, which between her fingers looked like clusters of coral? What about that unimilated skill in arranging the peppers and tomatoes, whose fiery crimson color was eclipsed by the rosiness of her face? What about that delightful gesture with which she stuffed the coins into her pocket, almost always forgetting to turn around? What about that posture worthy of attracting Phidias’s attention when she took down a string of garlic, which, when entwined around her arms, would have been mistaken for anything other than rosaries of enormous pearls? What about the skill and ease with which she threw the cabbage leaves at the usias who came to ask for her? What about her skill in selling, her gift of the gab, her diplomacy in deceiving, for this alone was the sole aim of each and every one of the charms and charms of her tongue and gestures? May God help me, Don Diego had good taste in falling in love with that princess or demigoddess, for such was her merit and with such alacrity did his imagination surround her with poetic attributes, that the place was a throne, and the lettuces bunches of fragrant herbs, and the radishes hyacinths from Holland, and the cabbages open magnolias, and the garlic closed lilies, and the onions a perfumed ensemble of all flowers, just as one might also suppose that Zaina’s pierced apron was a rich sackcloth of the finest Flemish lace, and the cleaver a gold wand to give pleasure and occupation to her mobile hands, and the scattered penny jewels that princes and kings, who had come from distant lands, threw at her feet to surrender the strong castle of her integrity. And what will you say if I assure you that Don Diego, despite his charms and his money, had not been able to win over Zaina? Oh, inflexible law of fate, which on that occasion decreed that Zaina should be the slave in body and soul of another gallant, whom my readers have known for a long time, and who is none other than Don Juan de Mañara himself, presented for the second time on the stage of these stories! Yes: Mr. de Mañara, like death, would just as easily set foot in _pauperum tabernas_ as in _regumque turres_; and although he was a person of high position in those days, and was about to be appointed councilor of Madrid, his preferences in matters of customs and love were on the side of what which Horace called _taverns_, and in Castilian we can now name with the same word. Chapter 2. At night, this gentleman, like Don Diego, after leaving the lodges, dressed as majos, and… here now comes the junction to describe the house of La Zaina and its people, with the parties and dances, and the ostentatious refreshment that brought them to a close; but as I still have a little to say about Don Diego and his life, the main objective that I proposed at the beginning of this book, I will leave that for later, and continue saying that Doña María’s son, either alone or accompanied by Santorcaz, sometimes went to the main bookstores, which was where politics was most discussed. I don’t know if I can remember all the bookstores that there were at that time in Madrid; But I can assure you that their number almost equaled that of those that exist today, and the most crowded were those of Hurtado, Villarreal, Gómez Escribano, Bengoechea, Quiroga and Burguillos (formerly Fuentenebro), on Calle de las Carretas; that of the widow of Ramos, on Carrera de San Jerónimo; that of Collado, on Calle de la Montera; that of Justo Sánchez, on Calle de las Veneras; that of Castillo, in front of San Felipe el Real; and Casanova’s stall in the Plazuela de Santo Domingo. Many young writers or those who wanted to be met in these shops ; empty poets or those with sense, although these were the minority; people more fond of conversation than books, unemployed people, newsreels, and many patriots. Don Diego was a patriot. Since I was a fine little meddler everywhere, I also wandered around bookstores, either accompanying Don Diego or alone, posing as a great patriot. In the Veneras bookstore, I remember saying some wonderful things one night, which earned me warm applause. Oh! There I met the hatter Avrial and Quintana, the owl and the blackbird, the swan and the goose of those literary times, so troubled, so confused, so diverse and antithetical in grandeur and pettiness, like the political ones. It seems, truly, unbelievable that Moratín and Rabadán, that Comella and Meléndez lived in the same century. But that’s Spain. Don Diego also made a point of going to the theater from time to time, for it was very much in the nature of patriots to attend performances of the famous comedies of circumstance, *The Alliance of Spain and England, with a Song*, and *The Patriots of Aragon and the Pumping of Zaragoza*, which were being performed with frenzied success in those days. And so that nothing might be lacking in the circle of acquaintances of that illustrious young man, he also peeked into the room of Pepilla González, a famous actress, although one day he put an end to his visits because someone made some clever joke on him. Don Diego and I used to meet at Zaina’s house, at Pelumbres’s house, at Naranjera’s house, at Rosa Cruz’s lodge, at the bookstore on Calle de las Veneras , and at the theater, for, as I have said, I made a special point of following him everywhere, overcoming the repugnance of my conscience to enter some places. The young man opened up to me spontaneously, and the more he told me, the more I tried to draw him out, so that no secret or hidden detail of his life would remain a secret from me. Only when he was in Santorcaz’s company did I take great care not to ask him certain questions. Poor Don Diego, how many trials his impetuous youth and inexperience had already been subjected to! And what foolish acts he committed, and what terrible falls his daring leaps of enthusiasm had, and what crashes he had on the rocks at the bottom as he threw himself recklessly into the sea of life, believing it to be without reefs, sinkholes, or shallows! And how he became so corrupted, and how strangely the powerful estate sometimes found itself poor and miserable, given the circumstance that it could do nothing but sustain the foothold of its luxury and reputation! As he was so spendthrift, he spent a year’s income in a week, and here are the creditors, usurers, moneylenders, Jews and other bloodsuckers, who drank my little Count’s blood. He came to see himself very distressed, since no one would lend him the value of a peseta anymore; and I remember that one night, as we were leaving the Príncipe Theater, Don Diego painted a hideous picture of his utter straits and the emptiness of his purse; afterward, he said he was going to commit suicide, and then called me an illustrious man, an illustrious friend, and the most chivalrous and charitable of men. It is noteworthy that all these detours, ellipses, metonymies, and hyperboles ended with him demanding two reales. I told him four that I had, and he took his leave, begging me to say something in his favor to a certain moneylender named Cuervatón, a neighbor of mine, as he was planning to give him a try the next day, although the sums owed were sky-high. I promised to intercede on his behalf, and, wishing him good night, I entered my house. Chapter 3. Which was that same honorable mansion where I was taken in, cured, and assisted during my painful illness in the month of May. Let the reader see how, hand in hand, we met again in the sweet company of the Great Captain and his wife, and in joyful familiarity with Mr. de Cuervatón, with Don Roque, with the lumberjack and respectable family, with the fine embroiderer, and other people who, if they do not enjoy in history the fame appropriate to their merits and eminent qualities, would have it in this account, despite the base envy that is always intent on lowering high character. Since my return from Andalusia, I lived in the house of Don Santiago Fernández. Santorcaz no longer lived there, nor did Juan de Dios, nor did his former employers know of his whereabouts, for having left one day in August very early in the morning, until the date of what I am recounting, which was in November, he had not returned, which made Doña Gregoria say: “It cannot be otherwise than that some misfortune has befallen that blessed Mr. de Arroiz , if only he has not gone to heaven body and soul, for that is what he was there for. ” The house – and although I think you know this, it will not be out of place to repeat it – was one of those that might be called a universal map of the human race, being a building composed of corridors, where their doors were numbered, a multitude of small rooms for poor families. They called these houses Tócame Roque, I don’t know why. We won’t go into this for now, and you should know that, in those days, anyone who had entered the Great Captain’s house would have seen him at the center of a lively gathering, where there were up to eight of us, all good Spaniards or inflamed with patriotic desire to know how the war was going; he would have seen with what diligence and haste some of them would come together as soon as Fernández returned from the office; he would have seen how lovingly Doña Gregoria prepared the incense burner so that the gathering wouldn’t get cold; how Fernández, banging on the snuff box, took a powder, blew his nose while looking at everyone over his handkerchief, and then hastened to satisfy his thirst for curiosity in these words : “Things are going better than we thought, and what happened at Lerín wasn’t as disastrous as they wanted us to paint it. Gentlemen, we must take into account what the printed papers say, because the journalists are only concerned with surprising the public with news; And since none of them knows a thing about what we call the art of war… “Well, they’ve told me that what happened at Lerín was a huge disaster ,” Don Roque stated. “Bah! We have generals… They are to blame for what’s happening, and I knew very well that we would end up in this. So what, if those gentlemen, instead of spending the whole month of September in Madrid biting each other; if instead of being here saying “I’m better than you,” and fighting over command of the Corps like dogs fighting over a bone; if instead of this, I mean, they had gone north to pursue the enemy, would the French be so emboldened? ” “You’re right, Mr. Don Roque has more than enough knowledge,” said the lumberjack’s wife. “And I, who know nothing about war, used to say to my husband every night when we went to bed: ‘Look, Norberto, the Generals, instead of being here and in Aranjuez, speaking ill of one another and stirring everything up with their envy and rancor, should be roaming all over the land of Burgos and Rioja chasing the Frenchman. That Llamas commands such and such troops; that it’s no longer Llamas who command them, but Pignatelli; that Castaños is opposed to Cruz coming; that Blake wants to be more than Cuesta, and Cuesta more than all of them; that Palafox commands this Corps; that La Peña doesn’t want to command the other… in short, when after the Battle of Bailén we thought we’d been freed from Frenchmen, emperors, and kings of cups, now we come out with the fact that because the generals are sitting idle in Madrid, in the scent of the Court, and the gifts, and the festivities, they’ve let the others get their act together and have everything ready to give us a scare. “You have spoken like a father of the Church, Señora Doña María Antonia,” said Doña Melchora, the fine embroiderer, with officious exaltation. “I told my girls that very thing last month. Isn’t it true, Tulita? Isn’t it true, Rosarito? Yes, gentlemen, that is the absolute truth; and what I am seeing is that since the war began; since that thing about the French coming and Godoy falling, no one has been more right than we have, and when we announced what was going to happen, the serious men laughed, saying: ‘What do women understand about wars or history?’ Well, see if we understand.” “Doña Melchora is right,” said Señor de Cuervatón. “They laughed at me too when I announced what was going to happen. But, gentlemen, when those at the top lose their minds, as has happened here, the rule of common sense falls to the fools and the women.” “However,” said the Great Captain, impatient to throw his authoritative opinion into the fray, “one cannot yet speak ill of those valiant generals. I haven’t explained the plan of campaign to you yet. You must fully understand this. The troops commanded by Blake, Llamas, Castaños, and Palafox, positioned and spread from the Ebro to Burgos, form a large semicircle. The French are coming: the semicircle closes, becoming a circle, and here you have my emperor caught in a mousetrap. ” “But, in short, is he coming or not?” asked Doña Melchora. “I don’t think so,” said the Great Captain, acting malicious. ” And I believe that everything the papers say about what Napoleon read in the Senate is pure invention. Just as there are those who say that Napoleon is very ill with a tumor that has appeared in his left armpit, and that he has already been given the sacrament.” “And are you one of those who believe the thousand absurdities that the patriots tell?” exclaimed Don Roque, rising from his seat. ” Here they think they can get away with telling lies and killing all our enemies with fever or by putting them on the mat. ” “So what? Am I the man to swallow all the lies that the papers tell daily?” said the Great Captain, without hiding his contempt for the press. “Let’s see, what do you get out of all those pages you read day and night, and that are going to drive you crazy, like the books of chivalry did good old Don Quixote? ” “Everyone stay where they are and don’t meddle in other people’s affairs, ” replied Don Roque, trying to contain his irascibility. “Just as I never meddle in the depths of the art of war, which I don’t understand, so you should respect the sciences, which are beyond your reach.” What would society be without public papers! Here I have the _Patriotic Weekly_, he added, taking a voluminous file from one of the long pockets of his frock coat, which is the best paper ever written, and it contains some very fine things, and in everything it says it seems as if it were speaking through the mouths of Aristotle and Plato. Ever since I saw in the first issue that _public opinion is much stronger than Malquist authority and armed armies_, I tell you frankly that I fell in love with that little paper. I’m taking the chickpea out of my mouth to save the 20 reales it costs me. every quarter; and how could I not, if this food for the spirit is as necessary to life as food for the body? So on Wednesday nights I don’t sleep, and all I do is toss and turn, thinking about what the _Semanario_ will bring the next day. Thursdays are days of delight for me, and reading my _Semanario_ I forget about eating and drinking, in addition to all my troubles and sorrows, of which there are many. And how he deals with matters! And with what grace he gives to each one what is his! And what flair he has for telling France all its mischief! And what about the parallel he draws between Bonaparte and Maximilian Robespierre? He doesn’t miss a beat in telling everyone the truth, and he usually airs the dirty laundry with the Spaniards, so to speak. In short, gentlemen, I am so enthusiastic about it that the other day, unable to satisfy my desire to meet the author of such a divine work, and having discovered that it is a certain Manolito Quintana, I went straight there and, embracing him, said: “Come here, the epitome of all discretion, the epitome of eloquence and good speech, the paragon of the Castilian language, the scourge of tyrants, the herald of patriotism, and the swan of the rights of man.” To which he replied that he was doing his duty and that he appreciated such praise. “Did you give all that harangue to the good author of the Patriotic Weekly?” asked the Great Captain. “Well, truly, I say that if the Junta listened to my advice, it would immediately order the suppression of that and all the other papers. What do you want papers for?” –Irrational man, and how are enlightenment spread, and good doctrine propagated, and all the people of the kingdom, young and old, instructed? Well, the _Semanario patrótico_ contains only meager truths!… If everyone were to read it with as much fervor as I do, the nation’s ills would soon be remedied. And there’s no need to beat around the bush, gentlemen: what it says is the Gospel. Who can refute that _a tyrant is a man who abuses the forces of society to subject it to his own passions, and thus tyranny is nothing other than injustice supported by violence_? How about that? So, where do you leave me that thing about the _essential, sacred, and imprescriptible_ rights that belong to man, and that the rogue of absolute power usurps from him?… Nothing, nothing, Mr. D. Santiago, my friend Cuervatón, ladies and young ladies: keep in mind these words: “Violence, oppression, credulity, frequently manage to lull peoples to sleep, to fascinate their understanding, to break the springs of nature within them; but when, due to favorable circumstances, they open their eyes and hear the voice of reason; when necessity forces them to emerge from their lethargy, then they see that the pretended rights of their tyrants are nothing but the effects of injustice, force, or seduction; then it is when nations, remembering their dignity, see that they have not submitted to authority except for their own good, and that they have never been able to give anyone the irrevocable right to make them happy.” Chapter 4. Endowed with a marvelous memory, Don Roque recited whole passages from what he had read in his slips of paper, without changing a syllable. I have never met a more candid and harmless man than that ardent reader of the _Semanario_, a merchant who had fallen far short of success, and at that time, with no business, no family, and very little money, he lived in that house, supporting himself with his almost invisible income. As soon as the Great Captain heard about _oppression_ and _injustice_, with the reasoning that followed , which he would understand no less if they had been written in Chaldean, he confronted his friend and mockingly said: “Is this all over jargon?” It’s a pity that Father Salmon didn’t come here so that I could answer him, and between the two of them there would have been a row of _I distinguish here… I distinguish there… necuacua… útiquis… reñega mayora…_ and other little words that are used in the disputes of the _tiólogos_! “Theologians to me! Theologians to me and with bells!… And of the Father Salmon’s wood !” exclaimed Don Roque, putting the _Semanario_ in the storehouse of their deep purses. “And His Paternity must come this afternoon,” said the youngest of Doña Melchora’s daughters bitterly, “for he promised to give me a prescription for this stomach ailment I’ve had for ten days. ” “Yes, he will come,” added the eldest, “for I agreed to attach two buttons to his collar, and he said he would bring the blue ribbon. ” “We’ll soon have that Reverend Salmon here,” added Doña Gregoria, “and I’ve already locked the pantry, because we have enough to plunder from the French.” Fernández’s discreet wife had hardly finished these words when a great din of voices was heard in the courtyard of the house, among which stood out a low, hoarse, cowbell, which was none other than that star of La Merced, Father Anastasio José de la Madre de Dios, commonly known as Father Salmon, which was his surname, and not Salomón as some called him, without meaning to mock him. “There he is, there’s that blessed one,” the women of the gathering said in chorus . “Gabriel: run and bring him here, because if the powder-cutter’s women catch him on his own… oh, how annoying they are! The scavengers are already calling him . Well, no, he’s only coming here.” I went out to prevent the reverend’s person from being kidnapped by any of the families who came out to claim him through the various doors that opened in those long corridors, and the first thing I saw was the friar surrounded by a swarm of children, who, performing a thousand capers and games around him, showed him, according to their own art, the satisfaction of the entire house at seeing him there. “Here, you lousy ones, take those failed almonds, they’ll be an angel’s delicacy for you,” Salmon was saying to them. “And did your father get out of jail, Jacintillo? And finally, did you take your grandmother to the Desamparados? Tell me, son of Cinnamon, is the little officer in your mother’s room? So your hen died?” And at the same time, the parapet of the vast corridor seemed like the railing of a theater, for there wasn’t a single empty foot, but the entire neighborhood was there, waiting for His Paternity to ascend. “Come here, Father, this rascal of a husband wants to hit me out of jealousy. Tell me, you scatterbrain, aren’t I the most honorable woman in the world? ” “Come here, Father, and you’ll see what a mess I have for you. Isn’t the captain telling me that His Paternity ate all your meat yesterday? ” “Come here, Father, and get up quickly, because the baby’s teeth are already showing . Look at him there, lamb, sun, queen of the world. Look at him, call him with your little hand… like that, like that. ” “Come here, Father, Zoraida has already given birth to five babies like five stars. ” “Come up quickly, Padrito, because my grandmother is asking if she should be spanked more. ” And so they continued, calling him from different directions, each one according to what he needed, and all with such affectionate words that Salmon didn’t know where to turn or which requests to respond to most quickly; and bowing from side to side like a matador who in the middle of the bullring makes courtesies all around, he showed his friends that his heart was not insensitive to so many kindnesses. At this moment I arrived, and kissing his strap, I said to him: “Doña Melchora and her girls, who are at the house of the Great Captain, send me to entreat Your Reverence that you have the magnanimity to come up, for there Don Roque, Señor de Cuervatón, and Doña María Antonia are also awaiting you. ” But before I could finish, good Salmon, to my great surprise, fixed his eyes full of admiration on me, and throwing his arms around my neck, exclaimed aloud: “Come hither, prodigy of wisdom, miracle of precocity, early fruit of human letters! So it has been more than a year since I knew you, and until today I have been unaware that you are a great Latin, author of the most famous poem ever written by modern pens?” So that’s how you kept quiet about your merits, you rascal…? Come on, show me that poem soon… Who would have told me, when I met you, González’s page, that under the cap of such a cat was the cunning of an Erasmus? Roterodamensis, from a _Picus Mirandolanus_! Troubled and confused, I replied that His Paternity was undoubtedly mistaken in confusing my ignorance with the wisdom of some unknown person of the same name. Hearing this, he said as we went up the stairs: “No; I just learned it from Licentiate Don Severo Lobo, who knew you from the trial at the Escorial, and then was on the point of imposing you when the Prince of Peace wanted to give you a position in the Interpretation of Tongues department. And what was your fault that the other guy wanted to place you? From what I’ve been told, your modesty is equal to your merits, young man! I’ve seen the bill in which Godoy recommended you; but how carefully you kept it, you little fox!… And now what are you busy with? Why don’t you ask for a habit, why don’t you become a friar? I’ll take charge of catechizing you.” Do you know I’ve spoken about you to the Fathers of La Merced, and they all want to meet you? See if you’ll stop by there, young man, and come after refectory time. Do you like raisins? Besides, I have to confer with you, Horacio Flacco in the making and Virgil in diapers; and if when I leave this house I forget to speak to you, since you know I have a very weak memory, will you remind me, eh? He was at such a point when we entered the Great Captain’s hall. They all rose, and after kissing his belt one after another, they gave him the center seat by the brazier. “Here is the blue silk,” said the mercenary, giving the order to Tulita. “His Paternity will have your collar mended tomorrow,” replied the girl. Let’s see what you prescribe for this stomach ache, which is so severe that I can’t stand it, and every morning I get such severe nausea, dizziness, and nausea that nothing stops me. “Blessed be the name of God,” exclaimed the Father, taking a powder from the Great Captain’s box. “By my faith, Doña Melchora, if this morning star of yours, your daughter, were married, we would already know the limping foot of her stomach; but since she is not, and this is now a family with whom even the same honesty could not be compared, I order and command that with seven sticks from the Santo Domingo tree, boiled in a bain-marie, for the space of three creeds recited slowly and, of course, with devotion, this child will be as good as new. What fresh walnuts those were yesterday, Señora Doña Melchora; what fresh walnuts! But tell me, what saint in heaven gave you such a rich present?” I didn’t know that such beautiful works of God existed in the mountains of the Alcarria, Asturias, or Encartado. “It was a gift from a cousin of mine who is the guard of the pastures of the Duke of Altamira, in the land of Cameros, and since, if not a good salary, the poor fellow enjoys keen eyes and free hands, he always sends us the best of those chestnut and walnut groves. ” “Even if they made him a canon,” added Salmon. “And what news, Sir Santiago Fernández? ” “Don’t tell me anything, and don’t bother me any more,” replied the Great Captain, concealing, under the pretense of studied weariness, the pleasure he felt at seeing a subject so dear to his heart brought up. ” Look, Your Paternity, I’m as fit as I am to be. What coming and going! What a fuss! All day long putting names on the list, and counting cartridges, and examining weapons, and arranging, and commanding!” Those gentlemen are very lazy, and I have to do everything myself. “And will we resist if, as they say, that monster, that troglodyte, that cannibal, gentlemen, who never gets enough of devouring human flesh, comes upon us ? ” “Well, we won’t have to resist!” exclaimed the Great Captain. “Are we to be any less than the people of Zaragoza? Besides, I don’t think he’s coming. ” “And God knows,” said Doña María Antonia, “if what they say is true, that back in Russia or Prussia they threw some powder into his stew to make him burst! ” “Like there are those who claim he’s blessed and that he made a will, returning all the nations he’s robbed and renouncing his heresies. ” “Oh, ignorant and credulous people!” exclaimed Don Roque suddenly. unsheathing his portfolio of public papers. “And how we know the rusticity of those who pay more attention to the sayings and nonsense of the common people than to the printed word of learned men! Look, look at what that paper says, and pay no attention to nonsense: ‘Napoleon presented himself to the Senate on the 25th of last month, and said that he would soon place his standards on the towers of Madrid and the fortresses of Lisbon.’ The Gazette also reports that one hundred and sixty thousand men of the great army are on the border of Spain, and that the Emperor said that before the end of the year there will not be a single village here in insurrection. ” “So not a single village,” the friar indicated. “But God knows the intention of the one who wrote those papers. As for me, I would order the suppression of all those printed in Spain, because for wrapping spices, the best is the unprinted, clean paper that comes from the factories. ” “Well, what doubt is there about that?” “—” said Doña Melchora’s two daughters unanimously . “And I,” declared Don Roque like a basilisk, “would order the suppression of all friars or take away their habits, giving each one a rifle so they could go and rid Spain of the French. ” “We’ll do it without a rifle, brother,” said Salmon, laughing. “Far from suppressing friars, I would increase them to the maximum degree, and thus the majority of Spaniards would live fat and happy, and we wouldn’t see so many vagrant beggars on those streets. ” “Take that one and come back for another,” the youngest of the embroiderer’s daughters told Don Roque , supposing the old man was completely overwhelmed under the weight of those incontestable reasons. “So even more? Then let my lord Salmonete know,” said Don Roque, pushing his familiarity with the friar to the extreme, “that now the nation is going to assemble in Cortes. Don’t you want to believe it? Ah!” “Well, I wouldn’t give two maravedis for anything of absolute government after the war. Down with tyrants!” he added, standing up and raising his arms with devilish exaltation. “And if there’s a chocolate-loving friar who contradicts me, let him raise his voice and come before me, and I’ll challenge him to a singular polemic, even if he brings more texts than Peter Lombard wrote, and more Latin and aphorisms and proofs and distinctions than the Salamanca and Complutense chairs have belched in ten centuries. ” “And how could I begin to argue with such a knotty piece of wild olive, harder than rock? And what good would my arguments be against his asinine narrow-mindedness?” Father Salmon argued, also rising from his seat; but not angry or nervous, but laughing heartily, for his temper was such that he was only seen to be angry once. “Then let’s begin,” said Don Roque, turning green. “Let’s begin,” replied Salmon, rubbing his hands together and then making grotesque gestures, like someone imitating the movements of a grave preacher. “We wouldn’t want more to laugh at Don Roque,” said the eldest or the youngest, for I don’t remember this very well about Doña Melchora’s daughters . “But to restore our strength, ladies and gentlemen,” said Salmon, “let’s have that chocolate, for my friend Don Roque here says one cannot do without it.” “The one who cannot do without it,” replied the person in question, “is His Most Reverend Magnificence, for at this hour, unless he puts a stop to his stomach, he will collapse exhausted.” “Well, you say so, my eminent paper-monger,” replied Salmon, once again bursting into laughter, “so be it, and here comes that hot chocolate; and since the enjoyment of a pleasant conversation is more pleasant than arguing, let’s leave the squabbling aside, and let’s let the hairs drop, and everyone thinks what they like, and let the ball roll, and long live Ferdinand VII. ” “It’s the most convenient thing to do, since this Don Roque is crazy ,” said Fernández, “and one day we’ll see him walking those streets with a Gazette on each finger. ” “But how serious and circumspect my girls are!” added Salmon, patting the shoulder, I don’t quite remember if it was the eldest or youngest of Doña Melchora’s daughters. “And those golden beaks, Why don’t you sing a song to cheer us up ? “Well, well.” And one of them immediately broke into song like this: ” I’m marrying a little bricklayer , Mother, because white men are to my liking. ” “That’s not very funny,” said Salmon. “Let’s see another one. ” “Well, here’s the one that’s in fashion: Bonaparte in hell Has his easy chair, And at his side is Godoy Putting the crown on him. His companions Go in twos: Murat, Solano, Junot, and Dupont. ” “Bravo, magnificent! Doña Melchora, you have two girls that any princess would envy. And how about it, do you earn a lot? ” “These days, Padrito,” said the mother, “some embroidered uniform usually turns up; but where do you see those silver and gold suits, those altar clothes that brought us so much profit before these cursed wars?” Your Highness already knows that the finest pluvial capes, the best chasubles ever worn in processions, as well as the finest bullfighter’s jackets ever to shine in bullrings and bullrings, have passed through these hands. Oh, who would have told me! The one who embroidered the breeches Pepe Hillo was wearing when he was gored by that enraged bull; the one who embroidered the cape worn on the holy shoulders of the Most Eminent Cardinal of Lorenzana the day he took office, is today consecrated to the miserable letters on the collar of a uniform, and to the two or three insignia of a councilor, or the robe of the Child Jesus, which are as simple as pears and figs. These are good times! “When this is over…” said the friar. “What do you mean, when this is over?” Don Roque suddenly shouted, interrupting his friend with a very ugly gesture. “Before, long before this is over, the country will meet in Cortes.” And these cork oaks don’t want to believe it! “You’re going down the drain, my friend Roque. ” “Do the papers say that too?” the Great Captain asked with great sarcasm . “They say that too, yes sir. Well, shouldn’t they say it? And how could I forget, if I know it by heart, and last night, as soon as I went to bed, I was reciting aloud this… ‘After so many years of dejection and oppression in which the loyal and generous Spaniards have suffered greater insults and vilifications than the savage Africans, the glorious day will dawn when the people will meet through their representatives to discuss the common good. This is the purpose for which civil societies were instituted; not the aggrandizement of a single man to the detriment of all others. It is when these societies are gathered that we can thoroughly understand the state of a nation, its resources, its needs, and the means that should be adopted for its well-being and prosperity; and where these solemn Assemblies are lacking, the monarchs, ill- advised, will walk blindly towards despotism, perhaps against their good wishes.” “A very fine sermon!” exclaimed the Great Captain. “Yesterday I was telling my companion at the gate of Accounts and Reason about the extravagances of my neighbor Don Roque, and he told me that this was called _democratism_. Is that so, Father? ” “Call it what you will,” replied the venerable Salmon, “what I am saying is that this chocolate, which Señora Doña Gregoria is now bringing us, and whose aroma wafts up to us announcing the nobility of what is coming in the bucket, seems to me such that it could only be served like this to the Supreme Pontiff. ” “And to the Abbess of Las Huelgas de Burgos,” said Doña Gregoria; that she and the Pope are the two highest persons in Christendom, and that is why it is said that if the Pope were to marry, the only woman worthy of being his wife is the Abbess of Las Huelgas. ” “That is right,” added Salmon, forgetting everything that was not the canjilón; “and as for this matter of _democratism_, I advise Don Roque to stop his nonsense and not think about new things, because for now, and for many years to come, we are and will be free of them. ” “The Spaniards wage war because they do not want to be ruled by the French ,” said the eldest of Doña Melchora’s daughters, “and also to “to defend the customs and _talk_ of the kingdom against the novelty that Napoleon wants to introduce here. That’s what Paco the penman, who is a sergeant of volunteers, tells me every day . “Well, Simplicio Panduro, that very salty page of Don Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos,” added the other, “told me that the Spanish are fighting to throw out the French and to improve the poor condition of the kingdoms, removing the many bad things that there are, just like what Don Roque says at night, when he preaches alone in the dark in his room. These two opinions gave rise to a heated dispute, which I will not copy because my readers would gain nothing from it, since it is public knowledge that so far this century, history, grave and slow-moving history, has not been able to clarify the question posed by those two girls, and even today eminent writers are at each other’s throats trying to find out whether the eldest or youngest of Doña Melchora’s daughters was telling the truth. Salmon, having consumed his chocolate, said: “So, my friends, will you give me your permission to retire? ” “So soon, Father? Your Reverence will always have us hungry for your company! ” “I’ve been keeping you company long enough, my little girls.” “Well, it always seems too little for us.” “You know that we have had at home since this afternoon the eighth mission and solemn services to make amends to Jesus of Nazareth and the Most Holy Mary for the sacrilegious insults they have suffered in our temples from the impious French armies, and to implore the Divine Mercy to strengthen and protect our soldiers, and to preserve and direct in all matters those who govern us. Afterwards there will be a procession to the Virgin of the Dove, patron saint of all the majesty. But didn’t you know, flying birds? Of course, you won’t be missing the day it’s my turn to preach. ” “Before then, the land will be gone, and the meadows on it, as the other one said.” And the mercenary Father was about to leave when Mr. de Cuervatón, who had recently been called from his house, where a visitor was waiting for him, returned shouting; and full of anger, which flashed in his eyes with lightning bolts, he spoke thus: “I don’t know how I don’t suffocate you!… What a fine currutaco, full of garlic!… Just when I thought he was going to pay me, he comes to ask me for more money!… And now he comes out saying that his lady mama is very rich! Wretch, filthy, dressed in prince’s rags, why didn’t that lady burst before giving birth to you? ” “What’s up, Mr. de Cuervatón? What’s the matter with you? ” “After I’m ruining myself by helping the needy with my small estate, here comes a gentleman Count of Rumblar or Barrabás with appearances, owes me more than nine thousand reales, and after not paying me a single cent of interest, which is no more than a peseta per duro a month, he comes to ask me for more money.” Scoundrel, scoundrel! What do I care if he’s a nobleman and that two entails are about to fall to him? “Don Diego de Rumblar?” said Salmon; and then, turning to me, he added, “Don’t forget, Gabriel, that we have to talk. ” “Well, either he pays me,” continued Cuervatón, “or one day I’ll strip him naked in the middle of the Prado in front of the ladies.” At this point we went out into the corridor, and oh, what a pitiful spectacle! Don Diego appeared before our eyes, goaded into the middle of the courtyard by all the neighborhood boys like a bull in a bullring. Talkative women had emerged through the hundred holes in that hive, and some with chestnut shells, others with sharp words, mortifying him morally and physically. Especially Cuervatón’s wife, who was a hydra with more tails and thorns and scales in her soul than the mythological ones on her body, standing breast-deep on the railing, after spitting on him, would say to him: “Uncle, you golden rag, do we have our money to support lazy people?… Do we save up to give you that bergamot water that makes you stink? Eat cloves, and if you are a nobleman and expect a heirloom, start gnawing your _judgments_, or take a basket and go sell sand, like my two sons do, who although they have enough to eat and dress like prince’s children, have been working in the sand since they They know how to put their hand to their mouth. Watch out for Señor Don Pelagatos! And he says he’s a Count… He’s a Count, like my grandfather. Come, lads, sprinkle him a little with the essence of that Argentine orange blossom mud that ‘s in the courtyard… Also, take those nutshells, and the ashes from that brazier. The lads who heard this, and who had gone ahead to carry out the sprinkling, unleashed such a shower of filthy substances upon the unfortunate Don Diego, just as he was leaving. They pursued him so fiercely through the doorway and then all along Barquillo Street that it was pitiful to see the unfortunate magnate embarrassed, ashamed, and weeping. Father Salmon, who was a charitable man, reprimanded the lads for their rudeness, and Mrs. Cuervatón for her cruelty. When he was about to get out, everyone was fighting over him, not wanting to let go of his hand. This one showed him the five puppies Zoraidilla had just given birth to; another made him touch the girl’s tooth with his finger; one asked him for a prescription for a toothache; another sang him a new seguidilla, and everyone showed him such displays of affection and admiration that he could well be considered the most popular man of his time. When he went downstairs, you could hear the exclamations, the clapping, the cheers, and see the kisses from the strap, and the asking and giving of blessings. “When will you prescribe me a prescription for these fainting spells? ” “I already know the prayer to Saint Anthony inside out. When shall I pray it to His Paternity? ” “The Padrito was right when he said that Chinchón brandy makes stews taste better than Ocaña brandy, and that no plate of lentils is complete without two crushed garlic cloves. So we did.” –Father, are frogs meat or fish? Because my grandmother ate them on Friday and she’s full of scruples. –What name shall we give to what is to come if it turns out to be a male? We’ll name him Anastasio, like Her Most Reverend, as a token of gratitude for having helped us raise the eldest boy. –The two candles for the Virgin of Good Fortune have already been bought, and here Ramona is adorning them with flowers and sequins. –May his most wise and most haughty magnitude live for hundreds of thousands of years to the relief of these poor people whom he helps. And so they continued until the Father went out into the street. No: there has never existed a man more popular than Father Salmon. I am almost certain that his popularity exceeded that of Ferdinand VII by two fingers, and even three. Unfortunate Salmon! Oh, you most happy man, sated with flattery, gifts, and well-being! Oh, you theologian of the grave and axeman, you coarse and cheap preacher, you mercenary friar who, if you did not redeem any captive, did not harm anyone either! Oh, you fortunate man above all the fortunate ones of the earth, since you never brooded, nor were you passionate, nor did you hate, nor did you suffer any evil for many years, nor did you see your peaceful existence disturbed! Who would have told you then that the same people so eager to cheer you, to regale you, to applaud you, to venerate and adore you as a divine person, would stab you to death twenty-six years later in the infirmary of your holy house, and when, already old, sick, invalid and breathless, you thought only of God! Who would have told you that the same people whose idol you were would have put a hemp rope around your neck and dragged you through the desecrated cloisters, your once-honored body serving as a horrible trophy to indecent whores! Oh, what a world it is and what atrocious things history offers! And so it is right that you say: if I sipped good chocolate, I received good beatings; if I received good embraces, and courtesies, and kisses from the strap , I got even with a good set of stabs. Chapter 5. But since none of this is relevant now, I will describe the astonishment that arose in me at the conversation I had with that extremely popular friar immediately after his departure; and what happened was that, leaning on my arm to discharge some of the weight of his well-used humanity on it, he said to me: “Gabriel, or rather, Mr. D.” Gabriel, a true Pico de la Mirandola must be treated with respect. You must know that I need you to inform me in detail about the life of this Don Diego de Rumblar, in whose company I have seen you several times. You will say that what does it matter to me whether the child sings or cries; but to this I reply that it is not I who is interested in knowing his wicked ways, but a very high family, whose house my uselessness frequents most of the evenings. Since Don Diego is about to marry the girl, the ladies, who already suspect the bad life the boy leads in Madrid, are very displeased. Yesterday, when I confirmed that I had seen him in this house, the Countess said to me: “For God’s sake, Father Salmon, please find out what men he associates with, where he goes, how he spends his money, because if what we suspect is true, heaven will fall before he enters our family.” “Well, the Count,” I replied, “is a bit of a rascal. It’s the way youth is… I think he’ll mend his ways. ” “He will mend his ways. Therefore he’s bad. Well, Gabriel. You’ve said what I needed to know. Where does he go at night? Who does he associate with?” “I know everything perfectly well,” I replied, “and he doesn’t take a step without my knowledge. ” “So I’ll be able to satisfy the Countess? Oh! Blessed are you, who gives me the opportunity to reciprocate the great kindnesses of the most beautiful lady in Spain, at least in my uneducated opinion on matters of women. Tomorrow I must go to her house, because you must know that the Countess is the one who formed the _Washing and Sewing Congregation_. ” “And what is that? ” “A board of noble ladies to wash and sew the soldiers’ clothes in these critical circumstances.” And don’t think it’s a trick, but they themselves, with their divine hands, wash and sew. The Countess also belongs to the Junta de las Buenas Patricias, which includes ladies of all ranks, from duchess to escofietera. But this is of no importance; tomorrow I must go there and I will tell them everything you confide in me. Although now it occurs to me that it would be easier and quicker to take you by the hand and place you in the presence of such a high lady so that, on your own and with your good explanations, you can give her an account and explanation of what she wishes to know. “Father, I don’t know if it would be right for me to go to that house,” I said, trying to hide the joy that the announcement of the visit would cause me. “If you go with me, don’t worry. Besides, you must know that the Countess is a very learned person, and that she understands poetry and human literature; So, knowing your knowledge of Latin, he will surely receive you well, and I even hope that he will give you a good position. ” “That will be the least of it, provided I succeed in rendering such a good lady the service she desires. And tell me, Father, does Your Reverence, by chance, know the woman who is to be Don Diego’s wife? ” “Yes, I do! As if I were her friend and confidant, and from the moment I enter the house she comes to me jumping and prancing, and all day long she is saying, ‘Father Salmon here, Father Salmon there.'” “And is Your Paternity her confessor? ” “Not so, my companion and friend Father Castillo is, and he also comes to the house every evening. ” “And she will be so in love with Don Diego that she will be mad for him. ” “I imagine she cannot stand him. It is generally agreed in the house that the girl has her thoughts and heart set on someone else ; But although they are going mad, it has not been possible to find her. The Marquis and his sister think of nothing but finding out who this unknown rascal can be who has unhinged the mind of the most discreet and beautiful girl who ever combed jet and wept pearls in the world; and everything turns into investigations and ambushes, and watching here and snooping there. The Countess is not so anxious and is accustomed to saying: “She’ll forget about it”; but I know that she is not entirely sure of herself. That is why they wanted to hurry the marriage; but here comes the thing about Rumblarito being a lost soul and a bad brain, and all The project falls apart, and there goes the back-and-forth of consultations: “Father, what shall we do? Father, what shall we not do?” To whose pressing questioning I reply: “Calm down, my ladies, calm down, for in great haste one wanders greatly. That my beloved star, Doña Inés, is the _super omnia_ of virtue, of good breeding, of modesty, of modesty, there is no doubt whatsoever, and I am capable of saying so from the pulpit if they prod me so much. At the same time, there can also be no doubt that something is tickling her thoughts, that something like a sad memory or vague desire is bothering her, because how can one explain that she hasn’t spoken in two days, that tender sigh, with the addition of looking at the ground in a contemplative manner, without reason or flattery, or even my chosen jokes, or my stories culled from the _Treasury of Witty Sayings_ making her blink?” And hearing these prudent reasons, the Marchioness becomes sad, and consults me again, and here comes the part: “Let the Reverend Salmon find out, since he has such a talent for the confessional and is the greatest exposer of sins we have ever known, he will know how to explore her. ” Then the Marquis adds: “If by the arts of the devil that girl during the time she lived far from us had the bad taste to fall in love with some capricorn from those streets, how is it possible that in her new position she has not forgotten him?” And I, filled with zeal for the repose of such an illustrious family, call the child, take her to a little corner of the house or to one of the garden arbors, and take her hand, and caress it, or tell her a couple of stories, I say three thanks, and give her a flower, and running off on these heavy legs of mine, I say to her: “I bet you won’t catch me,” and she flies and grabs me by the habit after three steps, and with these games I prepare her mind for the confession of a friend, not a priest, that I expect from her. Seated again, I say to her: “My little girl, flower of this house, early sprout, April strawberry, will you tell me the cause of this melancholy? Let’s see, between the two of us, for this will not come from me. Before your father took you in, did you love anyone?” And upon hearing this, her eyes fill with tears, and she runs away. I follow her, and after a short while I see her standing, staring at the ground and biting the corner of her handkerchief. I return to my questions and gain nothing, which drives me to despair. Then the Marchioness and her brother ask me if I think it advisable to break the agreement made with Don Diego’s family, to which I reply: “Calm down, gentlemen: we’ll first find out if what they’re telling you about the young man is true. I’ll take charge of making arrangements, for I’ve seen him enter a certain house I frequent several times, and I know a young man who often accompanies him.” Nothing, my son, what’s said is said. Tomorrow go there and tell them everything you know (et quibusdam aliis), with which my task is done and the Rumblar is unmasked. The venerable mercenary’s account caused me great surprise, and when I parted from him, promising to accompany him the following day, I remained pondering the strange things I had heard, and very doubtful as to whether I had acted wisely in undertaking such a risky visit. But I must explain the causes of my doubts, as well as my state of mind at that time, for there is something my readers should not ignore, even if they are indifferent to the misfortunes of this, their humble servant. The palace of my lady the Countess—and I must point out that at that time they were all living together in the Cuesta de la Vega—was an insurmountable refuge for me. From the moment I returned from Andalusia, it never crossed my mind to set foot there, certain as I was of an ignominious expulsion like that from Córdoba. To enter by means of cunning would have been, if possible, fruitless, since whatever trick or fiction I used could only last until Lady Amaranta saw my face. I frequently went for walks at night through the alleys surrounding the palace, and high up on the wall, the light from a window caught my eye. Lacking the image of her person, that picture of a weak Light appeared to me as itself. I spent long hours there with no other company than the stone image of Our Lady of Almudena, with whom in my solitude I engaged in mystical dialogues. She illuminated me with her two lanterns and looked at me compassionately. One night, I gazed so deeply at the palace opposite the Virgin, and with such rapture contemplated that window, that I was tempted to make my presence known to the inhabitant of the mansion who was illuminated by such light, an inhabitant who, according to my whim, was Inés and no one else. I resolved to do so, and taking a small stone, I threw it against the glass: soon a shadow appeared on them; but it and the light soon disappeared. I repeated the shot the following night, and see the shadow again. But just as I expected to see the window open and hear a beloved voice lisping sweet, trembling syllables in the silence of the night, a group of men appeared at the end of the alley, seemingly emerging from the palace’s carriage house, with a hostile attitude toward me. I hastily took refuge and never returned. August passed, September and October passed as well, and those ninety days, depositing one after another like ninety layers of earth in the hole of my existence, were burying illusions, joys, dreams, and a future. Suddenly, the difference in social hierarchy had placed impregnable walls between Inés and me, and my strength was insufficient to break their cage, for it was not the new one like the one in Requejos, made of fragile reeds and wires, but of extremely strong bars, harder than diamonds. Then I clearly understood that I was nothing, worth no more in the world than a grain of anise, and this consideration, irritating me to the utmost , instilled in me the greatest self-contempt. “Why was I born as I was?” I asked myself; and, as is easy to understand, I could find no answer. And then I would say: “The thickness and strength of these walls are such that if I spent my whole life making myself wiser than Seneca, braver than the Cid, and richer than the Fuggers, I would still not be able to break them down.” However, things may be taking such a course that a day will come when the Fuggers will no longer be required to perform their duties in order to enter into the nobility. But let’s see, how will I manage to become rich? Oh, wretched man that I am! Rich is he who has nothing? It’s obvious you can’t win two without having one… Well, I’ll study until I lose my mind, to see if I can become wise… or I’ll formally join the army, to see if I can rise from a private to a general in these troubled times… And considering this, I beat my skull, punishing him for his stupidity and his delay in giving birth to happy thoughts. Meanwhile, the idea of the impossibility of my happiness, the futility of my efforts, and the immeasurable smallness to which I was reduced, was working its way into my soul with such tenacity that soon that industrious little worm undermined me through and through, undermined me, filled with holes the foundations of my enthusiasm and powerful faith, and… mercy! I fell all to the ground. The insurmountable difficulties, the evident impossibility of destroying, with the sole help of my fingers, that mountain that God had placed in my path, overwhelmed me to such an extent that I crossed my arms, finding myself incapable of anything. And from the immense depth where I found myself, I said, looking at the little piece of sky that I could barely perceive above me: “Oh, heaven! How far I see you, and how low I am, after I thought I touched you with my hand! But, since God has arranged my fall, I renounce for now being near you, and I will crawl through these dark hollows, looking for a piece of bread to eat, with no other object or aspiration than to give the beast of my despicable person the fodder it daily requires.” Thus I spoke; but I do not remember if I used the exact words. What is man without an ideal? Nothing, absolutely nothing: a living thing given over to the eventualities of foreign beings, and on which everything depends, except itself; an existence that, like a plant, cannot to choose in the expanse of creation the place he likes best, and he must live where chance has chosen to spring up, without initiative, without movement, without desire or fear of going anywhere; to be ignorant of all the paths that lead to a better place, and for whom all days are the same, and yesterday and tomorrow the same. The man without an ideal is like the lame beggar who, standing in the middle of the road, begs day after day for the alms of the passenger. Everyone passes by, some happy, others sad, some slowly, others quickly, and he, without aspiring to follow them, is concerned only with the room they refuse him or the contempt they show him. Everyone comes and goes, some up, some down, and he always stays, for he has neither legs to walk, nor any desire to go further. Life, then, is a path along which many and diverse people travel, and on whose reefs and resting places one also finds many who do not walk: these, in my understanding, are those who have no ideal on earth, just as those are those who do, and they pursue it quickly or calmly, although most, before arriving, usually stop at the inn of death, where for the time being, their journeys on this path end. Well then: in those three months I had lost everything, and I found myself crippled and on crutches in the middle of the road. Meditation, reason, the evidence before me, a thousand powerful stimuli, led me to the following result: to completely renounce Inés, if not in my heart, then in the reality of life. It was the right, the logical, the natural thing to do. And with this, everything necessary has been said to understand the vivid impression I experienced when Father Salmon so thoughtlessly and by such strange means wanted to take me into the presence of the Countess. “I’ll go, and God will do as he pleases,” I said to myself, busying myself with arranging the garment I was to wear on such a solemn occasion. Oh, unhappy me! It was the month of November, and I had no decent garment except a very delicate summer one, which I cared for more than the fabric of my heart, and I put it on, at the risk of freezing to death, for the poor are exposed to such damage. This, besides being uncomfortable, was ridiculous; so when I went to bed, I fervently prayed to God and the saints for a clear next day, making it like May, mild and beautiful; but those on high didn’t hear me, or no doubt they judged the farmers’ pleas, who were asking for water and more water, more worthy of consideration. Taking a few things I considered indispensable for the visit, I went out into the street shivering, huddled up in a ball, and sheltering the cleanliness of my clothes from the gutters; but even so, I could only save a small part of myself. Finally, taking advantage of the clearings and occasional breaks from the rainy clouds, after making several stops and stops at the doorways, I arrived at the convent, and joining up with Salmon, he very festive and I more serious and pale than if I were being led to execution, we headed to Amaranta’s palace. We entered first into a very luxurious room on the ground floor, where we found the diplomat in the care of his barber, who was styling his hair with curling irons, ointments, and concoctions. The good Marquis was there in a light, colorful suit, which was laughable, and he listened with great seriousness to the witticisms and jokes of the master, who was a complete scoundrel. His Excellency didn’t recognize me. The friar approached him; they spoke separately about things I didn’t understand, and then he sent us upstairs, saying that Amaranta was upstairs with Father Castillo, rummaging through some books that had been brought for her. We went up, then, and without delay a page brought us in . The moment Amaranta noticed me, she turned pale and frowned, demonstrating the anger that seeing me there caused her. But like a skillful courtesan, she immediately concealed it and received Salmon with kindness, ordering me to sit next to the large brass cup that stood in the middle of the room, from which I gather that she must have understood the intense cold that, due to the severity of the season and the The diaphanous nature of my summer clothes mortified me. Chapter 6. “This youth,” said Salmon, “will inform Your Grace of that which I longed to find out, for you know everything from the cross to this day; and at the same time I have the honor of telling Your Grace that we have here a prodigy of precocity, a great Latin, madam, author of a certain unpublished poem, for which His Majesty the Prince of the Peace destined him to the Secretariat of the Interpretation of Languages.” Father Castillo turned to me and said affably: “Indeed, yesterday Licentiate Lobo spoke to us about you. And in what classrooms did you study? Will you read us something from that famous poem?” I replied that the matter of my Latin knowledge was a mistake, and that Licentiate Lobo gave me that fame by usurping it from someone else. “Oh, no!… for also, if I remember correctly, he told us that in you modesty is as much as talent, and that whenever you are spoken to about these things you deny it.” Modesty is good for young people; but not to such an extent that it obscures true merit. Amaranta said nothing. Father Castillo was reviewing several books, piled on the table, and examining them one by one to give his opinion, which was, as the reader will see below, very discreet. A learned, cultured, and well-educated man, with refined manners, a pleasant, small figure, and temperate and tolerant ideas that made him somewhat unusual and even exotic in his homeland and time, Fray Francisco Juan Nepomuceno de la Concepción, known in the courts as Father Castillo, differed from his brother, Father Salmón, in many ways that will immediately become clear. “These are the books and papers that have come out in the last three months,” Amaranta said. “Doblado and Pérez, my two booksellers, sent me a good shipment today ; But I don’t mind, because among so many bad and circumstantial works that appear in these troubled days, there must be some good ones, and even the impertinent and ridiculous ones have their merit in illustrating the history of the present in the times to come. “That’s right,” Father Castillo indicated. “There is no work, no matter how bad, that doesn’t contain something good, and Your Highness does well to buy them all. ” “I have read a little of this voluminous paper,” Amaranta said, taking a pamphlet that seemed to have just come from the printer, “and it made me laugh a lot. The title is one of those that is a league and a half long. It reads as follows: “Manifesto of the intimate affections of pain, love and tenderness of the august, embattled heart of our undefeated monarch Ferdinand VII, exhaled by sad relief in the bosom of his esteemed teacher and confessor Don Juan Escóiquiz, who, by strict order of His Majesty, communicates it to the nation in a speech.” “Well, here I see another one,” said Castillo, leafing through it, “which if it’s not by the same author, it certainly looks like it. It’s entitled *The Persecuted Innocence or the Misfortunes of Ferdinand VII: Poetry*. It’s true that it’s in verse, and it’s fashionable now to treat serious matters in meter, even those most foreign to the art of poetry, such as, for example, this paper that now comes into my hands and is called *Explanation of Chapter IX of the Apocalypse, Applied According to Its Literal Sense to the Extraordinary Event of the Perfidious Irruption of Spain: Ode by a Chaplain*. “And Your Reverence must know that our prisoner monarch is also a master of verse,” said Amaranta sarcastically, ” for here I have the *Fervent Epistle* that our beloved sovereign, Mr. D. Ferdinand VII, addresses to his beloved vassals from his prison: a pathetic, tender piece of majestic locution.” –Well, what does the Countess have to say about this other little book that has now fallen into my hands, and is entitled _The Court of the Three Noble Arts, conceived for the innocent Ferdinand VII: Anacreontics_? And the first of these anacreontics is headed thus: _Rules that contribute to a healthy and beautiful people_. By my habit of Mercy, I do not understand this thing about a _healthy and beautiful_ people, which must be achieved by the Court of the Three Noble Arts, and must be set forth in anacreontics. With Your Grace’s permission, I’ll take it to the convent to read it tonight . “Your Paternity will also take this loose paper that says: _Tears of a Priest, in two acrostic octaves_. ” “This business of acrostics and pentacrostics is a game of wit, unworthy of true poets,” said Castillo, “and even more so of a priest, whose understanding would seem better devoted to serious tasks. But give it to me here, Your Grace, and I’ll take it with me, along with this sermon entitled _Bonaparciana, or oration, which, like those of Cicero, a chaplain zealous for his country wrote against Bonaparte. And truly, that little chaplain was not modest in comparing himself to Cicero; but, in short, this proves to me what kind of person the blessed Bonaparciana must be. ” “For God’s sake, Countess,” said Father José Anastasio de la Madre de Dios at this point. I beg Your Grace to let me take this other very amusing book to the convent to read tonight, entitled: _Las Pampiroladas, ditties in which a friend tells his friend that under the current circumstances they should not fear the phantom who terrified everyone_. What a savory work! If nothing else occurs to you… “You may also take this other one I see here, as it suits Your Paternity’s wit and good humor very well, ” Castillo added, “and it is _Deprecation of Lucifer to his Creator against the tyrant Napoleon and his henchmen, frightened to see so many wicked Frenchmen enter Hell_ . Hello, hello! It’s also in octaves. They must be better than those by Juan Rufo, Ercilla, and Ojeda. ” “Oh! This one is really good. Help me, our holy patron saint!” exclaimed Salmon. Listen to me: _Seguidillas to sing the very loyal and arrogant young women of Barquillo, Maravillas, and Avapiés, on the day of the proclamation of our beloved King_. Shall I take them, Countess? _Yes, Father; since you’re talking about seguidillas, here are some others that will seem very good to you. _Seguidillas that the famous Diego López de la Membrilla, leader of La Mancha, sang after he achieved glorious victories against the French._ _The Spanish people,_ declared Castillo, _are of all those who fill the earth the most inclined to make fun and mockery of serious matters. Neither danger daunts them, nor suffering takes away their good humor; thus we see that surrounded by wars, death, misery, and extermination, they amuse themselves by composing songs, believing they offend their enemies no less with stinging satires than with cutting swords. And what do you tell me, Your Graces, about this _Terrible Assault by the Mice on the Frenchman’s Biscuit, a poem in two cantos_? What about this _Praise of Mr. Napoleon, by a Telescope Maker_? What about this _Gazette of Hell, or rather, News of Pepa Tudó’s New Love Affair with Napoleon, and Jealousy of Josephine_? “These are the vulgar or indecent words of writers,” Amaranta stated angrily, “since everyone knows that Tudó has never had an affair with Bonaparte, nor has he done anything to undermine his reputation as a man of good morals. ” “That is true,” said Castillo; “but if Your Grace will allow me, I will make an observation, and that is that the people do not understand these metaphysics, and seeing themselves deceived and oppressed by a tyrannical and barbaric intruder, we should not be surprised if they ridicule and even insult him.” The people are ignorant, and in vain are they demanded a decency and composure they cannot possess, which is why I am inclined to forgive them these effronteries if they retain the dignity of their soul, where the great feeling for their country seems to conceal and obscure small and reprehensible grudges. “Do not defend such effronteries for me, Father,” Amaranta replied. “Will God forgive this other printout I am now reading? Listen to the title: “What Four Drunkards Can Do,” or rather, “Revil the Vile Dictatorship with Which They Have Chosen to Obscure the Honorable Conduct of a People Faithful to Their Religion, King, and Country. ” “The work,” the friar said, laughing, “has the appearance of not being a second “Don Quixote,” far from it; but in its very title you will find Your Excellency the explanation for calling the Bonapartes “drunkards,” a dictum that so repugns my lady Countess. It is true that the Bonapartes are not drunkards, and we know very well that poor King Joseph would never drink it; but the people do not understand it that way, just as they never stopped calling him “one-eyed,” although they could well notice the beauty of his two eyes. The people called him drunkard and one-eyed, without reason, it is true; but are the French right to call the heroes who generously defend the independence of the country on the fields of battle “insurgents, bandits, and highway robbers” ? ” I agree with that,” Amaranta replied; “but the most just thing, if it is done with bad manners, seems to be tarnished and debased. You see.” To paint a picture of the calamities caused by the war, it wasn’t necessary for the author of this paper to title it “Inventory of the Robberies Committed by the French in the Countries Wherein Their Armies Have Invaded. ” “Madam, I grant that the author has been somewhat overzealous in his form,” said Castillo, “but from the little I’ve read of this book, it seems to me that it tells the hard truths. ” “And as hard as a fist!” exclaimed Salmon, raising his eyes from a libel whose pages he was hastily flipping. “Well, this one that has by chance fallen into my hands has some explanations… ” “What? ” “It’s the funniest and most well-spoken thing imaginable. Its anonymous author titles it “First Letter from a Resident of Madrid to a Friend, in which he Relates What Happened After the Imprisonment of the Execrable Godoy Until the Shameful Escape of Uncle Copas.” The wit of the sayings, the timing of the jokes, nicknames, and witticisms are such that they would make even seriousness laugh. “A beautiful way of writing history! And that boorish resident of Madrid, who is undoubtedly some kind of sacristan or tavern owner at the Rastro, what does he understand about the execrable Godoyes or other nonsense? ” “Well, he certainly doesn’t understand, madam?” said Father Castillo. “Sometimes in rude and uncouth people, one sees better sense and judgment than in educated people, perhaps because of their own vanished enlightenment. What they lack is decorum of form. Listen, my lady Countess, to an observation I want to make. Among this multitude of papers that the booksellers of Madrid send you so that you can collect everything published, there is such a jumble of nonsense and stupidity that it would be more foolish and simple-minded than its authors to fail to recognize it.” But amidst so much nonsense, I find some works of wit that are intriguing, captivating, and captivating, being the spontaneous fruit of the popular mind, such as the heroic actions we have been witnessing since the beginning of the war. Look, Your Honor: here is a _Call to all the shepherds of Spain issued by a foreman from the Sierra de Soria for the formation of slinger companies_. This is an ignorant man, whose activity and interest in the country cannot but be praised. Also worthy of praise is what this Doña María Piquer y Pravia has written, entitled _What is a Hero? An Exhortation to Young Spaniards_, for anything that tends to ignite the spirits of youth in the current circumstances is worthy of applause. Nor will I deny mine to these _Charges that the Tribunal of Reason of Spain makes to the Emperor of the French_, because such charges are made with moderation; nor to this _Napoleon’s Deception Discovered and Punished, a work in which the Emperor’s infidelity in his agreements with Spain is manifested with the greatest clarity_, because everything that is said about the disloyal and traitorous manner in which they declared war on us always seems too little to me. I will not be so benevolent with this _Letter from the Licentiate Siempre y Quando to Doctor Mayo, 1808_, because I am repulsed by joking forms in formal matters, nor will I give two figs for this _Poetic Allegory that Uncovers the Iniquities of the Most Pernicious and Malicious Hypocrite in the World, Bonaparte_, because I have already said that this eagerness to treat it in bad verses which is crying out for clear and brave prose, it outrages me and drives me mad. Chapter 7. “Thank God,” Amaranta said then, “that I find among this nonsense a work of recognized usefulness during times of war. See Your Reverence: _Universal Art of War by Prince Raimundo de Montecuculi_. ” “Indeed, madam: I would give a couple of hugs and as many handshakes to Quiroga and Burguillos, who are printers and editors of this great work. And here I see another, whose author I would put on the horns of the moon, since I know of no more worthy task today than writing a _Handbook in which the obligations of the soldier, corporal, and sergeant for the prompt methodical training of companies are gathered . See, my lady Countess, how we also extract nuggets of pure gold from the slag of this pile before us. ” Here I see _Military Hygiene or the Art of Preserving the Health of the Soldier in Garrisons, Marches, Encampments, Hospitals, etc. _Let them be set aside, so as not to be confused with the rest, and in their company go _The Good Soldier of God and the King, a book that combines military maxims with Christian ones_. This seems very much to the point, for a better soldier will be the one who carries in his heart faith, the sole source of all heroic action, and of humility and obedience, which maintain discipline, a worldly imitation of the divine order imposed by God on religious authority. “Then let us make a section of good books here,” said the Countess graciously, gathering those that the friar indicated. “But stop, my lady,” he said, “it seems to me that Dupont’s *The Laurel of Andalusia and the Tomb* has crept into that department of good things, which, although very patriotic, is one of the most foolish and tiresome comedies printed in recent times. Go away, and Salmon take it with you if you wish to read it, and in its place read this *Collection of Proclamations, Proclamations, Various States of the Army , and Battle Reports*, which, being a collection of reliable documents, will soon be of great interest to history, which feeds and drinks the truth from such treasures, without which it cannot live. But what book is this that your Excellency is reading with such attention? ” “I am reading,” replied the Countess, “the *Patriotic Poems of Don Manuel Josef Quintana*, which are now appearing for the second time.” This volume contains the _Expedition of the Vaccine, the odes to Juan de Padilla, to free Spain, to the pantheon of the Escorial, and to the Invention of the printing press._ “Oh!” exclaimed Father Castillo. “I said it well: not nuggets of gold, but oriental pearls were to appear among this din. Your Excellency, place that poet among the apple of my eye, for I never tire of reading him, and so great is the charm produced in me by his fiery intonation, his grave style, his rapturous inspiration, his numerous cadences, the gallantry of his images, the truth of his thoughts, the elegance of his similes, the select chasteness of all his voices and phrases, that I forget the passion and fury with which he attacks institutions and people that I, because of my condition, cannot help but revere. But such is the privilege of art when it falls into good hands; and he charms with form even those whom he cannot conquer with ideas. “Take him away from me,” said Salmon, “and don’t mention that author even within a hundred leagues of the author of this composition I now have in my hand: Godoy, a satire by Don José Mor de Fuentes. ” “Well, if His Paternity is so enthusiastic about Mor de Fuentes, we will give it to him as a gift, so that he may enjoy it for ever and ever. Isn’t that true, Countess? Let’s see what other volume this is, which seems recently published? Lyrical Poems or Youthful Rhymes by Don Juan Bautista Arriaza.” This one should not be despised, but neither should it be feted. The esteem it wins with its grace and exquisite frivolity, it loses for being slanderous, without having, like Juvenal, the merit of rebuking vices and bad customs. His best works are what we might call Vejamenes, directed against comedians and poets; and these _Rimas Juvenils_ are fine, neat, pretty, fleeting; but they lack that salt of inspiration, without which ingredient there is no poetic delicacy worth shoveling. What do we do, Countess? Do we give it to Salmon, or does it remain in the chosen apartment? “Stay here,” said Amaranta, “if only because he has dedicated almost all his verses to me, calling me Clori, Belisa, Dorila, Mirta, Daphne, Febea, and Floridiana. And so that the Reverend Salmon doesn’t get angry, we’ll give him the _Napoleón rabiando, almost a comedy_; the _Bonaparte sin máscara_, and the _Desmunal batalla de los invincible gabachos contra los ratones del Retiro_, which are here asking Your Reverence to give them your opinion. “Come then,” said Salmon, “and I don’t believe Your Grace will deny me this salty piece of paper, whose title alone makes me burst out laughing, and it is _The Game of Ferdinand VII with Napoleon and Murat in Tresillo, a book in which, under the voices proper to the tresillo, an idea is given of what happened to our august sovereign, of Napoleon’s pride, and concludes with the most tender exclamations of our oppressed monarch. ” “This thing of saying in terms of tresillo what can be expressed in dry Spanish enchants me,” indicated Castillo. ” The merit of the invention lies precisely in the intricacy, ” observed the other friar. “Plain prose falls out of one’s hands, and so I don’t understand how Your Paternity is now so engrossed in reading that pamphlet, _Prompt Government and Necessary Reforms_.” “More than what you say, I’m interested in what all the papers of this kind indicate regarding alterations and disputes for the future. ” “The Spanish,” said the Countess, “are not concerned about the future now. ” “Allow me, your honor, to tell you that you are very mistaken,” replied Castillo. ” By carefully observing all the printed matter that comes to light, and the printed matter is what, more than anything else, reveals the thoughts and desires of any people; observing, I say, what we have here, it is clear that we Spanish, beneath the apparent conformity that war has given us, are very divided, and this will become clear when, with peace, comes the desire to establish the new laws that will govern us. Here I have some _Reflections of a Spaniard, and how to organize a Government that will complete the great work of the eternal liberty and prosperity of the nation_.” It doesn’t seem badly written, and it timidly hints at the idea that I believe this notebook entitled “Popular Politics Adapted to the Circumstances of the Day: It Proposes the Constitution That Spain Needs to Eradicate Despotism at its Roots” boldly develops. This other one, entitled “Reflections of an Old Servant to a Friend on the Method of Establishing a Constitution,” is written in the same style and with the same tendency. “And from what I see,” said Amaranta, reading the cover of another book, ” this one deals with the same subject: “Manifesto of the Spaniard, Citizen, and Soldier, Wherein Knowledge of Our Past Sufferings and Hopes in Ourselves Is Given Regarding the Individual World. ” “By Saint Bonaventure and the Four Doctors, I don’t know what that good man meant by “the individual world”; but we’ll set it aside to read it later. ” “And does Your Paternity believe there is a divergence of opinions among the various authors who deal with politics and the Constitution?” asked Amaranta. “Oh!” “–exclaimed Castillo–“Here appears the tip of a printed matter, in which I certainly know the contrary opinion. Yes, Countess: you only have to read this title, _Hygiene of the political body of Spain, or medicine to prevent the evils with which France wants to infect it_, to understand that this is a friend of despotism. And where does Your Grace leave me these _Political and moral conclusions offered to public opinion against the heretics of these times by a silly friar_? I do not like the regulars to occupy themselves with these matters, and I wish that, limiting themselves to their ministry of peace, they would calmly await what future times bring from calamitous for our institute. But it’s impossible to contain this clamor that’s coming from all sides in defense of opposing interests, and whatever happens, if God doesn’t remedy it, it will be loud and resounding. In the meantime, please put these books dealing with the Constitution and despotism to one side, for I intend to examine them at length. But what do I see? Has Your Grace put those four little books of simple novels in the chosen pile? It seems incredible that in this day and age our booksellers spend their time and money translating such nonsense from French … Let’s see? _The Marchioness of Brainville_, _Etelvina_, _Sybarites_, _Hippolyte_. Let this whole rabble of ballads delight Father Salmon, and if he takes a long time to return it, so much the better, so that Your Grace can amuse yourself with better reading. “We’re so far off the mark when it comes to novels,” said Amaranta, “that after Spain produced the masterwork of all the novels in the world and the most entertaining book ever written by humankind, now it can’t manage to compose one bigger than a hemp seed, and it translates those weepy French stories, where everything turns into love between two people who love each other very much throughout the entire book, only to then come out with the nonsense that they’re brothers. ” “Well, for me,” said Salmon, “there’s no more joyful reading than that; and come here, everyone. ” “The section on those who defend the Constitution is quite long, Countess,” indicated Castillo, “the section on those who defend the Constitution. Give me another one with the apostles of despotism, who so far seem the least of them. But no: over here comes a libel entitled “Cries of a Spaniard in His Corner,” which I can immediately place among those on despotism.” “And here’s another,” said Amaranta, “which, if I’m not mistaken, is also made of the same yarn. It’s entitled “Letter from a Local Philosopher Who Knows What These Masses Will Come To. ” “Magnificent! Ever since I heard about the local philosopher, I considered him an enemy of the Constitutionalists. Go to the second pile; and we’ll read them both to find out, as the heading says, what these masses will come to. This struggle, my lady, either I’m greatly deceiving myself, or it’s now a child’s game compared to what is to come. When the war is over, it will appear so formidable and terrifying that it doesn’t seem to me that even the gentle passing of all the years of this century in whose beginning we live will be able to appease it .” I, who observe what is happening, see that this controversy is at the heart of Spanish society , and that it will not be easily appeased, because deep-seated evils require very deep remedies, and I don’t know if we will have anyone who knows how to apply these with the tact and prudence required by a sick person, afflicted from various parts by complicated ailments. The Spanish are, up to now, brave and honorable; but very fiery in their passions, and if they unleash rancorous feelings against one another, I don’t know how they will understand each other. But leave this to the care of another generation, for mine is leaving by post to the other world, with more haste than I wish. And in the meantime, keep for me, Your Grace, those two piles of books, for we all want to read them. Here is the Department of the Constitution, on this side is the Department of Despotism… but, sinner that I am! Your Excellency has gone too far, allowing a piece of paper to slip into these regions that was destined from the very beginning for my reverend friend’s taste. Out with that shameless intruder. “Ah!” Amaranta exclaimed, laughing. “It’s a _Poetic Portrait of the Man Selling Cheap Saints and the Pan Maker Praising the First Cucumber a Corsican Planted in Spanish Soil, and It Hasn’t Taken ” “Come here!” Salmon said with great joy. “And how that gem got away! I’m taking it to the convent along with this other one, which, although it doesn’t deal with war or politics, seems like a book of scientific recreation and very honest entertainment. It is _Entertaining, Curious, and Pleasant Pyrotechnics, Containing the Method for Everyone to Train at Home to Build Rockets, Wheelbarrows, and Bombs, etc., with Three Demonstrative Plates of All the Operations of the Sublime Art of Gunpowder.” “And now, my dear Countess,” said Father Castillo , rising, “since I have bothered Your Grace enough and made the scrutiny Your Grace desired, I am retiring, for this afternoon the Brotherhood of the Help of Our Lady of the Transfer is celebrating a solemn rosary, and it is my turn to preach. ” “I belong to the Brotherhood of the Rescue,” Amaranta indicated, “and I believe that next week we will perform our function of reparations. And Your Paternity, Father Salmon, do you not preach during these festivities? ” “Why not? The Royal Congregation and Slavery of Our Lady of Solitude has entrusted me with two talks for next week. We shall see how I fare.” Father Castillo, who was undoubtedly in a hurry, left, and there remained Salmon and I. As soon as his companion had left, he took the floor and said: “Well, as I had the honor of telling Your Grace, this young man knows everything concerning Don Diego, his tricks, shady dealings, and escapades, and he will satisfy Your Grace better than anything I, he relates referendum, could tell you. But can it be true, my lady, what the Marquis Don Felipe told me when I came in? ” “What?” “That Your Grace had the very happy fortune last night to make that pretty girl confess everything we wanted to know about her. ” “That’s right,” said Amaranta. “She has confessed everything to me. ” “God’s peace be on this illustrious house. Where is that white lily, for I want to congratulate you on your good judgment?” “You cannot see her this afternoon, Father.” Since your grace has had the good sense of bringing me this young man, whom you suppose to be aware of what I wish to know, be so good as to leave me alone with him, so that the presence of a grave and highly respectable person such as Your Reverence will not prevent you from telling me everything you know, even the most secret. “I will obey your grace with a thousand heartfelt thanks,” said Father Salmon; and with that he withdrew, leaving me alone with that star of beauty, with that dazzling courtesan, whom I had never approached without experiencing great sorrow from her association. Chapter 8. “It was not the simplicity of this good monk that brought you here,” he said to me sternly; “it was the work of your cunning and malice. ” “Madam,” I replied, “by my mother I swear to your grace that I had no intention of returning to this house when Father Salmon insisted on bringing me here, for the purpose he himself has stated.” “And what do you know about Don Diego? ” “I know nothing but what no one who deals with him is unaware of. ” “Don Diego is a gambler, a Freemason, a libertine; is that not true? ” “Your Grace has said so; and if I confirm it, it is not because I like it or because it is in my position to inform on anyone, but because everyone knows about Don Diego . ” “Well, would you take me or someone else in this house to any of the abominable places the Count frequents at night, to surprise him there, so that he cannot deny his guilt to us? ” “That, madam, I will not do, even if Your Grace, whom I respect so much, orders me to. ” “Why? ” “Because it is an ugly and villainous act. Don Diego is my friend, and treachery and duplicity with friends disgusts me. ” “Well,” Amaranta said with less severity. But it seems to me that you are as foolish as he, and that you are leading him to perdition, inciting him and flattering his vices. On the contrary, madam, I often reprove his conduct, telling him that such behavior is unworthy of gentlemen, and that while he dishonors his house, he also dishonors the one to whom he is about to marry. That is very well said, he stated regretfully. What Rumblar does is unforgivable. And who accompanies him in his debauchery? Señor de Mañara and Don Luis de Santorcaz. That one too! she said with start and a sudden transformation in her handsome face. What man is that? Do you know him? Where does he live? What does he do? If I am to tell the truth, I still do not know what kind of man he is. I do not know where he lives either; but I have heard that he is a spy for the French, and that they They give me a salary to write down everything that happens. This I’ve been told, but I can’t guarantee it. Then Amaranta drew her chair closer to mine; she looked at me as if she were preparing to establish a relationship of trust, and spoke to me in this sweet voice: “Gabriel, it’s a blessing that you would occasionally render me services of those that are entrusted only to alert observance and discreet malice. Will you find out if Don Diego is also involved in conspiracies and misdeeds with the man you have called a spy for the French? ” “I don’t know if I can do that, madam. I would have to gain his confidence in order to abuse it. His lordship could find out through other channels. ” “You’re proud; but come here, lad: who are you? Who are you serving now? ” “I serve no one, nor do I wish to serve. For now, I’m a soldier, if being a soldier is anything. I live off the pay the Madrid City Council gives to the troops it has raised.” But I have no taste for arms, and if I take them up today it is out of pure patriotism and only while the war lasts. After that, God will dispose of me, although, as I have no riches, no parents, no relatives, no noble papers, no protection of any kind, I hope I will not leave this humble sphere in which I was born and live. “Do you want me to protect you? Do you need anything?” she asked me kindly. “I will find you a good place to live, I will help you, if by chance you are not very well off. ” “Although receiving alms dishonors no one, they disgust me rather than taking them from Your Grace. ” “Why? But what do you want? I know you aim very high, and you don’t beat around the bush. Come, Gabriel, if you open your heart to me, if you frankly confide in me everything you feel, I promise to be kind to you. Do you think I am not aware of your audacity?” And if not, tell me: why are you walking around that nearby alley at night? Why are you throwing pebbles at the windows? ‘ ‘Did Your Grace see me?’ I asked, very confused. ‘Yes; and although it angered me, I recognize that no one is capable of erasing the past with a single stroke, much less when one is not the author of the situation in which one now or later finds oneself, but rather it is God who leads one to it. You have ridiculous and absurd aspirations, and now I, renouncing violent means, speaking to you with temperance and good sense, am going to remove them from your mind. ‘ ‘Speak, Your Grace; but I must warn you that I no longer have ridiculous pretensions, for everything that Your Grace will remember about my desire to be generalissimo is over and… ‘ ‘I’m not referring to that, and you know very well what I’m referring to, you little rascal.’ I can’t hide from you the disgust I felt when, in Córdoba, you told me, so naively, “My lady, Inés and I were engaged.” Such nonsense, coming from my cousin, outraged me at first; but later it made me laugh. Oh! How I laughed at this. Of course, don’t think she remembers you. You’re so inferior to her! Inés knows well that if in another time and place the apparent equality of your status allowed you to esteem each other, today the mere thought of such a thing is a crime. Well, if you could see how she laughs at you and recounts your silly things!… Of course, she says she ‘s grateful to you because she says you saved her from I don’t know what danger; but nothing more. My little cousin has derived such dignity and esteem from her lineage that she would marry, not just counts, but emperors, and still consider herself debased. “Blessed be God, how people change!” “I said, realizing that what I heard was not true. “But if I tell you this,” Amaranta continued, “I also add that I care about you and want to reward you for the services you rendered to Inés when she was in poverty. Therefore, I will give you what you need to make a fortune with your work; but on the condition that you must leave Madrid and Spain tomorrow, never to return.” I listened very calmly to these reasons that the Countess said, wanting to feign a tranquility of spirit that she did not have, and I answered her: “Oh, madam, how badly you have understood me, Your Grace! Speak to me now, Your Grace, without any kind of artifice, for I, with my heart in my I tell you that I know very well who I am and all that I can hope for. In my short life, I have learned to know a little about the things of the world, and I know that to aspire to what, due to my humility, my ignorance, and my poverty, is as far from me as heaven is from earth, would be stupid. I will not hide from your grace anything of what has happened to me. When Inés, I mean, Miss Inés, was at the house of the priest in Aranjuez, we addressed each other informally, talking about our future, as if we would never be separated. Later, at Don Mauro Requejo’s house, it seemed as if our misfortunes made us love each other even more. We had a thousand jokes, and I would say to her: “Inesilla, when you are a Countess, will you love me as you do now?” And she would answer yes, and I believed it. Afterwards, everything has changed. When I went to war, all I thought about was being a worthwhile man to make her my wife; but when I looked closely at the sphere to which she had ascended, Seeing myself unable to advance a single step in the social ladder, I was so sad that I thought I would die. But at last my reason made its way through this labyrinth of daring madness, and I said to myself: “Gabriel, you are a fool to think that the world is going to turn upside down to please you. God made it so, and when His work has come out with so many inequalities, He will know why. Give up your vain dreams; this and becoming generalissimo in one fell swoop, as you once thought, are one and the same. ” At last, Countess, I have attained, at the cost of great sadness, to a profound resignation, with the help of which I am now cured of my daring. I have renounced the impossible. If I hadn’t done so, what those bad novels Father Castillo laughed at a little while ago would be real and true, and in them we see an archduchess marrying a page, or a swineherd in love with an empress. No, madam: let’s come to the sad reality; but what they say is the only thing that doesn’t deceive. I no longer have the aspirations you suppose I have, and it’s not necessary for Your Grace to buy with money my resignation or my withdrawal from this house, from Madrid, and from Spain. Amaranta stared at me fixedly during my long speech, and then she spoke thus: “Gabriel, you are either a hypocrite, or truly, truly, you are beginning to seem to me a young man not only discreet, but with honorable ideas. I see now that you understand the natural and temperate sense of things, and that you know how to restrain the impetuosity and petulance proper to youth.” “My lady, what I have told Your Grace is the pure truth: may God grant me a good death in my last hour. ” “Well, since you speak to me with such frankness, I do not wish to be less than you. Will you be the man to whom one can confide a delicate thought, one of those thoughts that vulgarity neither understands nor values at its true value? ” “I believe Your Grace will be able to confide in me anything you wish. ” “Will you understand? Let’s see. You say that you have renounced the love of my cousin, recognizing the immense inferiority of your position. ” “Yes, my lady: that is so. ” “Very well; but the fact is… I do not know how to tell you. When I indicated that I would give you riches, I meant to express that I expected from you a great, an extraordinary favor. ” “If it is within my power to grant it, I need nothing to be given to me. Does Your Grace wish me to leave? I will ask my leave. Well, does Mademoiselle Agnes ever remember this wretch?” “Answer me whatever your good judgment inspires, Gabriel,” the Countess told me in a grave tone. “Imagine if Miss Inés took it into her head not to love anyone but you… that’s not so… but it’s there as an example: imagine it. ” “It’s already an illustration.” “Well then: doesn’t it seem natural to you that my uncles and I should oppose it by every possible means? ” “Yes, madam, it seems very natural to me,” I replied with astonishment; “but if she persists… ” “She doesn’t persist… that’s not it… it’s just that… come on, I’ll tell you frankly. Although I can’t guarantee that Inés loves you, far from it, because that would be a great absurdity, it happens that… it’s natural.” that she feels some affection for those who were companions in her misfortunes… It’s all a whim, a childish obsession, which will surely pass. Don’t you think it will? “Yes, madam, it will. ” “But for this to end once and for all, I need your help. Since you seem so reasonable, since you recognize that it would be stupid of you to aspire to marry her… To marry her! How laughable! A nobody like you…! This seems like something out of a comedy; but aren’t you laughing too ?” “Yes , madam, I’m already laughing,” I replied, doing so very reluctantly. “Well, I was saying,” he continued, ceasing his affected hilarity, “that, in view of your common sense, I expect from you what you are about to hear. I repeat, I will give you what you need so that in another country far from Spain you can make a fortune; I will give you the fortune already made if you wish… ” “And what must I do for that?” “Nothing… you come here these days, under the guise of entering my service; you treat Inés, and then, for a while, you will pretend to do the most ugly things, commit the most abominable actions and the crimes that most debase man, so that she, with the spectacle of your degradation, will come to her senses from the disorder she feels for you and everything will be over. It is extremely easy for you: you enter my service here, and a few days later you steal a ring or some other piece of jewelry; then we pretend to have discovered your crime, and we publicly discredit your conduct; then, if you speak to her, you will slander me, saying a thousand heresies about me, and you will also speak ill of her in front of some maid who comes to tell us about it… and in this style you will commit a series of evil deeds of those that most debase the creature. ” “Lady!” I exclaimed, unable to stifle my anger any longer. If Your Grace gives me this whole house full of money, I will not do what you ask. To commit such a disgraceful act before her! I will let myself be killed a thousand times before I do such a thing. When we were friends, I feared her censures more than my conscience; and if I did anything good, I did it because she would see it and applaud me, for I valued her approval more than all the goods in the world. I will flee to go where she will never see me again; but to think that I shall debase myself before her, never. Goodbye, madam, I am leaving here, ” I added, rising. “For the second time Your Grace wants to involve me in court intrigues and pretenses, of which you are such a master. ” “Wait,” he said, stopping me. “Isn’t what I want to do more in the natural order,” I added, ” which is to leave and not appear in Madrid anymore? ” “You are a fool,” he declared spitefully. ” What does it cost you to do what I propose?” Do you lose anything by this? Come here, you street urchin! Do you have a name to tarnish or a position to lose? How many better than you would hasten to perform this service for the lure of the reward I offer you! Could you even dream of the fortune I intend to offer you, you little charlatan? Look at the fatted gentleman, always fussing over his honor and his conscience, his duty here and his reputation there! “If your grace gives me leave, I’ll retire,” I said, determined to put an end to the conference. “No, you must still be here. From what I see, you think my little cousin ever remembers your silliness and nonsense,” he declared angrily. “Come on, you ragged little brat. Do you think I believe your hypocritical declamations?” Do you think I take seriously the generous thoughts you have so artfully expressed to me, putting on a gentleman’s show? Oh! This drives me crazy! I will tell that capricious girl who you are and what your tricks are. Either she will do what I tell her ,” she added with growing anger, “and think as I want her to think, or that girl is not of my blood, no, she cannot be. How upsetting, my God!… I don’t want to see you again, Gabriel; go away from here… but no, come here: it is not your fault. Tell me, who are you? Where were you born? Do you have any news of your parents?… Sometimes it happens that someone who thought himself humble… “Don’t expect, Your Grace,” I replied, smiling, “that overnight I will a great dukedom falls to one’s inheritance. That happens sometimes, as happened with Agnes; but few escape such novel steps. I was born humble, and I shall remain very humble all my life. “I say this because if you were a decent person, these fusses you’ve made would become you ,” she answered me. “I didn’t say it for any other reason, you wretch; don’t get too proud without reason. Go, I’m very upset. ” And then, forgetting me so as to think only of her own troubles, she exclaimed thus: “Why, my God, when you brought that girl into our house, did you also bring us this great sorrow? ” “Does Your Grace love your daughter very much?” I asked her. “You mean my cousin. ” “That’s right: I was mistaken. ” “Yes, I do! Since she came here, I live only for her. It’s a holy delirium that I feel, and if Agnes were to leave me, I would die without remedy.” My despair is that by bringing her here we cannot or do not know how to give her the happiness she deserves. But is it perhaps our fault? “And Your Grace persists in marrying her to Don Diego? ” “Oh, no! Don Diego is a libertine; I have no longer any doubt. I will oppose her marrying him. ” “You are right, Your Grace; Miss Inés will not lack young men of distinguished family from whom to choose a husband. For now, madam, I dare advise Your Grace to break definitively with Don Diego. The bad company of this young man is a danger to the tranquility of this house. ” “What do you mean? Now I am reminded of that man you recently mentioned, and he frightens me. ” “Santorcaz? Yes, madam; and since I have mentioned him, I will have the courage to inform Your Grace of certain ambushes, so that you may be forewarned.” I attended the Battle of Bailén, and there, by a strange chance, some letters fell into my hands… Amaranta was perturbed. “My lady, if I have by chance learned something I shouldn’t have known, I swear to Your Grace that the secret has not passed my lips nor will it leave me while I live. ” The Countess seemed seized by a nervous excitement. “You’re crazy!” she exclaimed. “What nonsense are you telling me! Nor do I have anything to do with those letters or with that man. ” “Well, my lady, even if it gives Your Grace a hard time, I want to give you these letters. ” “Let’s see, let’s see,” she said, passing from excitement to an intense pallor that made her look as if she were dead. “Look at this first one,” I said, handing her the one she had addressed to Santorcaz. “This seems like a dream!” she exclaimed, recognizing her. “But how did this paper come into your hands? You miserable street urchin!” Who makes you read these things?… Then I told him the incident that put me in possession of those notes, to which he listened very attentively, and then, pressing his temples with both hands, he uttered painful laments. “Well, now, Your Grace, consider this other one, which seems to be a reply to the preceding one, and which never reached the post office; but which at last comes to you, although late, through me. ” He read the letter avidly, and every now and then his indignation shone on his beautiful face. When he had read it, he angrily tore it into tiny pieces, and said thus: “That wretch threatens me! He says that if his daughter is not in his power today, she will be tomorrow! ” “Your Grace will remember what happened when the whole family came from Andalusia. I was in the escort that accompanied your graces from Bailén to Santa Cruz de Mudela, and I helped to put to flight the rabble who stopped the carriages. ” “They were thieves. ” “Yes; But their intention was not to rob the travelers. Your Honor will remember that it was very easy for us to give them a severe lesson; but what you undoubtedly do not know is that Señor de Santorcaz was there, hidden among the nearby undergrowth, for he and no one else commanded that brilliant troop of outlaws. I, who had read the letter and also had suspicions because of certain words I heard from this Don Luis in Bailén, requested a place in the escort that the General granted to the Marquis, and in it some of my good companions also formed part of it. But it still remains for Your Grace to read the most curious of the three letters that came into my hands on that memorable occasion. Here it is, and it will show you the infamous disloyalty of a servant of your own house. The Countess took the letter in which Roman gave Santorcaz a detailed account of what had happened regarding the legitimation of Agnes; and as she read it, rage no sooner made tears spring to her eyes than it inflamed them with a bright glow. “I already suspected the infidelity of that vile man, who owes everything to us, ” she exclaimed, “but my aunt is fond of him, and that is why he remains in the house… What infamy! But you, foolish young man, why have you read these things? Go away, get out of my presence… no, no, come here: you are not guilty. ” “My lady,” I replied, “no one born here will know of me what Your Grace does not wish to be known.” I was waiting for an opportunity to deliver those letters to Your Grace, and while they have been in my possession, no one, absolutely no one but me, has read them. “Oh! Now I know what I must do to defend myself and my daughter from such miserable plots. ” “Santorcaz is a close friend of Don Diego; he accompanies him everywhere, advises and directs him. I have overheard their intimate conversations, and from them I see that Rumblar’s perfidious friend and advisor has not given up his plans. ” “I am distraught, I am confused,” said Amaranta, rising from her seat. “No, no, Gabriel, don’t go. You are a good boy: I want to reward you in some way, giving you what you need to live with the decorum you deserve… But don’t think about Inés, you know? It’s madness for you to think about her. My poor daughter! We have lifted her out of misery; we have given her a name, fortune, position, and we cannot make her happy.” This drives me mad! When I see her indifferent to all the distractions we provide; when I see the impossibility of making me love her the way I want to be loved; when I observe her pensive and mute, and consider that she misses the peaceful, narrow, and contented life she enjoyed living with the priest of Aranjuez, I feel like dying of grief and spend long hours weeping. My poor daughter! I can’t even give her this name, for even with those at home I must keep a secret! She and I are equally unhappy! Why don’t you do what I suggested, Gabriel? Why do you come with chivalrous airs? Are you perhaps more than a wretch? But no: you are right; don’t degrade yourself in her eyes: you have noble sentiments; you are a gentleman, even if you don’t seem one. You deserve a better fate; God is not fair to you… Alas! I am beginning to see that you too are very unhappy. The Countess spoke with signs not only of great pain, but also of a certain mental confusion, the result of the various sensations to which she had been subjected; and then, sitting down, she remained silent for a long time. Thus she was when I thought I heard a distant sound of voices inside the house; a sound that was barely audible, and which would have gone unnoticed by me had Amaranta not suddenly run to one of the doors, listening attentively to what was so faintly heard. “It’s my aunt,” she said after a long pause; “it’s my aunt who never ceases to scold her. Because she won’t submit to the nonsense of a ridiculous dancing master, nor make a fuss in front of the dandies who visit us, they treat her this way. And I can’t stop it, my God!” she added, clasping her hands in great distress. “But I’m nothing here, and I have no authority over her!” I have to witness their martyrdoms, pretending to approve of them, and I am condemned to applaud the violence, the intolerance, the impositions, the suspicious and petty behavior that make her so unhappy. Amaranta made a move to leave; she stopped by the door; then she stepped back, indicating in her gait and gestures a tremendous agitation. Then she looked at me in astonishment, as if she had forgotten my presence and suddenly saw me. “Gabriel,” she said to me. “Go, go away from here immediately, and don’t come back.” “Oh! Why wouldn’t God want you to be someone else instead of who you are?” My shock prevented me from speaking, and without saying more than half a word, I said goodbye to her, respectfully kissing her hands. Then Amaranta took one of mine and, looking at me calmly, tears streaming from her beautiful eyes, said this to me, which I would never forget even if I lived a thousand years: “Gabriel, you are a gentleman; but God has not chosen to give you the name and status you deserve. If you wish to give me proof of the nobility of your feelings and the rectitude of your judgment, promise me that you will disappear from Madrid forever, and never again appear where she sees you. She will be told that you are dead. ” “My lady,” I replied, “I do not know if they will allow me to leave Madrid; but if anything prevents this resolution of mine, I promise Your Grace, by God who hears us, to leave Madrid.” And as long as I am here, I swear that I will not present myself to her, nor will I attempt to see her, nor will I consent to anything by which she will come to know that I am in the world. This is my duty. “I will bear in mind what you have sworn to me,” she said. “You will not repent of your conduct. Farewell.” Chapter 9. The Countess clasped my hands in hers with signs of lively gratitude, and I left that room and the palace so deeply moved that I was no longer master of myself. When I arrived home , after wandering about Madrid all afternoon, I threw myself down on my bed, where I spent the whole night awake, turning over in my mind the words of my conversation with Amaranta, sometimes weeping, sometimes uttering cries of rage, and so agitated that my good employers believed I was attacked by a violent fever. The next morning, after I had fallen asleep fitfully and terribly for several hours, Doña Gregoria came to me and woke me up, saying: “What’s this? Sleeping at ten in the morning. Up, up, lad! And you’ve gone to bed fully dressed! Come on, it’s ten o’clock… But, lad, what are you doing, what are you thinking about? The fifth company of volunteers passed by , so handsome and so well dressed in their new uniforms that a detachment of Walloon guards would be jealous of. Oh, how lovely they were! The French will be frightened just by looking at them. They’ve got nothing missing, except rifles, since there weren’t any in the Park, they couldn’t be given any; but they’re all carrying large sticks that fit them perfectly, and from a distance they look like shotguns. Come on, Mr. Gabrielito, get up: aren’t you from the fifth company?” “Get up, they’re already saying Napoleon Bonaparte is at the gates of Madrid, mounted on a chestnut mule, lance ready, ready to attack us. ” “Woman, what nonsense are you talking?” observed the Great Captain. ” Napoleon isn’t in Madrid; it seems he’s already entered Spain and is on his way to Vitoria. By the way, they say there’s been a little battle… But, boy, aren’t you going to take your rifle? ” “I’m leaving Madrid today, Señor Don Santiago. ” “So you’re leaving Madrid after you’ve enlisted? Well, I like this young man’s courage . ” “I’m going to see if they’ll allow me to join the Army of the Center, which is in Calahorra, and I think they’ll grant me the right. ” “Oh!” Don’t expect it, because here, according to what they told me at the office, what they want is people and more people, because as some people say there is bad news… I believe it’s all a matter of the public records, and don’t tell me: the public records are paid for by the French. “So, bad news? ” “Nonsense… In the first place, now they come out with the fact that Zornoza, which we thought was a great victory, is a mediocre defeat, and that General Blake has had to escape, taking refuge in the mountains. You can’t listen to these things calmly, and I would order the tongue of anyone who repeats them to be torn out. ” “Lies, all lies!” exclaimed Doña Gregoria. “I don’t know why the Junta doesn’t order the hanging in the Plaza de la Cebada of all those who amuse themselves with such nonsense. ” “You have spoken very well,” said the Great Captain. “Now they have hit on to say whether or not there has been a battle in Espinosa de los Monteros. “Where have we lost too?” asked Doña Gregoria. “That’s what they say; but no way! I’m a fine fellow to swallow such lies. Now, as I turned the corner, I ran into Mr. de Santorcaz, who told me, pretending to be very distressed… A sly rascal! As if we didn’t know he was a spy for the French. ” “So, in Espinosa de los Monteros? And we’ve had many losses?” I asked. “You too?” said Fernández, unable to hide his foul mood . “I’m seeing that you have very bad habits, Gabriel. ” “Don’t pay attention to this ill-bred brat,” said Doña Gregoria. “You must learn to respect grown-ups, ” affirmed the Great Captain, looking at me with flashing eyes. “What do you mean by losses? Did I perhaps say that we were defeated?” Not a thousand times, and I swear there is no such defeat. Can men like me believe the words of inconsiderate and vagrant people? I kept quiet so as not to further irritate my naive friend, and while they were giving me lunch, a visitor arrived who caused me the greatest astonishment. I saw him advancing, giving me pompous greetings and showing me a ferocious smile of his carnivorous teeth, a man with green glasses, in whom I immediately recognized Licenciado Lobo. What most caught my attention were the extremes of courtesy and benevolence I noticed in him, and the unusual respect for my person displayed in all his gestures and words by that implacable paperhanger, and former enemy of mine. “What’s good here, Mr. Lobo?” I said, offering him a chair next to me, in which he sprawled. ” I wanted to have the pleasure of seeing Señor Don Gabriel. ” “Señor Don, do we have?” _Malum signum._ “And to bring to your attention something that matters greatly to you,” he added. “But why has Mr. Gabriel not been to see me? ” “I’ve met you many times in the street, and since you haven’t seen fit to greet me… ” “It’s because I haven’t seen you,” he answered sweetly. ” Mr. Gabriel knows that I am more than half blind… Well then: as I was saying… The Government has seen fit to reward your good services. ” “My good services!” I exclaimed, astonished. “And what good or bad services have I rendered to the Government?” The Great Captain and his wife, with their mouths half a hand’s breadth open, were paying close attention. “The young man is modest,” Lobo continued, with that artificial smile, which made him even uglier, if such an increase could be made in the infinite dimensions of his ugliness. I’ve heard that you distinguished yourself greatly in the Battle of Bailén, and I don’t know if also in the Battle of Trafalgar, where it seems you commanded a couple of small frigates or maybe a ship. I burst into laughter, and the two old men, my friends, looked at each other with spontaneous admiration for my unprecedented exploits. “Yes… some of this has reached the ears of the just Government that governs us, and the Executive Committees of the Junta are fighting over which of them will take the lead in this matter of rewarding Your Grace. ” “Hello, hello, am I also Your Grace? Well, this really fills me with astonishment. ” “But whatever you want, my friend,” continued the lawyer, “it is that it has been decided to give Your Grace a job in America, in the immediate service of the Viceroy of Peru. ” “Do you have my appointment?” I said, finally understanding where all this was coming from. “No: I have come today only to notify your Excellency of this great event, and to warn you that whatever sum you may require to prepare your voyage, you are to ask me frankly, for I have orders from the… I mean, from the Government, to deliver to you whatever you may wish to ask of me, subject to a receipt which your Excellency will issue to me. ” “Am I also your Excellency?” I said, enjoying the astonishment of my two friends. “Your Excellency will make the appointment,” he continued, “in two or three days; but I warn you that it is the will of the Supreme Junta that Señor Don Gabriel set sail immediately for the Americas, where I believe his presence is greatly needed.” “Fine,” I replied, “but in the meantime, I beg Mr. de Lobo to tell the Junta that I don’t need money, and thank you very much. ” “That’s not right,” said Doña Gregoria, very annoyed. ” But, fool, if they give it to you, take it and keep it without finding out where it came from. These things don’t happen every day. I bet the Junta has found out about your Latin and is sending you there to teach that language to the savages, which will convert them all. Isn’t it true, Mr. de Zorro, that it must be so? ” “My name is not Zorro, but Lobo,” he replied, “and Mr. D. Gabriel will do very well to take whatever he needs, since he has it at his disposal.” “Well then,” I said, “go from me to the Lady Junta who sent you such a kind message for me, and tell her that in order to serve the country and the king, I was not thinking of going to America, but to the army of the Center and Aragon, in whose kingdom I intend to remain and not return to Madrid as long as I live. No expenses are required for this journey. ” “And what is Señor Don Gabriel going to do in the army of Aragon? That ‘s bad,” said Lobo. “Things on the left are no better , and after the battle we lost at Espinosa de los Monteros, our troops will be reduced to nothing, and Napoleon will come to Madrid. ” “That’s what a tailor would appraise!” exclaimed the Great Captain, fuming . “Who pays attention to the papers? ” “Unfortunately,” continued Lobo, “that serious defeat cannot be questioned. ” “Well, I’ll question it,” affirmed Fernández, breaking a plate that he had on the table within easy reach. Yes, sir: I doubt it; what’s more, I deny it. “The sir,” said Doña Gregoria, “surely doesn’t know who you are, or the hows and whens of how well-informed you are about everything. ” “I have heard the news through reliable means, and I assure you it’s beyond doubt ,” Lobo indicated. “The Secretary of the War Department told me. ” “I take good care of the Secretary of the War Department,” said Fernández, getting extremely annoyed. “Come on, don’t argue, Santiago,” added Doña Gregoria. ” You’re redder than a Calahorra pepper, and it’s not right that you should get rheumatism in your face because of one battle too many or too few. ” “Well, don’t disrespect me. This business of insulting someone in their own house…” said Fernández, banging his fist on the table. ” Because they say what they want, a French spy can jump out of nowhere , and Madrid is full of traitors!” Frightened by Don Santiago’s energetic gesture, Lobo refused to dwell on the defeat, and loudly proclaimed that the Battle of Espinosa de los Monteros had been won, rewon, and rewon by the Spaniards. Upon hearing this, our veteran of the Portuguese campaigns calmed down and spoke thus: “It seems to me that one has the authority to say who wins and who loses in these battles… and not everyone understands the ins and outs of war… and an action seems like a devil’s defeat until an intelligent person comes along and explains it, and it turns out to be an angel’s victory… and I’ll say no more because I know where the pinch lies; and at Espinosa de los Monteros what happened was that all the French ran away, and any son of a bitch who contradicts me will know who Santiago Fernández is.” He said this and stood up, singing a little bugle call under his breath; and then going to where he had kept his lance for ages, he picked it up and with a cloth began to clean it from butt to point, repeatedly rubbing, swiping, and rubbing it, without paying attention to us or ceasing his military refrain. Meanwhile, Lobo, who thought of everything except contradicting him, continued speaking to me thus: “Now, Señor D. Gabriel, I have to touch on one more point, and that is that you tell me something about your kinship and lineage, because it is necessary to obtain a writ of execution. With diligence, the Calf in hand, and a calligrapher to take care of the tree, everything will be concluded in a couple of days. ” “I understand that my mother washed the clothes of the sailors of war ,” I replied, “and do it for me, Your Grace, Duchess of Lavatorio, or that sounds better like _Soap Tower_, or _Foam Valley_, which is a very nice title. –It’s no joke, my lord. On the contrary, the destiny you’re carrying to Peru can’t be given to you without information from a nobility. It’s an easy matter. And what news can be found about your father in tradition or history? –Oh! My father, Mr. de Lobo, if the parchments kept in the archives of my house don’t lie, and they’re all gnawed by mice, which is proof of his great rancidity, was a cook aboard the schooner _Diana_, which is why a title that sounds like something related to food suits him well… but now I remember that one of my grandfathers served as a tar-man on the Carraca, and you can call him the Archduke of the _Boiling Tar_, or something like that. –You’re joking, and this isn’t a joke. Your last name…? –I have them in all colors. My mother was Sánchez. –Oh! The Sánchez family comes from Sancho Abarca. –And my father López. –Well, we’ve already got Don Diego López de Haro and Don Juan López de Palacio by the hair, that famous 15th-century jurist, author of the works _De donatione inter virum et uxorem, Allegatio in materia hæresis, Tractatum de primogenitura…_ –Well, I come from that gentleman like a fig from a fig tree. My name is also Núñez. –In your genealogical lineage, the judge of Castile Nuño Rasura must be around. And wasn’t there a Calvo in your family? –Well, there must be? My uncle Juan didn’t have a hair on his head. My name is also _Corcho_, yes, sir: I am nothing less than a _Corcho_ through and through. –A very ugly name that we can’t profit from. If only it were Corchado… well, there is a lineage of Corchados in the land of Soria, which comes from the Roman family of the _Quercullus_. Instead of _Corcho_ we could give Mr. Gabrielillo _Encina_ or _Del Encinar_, which would suit him perfectly. “My mother was called Señora María de Araceli. ” “Oh, beautiful! This Araceli is a mouthful of princes, and more than four would be mad to bear this name. It sounds like Medinaceli, _Cœlico Metinensis_, as the Latin said. I need no more. At all this, Doña Gregoria did not know what was happening to her listening to the dialogue of lineages; and absorbed and suspended, she waited in silence to see what would come of this whole nativity scene of my surnames. “That the child is of good blood, he cannot deny it,” she said at last, ” because he is well known in the nobility of his condition; There are plenty of them out there these days, covered in rags, and perhaps they’ll come out with the news that they’re the sons of a Duke. Here I am, and I’m not giving in either, because the Rabbits of Navalagamella are no sack of straw. “What kind of Rabbits are those, my lady? ” “The best lineage in all the land. I am a Rabbit through and through. The lawyer will know from what ancient sources this genealogical stream of the Rabbitry comes. ” “If these idiots,” replied the lawyer, “don’t come from those remote times when Spain was called _cunicullaria_, that is, _land of rabbits_, I don’t know where they can come from. ” “That must be so. And Mr. Gabriel, where does he come from? ” “That’s for the Calf to tell you. Now I see that this gentleman from Araceli is no ordinary person, and here in two strokes of the stick we have found sturdy columns to support the grandiose structure of his lineage.” But speaking of other matters, Mr. Araceli, who will pay the costs of extracting the writ of execution? You or the person who entrusted me with these proceedings and offering the money? Because the costs aren’t a pittance. Besides, doesn’t this commission, so well performed, deserve some reward? I believe it will be given by Mrs. Con… I mean, the Central Board, which is the one who sent me here. “It would be better if the lawyer didn’t go to the trouble of shuffling papers or painting trees; because I won’t pay him, and I won’t take that money he’s offering me either. ” “I certainly won’t allow that,” Doña Gregoria declared. “It shouldn’t be that way. Santiago, listen to what this jerk is saying.” “You’ll think it over better,” said the lawyer, rising. “As for me, I hope to gain something from this mess, because, my friend, how do you feed ten children, a wife, and two mothers-in-law? In a few days I’ll bring you the appointment again, and a little later the execution. And as for the money, if I write a few letters… ” “Fine,” I replied, considering it better to conceal my intentions for now. “I’ll do what I think best, and we’ll see each other, Mr. Severo. ” “Goodbye, my dear and unforgettable friend,” he said, showering himself with pleasantries. “May this serve to further strengthen the bonds of the sweet friendship we have long professed. ” “Yes, since the Escorial. ” “Exactly. From then on, I had my eye on Mr. Araceli, and, realizing his excellent qualities, I considered him a great friend of mine. Come, give me a hug. ” I gave it to him, and he was so pleased. Meanwhile, the neighbors had gathered at the Great Captain’s house, all attracted by the scent of my stupendous destiny and my romantic rise, which no one wanted to believe unless Doña Gregoria swore it in the name of all the Rabbits of Navalagamella. “Don’t you believe it?” the Great Captain said to Doña Melchora’s girls . “It seems they’ve made me viceroy of Peru. ” “Viceroy of Peru!!! ” “Yes… and there was nothing left that that gentleman from Wolf, Fox, or Leopard didn’t bring out here,” Doña Gregoria added. “And now it seems that this child’s nobility is as clear as sunlight. If you could only see the string of dukes, counts, and marquises who have appeared among his grandparents!” “Jesus, who would have thought it!… And they give him all the money he wants to ask for out of that mouth… As if they expect him to leave for the Americas right away to sort out those people, who are all in disarray… Didn’t I tell you, you rascal? The Lord had something big in store for you, for your good nature… and you’re a fool, by the grace of God!… Nothing, nothing, all that kinship that’s come out of you boiling like chickpeas in a stew, you deserve it very well. ” “Well, then, the Peruvian gentleman invites us to the top of his lungs,” said Doña Melchora. “So you’re not taking up your rifle anymore?” Don Roque told me. “And now it’s necessary,” added Cuervatón. “We’ll soon have that infamous _córcego_ here. ” “Yes, because what happened with Espinosa de los Monteros was a real disaster. ” “What a disaster!” exclaimed a voice furiously, and I don’t need to say whose it belonged to. “Yes, sir, a disaster. Everyone knows it. The retreat was also extremely unfortunate, and many people died. ” Don Santiago Fernández, who was already in a very bad mood, became agitated , and after hesitating for a while whether to respond to such insolence with overwhelming contempt or with a forceful refusal, decided on the latter, saying: “In this house, stray people are not tolerated, because I swear and swear again that those who speak thus about the battle of Espinosa de los Monteros are spies for the French, and I say no more. Enough of this bickering: each one puts his soul in his closet… and silence, for I am in charge here, and be careful what you say, for I am not disrespected.” _Conticuere omnes._ Chapter 10. For the good order of this narrative, I now leave aside the great figure of the Great Captain, with whose eminent dimensions the entire history of those times is filled ; Let me also pass over in silence, for the time being, not only the exploits he plans to accomplish, but also his admirable judgments and the profound opinion he gave on the affairs of the war ; and, having put all these matters to the test, let me turn to the matter of Don Diego de Rumblar. It so happened that one night I found him on the way to the Calle de la Pasión, and I immediately sewed myself into his cloak, resolved to follow him until morning, if necessary. “Oh, Gabriel! How dearly you sell yourself! Boy, here are your two reales. I don’t like debts. ” “Have you gotten out of trouble now? It can’t be because of what Señor de Cuervatón gave you. ” “Wretched usurer! I’m not going to ask for more, because now I have everything.” what I need. Guess who gives it to me? Well, Santorcaz gives it to me. That’s strange, because I thought Señor Don Luis was more of a receiver than a giver. Well, you’ll see. He has a lot of money now, though I don’t know where it comes from. This Santorcaz seems like a potentate. How much he loves me, and how cleverly he tells me everything I should do! You should have seen how he offers me money and more money, of course, giving me a proper receipt. Yesterday he lent me 1,500 reales, which I needed to buy Zaina a coral necklace. And is it possible that you spend your money on such gifts, when you have such a pretty girlfriend you’re going to marry? What do you want, kid! Courtship is one thing, and having a wife is another… well, Zaina drives me crazy. But aren’t you getting married? Well, aren’t I going to get married? It’s all right. It seems to me that someone in the family is opposed; but I’m in no hurry as long as I have the Marchioness on my side . Marriage is indispensable, because it’s a matter of convenience. My mother tells me in all her letters that if I don’t marry soon, she’ll cut me open. Marriage above all; but courtesy doesn’t take away from courage… Have you ever met a woman more savage, more seductive than Zaina? Well, I’ve heard, and I say this so you can be careful, that Mr. de Mañara is Zaina’s suitor. So they say… but not to me! Perhaps my friend Don Juan once had that whim; but it’s no longer the case. And that Don Juan left Zaina’s house at dawn, it’s true, because I saw him. None of that is relevant, Don Diego replied petulantly. Today, Ignacia is dying for the one inside this cloak. You’ll see how he won’t take his eyes off me tonight. Besides, I know Mañara is madly interested in another woman. “Another woman? ” “Or rather, two. Mañara has gotten involved again with that lady who caused a scandal last year, according to what I heard, and he’s also in cahoots with María Sánchez, Pelumbres’s sister. And that he has nothing to do with Zaina is proven by the fact that last night they got into a fight at her house. Pelumbres wore a nice lace handkerchief and a beautiful white mantilla at the bullfights the day before yesterday! It ‘s all a gift from Mañara, and last night they were together at the Príncipe de los Cazuelas, and afterward they went to dinner at González’s house. So no one disputes my Zaina, my beloved, today.” At this point, we arrived at the home of the demigoddess of cabbages, lettuce, and tomatoes, and saw her transferring, from a small barrel to half a dozen bottles, a good portion of liquor, to which, as a Catholic Christian, she administered the first sacrament with the Jordan from a jug she kept nearby. Far from her, at the other end of the living room, Uncle Mano de Mortero , Zaina ‘s father, Pujitos, and the friendly meat cutter, known as Majoma, were warming themselves by a brazier , the three deeply involved in a heated conversation about public affairs. Ignoring that group, who in turn ignored the visitors, Don Diego and I went straight to Zaina’s house, and here it falls to me to make the most accurate depiction of her within my limited reach. Ignacia Rejoncillos was the most beautiful sculpture in human flesh I have ever seen; And I say this not because I had ever seen her in that dress usually worn by the Venus de Medici, the Venus de Milo, or other marble ladies of the same style, but because, in favor of the dresses of that time, the correctness, elegance, and proportional form of the different parts of her body clearly showed through ; for the dress, far from disfiguring these feminine sculptures, actually beautifies them, and they are more admirable when imagined than seen. A very beautiful face, she had a pearly white, having never worn any other makeup than that of clear water, and sparkling, brown, sleepy eyes , now languid, now excited, of those half- sanctimonious, half-drunken kind that are often found traveling through the world. land of Spain, behind the box in a small square, through the bars of a convent, and to put it simply, in any public or private place. Although somewhat squat, her ivory teeth, her lovely mouth that was a gateway to insolence, her alabaster throat and neck, were enough to obscure that defect. Her hands were not fine, as one might expect; but her feet were, worthy of royal slippers, and she also had another very particular charm, which was a soft, thick, and gentle voice, whose tone is indefinable, and which was even more amusing because of the incorrect pronunciation and the solecisms she crammed into her speech. “Dear Zaina,” Don Diego told her lovingly, “last night I dreamed of you. ” “And I of the monkeys of the Retiro,” she replied. ” I dreamed that you loved me very much, and when I woke up I cried for half an hour when I realized it was all a dream. ” “And how much does Your Grace love me?” As for me, I’m completely dead, and my heart is a wreck from loving him so much. “If you were telling the truth, ungrateful Proserpina, proud Juno, artful Circe! Your heart is like a hard diamond or a cliff, and in vain my love tries to pierce it with the sharp shafts of its quiver. ” “What are these nicknames you’ve given me, Count?” exclaimed Zaina, laughing heartily. “I’m a thorn! And what’s this about cackles and hard diamonds? ” “I heard this in a poem they read tonight at the Rosy Cross, and it suits you perfectly. Tell me: why didn’t you reply to the most tender letter I wrote you the other day? ” “Shall I reply, man of God? Let the crows eat it. How can I reply if I don’t know how to write?” There the friends read the paper, and had two hours of celebration and laughter over the matter of your grace’s wounded heart, and that I was a wood pigeon and a nightingale, and that you have a divine and pantasmic love for me. “Ideal and fantastic!” said the letter, which means that I love you with a pure and platonic love, unmixed with any light appetite. “Go and get garroted! Don’t speak to me, sir, in the American language I don’t understand. ” “And what did you think of the corals? ” “The necklaces? Magnificent, as they say nowadays. Only, sir, you could have accompanied them with the trifling sum of a pair of earrings and a tortoiseshell comb of the kind they wear today. And don’t forget my dear Condito who promised me a carriage to take me to the bullfights on Monday, nor those twelve yards of cotton to make me what they now call a savillé.” If not, even if he turns out to be an hermit and an anchorite, as he says in his portfolio, I shall not love him. ” “All that you will have, and much more,” said Don Diego, taking his arm. “In the meantime, keep your hands to yourself, Señor Don Diego, for someone who is platonic and pantasmic, as you say, will not like to pinch flabby flesh like mine. But come here and answer me. Is it confirmed by what you told me last night about Señor de Mañara? ” “Point by point, Zainilla of my entrails. ” “It’s not that I care at all about what that little rascal does,” added the greengrocer, “but a friend of mine wants to know. ” “Well, tell your friend that Señor de Mañara no longer loves her because he is in love with a certain Duchess and with Pelumbres, both of them together. ” “Duchesses to me!” “Ignacia exclaimed, making a terrifying gesture with her right hand. “If it’s the lady you mentioned last night… well, I know her well. Two years ago, she used to go to La Primorosa with another little friend of hers, a Countess or something, tall and dark, and with Pepilla González, a comedienne from the Príncipe Theater. They certainly made quite a racket between the three of them! And she’s also with Pelumbres? ” “No: with her sister Mariquilla: I was mistaken. The whole neighborhood knows that. Mariquilla isn’t a little satisfied! But leave that alone, it doesn’t matter to you, Zaina. Do you love me very much? ” “Well, I can’t possibly love him, child,” Zaina responded without looking at Don Diego, “if my heart seems to have pins nailed to it! Will Don Juan be coming tonight? ” “What’s it to you, little rosebud?” Saying this, Don Diego extended his treacherous fingers again to pinch her arm; but at this point, Uncle Mortar-Hand raised his voice, saying: “Are we now discussing secrets? Surely Señor Don Diego is a very distinguished and distinguished gentleman, and he comes here with good intentions. Nacia, don’t be so petty and prickly with my lord Count; if His Grace wants to give you a pinch, it’s to see how much weight you’re gaining, and not with any intention of being a nuisance. Yes, I would have consented to anything else in this house of the same honor. But where are, Señor Count, the silver spurs you promised me? ” “Tomorrow, God willing, the silversmith will finish them,” said Don Diego, approaching the group. “Doesn’t Your Grace know the news that’s going around?” “That a battle has been lost at Espinosa de los Monteros.” “And it seems that Castaños’s army is also doing badly, and that Napoleon is already on his way to Burgos. ” “All of that is a joke,” said Pujitos, “because we already have twenty thousand Englishmen in Portugal, commanded by someone called Uncle Mor. ” “Good weather is coming now for trade, Uncle Mano,” said Majoma. ” With this war going on, the French on this side and the English on the other side, the freight is running like a charm. ” “You’re right, little boy. The Portuguese border is so delicious today that it’s a mouthful for angels, and the merchants of Madrid are now raving to me. Besides, there’s no shortage of very cheap English goods sold in Portugal, along the border and in the mountains of Gata and Peña de Francia you don’t see a single rogue guard, because they’ve all joined the armies, so long live my lady the war for a thousand years, and down with Napoleon!” “If the infamous _córcego_ comes to Madrid,” said Pujitos, “he’s going to be astonished to see the battalions we’ve formed here in a scrape there. Did you go on exercise today? Good Lord, what a troop! That was scary, and if instead of clubs we’d had rifles, we’d have scared ourselves, running all over the Guardias camp ahead. ” “Well, I didn’t want to join up,” said Majoma, “because a peseta isn’t enough, and if Uncle Mano de Mortero takes me to the line, I’d be better off there than in Flanders; and let’s stop grabbing weapons, because for having taken them up once against a bailiff, they’ve kept me staring at La Puntilla1 and the Farallones2 for ten years with a rosary on my feet, because if it weren’t for the oath of my Don Fernando VII, the cynics would have eaten me up there for another ten. ” 1 Cape at the entrance to Melilla. 2 Rock at the entrance to Melilla. “That shouldn’t grieve you, Majomilla,” said Mortar Hand, “for it is fitting for sensible people to look around the Farallones, and I am your witness that, although I didn’t go there for that ill-fated bloodletting , like you, I was sentenced to two years for a horseback ride accompanied by forty quintals of patent thread, with its _London_ and all, which I smuggled in through Alcañices. But, son, we’re all here, and may God and the Virgin help us so that we don’t have to wear those two-arroba cobwebs around our ankles, which are the worst cut of gaiters I’ve ever worn in my life.” There was a knock at the door, and we saw Mr. de Mañara and Santorcaz enter, the former dressed very elegantly as a majo, with a crimson cape and pointed hat. “Thank God His Eminence appears to be here!” “—said Zaina ‘s father, pulling a chair closer to Mañara. “You know we have him as Alderman of Madrid,” shouted Santorcaz. “Alderman, Mr. Mañara! ” “Long live a thousand years!” everyone exclaimed. “That’s right. The chamber of mayors has appointed me,” replied Don Juan, “and it’s likely I’ll accept. ” “And won’t the bullfights on Monday be suspended?” asked Majoma with great interest. “As I command, there will be bullfights, even if we have all the emperors of the world at the gates of the plaza. ” “Long live the Alderman!” “And tell me, your honor, my dear little angel,” asked Uncle Mortar Hand with visible tenderness, “those poor little things that have been here for two months in Villa prison because they played pelota with six wineskins over the walls of Gilimón; those poor little lambs, who are better than good bread and more gentlemen than the Cid, do they not deserve your generosity to free them from the poor custody in which they find themselves? Oh, my dear children! And how my eyes water and my heart crumples when I see them behind bars! How could it not, Your Excellency, if I raised them at my breast and instructed them with my lessons and straightened them out with my clubs? It seems as if their flesh is my flesh, and woe to him who saw them as clever in legs as in eyes at Peña de Francia, and now sees them with their arms crossed, among constables, jailers, and all that rabble who should be fried in oil so that everyone would walk in order. “Calm down, good Mortero,” said Mañara, “for if my influence is worth anything, he’ll soon embrace his friends. ” “Let Señor Don Juan rise to the fifth heaven, and I swear I’ll bring him the finest set of shirts that has covered the Corregidor’s flesh since the beginning of time! Come on, let’s dance, let’s sing. Nacia, bring that white thing from the little barrel we snatched up on this trip. ” “Haven’t Menegilda, Alifonsa, or Narcisa come?” asked Mañara. “This is sadder than a funeral. You, Zainilla, play some boleras to whet your appetite. ” “Me, me boleras!” replied Zaina in a displeasing and ill- humored tone. “I don’t feel like playing boleras. ” “Play them for the love of God. ” “I say I don’t feel like it. Am I a figure in the middle of nowhere?” “I was born,” said the father of the well-known woman, gravely, “you can’t answer that way, and since the Lord Mayor of my soul commands it, you’ll sing, even if you rot. ” “A couple of seguidillas at least.” Zaina changed her mind and, strumming a guitar, sang: ” All the little duchesses of Madrid are useless to put on my slippers. Go on and on and put on that garter because it’s falling off. ” “Another, another! This damned Zaina has all the grace in the world on her body . ” Zaina continued: ” Princess , trotting along, you pick up the scraps I leave behind. Long live the one who lives. I’ll give you that comb because it’s useless to me.” Here came the clapping of hands and the stamping of floors and the breaking of chairs, with such noise and uproar that it seemed as if the house were falling down. Zaina then threw the guitar away from her with such force that the sensitive instrument, striking violently against a chair, let out a pitiful moan and two strings broke. Immediately afterward, she sat down next to Don Diego. But the accuracy of this narrative demands that I leave them now to their loving conversation, she all tongues and he entranced and in suspense, so that I can go on to tell how Menegilda, Alifonsa, and Narcisa entered with such a racket that, despite there being only three of them, it seemed as if all the demons of hell were entering through the gates . “You’re coming late, nymphets,” said Mano. “Yes, we’ve been chopping pork for the sausages. Since we couldn’t make it this afternoon because we were going to the rosary,” replied one of them. “Well, to avoid losing the rosary, I closed my iron store,” said another, “and since early evening I’ve had to go about removing the horseshoe nails from the door nails.” “Oh, how good the rosary was! Have you seen it, Majomilla? ” “What could there be to it, if I wasted time on the Puente de Toledo, waiting for a five of hearts that wouldn’t come out, and swindling two guys from Valmojado who would be damned if they sweated two cents! But I’ll pray it tomorrow, for it’s never too late for good. ” “As soon as we found out,” said Narcisa, “we planted ourselves there. I told the relative to put the pot on and take care of the children, and what do I need feet for? This rosary was brought out by the Congregation of Our Lady of Mount Carmel from the San Ginés pyrrhoquia, in prayer for the present calamities. It came out at two. What brilliance, what devotion! Everyone went there, from the most snobbish gentleman to the last.” “comiquín, and everyone with their candle. Haven’t you been, Mortar Hand? ” “Why would I go, woman,” he replied, “if I’m here with my heart pierced by the pain of not having put my spoonful into that rosary? But since my soul needs it, tomorrow I have to attend the function given by the Confraternity of Our Lady of Sorrows, to whom I have a legacy for the missteps from which she has rescued me, interceding with her divine Son. I believe my great friend Father Salmon is preaching. ” “That function,” added Pujitos, “is in the convent of the Dominican Fathers, and it is held to implore divine aid for the happiness of the arms of this monarchy, the health of our Most Holy Pius VII, and the freedom of our beloved Monarch. ” “Just and fair,” continued Mortar Hand; And since there is a procession, I intend to attend with a candle, for all of us, to a greater or lesser extent, are full of sin, and even I, who do no harm to anyone, am going there with the rest; for the just man sins three times, how much more so those who are not. As far as I am concerned, I have no qualms about His Divine Majesty bringing good to the armies, for we are Spaniards and we ought to desire it, nor about him granting good health and a thousand years to that Mr. D. Pío VII; But as for the release of Fernando, which is as if to say, the end of the war, I’ll have him for a couple more years, because this war thing, with the French on this side and the English on that side, is a blessing from God, and a heavenly dew that the Lord sends to the poor people who have nowhere to earn it, if not by risking their lives and hiding pieces of thread inside sacks of coal, to try to deceive the treasury, which is the devilish enemy of our souls. “Mr. Mano is a bad patriot,” Pujitos said emphatically, “for he neither takes up a rifle nor prays for the freedom of our beloved Monarch. ” “Ten rifles, and I won’t take one if necessary, because there are enough holes, scratches, and dents on the bodies of the guards, which can attest to how I handle the trigger.” I also love and revere my dear King, for I cannot forget that he shook my hand the day he entered from Aranjuez, nor that he praised my Zainilla for her grace in playing the tambourine; but we poor people are poor, and I would place my Fernando on seven thrones… Son, give me bread and call me a fool, and as the other said, the abbot of what he sings is sweet. “I didn’t see Señor de Pujitos in formation today,” said Santorcaz, approaching the group. “How could I go, comrade,” replied the master builder, who, upon hearing himself questioned on the matter, was more pleased than if he were given three European thrones; “how could I go if all day I’ve been in the Park putting rifles aside, counting flintlocks, and checking cartridges, so busy, gentlemen, that I have a stitch in my back that won’t let me breathe? ” “And will Madrid defend itself? ” “Well then!” There aren’t many rifles, so to speak; but they’ve gathered countless old sabers, many lances, antique helmets from the time of the king who was mad for porridge, saucepans that can serve as shields, maces that would be a godsend for splitting French heads , gauntlets, spikes, spits, old keys, and a thousand other deadly weapons. “Our valor will be of no use,” said Santorcaz, “if we don’t first put an end to all the traitors in Madrid. ” “I say the same,” affirmed Mortero. “Everywhere you see nothing but French spies, and now is the opportunity for this Lord Mayor here to shine. ” “That’s the truth,” I said. “I know many who pretend to be very patriotic, but are sold out to the French. Those who make the most fuss and shout the loudest, and boast the most about being patriotic, are the worst. Isn’t that true, Santorcaz? ” “Then put an end to them.” “For that we are more than enough,” Majoma added. “And let bad patriots and Frenchmen come, so we can deal with them. ” “I know some people,” Mañara said, “who will die in a drag, if God doesn’t help it; and if I become alderman, we’ll see each other face to face, Frenchified gentlemen.” “These are the worst people,” Santorcaz stated with great aplomb, ” the most shameless and most traitorous there are; and if we don’t get our hands on them, we won’t come out of this war well. Because I know there are those who are plotting to open the gates of Madrid if they lay siege to us. ” “Well, dispatch them, and that’s the end of the alliance,” Pujitos said. “In my company, they’re so rabid that just by saying ‘that’s a Frenchman,’ they ‘ll turn on him and want to tear him to pieces. ” “The worst, ” I repeated, having the pleasure of Uncle Mano vigorously supporting my opinion, “are those who shout and confuse, and are constantly talking about traitors; and if not, here’s Santorcaz, who knows people and can say so. ” “That’s right, indeed,” the Freemason replied, somewhat annoyed; “but that there are traitors, there’s no doubt about it.” Chapter 11. Don Diego, Zaina, and the other three ladies, no less famous than the latter, had fallen into a lively conversation, forming another small group. “Don’t forget, Señor Condito,” said Menegilda, “that he promised to bring his fiancée to us one night. ” “I don’t have a fiancée. ” “Yes, he does. Isn’t it true, Gabriel, that you have a fiancée? ” “And prettier than the sun,” I replied, approaching. “Come on, I do,” said Rumblar, “but I don’t want her, Zainilla. Don’t get jealous. ” “I’m fed up with such jealousy, my boy,” replied the maja. ” But why don’t you bring her here one night? ” “He’ll bring a star from the sky first,” affirmed Mañara, approaching the female group. “Don Diego promised to bring her to me, and he will bring her,” said Santorcaz, also attracted by this conversation. “Yes,” Mañara indicated, “that young gentleman’s family would allow such a delicate maiden to come to these houses. ” “To these houses!” exclaimed Zaina. “Are we in some kind of prison? My house is more honorable, Señor Don Juan, than many of those beloved ladies, where your grace is wandering in bad ways. ” “Shut up, silly,” said Mañara in a bad mood. “And you have brought good princesses to this house, and to that of La Pelumbres and La Primorosa,” added Ignacia. ” We are all one and the same, and I don’t know it because of that duchess you went with two nights ago at La Pelumbres. Alifonsa, do you know who she is? Do you remember that little dumb duchess, who looks like a bone warehouse? If Don Juan brings her around here, we’ll set up a button factory. ” “What are you talking about there, you boorish, featherless animal?” ” Mañara shouted with a lively burst of anger. “Speak better if you don’t want me to make a slipper with your tongue to whip you in the face. ” “That’s what the Ass Regidor is doing to me!” Zaina yelled. “After I’ve scorned him, after I’ve had to spit in his face so he wouldn’t follow me around, sucking the dirt under my feet, now he comes up with this? I scrub the kitchen dishes with a servant’s whiskers , and I throw a gentleman’s guts into my cat. ” “Damned Manola!” Mañara said, growing increasingly angry. “The blame lies with the one who gave you those wings and whoever spends time with low people. Why do you take the names of respectable ladies in your vile mouth, whose soles you don’t deserve to kiss? Beware of the girl’s jealousy! ” “Me jealousy?” shrieked the maja, hotter than scarlet. For God’s sake, love me, you filthy fool! Take it as a mat and think you’re courting me! And saying this, he spat in the middle of the group. “You miserable little whore! It’s the fault of whoever gets close to you, for making you a nobody even for a day! ” “Hey, hey! Little by little,” said Uncle Mortar Hand at this point, who from an indifferent spectator of that scene was turning into an actor in it. “That bitch thing is for people with bad mouths, and here we don’t speak ill of anyone, and my daughter has her due, just like any other. Don’t let Señor Don Juan touch our honor, because I’m not short of a sack of gold ounces tested to stone anyone. And you, my princess, why are you bothering Señor de Mañara now, when just a few days ago you were crazy about him, and if one night his lordship failed to keep you company or help you pray, Rosario, did you put sighs in the sky the size of cathedrals? Come on, they ‘re all good, and let’s leave one for another. “Do we have sighs?” Mañara asked presumptuously. “And if there were sighs,” said Mortero, “my daughter is a person of etiquette, and she can shed them like anyone else, even if it’s for the King; for if she’s in the vegetable drawer, it’s because she wants to, her father has already promised several times to put her in charge of a house of fine drinks. ” “I sigh for that animal!” said Zaina. “Out of pity I looked at him once when he went to the drawer to praise me. ” “You would like that; but it’s not customary to throw daisies to swine. ” Zaina made a movement. The devil was undoubtedly the one who brought a bottle from the ones on the next table to his irritated hands and threw it with such force at Mañara that, had he not quickly stepped aside, we would have seen the hardest head a Regidor had ever used in the world split in two. This furious man rose to punish Zaina for her rudeness; but Don Diego rushed to the greengrocer’s defense with such speed that the first blows fell upon him. Filled with rage at seeing himself beaten, he lashed out at Mañara, to the point that Uncle Mortar Hand began to test the accuracy of his nickname by throwing a few blows at both Tyrians and Trojans. The majas Narcisa, Menegilda, and Alifonsa also declared war on each other, just to please those restless hands, and soon there was not a single one of those present who did not contribute their part to this collection of blows and shouts. It was a blessing from God, and I swear I would never have gotten my hands into such a mess if I hadn’t been prompted to do so by a caress I felt on the middle of my back, delivered by an unknown hand. And the worst of it was that Majoma, a resourceful man, always inclined to take advantage of such disturbances of private order, brought down several blows on the lantern that illuminated the scene, and at once we all saw one color. Here came the intensifying of punches, the straining of shouts, and the rolling over one another; and while the weight of one body sometimes pressed upon us , ours also fell into human softness, from whose collisions came pinches, scratches, and other small missiles. From here, plaintive voices were heard; Over there, cries of revenge rose, and above all sorts of rumors, the stentorian voice of Uncle Mortar Hand rose , saying: “There must be no scandals in my house, and whoever says you can hear the swoop of a fly here is lying. Come on, my friends: don’t make so much noise or bang so loudly. This is a joke: just have peace and bread, and let’s have fun. ” And at all this, the neighborhood became agitated, and curious people lingered in the street, not because the noise was new to them, but to enjoy it; and there was fear of legal intervention, which wounded Mr. Mortar Hand to the very core of his dignity. Finally, someone managed to find the door and open it and step out, so that, a little light having come in, we were able to see each other. Everything indicated that we were about to have a visit from the bailiff, which prompted me to take Don Diego by the arm and throw him out with me, then bound down the stairs until our bodies fell into the street, where we squeezed together without fear of the braces. When we saw that we were far away, we slowed our pace, eyeing one another. Don Diego had suffered more injuries than I had in the fray, and he sported a well-made welt on his face. “Cursed me!” he exclaimed, feeling the pockets of his breeches. ” Do you know they’ve taken both my watches? And my money too, all the money I had! ” “It was to be expected, Señor Don Diego,” I replied, also searching myself, ” since we didn’t leave any of the sung masses. And from what I see, they’ve fleeced me too. ” “Did they take your watch?” “No, sir: they haven’t taken my watch, nor will all the thieves in the world, because I don’t have it; but I did lose a little money; very little, by the way. ” “My God! No watch, no money…” Don cried in pain. Diego—How will I buy the seventeen yards of cotton that Zaina wants? How will I rent the carriage so she can go to the bullfights on Monday? If Santorcaz doesn’t lend me money, I’ll die. —Ten-seven yards of ash, not cotton, is what those people deserve, I answered; for one must be mad or in love to set foot in such houses. Chapter 12. As I indicated before, I was unable to obtain permission to leave Madrid, because the city, soon finding itself in great straits, realized that it needed all its people to defend itself. Why didn’t I leave? Who prevented me? Who thwarted my resolve? Who could it be but the one who at that time was the upsetter of all projects, the left arm of destiny, the one who extended the influence of his invading will to both great and small? Yes: the bargain hunter of Europe; The dethroner of the Bourbons and creator of new kingdoms; the one who had England stifled, Russia suspended, Prussia crushed, Austria intimidated, and beautiful Italy oppressed, also dared to put his hand in my fate, preventing me from joining another army. It is, then, the case that the imperial and royal Don Quixote, as some of our countrymen called him, not without reason, had entered Spain at the beginning of November with the intention of reestablishing the Botellesque court in Madrid. He cared little that the Spaniards called his brother one-eyed, and, focused on the number and strength of our soldiers, he paid no attention to anything else. Once he set foot on Spanish soil, he was not very pleased that Marshal Lefebvre had won the Battle of Zornoza, because it is well known that he did not like to see glory acquired without his presence and consent. He ordered, however, Marshal Victor to pursue our unfortunate Blake, whose troops had been reinforced by those of the Marquis of Romana, who had escaped from Denmark, and here you have the battle of Espinosa de los Monteros, fought on the 10th and 11th, and lost by us, no matter how much the Great Captain, with more zeal than common sense, persists in denying it. Alas! Do not pay attention to my most honorable and enthusiastic friend, and believe wholeheartedly that Espinosa was a great defeat, although not without glory for our hungry, naked, and weary troops. Brave officers perished there, and everyone suffered great hardships and privations, without a piece of bread to put in their mouths or a bandage to put on their wounds. Thus succumbed the army of the left, whose remnants, escaping the rugged terrain of Liébana, landed in the Campos region, to be commanded by the Marquis of la Romana. The army of Extremadura was no more fortunate at Gamonal, near Burgos, for Bessières and Lasalle also destroyed it on that same fateful day, November 10, and on the 12th, the scourge of the world entered the capital of Castile, there publishing his treacherous decree of amnesty. We still had one army left, that of the Center, which occupied the banks of the Ebro at Tudela: Castaños commanded it; but no one believed we would be more fortunate there, because once the door to calamities was opened, they would come one after another in rapid succession, as is always the case in the rogue world. Heaven was also preparing another great misfortune for us on the Ebro; But by mid-November, when the sad news of Espinosa and Gamonal spread through Madrid, the Battle of Tudela had not yet taken place. The panic in Madrid was immense, and the Corsicans’ imminent arrival in the vicinity of the capital was believed certain. What could oppose them? The only army left was that of the Center, located up there on the banks of the Ebro. Who would stop the invader in his terrible march? The Junta was despairing, and the people of Madrid believed they were coming to remedy the gravity of the circumstances, growing enthusiastic. Alas! After sending some troops to the Somosierra and Navacerrada passes, what regular army was left to defend Madrid? It’s a shame to say. Five hundred men. The armed peasants were certainly numerous; but there were very few rifles, and of these, half were useless for lack of cartridges. And what were cartridges made with, if there was no gunpowder? This is where we had come to four months after the victory of Bailén. Everything was reversed. Yesterday sweeping away the French, and today letting ourselves be swept away; yesterday powerful and fearsome, and today impotent and disbanded. Contrasts and antitheses typical of the land, like brown cloth, chickpeas, good wine, and good humor. Oh, Spain, how you are recognized in every part of your history, wherever you look! And there is no dissimulation that can conceal you, no mask that can hide you, no makeup that can disfigure you, because wherever you appear, there you are known from a hundred leagues away, with your face half in celebration, and the other half in misery. with one hand clutching laurels, and with the other scratching your leprosy. “Hello, Gabriel, are you here?” Pujitos said to me at the Puerta del Sol on November 20. “You already know that our friend Don Juan de Mañara is our councilor. He’s in charge of the cartridge store. Do you have a rifle? ” “Well, then. But still, there’s no talk of fortifying Madrid, nor is there any talk of digging ditches and raising parapets and shelters, since this town and court were built without walls or any other defenses? ” “All that will be done. But what’s most urgent is the cartridge store and weapons. ” “Where do they make cartridges? ” “In various places. Over there, next to the Colegio de Niñas de la Paz, there are more than sixty people working on it night and day. ” “But cartridges are of no use to us without weapons, Mr. de Pujitos,” I said. I know many brave men who have nothing but spears, flintlocks, and swords full of urine. “That will be nothing, and if they don’t betray us… ” “Treason! ” “Yes: there are many traitors here!” “Nowadays, since people are so excited, it’s common to call the most loyal patriots traitors. ” “Gabriel,” he said, stopping in the middle of the street and sticking a finger out from the fold of his cloak, with which he emphasized his words in a Ciceronian manner, “when I say it, I know it. Do you remember what was said a few nights ago at Uncle Mano’s house? Do you remember how furious Mr. Santorcaz was with the traitors? Well, we’ve discovered that this Mr. Santorcaz, or Don Demonio, is a spy from Corsica. See why he was so fired up. ” “It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.” “He writes them letters about what’s happening here, and with the money they give him, he pays troublemakers to start quarrels among the troops. There are many like this, and it’s said that very high-born gentlemen are sold out to the French. But, Gabriel, let’s get our noses pricked up, and we’ll see where they end up. There are others who, although they’re not traitors, are fussy, and don’t want what they call the Constitution, which is now going to be put in place to put an end to espotism. Do you know what espotism is? Well, espotism is a very bad thing, very bad. Well , since we finished off Godoy and the lairones who lived with him, all the mischief has ended, and now, once we put an end to this Corsican thing, the kingdoms of Spain are going to be governed differently, and we’ll be so well off that we wouldn’t trade places with the angels in heaven.” And saying this, he turned and hurried away from me. I was not long in rushing to the formation of my company. Given the evident signs of alarm that were observed at all hours in Madrid, the optimism of the Great Captain could hardly be sustained in the ideal regions where we have seen him hovering, like the eagle of the fatherland whom neither danger nor fear can force to abate its majestic flight. It was no longer possible to deny the defeat at Espinosa, nor that at Gamonal, and only madmen could suppose Napoleon prepared to stop on his victorious path. For many days the strong spirit of my friend resisted the evidence of so many setbacks; for many days he maintained that our victorious weapons would drive the French with their ill-fated Emperor across the Bidasoa; For many days he continued attributing to the public records the perfidious invention of those absurd events that did not fit in his Homeric head; but finally the multitude of bad news, the public agitation, the panic of all, the general anxiety, and the tumult and labyrinth of defensive preparations dealt blow after blow to the formidable castle of his stubbornness, shattering so many hopes. The hero did not appear to be dismayed by this; rather, he laughed, taking the whole thing as a party. Full of confidence in the capital, he always denied that Napoleon dared to confront the people of Madrid, and this was a tenacity that lasted against all odds until November 25th, on whose night, upon retiring to his house, Doña Gregoria asked him, as always, the news of the afternoon. “Nothing, woman,” he replied, rubbing his hands together and proclaiming with disdainful smiles the categorical confidence that filled his spirit. Nothing, woman: we have a little emperor. Chapter 13. And the little emperor left Burgos on the 22nd; he stopped in Aranda on the 24th; on the 29th he was in Boceguillas, and finally, on the 30th, he arrived in Somosierra. In Madrid, the alarm was growing to such an extent that by November 23rd, a formal defense was being considered, garrisoning the circuit of the Court to make it, with the courage of its inhabitants, a second Zaragoza. The Marquis of Castelar was Captain General of New Castile , and Don Fernando de la Vera y Pantoja was Governor of the square ; but the latter was not considered very knowledgeable in facultative matters, and since the work involved defense, the celebrated Don Tomás de Morla, Solano’s successor in Cádiz five months earlier, was appointed to the task. This was a very ugly man, of apparently energetic character, although in reality very weak. He enjoyed a high reputation for artillery knowledge , which he still maintains, as his studies serve today to educate young people dedicated to scientific warfare. Morla directed the defensive works, which consisted of large ditches dug outside the gates of Fuencarral, Santa Bárbara, Los Pozos, Atocha, and Recoletos; the loopholes along the entire northern wall; the clearing of paving stones in the streets of Alcalá, Carrera de San Jerónimo, and Calle de Atocha to erect barricades; and, finally, the fortification of the Retiro Park with trenches and a moderate amount of artillery, the only one we had, since everything was reduced to a few 6-pounders and a very few 8-pounders. This was done hastily at the last minute; but with such enthusiasm and determination that diligence seemed to more than make up for foresight. Everyone worked on the works without regard for class. The ladies, not content with joining the Congregation of Washing and Sewing, sent a statement to the authorities in which they offered to help, either by carrying baskets of earth or by doing whatever they were asked to do. This is not my invention, and the statement exists in print, where the unbeliever can see it if they still doubt the greatness of spirit of the ladies of that time. And when I say “ladies,” it is understood that I am not referring to those I have mentioned elsewhere in this story , since those from Rastro and Maravillas had a special taste for parading throughout Madrid dragging a cannon amidst seguidillas and chanzonetas: I am referring to the tallest women, whom I saw employed in tasks unworthy of their delicate hands. There is no need to mention the men, because we all worked day and night, digging earth from the ditches to build the artillery shells. In a short time, Alcalá Street was as clear of pebbles as farmland, and from the Baronesas to Carmen Calzado we erected a formidable parapet. The personnel of the defense was as follows: 1. Five hundred line soldiers, barely enough to man the firing points. 2. The collective troops formed by the voluntary enlistment of August 7, to which one of your servants belonged, did not exceed three thousand men. 3. The Conscripts belonging to Madrid in the call for two hundred and fifty thousand men made by the Junta, and whose draw was carried out on November 23. 4. The urban militia called _honored_, which was formed by voluntary enlistment on the 24th of the same month. I am going to tell you something about this conscription and these _honored_ gentlemen. It was carried out by calling all citizens from 16 to 40 years of age to arms, and declaring repealed all exceptions established by the Royal Ordinances of October 27, 1800, for the replacement of the army. Widows with children were declared useful; the hidalgos of Madrid; nobles who had no exception other than their nobility; tonsured without benefice who were assigned to ecclesiastical service , for whose determination the Council of Trent was covered with a veil ; Those who enjoyed chaplaincy without being ordained _in sacris_; many of these were the so-called _abbes_; the novices of religious orders; the doctors and licentiates, who were not professors with propriety; those retired from service, and the quintos who had served their time; the only children of farmers; in a word, neither the king nor Roque were exempted. The _honrados_ were a sedentary militia created to garrison cities, to _prevent disorders, and repress criminals, bandits, deserters, and dissidents who, disturbing public tranquility, try to satisfy their ambition or greed. So in Madrid on November 23, we held a draw for the replacement of the army, and a few days later, enlistment of _honorable militiamen_. This and this operation were carried out ten to three in the cloisters of the Trinidad Calzada, the Mostenses, the San Francisco, and in those of other convents located in the most central point of each quarter, before a mayor of the house and court or a councilor of Madrid, a military officer, a neighborhood mayor, and a clerk. It took, therefore, a few days for the ranks of the Madrid garrison to swell with many thousands of men. To the few regular troops and the regular number of already disciplined volunteers were added the multitude of conscripts and the crowd of urban soldiers, all very enthusiastic people; but almost in general they lacked rifles and were as ignorant of what they were supposed to do as the mother who gave birth to them . It also happened that the old volunteers, those who since August had been presumptuously parading their uniformed faces around Madrid, looked askance at the “honored” ones, who, calling themselves that, seemed to want to epitomize all Spanish honor in their institute, and spoke ill of the old ones. The “honored” ones who didn’t have weapons said that these should be taken away from the old ones who did; the latter swore to hand them over to Napoleon before handing them over to the “honored” ones. Meanwhile , the recently drawn quintos, those unfortunate widowers, nobles, sacristans, novices, beneficed without benefices, and other people previously exempted, looked to the sky, hoping something would be put in their hands to kill. In short: many, many last- minute people; few and poor weapons; no concerted effort; no one who knew how to command, even a flock of turkeys; much twitching of tongues and legs; a continual coming and going, with the inseparable addition of shouts, threats, and mutual suspicions, and the flurry of pennants, cockades, banners, signs, placards, and emblems that so dazzle the people of Madrid. The appearance of one of those cloisters where the enlistment took place was worthy of being immortalized by the most skillful brushes. Lucky me if with my pen I could give ephemeral existence to one of them! Which one? They were all equally picturesque; and if any contained a greater number of curiosities, it was the cloister of the Trinidad Calzada, on Atocha Street. In the middle of the wide corridor was the table where the councilor received the names, which a clerk entered on thick sheets of paper. Around it resounded such shrieks and uproar that I don’t know how Mr. de Mañara, the councilman present, could bear it; but it was useless to impose silence, because the crowd of women gathered at the door would not remain silent even if the Holy Spirit commanded them to. A poor bailiff had been assigned to maintain proper composure, and never would the unfortunate instrument of justice have attempted such an act, because they caught him and bruised him, and broken and crushed, he was thrown around in the stream. “What are you looking for here?” exclaimed Pujitos, opening his arms in a threatening attitude. “Get out, women, you’re only a hindrance. Damn you, why don’t you go dig up dirt in Los Pozos? ” “We’ve already dug up dirt: too bad it wasn’t from your grave! ” “What do you want, devils? ” “What do we want? Rifles, louse! Did they give them to you and your battalion to remove cobwebs? Come here quickly, we’ll enlist too.” “Get out, get out of here, you scoundrel. ” “Peace, peace,” said a deep, booming voice from inside the cloister, which I immediately recognized as that of the venerable Salmon. “Let there be peace, and don’t anyone raise my hackles.” At once the tight group of women divided in two, giving way to the stately figure of the mercenary, who advanced with a majestic stride and a smiling demeanor. “Here’s the Padrito. Long live Father Salmon! Come, you devilish Pujitos, throw us out. ” “Drag along,” said one of them, grabbing Pujitos by the collar and showing him her fist. “Did your teeth come out for Mass this morning? Do you want them to come out for Vespers this afternoon? Well, gasp and you’ll see. ” “Leave him alone, leave that poor man alone,” said Salmon sarcastically, “and forgive him for his great discourtesy to such worthy ladies.” I promise he’ll mend his ways. I’ve told you several times that if you’re not good, you shouldn’t count on your dear Father Salmon at all. Come on, my ladies, duchesses and princesses, why are you crowding here? We want to enlist too. Enlist, oh brave Amazons! But, girls, don’t you see that gold thread and strings of pearls feel better in your hands than the dreaded Damascene scimitar? Go on, go pray, for an honest woman with a broken leg and at home. Those are all cowards. We’ve already loaded many baskets of earth. Now we’re taking two cannons to Los Pozos, and we want them to let us fire them. Well, well, everything will be done. Each one to her own house, and be careful with what I’ve warned you. You, Nicolasa, are a cheat, for every pound of flesh weighs two ounces less. You, Bastiana, will be condemned for the usury of lending two pesetas per duro to the people of the Rastro; and you, Alifonsa, a real liquor-slinger, bear in mind that you will see as many dozens of these at the hour of your death as you have maintained retinues in life, and I say no more so as not to scandalize the public. With these and other tirades, Salmon cleared the door in such a manner that it was soon open; but the popular friar did not return inside , but continued onward, saying a word to each one and giving the belt to old men, women, men, and children to kiss . When he saw me, he threw his arms around my neck, greeting me with great affection. “Have you come to enlist?” he said to me. At this point, a man rushed toward us and kissed Salmon’s hands with fervent affection, then spoke to him thus: “Oh, my beloved little Father!” Thank God this poor fellow has the relief of meeting you, seeing you, and speaking to you, which gives him more pleasure than if he were given all the kingdoms of the world, free of borders! Did His Paternity receive the seven pounds of snuff and the little barrel? Yes, my son, and thanks be to you, for you are the gentleman most faithful to his oaths and words that I know. Yes, for I am a man to snub such a reverend Paternity. Let my little friar send that word, and I will bring him all of England, even if I spend all my money on gunpowder and bullets. And Zainilla? She is in a bad state! The other night we had a meeting at home, and everything is over. with a little farce of what they call sticks, which seemed like a glory. The poor little girl of my loins has not eaten or drunk since that night, and she sends sighs to heaven that break her father’s bronze heart. “You’re a fool, Uncle Mano,” said Salmon. “When I was at your house on All Souls’ Day… do you remember that you gave me those stews; which, with the addition of a certain brandy from Chinchón, were fit for the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire to dip his beard into? ” “I remember, yes. ” “Well, that night I told you: ‘Morterillo, be careful, your Zaina and Mr. Mañara are having a lot of chatter, and look at them in that corner with their heads tilted towards each other like two ripe figs.” And how your daughter was drooling!” ” It’s true, sir; and I already know that’s where it all comes from.” “Then I told you: ‘Morterillo, be careful, Mañara wants to entangle your daughter, and you’re going to lose this little morsel of angels that you were destining for a Twenty-Four.’ Was I right?” “So that’s it?… I didn’t want to quarrel with Mañara,” said Mortero, scratching his ear. “It’s true that he went there every night… but my poor little girl is as innocent as a dove. ” “I bet the devil has stuck his tail in your house, Morterillo. You say your daughter neither eats nor drinks, and she sighs… sighs? ” “Yes; And in three days I haven’t been able to get a word out of her mouth, and at times I’ve watched her behind her bedroom door, and I’ve seen my little girl swearing… well… just like the actors in the theater… And at times I’ve seen her wiping away her tears, and at other times flashing sparks from her eyes… “Tell me what’s the matter, seraph of your father,” I’ve asked her a few times; but she answers me no more than a post. Last night we began to pray the rosary, because I never fail to say amen to this devout custom, neither at home nor in the open field, and she began with great devotion, saying the holy of holies with a lilt and a sweet chant that reached the soul; but suddenly, Padrito, she begins to flail like a madwoman, tears the rosary into a thousand pieces, gets up, and with her hands on her head, pacing around the room, says thus: “Virgin of the Dove, I cannot, I cannot.” Then she put on her shawl and ran out into the street, where I followed her… Will Your Reverence for my soul believe that she went to the house where that damned Councilman lives, stood in the doorway, and, leaning her head against a grille, began to cry like a child? I had to carry her to my house in my arms, and the next day she couldn’t go to her coffin because she fell ill. “I see it clearly now: Mañara has her brains out, and she’s not the first time, Mortero, she’s not the first; but I’ll go over there, give the girl a sermon, and we’ll see if I can cure her… But be quiet… isn’t that the one peeking out over there? Yes, it’s her. Zaina, Zainilla, come here. ” “Yes, she’s my early flower, she’s her father’s bright star. Come here, you little creep,” said Uncle Mano, calling his daughter. “Where did you come from?” “From carrying dirt,” replied Zaina, whose fresh and animated countenance showed no trace of the deep sorrow and exaltation the respectable progenitor had just described. “We’ve already placed three cannons at the Puerta de Atocha, and the stakes are driven in, and such a mess of canes has been set up that it looks like a Nativity scene. ” “And why are you busy with these chores, all alone in justice?” “Father, give His Reverence a good lecture, or two, if necessary, so that he’ll stay at home. ” “You don’t look well, Zaina,” Salmon told her. “You’re sad, I know you’re sad. ” “What a good guesser we have! And why am I sad?” “Tell me, have you seen Señor D. Juan de Mañara around?” Zaina turned pale and stopped laughing. “She’s already caught,” exclaimed Salmon, clapping his hands. “That face doesn’t lie.” Look, Ignacia, in the garden of my convent there is a little bird that comes to my cell every morning to tell me about the naughty things the girls I know. Do you know what he told me about you? Well, he told me… “She’s redder than a tomato,” added Mano. “Let His Paternity for now. “What can I leave behind? Well, it’s me!… So, girl, has there been a mishap? Be very careful with the gentlemen who come to your house; be careful, because if I get angry… No more mortal sins, no more bad things, because then there’s no Padrito here, Padrito there, but I’ll bring out some discipline, and I’ll straighten my girls out with whiplashes. So come here, you crazy girl, has that gentleman Mañara lost your mind? ” “Me?” Zaina shrieked with a sudden expression of spite, which made her more arrogant and more beautiful than she really was. “Me, that bald guy? I know he polishes himself by saying it around; but let him get a little angry , he’ll still have a lot of pride, and I won’t turn on the dogs. ” “Come on, don’t deny it. ” “Me?” “I’m talking to the juice, not the peels, and about how I don’t like stuffy Ushirians, or madams who smell of bergamot, much less traitorous, gabachones, malinos… ” “Mr. Mañara, traitor!” the mercenary exclaimed in astonishment. “How can you speak like that about such an important gentleman and such a good patrician, about that blessed Regidor, who’s now in there recruiting soldiers? ” “A traitor, more of a traitor than Judas,” Zaina affirmed. “And His Reverence is making news? Well, everyone says so, and there’s no one in Madrid who doesn’t know it. ” “I’ve heard it from others, but not from Mañara,” Mortero indicated. “He’s sold out to the French, and all that show of his is to hide his wicked deeds,” Zaina said. “But they’ve got that scoundrel, creep, scumbag, servant of Uncle Copas sentenced to death.” “Long live Ferdinand VII! ” “I thought you were deluded,” said Salmon, “and now I see you’re mad. ” “Oh, my little girl!” said Uncle Mano, “don’t say such things, for they might reach Señor de Mañara’s ears, and you know that I’m working hard with him to free those two seraphic little angels who are in the Villa prison, Agustinillo and El Manco, who, for ten skins of bad Esquivias wine, are spending Purgatory while alive, although I think that in the next one God will discount these punishments for them. ” “The deaf will hear me!” exclaimed Zaina, “for we don’t want traitors here. Finish them off, and Napoleon is dead. ” “Be careful, girl,” said Salmon, “for a word and a stone loose have no return, and a word in a mouth is the same as a stone in a sling. ” “Whatever God wants.” “Whoever does me wrong, repays me. ” “Do you see how it’s all just the little grudge you’ve got left?” Ignacia was about to reply when Don Diego appeared, and as soon as she saw him, she made him enter the circle, saying: “Here I am, here’s your princess, Sir Count; don’t look for me with those big, silly bird eyes. ” “Is the Sir Count courting you too, you little rascal?” asked the friar, bowing to Don Diego. “And I love him more than the apple of my eye!” said the maja. ” The earrings are small, and next time you should be more considerate; ladies aren’t served with little pendants worth four duros; and I had a boyfriend who brought the King’s treasures home to me in bars of silver and gold . ” Don Diego, disturbed by the mercenary’s presence, could not find a word to say. Instead, the Padrito confronted him and pompously delivered the following homily: “I know the Count is on the wrong track, and my ladies the Countess and Marchioness know it too. So this is Zaina’s courtship? ” “Superlative, superlative!” Mr. Don Diego. And I don’t say this because she’s a rag, but because every sheep with its mate. What will Señora Doña María Castro de Oro, Countess of Rumblar, say, whom I only know to serve her; what will she say when she learns of her son’s dealings? And to think that a frivolous young man should be given as a wife that spotless flower, that morning star, which, like gold in cloth, is kept where you know, is to think of the clouds of yesteryear. Well, of course … an Afán de Ribera mixed up in such secrets! Aren’t you ashamed? And I don’t say this because I frequent the house of this Mr. D. Mano de Mortero, who is a very honorable person, but because my child goes also to Zancuda’s house, where they gamble like crazy, and I know some very well-off young men who have left their hearts there. “It’s true,” said Mortero. “In my house, no one leaves anything behind, except for their bad temper, because when it comes to honest conversations, chaste tongues, and calm hands, no one can beat us; that sometimes the house seems like a monastery, with so much refinement and fifth substance of comeliness. ” “But Señor Don Diego not only frequents those most dishonest regions ,” added Salmon, “but he also goes to the lodges of the Masons _infernalis espelunca_, where he spends the night amidst heresies and devilry. I see what a profit the brat is! And the Marchioness wanted me to lead him back to the right path with sermons and advice!” Magdalena is not in the mood for taffetas, Señor Don Diego, and I’ll throw away the habit I’m wearing first, otherwise you’ll rot and the devil will take you with his nonsense and swindles. ” Don Diego was more than a madam at this tirade, and he would have gladly answered Salmon, vomiting up all the abominations he had already learned about friars, if not for shame and the many angry glances he received from various quarters. So, protesting only half-heartedly against the “pancista friar,” he slipped gracefully into the crowd, taking with him Zaina and Mortero, who would not let him escape without first handing over the offered silver spurs. Salmon and I stayed there, and when my friend heard the word “frailazo pancista” (a pancist friar), words that were already beginning to be heard in the mouths of the people in those days, he became enraged and wanted to follow the young man to reprimand him for his audacity; but the crush of people, along with the displays of sympathy he received, prevented him from doing so. “Let Your Paternity temper your anger,” I said, “and let Don Diego go in good time. ” “You are right,” he replied, “that aquila non capit muscas (aquila non capit muscas). His punishment will be that he will be left without a bride. ” “Well, he is so determined to get married,” I said, “that he takes it for granted, and adds that he will go through with the marriage come hell or high water. ” “Oh, how excited! Well, my ladies the Countess and the Marchioness are happy with him. And as for the bride… Come with me to La Merced and I will tell you.” Did you speak at length with the Countess? Did you tell her everything you know about this idiot? “A little, yes, sir. So she won’t marry? ” “I doubt it, because if the older people of the house can’t see him, what a young lady… This little girl is going about her business after all the hidden places of her soul have been revealed.” Finally, she said everything. I already told you that neither I, with my great authority and my jokes and games, nor the Marchioness with her bad temper, nor the Marquis pelting her with gifts and presents, could make her confess the cause of her melancholy; but at last, pressed by her cousin the Countess, who loves her very much, one day, amid tears and sighs, she confessed everything. –And nothing would come of it… –Nothing more than that all that bad behavior and all that sadness came from loving a lad, a stray, a prune-nut from those streets, whom she had met and had as a proper fiancé, back when she was living far from her parents. Childish things! Far from seeming bad to me, the firmness of her feelings seems to me to be a good sign of virtue, both in adverse and prosperous fortunes. Nevertheless, the Marchioness and her brother are naturally furious, seeing that they cannot disenchant the girl, since what she has seems more like charm than anything else. And everything comes back to them saying: “Father Salmon, what shall we do? Father Salmon, what shall we not do?” I go to the lady’s room, and after saying a few graces to her and imitating the cawing of crows, the neighing of a horse, and the murmur of old women praying in church, at which she laughs a great deal, I say to her: “But my child of my heart, why does your ladyship not cast aside all thought but that of your present greatness? What could you possibly desire now? Are you lacking anything? Do you not have all the comforts, all the considerations, all the pampering that a woman deserves?” “What maiden can desire?” To which she answers that she desires nothing, and then falls silent. Then I take her hands, caress them, and say to her: “The little bird of my convent has told me that you have fallen in love with a young man. Why don’t you put this idea out of your head? Don’t your grace understand that in such an important house, persons of low station cannot enter through the doors of marriage? Surely that rascal who was your fiancé has no memory of my dear child.” And she immediately smiles, changes the conversation, and begins to talk about another subject with such good judgment and such talent that she leaves both Father Castillo and me astonished. “Well, I see that when two such good preachers cannot remove her disenchantment with their good sermons, she will remain enchanted all her life. ” “No, my son; various means have been tried to remove that from her mind.” The Countess told her that the rascal had died, according to her investigation, and the Marchioness and her brother, taking another route, have conspired to make her believe that the unknown young man is a rascally street urchin, a cheat, a swindler, who is being pursued by the law for his thefts, tricks, and rascality. “By God!” I exclaimed, unable to contain myself, “and that’s a lie, and I’ll break the soul of anyone who tells me it’s true. ” “What, lad!” said the friar, very absorbed. “What’s your business or what’s your concern about this matter that you take it so seriously? ” “And what did she say? ” “Nothing. To this day, the truth is that the ingenious device has had little effect, and while the peerless maiden pretends not to understand, the Marchioness grows more uncomfortable every day, and at every hour she exclaims: “This can’t go on like this.” She argues with her niece; she usually cries, although everything about her reveals more patience than pain, and here’s the Countess, who rages as if she were a bit of a basilisk when her cousin is inconvenienced. Aunt and niece say a few things to each other; I calm them down, and until the next day, when the same thing happens. At this point, we arrive at the door of La Merced, and Salmon, stopping, said to me: “Do you want to go up? I’ll give you some raw chocolate and a small glass.” “Thank you, Father: I’m furious, and I don’t feel like chocolate or small glasses.” And without another word, I said goodbye to that luminary of the Church and went home. Chapter 14. On November 28th, news of the Battle of Tudela arrived, and once our army of Aragon and the Center was considered routed, we all saw Napoleon’s hat sticking out of the Mala de Francia. The fortifications advanced, and on the 27th, 28th, and 29th, I remember that what we might call spiritual fortifications and armaments were quite frequent. These included prayers, rosaries, atonement services, novenas, and other devotions to obtain from Divine Providence, not to avert the dangers, but to inflame our spirits to emerge victorious. There was a rosary at San Ginés, a jubilee at the Dominicans of the Passion, solemn services at the Carmen Calzado, and, finally, at the church of Nuestra Señora de Gracia, located in the Plazuela de la Cebada, a novena was inaugurated, which was the most popular devotional of those days, due to the extremely popular orators preached there. The pious, as well as patriotic, people didn’t have time to go to so many places, and vacillated between the church and the trench. The sermons were full of everything, as is easy to imagine: Christian piety and biblical enthusiasm in some pulpits; boorishness in others, with apologies to my respectable friend the shod mercenary, whom you know. We men, even if we wanted to, didn’t have time to frequent churches, and especially those of us who were armed, we gave no peace to our feet or hands with the frequent exercise and testing of our strength. The soldiers, the volunteers, the conscripts, the honorable ones who had weapons, we were confused for several days in common work and preparations, forgetting importunate discords. And there was no time for games, Because Napoleon was already upon us. The dreaded shadow could be seen everywhere. As long as there was the childish confidence that the troops sent to Somosierra would hinder the tyrant’s progress, thank goodness: we lived on, nourishing our spirits with sunny illusions, and dreaming of seeing Bonaparte’s power shattered in the Age of the Monkey. But on December 1st, very serious rumors began to circulate very early about General San Juan’s defeat at Somosierra. Everyone took to the streets to find out what had happened, and as the news, exaggerated by ignorance or bad faith, spread from mouth to mouth, it was soon rumored that the French were in Alcobendas, and someone even claimed to have seen them parading in the Campo de Guardias. Since the famous May 2nd, I hadn’t seen Madrid so agitated: men and women ran through the streets, and then it was time to lament the blind confidence, to miss the activity and foresight characteristic of a people truly determined to defend themselves. The Great Captain and I had left very early, he to make important arrangements for the Corps of Honorable Men to which he belonged, and I to attend to my post, or to look around in case it wasn’t yet a formal matter. “Far from being intimidated, like these chickens,” said the Great Captain, “I am encouraged and gallant and puffed up knowing that we have them so close. And don’t tell me that General San Juan has been defeated. For those of us who know the tricks and twists of the art of war, this dispersion of San Juan’s troops, which seems like a defeat, is nothing more than a skillful move to deceive Napoleon, allowing him to pass the Port.” And if not, imagine how nice it will be to see, perhaps, when the French are quietly advancing , believing themselves safe, the Spanish troops appear like rain from the right flank, and catch them there without firing a shot between Alcobendas and San Agustín. “It may happen,” I said without showing my incredulity. “But imagine, Mr. Fernández, that nothing of this happens, but that Napoleon comes, safe and sound, and surrounds us. How will we get out of this predicament?” “Admirably ,” he replied. ” It may happen that if he brings many, many troops—let’s say, a couple of million men— the siege will last two or three years, after which he will have to retreat… because to think that Madrid will surrender is to think of the absurd. And if not, wander your eyes over those fortifications that have been built in different places while the devil rubs his eye; Cast your gaze over those deep ditches, those thick parapets, those impregnable mounds of earth, and those terrifying batteries of 6-pounder cannons; and if admiration gives you pause for reflection, you will understand that it is impossible to take Madrid, even if Napoleon brought better men than those who went to Portugal with the Marquis of Sarriá. “May God hear you. For my part, I will do what I can. And you command, or are you commanded? ” “I command; I am forced to do so by old friends, whose blind trust in my knowledge borders on fanaticism. I didn’t want to command because I don’t like papers; but I had to give in, and together we have formed a company that has been ordered to operate in Los Pozos, the most risky, dangerous, and daring spot in this great siege that awaits us. Almost all of us have rifles, and those who don’t will wield lances. ” “Lance to defend walls!” I exclaimed, unable to hide my laughter. “Yes, son: what do you understand about that? Imagine if those fools took it into their heads to launch an assault: what better way to prevent it…? I’m certainly going to gather my men to go and occupy the position, lest Mr. Corsican try to surprise us with his usual bad faith. ” “Now let’s let ourselves be led to the Puerta del Sol with all that crowd going there,” I said, “and it seems something serious is happening, from what they’re shouting. ” “Indeed; but that shouting is from women.” No doubt those valiant matrons are asking for weapons. “Let’s go down Calle de la Montera… Mr. de Santorcaz is coming up that way, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s call him: he’ll know what’s going on… Hey, Mr. Luis! ” “What’s going on at Puerta del Sol, the people shouting so much?” asked Fernández when the other approached us. “It’s because the people are asking for weapons and they won’t give them any,” replied Santorcaz. “It’s a trick, and all those scoundrels from the Junta should be dragged along. ” “The Junta! The gentlemen of the Central Junta! ” “I’m not talking about the Central Junta,” continued Santorcaz, “which, if what they say is true, has decided today to withdraw from Aranjuez, seeking refuge in Andalusia. I’m talking about the Juntatilla that has been formed here for the defense of Madrid, and which is permanently stationed at the Post Office.” “There are many traitors here,” he added loudly, “and some have taken money to surrender the city to the French! Scoundrel traitors! Now we come out saying that we’ve run out of weapons and cartridges. Lie! I know where there are weapons and cartridges. They’re deceiving us, they’re going to sell us out!” Saying this, he turned away from us, after which we continued downhill, and when we reached the Puerta del Sol we saw that it was packed to the rafters, full of people. That hollow, open in the densely packed houses of Madrid, is the heart of the ancient city, and all the blood flows into it with hasty congestion in moments of anger, joy, or fear. The Puerta del Sol throbbed with fury. Men and women spoke at the same time, and their voices mingled with threatening attitudes and gestures. The most restless, most seething, most insane, and most boisterous mass was at the foot of the Post Office. “Let’s find someone we know who can tell us what’s happened here, ” I said, joining the Great Captain at least a little further from the crowd. “Nothing’s happened yet,” said a gentleman who appeared to us, wrapped in a cloak, and in whom I immediately recognized the Lord of Majoma. “Nothing, Astora; but… you’ll see. ” “What are these people asking for? ” “What are they asking for? Arms and cartridges. ” “All there are already divided up. ” “That’s me!” exclaimed the worthy fellow. “We’re already up to our necks in traitors. You filthy scoundrels! If we don’t get rid of them, they’ll hand us over to the French. French dogs! I know them well, and I’ve made up my mind, yes, sir; and whoever says they’re not traitors, let him see me, because I’m more Spanish than Santiago and more patriotic than Ferdinand VII. ” “But it’s been known for some time that the square had very few weapons; And as for the cartridges, all that were there and those manufactured this week have already been distributed. Mr. de Mañara has been busy for eight days managing the cartridge factory, and yesterday afternoon he distributed many thousands at Ave María and La Comadre. “Don’t mention him to me!” exclaimed Majoma, affecting an indignation that was more comical than tragic. “There you have the traitor more than Judas, the Frenchman more than Copas… Gabriel, are you a traitor too? Are you sold out to the French, like that hungry little councilman? Tell me you are and you’ll see… me… I’ll put you in a pickle right here with this thing I have under my cloak. ” “The little knife? Save your courage for a better occasion, Majomilla,” I answered. “I think you’re drunk. ” “Me drunk?” “I haven’t tried it, boy… This morning Mr. de Santorcaz invited me to have a few drinks, and… for this one, I only drank two azumbres… What can I do without the warmth in my stomach?… But tell me, are you a traitor? Say no, or I’ll cut you… because I am, ” he said, beating his chest loudly, “I have a heart like bronze, and I’m braver than Ciz, and let no one cough at me if they don’t want to see who Majoma is. ” And without hearing any more, we left the distinguished man. “I don’t like this,” said Fernández, “and it seems to me that if the high enterprise we have in hand doesn’t turn out as well as it should, it will consist of this filthy, unruly, and boisterous mob of rioters, who in such critical circumstances turn against their leaders.” Gabriel, I gladly tell you that if our Don Tomás de Morla ordered us to close in on this rabble, we would quickly crush them . And you must know that these shrieking wasters are more of a hindrance than a help in defense, and you’ll see how they are the first to surrender. We looked at the balcony of the Post Office and saw a tall, dark, sullen man in uniform appear there. We saw him speaking to the crowd; but we couldn’t hear his words because the feminine shrieks below would have muffled the sound of cannon shots, not to mention human voices. Then that soldier, who was none other than Don Tomás de Morla, shrugged his shoulders and crossed his arms. We understood this better, and he evidently meant: “There’s nothing you’re asking for: we’ve run out of weapons and cartridges.” But the crowd grew enraged by his refusal and hissed at him, demanding with their omnipotent whim and fickleness that Castelar, a figure more famous than Morla, emerge. The Marquis of Castelar came out, spoke without being able to appease his admirers, and the shrug of his shoulders and disconsolate expression were repeated. Here came the hissing, the shouting, the threats; soon after, the people began to swirl and wriggle like a thousand-tailed dragon about to make a move, and we saw many scattering down Calle Mayor, and others heading up toward Santa Cruz. “Let’s go there and see what this is for,” said Don Santiago, leaning on my arm and following the general torrent. “These fools will sooner cease to exist than commit any atrocity. Why do they ask for weapons, if those already distributed are more than enough?” ” Why do they ask for cartridges, if there is no cartridge that kills more Frenchmen than Spanish enthusiasm, nor better gunpowder than our indignation? ” “All that is true, Señor Don Santiago,” I replied; “but it wouldn’t have been a bad thing if the Central Junta or the Council, instead of occupying themselves with discussing their rivalries, had deposited in Madrid a few barrels of indignation, the kind made with saltpeter, coal, and sulfur, for the other is of little use without it. But here there has been no foresight, no initiative, no activity, no eminent minds to direct, but rather the defense has been left at the mercy of the will, the invention, and the common sense of the people, Señor Don Santiago; and I don’t call that miserable, shouting mob that is of no use the people, but all of us, high and low, great and small… But who is that running? It’s the illustrious patriot they call Pujitos. Hey… Señor de Pujitos, come here and tell us what’s going on!” “Now the people are heading toward Magdalena Street,” he replied, “where Councilman Mañara lives. We were there this morning. He came out onto the balcony and told us that he’d already delivered the thousands of cartridges he’d manufactured, and that there’s no more gunpowder. Are you going toward Avapiés? There’s a big commotion over there, and they’re saying Mañara’s a traitor, and that’s all over the place. ” “And you, what do you think of Mañara?” “Mañara is a man of integrity, because I say so,” Pujitos affirmed in a mysterious tone. “The traitors are others, and they’re going around there stirring up people and setting up these schemes. Gabriel, remember what I said. The ones who shout the most are the worst; but I’m very careful, because that’s what the boss ordered me to do, and if I get my hands on them, they’ll see who Pujitos is.” He continued at full speed towards Puerta del Sol, and we, crossing the Plaza Mayor, entered Toledo Street, the artery of all manolesque traffic, center of bravado, metropolis of graces, bazaar of brawls, chair of mischief and theater of all Madrid’s shenanigans. Then passing through Embajadores Street, we heard again that there was a great swell towards Avapiés, so, crossing through Los Abades towards the Mesón de Paredes, we went to witness the tumult, which was not weak, according to the murmur of voices that could be heard from afar. Indeed, there had been a real commotion, let it be. We ran into Uncle Mortero Hand, who came to We were saying: “How they deceive us, Gabriel! Who would have thought it of such a fine gentleman as Señor de Mañara! ” “But is Señor de Mañara a traitor? Come on, Uncle Mano. You too? You, who are a person of such immense talent… ” “That’s true, my dear child; but what do you want? They say it out there. I don’t know for sure; but I dance to the tune they play me. Well, they say there are traitors, down with traitors! ” “And what do they say about Mañara? ” “That he has arranged with the French to hand over the Puerta de Toledo to them. ” “And how do they know? ” “What do I know! But where there is noise, there is water. I must be no less than the rest, and since there are traitors, down with traitors! ” “And Zaina? ” “Can’t you hear her? She’s the one shouting the loudest in the middle of the square! Holy Virgin! And that little lioness is not a little furious!” Now she’s become the most patriotic patriot in all of Madrid. Oh, my God, what a nationalist I have in my girl! From time to time the crowd in the Plazuela del Avapiés grew, and the unsavory men, joined by the more outgoing women from the nearby neighborhoods, increased their shouts and yells to such an extent that no honest person could remain calm at such a spectacle. “Let’s get closer,” Fernández told me. “I assure you with all my heart that if His Majesty, and in His Royal name the Chamber of Mayors of the house and court, were to order me to clear this place, I would do it with two lance thrusts or two saber blows, for in this case it would be the same. ” “Be careful not to say such things out loud, and let’s approach that little group of ladies. ” The Primrose left the group. “Hey… Primrose, what are you bringing here?” I asked her. “Cachiporros!” “–” exclaimed the harpy, raising her arms, clenching her fists, and addressing some of the men surrounding her. “What are you here for? Don’t they want to give you cartridges? Well, go to the Alderman and take them from the altars. He has them hidden! He has them buried in bundles to give to the French.” Then Zaina, pushing her way through, appeared in the center of the group formed around the Primrose. The beautiful greengrocer stood there , bruised and hoarse, with her eyes blazing, her clothes torn to pieces, and with such a fierce expression on her face and her whole person that it was terrifying. At the moment of presenting herself, she had a cartridge between her fingers, and as she bit it, she spilled into the palm of her hand what should have been gunpowder and turned out to be sand. Chapter 15. “The cartridges are full of sand,” cried the girl, showing the object to everyone. And at the same time, the men present took other cartridges from their sacks, bit them, and, indeed, sand appeared in all or almost all of them. “That traitor gave us sand cartridges!” The terrible voice spread through the plaza. Nearby, there was a volunteer guard post. They took out the cartridge magazine, bit them, and for every two or three filled with gunpowder, there was one filled with sand. The Great Captain and I saw this , and we were both struck dumb with indignation. “Well, there has undoubtedly been treason,” I said. “Putting sand in the cartridges! What treachery! This is villainously handing over the country to a foreigner. ” “Whoever did this,” I exclaimed, not hiding my rage, “is a wretch who must be punished.” “Gabriel, I didn’t believe it,” my friend shouted, shedding tears of rage; “I didn’t believe there were Spaniards capable of such vileness. No, whoever did this is not Spanish.” And the two of us, almost without realizing it, joined the chorus of the rabid crowd, shouting: “Death to the traitors!” ” That Mañara, that thief!” they shouted from beside us. “It was him! Death to the traitors and long live Ferdinand VII! Sand! Sand cartridges!” This fatal phrase spread throughout Madrid faster than electricity could carry it. In many places, but not all, the truth of the statement could be confirmed; but the anger was general, and whoever had put sand in the cartridges He was condemned to death by the indignation of the people. My friend and I observed that the crowd was running in all directions, but most of them were heading toward La Merced. Pelumbres, Uncle Mano, and Zaina disappeared from our sight as well. We ran down the street of Jesús y María, and when we reached that of La Magdalena, we saw it completely filled with people: the entire neighborhood was on the balconies, and an immense clamor filled the vast length of the street. Toward the center of the street , there existed then, and still exists, a sumptuous house, but of bastard and ridiculous architecture, due to the work of Don Pedro de Ribera, the designer of the façade of the Hospice. The threats of the crowd, drunk with rage, were directed at that historic house, the residence then and still today of a highly respectable family, for a thousand reasons deserving of public esteem. Everyone wanted to enter, but the doors were closed. This obstacle soon disappeared, and terrible blows of the axe shook the carved wood of the stately gate, protected by the broad shield that in carved emblems represented the deeds and virtues of bygone days. But who noticed this? The people, who had already trampled the royal crown in Aranjuez, did not hesitate to pass over that of a nobleman. They smashed the gate, and the people poured in, overflowing or invading the palace, like a river breaking the dikes that have held it back for centuries and spreading out across the plain with destructive force. They all entered, those who had some purpose and those who had come only to shout. Therefore, the satisfaction of the popular fury could not be long in coming, and soon we were frozen with terror, hearing: “They’ve killed him, they’ve killed him. Poor, unfortunate Mañara!” Yesterday an idol, yesterday a friend, yesterday a companion of the vile plebs, whose dress, customs, speech, and manners he imitated, today sacrificed by them with unheard-of barbarity, with that cruel alacrity they employ, the infamous fury! in all their actions. But the horrifying, the abominable, and more than abominable, shameful for the human species, was what happened next. The plebs have a special system for celebrating the obsequies of their victims, and it consists of putting a rope around their necks and then dragging them through the streets, parading their criminal work, no doubt to present themselves to pious eyes in the fullness of their execrable ugliness. This happened with the corpse of the unfortunate Regidor, whom we knew as the lover of Lesbia, the lover of Zaina, the lover of all, for there was no one like him who lavished his beautiful person in high and low adventures; This is what happened to the corpse of the unfortunate man I call Don Juan de Mañara, not because that was his name, but because it suits me to call him that, so as not to go around carrying around the titles of respectable houses through the ups and downs of this timely story. But let’s avert our eyes; let’s not look, no, at that bloody wreck that a few monsters, men and women only in appearance, are dragging on a filthy mat along Magdalena Street, and later down Avapiés Street ; let’s close our ears to their infamous screams, and, above all, let’s not look at that mangled body, still warm, from which the stabs, the blows, the frequent stumbling are taking away the human figure, turning it into a pitiful shred of what it was, of what was just a few minutes before a gallant and gentle man, and what is more worthy of consideration, a happy and amiable man. And while this savage bacchanal passes, this river of blood and infamy and crime, let us meditate on worldly changes, and especially on popular things, those most worthy of meditation and study. Was Mañara the author of the undoubted betrayal discovered in the sand cartridges? The person of Mañara is historic, not a child of our own invention ; so is his licentious life, his Manolesque habits, his adventures and dealings with the people of the slums; Zaina is also historic, and just as historic as the Oath of Allegiance in Santa Gadea and the engagement in Caspe are her love affair with the Councilor, her abandonment, her jealousy, her spite, her anger, her thirst for revenge and the discovery, fatally made by her, of the sand cartridges. To understand all this, it’s enough to read half a page of the best and most well-known history ever written about those times. But neither in this eminent book, nor in any other, nor from the mouth of any old man, will you hear reasons to answer categorically the question I asked earlier. Was Mañara a traitor? Did he participate in the criminal plot of the sand cartridges? I’ll tell you frankly that I don’t know either; but I must warn you that I never considered that wretch capable of such a disgraceful act. Mañara was guilty of being libertine, frivolous, vain, and above all, of being in love. He never distinguished himself in any other wickedness than those of love, which were certainly quite forgivable. I knew him to be treacherous and traitorous in matters of love; but I never knew him to violate the laws of honor in serious matters. With this background, it can almost be assured that Mañara was not the author of the cartridge hoax. So, who was? This , indeed, neither history, nor tradition, nor the elders, nor I can tell you. Have you not observed that all popular movements carry within them a germ of treason, the mysterious origin of which is never discovered? In everything the common people do on their own , driven by their own brutal instinct, one sees behind the appearance of passion a web of malice, of petty interests, or of criminal deceit; but no subtle finger can touch or determine the threads of this hidden web, in whose meshes a thousand unwary barbarians are entangled and caught . Who spread the word of Mañara’s treason? Was it all the deliberate work of Zaina? History says so; but I believe I have heard the poor councilor branded as suspicious in places very far from Pasión Street. No doubt his frequent contact with the common people had greatly discredited Don Juan in the opinion of his peers. He lacked respectability entirely, and anyone who loses it among those at the top, seeking to replace it with baser friends, who are always fickle, is exposed to losing everything in an instant, and to any fleeting spark suddenly setting fire to the fabric of a reputation founded on nothing solid. Mañara had flattered the common people by imitating them. You don’t trifle with this animal. It’s like the bull, which amuses so much and is mocked by so many; but when it succeeds in catching someone, it does so wonderfully. We saw Godoy, the king’s favorite, fall, and now we’ve seen Mañara, the people’s favorite, fall. All favoritisms that are not based on merit or virtue usually end the same way. But nothing is more repugnant than popular justice, which bears the anathema of never being right, since it is all based on what Cervantes called “the vain discourse of the ever-deceived common people.” “But let’s get out of here,” I said to my friend. “Don’t you hear what those passersby are saying? They say the French have appeared near Fuencarral. ” “Come on, let’s do our duty,” replied the Great Captain, following me down Urosas Street. “But I fear that what was supposed to be a glorious day is going to be nothing, thanks to that vile rabble. Treachery undermines the town. That sand cartridge case has made me sad, and the miserable scoundrel who did such a thing deserves a thousand deaths. ” Madrid, after Mañara’s immolation, remained restless, as if foreboding great evils, while the dying friars snatched the shapeless corpse from the hands of the people. The news that the French were at the gates of the town, however, made them forget everything, and the people ran around in bewilderment and fear, believing they saw, around a corner, the characteristic figure of the scourge of Europe. Chapter 16. The volunteer corps to which I belonged was assigned to defend the Puerta de los Pozos, the same gate later called Bilbao, at the end of Fuencarral Street, and the adjacent Bringas Garden. Its fortification consisted of a shallow ditch, a large, hastily erected wall of earth and stones, and six cannons. The wall, which did not have an impregnable appearance, as those who have reached some of its heroic sections will remember, had been breached along its entire length. The fortifications of the neighboring Santa Bárbara and Fuencarral Gates were more or less the same . The site where more considerable works had been erected was the Recoletos Gate, a monument that lasted until yesterday and which I need not designate topographically, with its Costanilla de la Veterinaria or its Augustinian convent, because the beardless lads have already seen them. But let us return to Los Pozos, the gate destined to be the theater of our heroism, and let us begin by saying that on the night of December 1st, we positioned ourselves there, so convinced that we were going to be attacked that we remained under arms for long hours, ready to sell our lives dearly. The force was composed of the following elements: about sixty soldiers, who, although not all of them artillerymen, served as such out of absolute necessity; four companies of old volunteers , with whom an irregular number of conscripts were mixed; and about eighty men of the _honorable_ militia, whom the Great Captain commanded or wanted to command, I don’t know if with the title of sergeant, colonel, or general, since any of these ranks would suit him. The soldiers were cold and lacking in spirit; the volunteers were inflamed with patriotism and full of hope; but so inexperienced that they were completely out of step, as the saying goes, despite the great Pujitos being among them; And finally, the honorable ones were beside themselves with enthusiasm, despite all of them being peaceful people, and some of them having a good load of years behind them, especially those of the company, or rather, those of the little group in which Don Santiago stood out, whose host was composed of respectable doormen and servants from the Accounts and Reasoning office. As for leaders, I must say that they did not exist there in the full sense of the word, because although there were brave and knowledgeable officers among the troops, they did not know how or did not want to command the obedience of the civilians, resulting in this discontent being that there everyone did what they pleased and according to their own inspiration; and although my friend had pretensions of imposing his authority, this never went beyond an attempt at a dictatorship that leaned more towards the comic than the tragic. Instead, great fraternity reigned, and when late at night we were certain there were no such Frenchmen around, we gathered in the Bringas garden, and after lighting a large bonfire, we held a pleasant gathering, where patriotic topics were discussed with the verbosity, eloquence, and exaggeration typical of Spanish tongues. Some praised the defense of Zaragoza; others placed the defense of Valencia against Moncey above all ancient and modern feats of arms; others said that nothing could equal the feat of Bruch; who praised the return of the Roman troops to the skies, and, finally , there was one who, without taking away from the merit of these glorious actions, praised a certain famous campaign in Portugal in 1762. All fear dispelled, many women came to visit us, and among them was Doña Gregoria, nor Doña Melchora with the girls, nor the lady of Cuervatón, since it must be known that her husband was among the ranks of the _honorable_. Lest anyone think that we were all people of little more or less standing, I will add that some very high ladies went to visit their sons, brothers or husbands, who were there hand in hand with us, either as volunteers or as those chosen by lot. We dined, drank, sang, talked, and, finally, we all felt the desire to accomplish some feat that very night. The first to put forward the idea was Don Santiago, and it was immediately accepted with joy, deciding to make a reconnaissance up the road to Fuencarral, to see if the French were really as close as believed. The departure was hastily prepared, and around two in the morning about two hundred men set out, in good order, commanded by an army colonel. “How good it would be,” Fernández told me, “if we were to stumble upon an enemy advance guard now and defeat it in the blink of an eye, returning to Madrid with a few thousand prisoners! ” “Anything could be possible, my friend,” I replied, “for by God’s will nothing is impossible. ” “Even funnier would it be,” he continued, “if that scoundrel Emperor were to be strolling around, looking from afar at the great city he aspires to conquer, and we were to surprise him suddenly, seizing him and taking him to Madrid on a donkey. ” “It’s also possible,” I replied, “and let’s say that this gentleman has grown bored of staying in his camp, and taking a shotgun, despite the darkness of the night, comes with a couple of generals and a couple of dogs into those wheat fields to raise and chase partridges, for all monarchs are usually hunters. ” “That doesn’t seem likely to me,” he said . But it might well happen that this man, knowing that he cannot defeat us by force, will attempt to thwart our power with cunning and disguise himself in the garb of a payo huevero from Alcobendas, in order to approach our formidable fortifications and study them at ease. With these and other conversations, we passed beyond the inn located in what is now called Cuatro Caminos, without meeting a living soul or hearing a single sound; but when we were near the road that leads to Chamartín on the right , we heard a distant noise that left us all in suspense, for it seemed like the earth trembled under the galloping of thousands of horses. “It’s an advance guard of cavalry!” shouted our colonel. “Let’s retreat. ” “What’s this about retreating?” the Great Captain shouted angrily. “Are we Spanish or what are we?” “We only have four horses,” the chief told him. ” If they charge us , what will become of us?” “What loads, no loads! They’re good at getting into cargo! Come on, lads, whoever wants to follow me, let them follow me: I’ll go ahead.” The “lads,” whose patriotism Fernández invoked, were six or seven old fellows like himself, companions in the gatehouse and interior service of the Accounting and Reasoning offices. But those valiant soldiers, more adept at handling the broom than any other weapon, professed that principle, as wise as it was famous, that a timely retreat is a great victory, and all unanimously told the Great Captain that they would not follow him in such a reckless undertaking, as untold feats could be accomplished behind the fortifications. The French squadron was advancing, judging by the increasing noise; but we couldn’t see a thing. The order to retreat was given, and to make it safer, we deviated from the road, slipping into a hollow that fell toward the Amaniel pasture. Don Santiago reluctantly renounced the dangers of a fight with the rapidly advancing dragoons, and said to me: “To think that we will win in this way is foolish. In war, everything must be trusted to the unexpected, to surprise and sudden attacks. What would it cost us to wait for those horses, surprise them, kill the riders, and enter Madrid as knights, those who had become foot soldiers? At this moment, we saw a figure, a man, who, rushing out from behind some tile-works, ran toward the road, apparently fleeing from us. “Hey! A man! A spy! Who’s alive!” we cried, some of us running after him. The man stopped before us, showing signs of great fear, and then we noticed that he was dressed like a country bumpkin, with a wide hat and a blanket for a cloak. When we approached him, he seemed hesitant and indecisive; But at last, hearing us talking, he rushed towards us, saying: “Ah! You are Spaniards. Thank God, I am saved now.” Having finished saying this, he fell on his knees. But at the same instant, the Great Captain approached him with a resolute air, and putting the muzzle of a rifle to his chest, exclaimed in an excited and furious voice: “Give yourself prison, Your Imperial and Royal Majesty. I said so well; but you won’t give it to me… I say, Your Majesty, I’m an old dog, and it’s quite obvious that, disguised in a peasant’s suit, Your Imperial Majesty approaches our great plaza to study the fortifications. ” “Man of God,” said the nonchalant, “you’re either mad or you take me for the Emperor Napoleon. ” “For whom should I take you, brother? I’m not fooled with little words. Your Majesty is my prisoner, and I won’t let you go even if you give me seven counties. Long live Spain and long live Ferdinand VII!” All those present laughed, which disconcerted Don Santiago, and at once the prisoner stood up and said: “I, gentlemen, am an officer in the army of Don Benito San Juan, and I have witnessed the most fatal disaster of this campaign. ” I lost my father and two brothers in the action at Somosierra, and I’m fleeing from the French guerrillas who are pursuing the dispersed. I had to disguise myself in Robregordo to avoid being caught, and I’ve made it this far on foot. But if you want me to tell you more, give me something to back me up, because after two days without a bite to eat, I’m falling dead by the minute. A comrade of ours gave him a mouthful of brandy, which gave him strength and he was able to follow us, also revived morally by finding himself in our company. The Great Captain, embarrassed and confused, marched silently at his side; but he wasn’t entirely sure of himself, and he kept looking at him again and again, suspecting that if not the Emperor himself, it could be some great general, or some high-ranking official of the imperial court . “As many as my personal misfortunes are,” said the stranger, ” for my two brothers and my good father , who are from an old estate in the Sepúlveda countryside, were left on the battlefield, the national catastrophe I witnessed still weighs upon my spirit more than anything else. We came to take up arms in defense of the fatherland. Happy a thousand times over are those who died for such a holy purpose, and woe to those of us who remain to tell of such a great misfortune. Is the defeat of San Juan already known in Madrid ? How is it being reported? What is being said? We will be branded as timid or cowardly. Oh, gentlemen! I don’t believe it is possible to carry heroism any further. Our soldiers conducted themselves with prodigious bravery, and if they did not win, it was because the superiority of the enemy and their sheer numbers made it impossible. ” “That must be what a tailor would estimate,” said the Great Captain. “Where is San Juan now? Because I understand he pretended to retreat in order to attack later from a better position.” “What can you pretend, man, what can you pretend!” replied the officer. ” San Juan, if he’s alive, will be a fugitive like me, and without a single soldier. ” “That can’t be, sir. How can you understand it? If that were true, my lord, it would mean nothing less than a kind of defeat. ” “Well, I believe it; but I’ll tell you point by point. San Juan took up good positions at the Somosierra Pass and placed a vanguard at Sepúlveda. The French attacked it the day before yesterday at dawn; but they couldn’t break their line and had to retreat. ” “The French? Good,” said the Great Captain. ” Well, if they retreated, how can you explain our defeat? ” “Patience, my lord, patience. You know that for no apparent reason, although it’s easy to understand that there was some treason, Sepúlveda’s vanguard, despite being victorious, withdrew to Segovia. The French advanced and attacked us in our positions at Somosierra.” We didn’t have enough forces to defend the pass, much less after the defection, or I don’t know what to call it, of the vanguard. However, we resisted all morning yesterday, massing our men on the road, and without having light forces to flank the heights. The French, who bring many soldiers and bodies of all kinds, set up guerrillas of chasseurs who in an instant took the heights, and with a corps of Polish cavalry they charged us on the road in a horrifying manner. One could form no idea of that attack except by seeing it. Entire squadrons crashed against our battery, and hundreds of horsemen fell headlong into the chasms that line the road. But their resources were immense: after one squadron was uselessly sacrificed, they launched another and another, not caring at seeing hundreds of officers and dozens of generals die. With this incessant attack, they combined the fire of the light troops scattered across the heights, and in the end we succumbed to numbers, not to courage. The French forced their way through at the cost of immense losses, and then pursued the remnants of our troops with such ferocity that I doubt many survived. The majority, perishing in those rugged terrain, did their duty, which was to defend it as long as they had a living body to receive a bullet. Nothing else was possible, because more would have been performing miracles, and only God performs those. The officer fell silent, and all of us who were listening were so distressed and saddened by his story that we replied nothing. He too spoke no more, and thus, silent and taciturn, we arrived at Madrid and at our Puerta de Los Pozos, where the unfortunate defector found a fire to warm himself by and a bite to eat to revive his strength. Everyone was attentive to him, except Don Santiago Fernández, who could not help but feel a certain itch and unease. “Gabriel,” he said to me, taking me aside, “I won’t insist so as not to seem tiresome; but whatever others may say, I don’t like that man we found, and God grant that we may not have to feel anything.” Because I know, and you will know as well, that in wars it is very common to disguise oneself in order to visit the enemy’s camp and examine the fortifications at will, just as it is common to bribe some unfortunate person to, pretending to be a friend, enter the fortress and spread false news to discourage the besieged. December 2nd dawned, and at first light, strong columns of French cavalry were discerned on the northern hills. They were already there, and there were certainly quite a few of them. Chapter 17. That morning was very joyful for us, because, without any justifiable reason, we felt so encouraged that we did not want to change sides with the besiegers. Danger had silenced all discord for the moment, and our patriotism reduced the unfavorable circumstances, considerably increasing the advantageous ones. Everything became shouting, shouting “hurrahs” and “kills,” for it costs nothing to triumph in this way with the easy weapons of the tongue. We ate breakfast very happily with what the women of the neighborhood, tall and short, ugly and pretty, brought us in laden baskets. Doña Gregoria also brought hers; but Don Santiago did not take a bite of it , because, as he said, in supreme moments one should not brutalize one’s body with vicious gifts. Far from acquiescing to the slightest concupiscence of the palate, Don Santiago rebuked the gluttons, and then, reviewing his companions, who, unequal in stature, weapons, and clothing, had no more uniformity than that of their old age, nor any respectable appearance than that of their gray hair, he harangued them thus: “Boys, remember that you are all good lads, and that you have covered yourselves with glory in the royal armies.” The supreme occasion has arrived , and from the moment that infamous monster appears at the gates of Madrid, you no longer belong to your homes, you no longer belong to the Office of Accounts and Reason, you no longer belong to the fatherland. Comrades: you are all experienced men; not like these brats, who don’t know how to hold a rifle. You see! When have they seen them so bad! And enough of sermons, for now, actions, not words, and a good aim is worth a hundred speeches; so, comrades: long live Ferdinand VII! and know that your friend and faithful servant, Santiago Fernández, esteems you . This speech by the veteran made many of his friends laugh, and almost… if it weren’t for fear of denigrating the memory of a man So distinguished, I would say, they greeted her with jokes, jests, and all the usual Spanish antics, even in the most strenuous situations of life; but Fernández, ignoring them, continued to make vigorous arrangements. He also tried to get his fill of artillery, showing off his great ballistic skills; but they ordered him to go and pray the rosary, an insult that so exasperated him that, had he not considered weighty patriotic considerations, he would have sliced the head of that rude and impolite man who had said that in two. I will confidentially reveal to my readers that the foul-mouthed and vulgar man who so forbade our Great Captain from approaching the cannons was the illustrious Pujitos, the flower and mirror of busybodies, a character for all occasions and all places, whom fate also gave us as a companion on that great journey. Around twelve o’clock, the Captain General visited us with Don Tomás de Morla, and although we cheered them until we were hoarse, it didn’t seem to me that they were very satisfied. They were still there when we spotted a large troop of Frenchmen down the Mala de Francia and flanking the road. It was the advance guard of Bessières’s Corps, coming to demand our surrender. When the parliamentarian arrived at Los Pozos, the most bellicose and deceitful of them all came close to kicking him off; but in the end, he was received decorously and told that we had no desire to surrender. “Unless it’s through trickery, deceit, or perfidious ploys, similar to that of the Trojan horse, we will not surrender,” Fernández told me. “Look how crestfallen the officer is when he goes to deliver the unfortunate news to his Emperor. I think I see him stamping his feet and tearing his hair out in rage at our response.” During that afternoon, no parliamentarians returned, nor did any French force appear ; but in the distance we could make out the movement of columns taking up positions and establishing artillery trenches , which indicated that the French were postponing their action until the 3rd. During the night, Marshal Ney issued another warning; but it was toward the Recoletos or Puerta de Alcalá area. “Do you see how they don’t dare return here, nor do they want any more dealings with us?” said the Great Captain when he learned this. “But over there they’ll probably have responded nicely. You can see: realizing that they can’t do anything with arms , they bring sweet nothings, courtesies, and sly deeds into play. But let’s sleep peacefully, Gabriel, for it seems to me that tomorrow the 3rd there won’t be anything either, and God knows if, seeing the array of these impregnable fortifications, they’ll have decided to withdraw from the other side of the mountain range.” I need hardly say that my optimistic friend was entirely mistaken, for while we were sleeping soundly in Bringas’s garden, in the warmth of a beautiful bonfire, we were awakened by tremendous cannon shots that echoed throughout Madrid with a terrifying noise. “To arms!” said Fernández. “Get up everyone, and if a grenade falls, throw yourself on your stomachs. My opinion is that we make a sortie to see if we can put those little cannons to shame. Look, boys: there’s a battery toward Chamberí. Immediately our artillerymen, who were half line and half civilians, took up defense; and when two of the pieces opened fire, we infantrymen didn’t want to be outdone, and there was a volley, without knowing who. Dense fog enveloped the land, and the distance could not be seen, which made us, imagining that we had a formidable army in front of us, fire our cannons and rifles in a very noisy salvo, without any result, since the French had no dream of attacking Los Pozos, and the detonations heard were those of the artillery that was beginning to attack the Puerta de Recoletos. “Cease fire,” said our leader. “They are not attacking us, nor are there any enemies in Mala de Francia. ” “Well, how can there be?” said the Great Captain, stamping his foot. “How can there be if everyone has fled? ” “There is no such trench or anything worthy of it in Chamberí. The French They are toward the Castellana Fountain. “Don’t come to me with music,” growled the Great Captain, preparing his weapon. “Favored by the fog, those wretches want to deceive us. I’ll fire while I have one cartridge left.” He continued firing as if he wanted to riddle the thick curtain of fog, due to whose senseless heat he soon ran out of ammunition. And as cannon shots continued to be heard to our right, Fernández exclaimed, turning to his friends: “They are retreating, brave companions. Thanks to your reckless courage, everything will end happily.” For a long time we remained still and silent, waiting with the greatest anxiety for an attack to be made at once; but hours passed, and except for Don Santiago, no one saw any enemies in front of us, neither far nor near. Between eight and nine, the cannon and rifle fire intensified so much in Recoletos that we had no doubt this place was the scene of a vigorous fight. And at the same time, as the fog began to dissipate, we saw that the Emperor’s disdainful neglect of us was gradually ceasing , because some columns were running from east to west , seemingly paying respect to the four northern gates. “Thank God,” said Fernández, “that they dare to attack us. Behind the Northern Inn, it seems to me, a body of battle artillery is advancing. They were not long in opening fire on the Los Pozos trenches, and our six cannons, already itching to formally speak , answered accurately. But to make matters worse, while the low ball from their guns damaged our shoulders, our projectiles, launched along the road in front or to the right, barely reached them: so inferior was the Spanish artillery at that moment. Then a fight began, which rather than a fight should be called a simulation, quite dismal for us, since it would have been better for us to be destroyed by the enemy than to endure such a cruel situation. And the French were shelling us from a great distance with their superior caliber pieces, and while we were occasionally visited by a stray bullet or a grenade, we were unable to do any harm. “But those cowards, scoundrels, why don’t they come closer?” said Fernández, snorting with anger. “That’s not gentlemanly, no, sir: shelling us without mercy, destroying the parapets they’ve built with so much effort , and positioning themselves where the bullets from here can’t reach, that’s not gentlemanly, and they say Napoleon always waged war in bad faith. ” “Cursed them!” shouted the officer in command. “This would have been an opportunity for a sortie, if only we had a handful of the good people I know. ” “Well, what about us, then, and my friends, all these brave lads from the company of honorable men?” said the Great Captain, rapping the ground hard with the butt of his rifle. What do they want, then, if not to leave so that these rabble can leave or come within range of our fire? “That’s what it means. They’ll be good fools if they do, since they could fire at us with their chests bared. ” “We’ll leave, yes, we’ll leave,” my friend insisted. ” Boys, I can see from your faces the sublime ardor and generous patriotism that inflames you. You’re raging to feed on these rabble. Shall we leave, Colonel?” The colonel laughed with pity and sorrow at the sight of the old man’s bravery. One of the “honest ones,” whom Fernández called “boys,” asserted that he couldn’t take a step because his rheumatism impeded him; another said that the noise of the cannon fire had made him completely deaf, and a third stretched out on the ground, lamenting that he had caught pneumonia because of the extreme cold and lack of shelter they had been in all night. Among the other honorable ones, there were some strong and courageous people; but almost all of the little group surrounding Don Santiago were made up of Methuselahs so ordered to be gathered that it was pitiful to see them. When some women from Maravillas and Barquillo came tumultuously to Los Pozos and with shouts and screams demanded that they be given the elders’ weapons, I believe it was wrong to not accede to their request; and although all of them indignantly rejected such a dishonorable proposal, I suspect that some of them were inwardly praying to the Blessed Virgin that those brave demigoddesses of San Antón and La Chispería would achieve their goal . The defense of that position continued for more than an hour, without any incidents other than those I have described. We fired ineffectively from our cannons and suffered from the French without being able to cause any damage. Undoubtedly, their intention was to stall us while the formal attack on Recoletos was carried out; and, confident of their triumph, they did not want to sacrifice men uselessly by launching them against positions that would ultimately surrender. Around ten o’clock, our commander received notice to send the infantry he didn’t need to Recoletos, and he did so, leaving me to march among the hundred men assigned to that operation. Along the way, as we crossed the streets of San Opropio and de las Flores to reach the Plazuela de las Salesas, we encountered many people running around in extreme alarm, their shouts and agitation indicating that things were going badly. Then, continuing along Calle de los Reyes Alta, we went down Calle del Almirante to the Ronda de Recoletos, where great confusion reigned. Heavy cannon fire could be heard behind the Veterinaria, a building you will have recognized on the site of the newly begun Library, and also behind the Hornos de Villanueva and the Pósito, toward the Puerta de Alcalá. The Recoletos convent was occupied by Spanish troops; but by the time we arrived, almost the entire force was leaving, as it was more needed outside than inside. At the beginning of the attack, the battery positioned behind the Veterinaria repelled the French thrust, commanded in person by the Emperor himself, with such force that he had to retreat in haste. 3 Hoy de las Salesas. Just erase the Salamanca district and all the gardens and palaces on the eastern side of Castellana Street; imagine that almost bare plain populated by numerous French troops of all stripes, with two fronts operating, one against the Retiro Park and the Bullring, the other against the Veterinaria and Recoletos, and you’ll have a complete idea of the situation. In the center of those troops, in what is now part of Serrano Street, roughly between the garden known as Pajarito and the Maroto houses, stood Napoleon, serene and calm, mounted on that white horse that had tramped the soil of the main nations of the continent. There he was, indeed, arranging the movements of his soldiers, without taking his right eye off the telescope with which he alternately looked, now at this point, now at that. As is easy to understand, I didn’t see him on that occasion; but I imagined it, and I imagine it now from what someone who saw him up close told me. and certainly that eyewitness closely observed some very curious details of his person, which history does not name, such as certain monosyllables or grunts he emitted while looking through the telescope, a mechanical movement of pressing his stomach with his left hand, sudden furrowing of his eyebrows and sometimes a smile directed at his major general Berthier. With his telescope, his little cough, his mooing, his belly-bumps, his tobacco powder and his thin, fine smiles, the _ogre of Corsica_ was splitting us right through. Chapter 18. And I say this because the Veterinaria battery, after a heroic defense, fell into the hands of the French, precisely at the moment when those of us from the Puerta de Los Pozos arrived, a late reinforcement. There was nothing more to be done there. Could the resistance in the Retiro continue? That was what we believed at first; But we soon lost this illusion, because that place, attacked by thirty cannons, soon surrendered its weak walls, which were those of a garden and not of a fortress. Thus, while a regiment of volunteers and another army regiment fired with admirable courage at Recoletos against the first French column that had set out to seize the Puerta del Sol (Gateway), the defenders of the Retiro, lacking resources, weapons, and leaders, retreated to the Prado, entrusting their defense to the barricades on Alcalá Street . That moment was one of great panic and consternation; but the truth is that among many timid people, there were also resolute and determined ones. With Recoletos finally lost, we all ran down Barquillo Street toward Alcalá Street, and when we arrived, the French had already taken control of the Pósito, the San Juan Palace, and were trying to seize San Fermín and the Casa de Alcañices. It was a very bad idea to build the great barricade above Carmen Calzado, leaving Turco Street and all the buildings at the end of that main thoroughfare exposed. So the Imperials easily seized these, and then forcing their way inland to the aforementioned Calle del Turco, they dominated the position to such an extent that after a quarter of an hour of fruitless shooting, we saw that it was necessary to seek our position a little higher up, between Vallecas and the Callejón de Sevilla. Firing was being done tenaciously from the balconies on both sides of the street, and there was not a single house that wasn’t an improvised fortress, for the tenacity of our countrymen was such that they were not daunted by the growing advantage of the enemy, their immense strength and arrogance. The population, previously hesitant, gained courage at seeing itself invaded, and a fury similar to that of May 2nd inflamed the hearts of its inhabitants. Partial scenes of fierce and cruel fighting were repeated constantly in the invaded houses; Those who had no firearms fought ferociously with knives , and the Emperor was able to witness up close that popular alienation and that divine spirit of war, which he repeatedly showed he had no understanding of in civilians, much less in women. In the midst of this fray, the third summons was issued, and when we thought our commanders would respond by ordering a redoubled fire, we observed that it ceased at the great barricade, and that the Marquis of Castelar was riding at full speed toward the Post Office, where the Permanent Council was located. “What’s up, Don Diego?” I asked him, seeing him coming toward me, wearing his honorable cockade. “I didn’t know you were also among us. ” “I’ve been at the Retiro since dawn,” he replied. “But what was to be done with such poor and insufficient artillery?” “But why has the firing ceased?” “The Marquis of Castelar has asked for a truce to consult with the Junta. I think there will be a capitulation. Have you seen Santorcaz? ” “Me?… Not a chance. ” “Well, I was looking for you yesterday afternoon very eagerly. ” “Has Don Luis also fought? ” “Well! In the Retiro Park, he was just now shouting like a madman and swearing to kill those who have betrayed us. But then he advised us to retreat to our homes, because it’s impossible to fight against the French. Many bronze-clad men were coming up the street, a large number of honorable volunteers and some women, and from the curses I heard from everyone’s mouths, it was clear that the defenders of Madrid hadn’t taken kindly to the suspension of arms. “It’s like they’ve been smeared,” said a man with a blunderbuss and a hat. “They’ve sold us out!” exclaimed a woman, in whom I thought I recognized Chinitas’s widow. “If I catch Castelar in front, I’ll eat him!” “I realized that Tomasillo Morla was sold to One-Eyed. How much do you think he put the sand cartridges? ” “Better to die than surrender! Scoundrels, cowards: if you’re afraid, get out of the way, and leave us. ” “Comrades, before the court of Spain and the map of the world, which is Madrid, falls into the hands of the gabachons, one-eyed, bottle-dwellers, let us let ourselves be killed behind those stones. ” “May we have lived to see this!” “Neither the Junta, nor the Council, nor the Generals, nor the Corregidor, nor None of those Caiaphases have so much shame. In this way, in various styles, the people of Madrid expressed their rage, not so much at seeing themselves almost defeated, as at missing the protection of the authorities, and finding themselves alone between a formidable enemy and a weak power, incapable of imitating the desperate sublimity of Zaragoza and Valencia. Thus, from the suspension of the struggle, discouragement spread so rapidly, and the idea of an indispensable capitulation took hold of everyone so quickly that weapons fell from their hands. Surrounded by a powerful enemy, what could be done without enthusiasm, and what enthusiasm was there where the leaders had no reliance on the extraordinary, the divine, on that ideal and unlearned tactic that either halts catastrophes or makes them glorious, leaving the victor only the material merit of victory, the topographical position, that which may be the main thing in the events of a day, but which is secondary and final in history? The Spanish people, who are quickly inflamed, are extinguished with equal speed, and if one hour they are a devastating fire rising to the sky, the next they are ashes carried by the wind and scattered throughout the ground below. Even before the siege, a poor outcome was foreseen due to a lack of caution, a lack of resources, and excessive self-confidence, the result of glorious memories constantly evoked, which tend to be highly detrimental, because everything that increases arrogance does so by taking away from true courage. What discord, thoughtlessness, and arrogance had prepared was completed by the excessive prudence of timid authorities, who, in addition to being blind to their own fate, failed to understand that the capital should surrender with no less pomp than the last village in Castile. Napoleon’s presence had those poor gentlemen very dismayed, and they worried so much about their togas, their positions, their sashes, and their salaries that with all those cobwebs before their eyes it was impossible for them to see anything. Chapter 19. The order was given for the corps to take up their original positions, and I set off again for Los Pozos, witnessing along the way the spectacle of Madrid, dejected and disillusioned. In some places, there were scenes of scandalous protest against the authorities, and threats and shouts; in others, shameful silence and rare displays of general anguish. When I arrived at the Puerta de Los Pozos, the soldiers and volunteers were in a somewhat seditious mood. The Great Captain, who was still in the Bringas garden, did not want to believe the news of the approaching and now inevitable capitulation. “Gabriel,” he said to me, “what they are telling me cannot be true, and is undoubtedly some stratagem of Don Tomás de Morla. How they lie!” Do you believe that shameless women came here claiming that the Prado and half of Alcalá Street were in the hands of France? It infuriated me so much that if my wife weren’t among those speaking such insolence, I would have run right through them. I didn’t want to upset her, and I remained silent. “We had a terrible battle here,” he continued. “They dared to approach, and that company of volunteers came out and fired such a terrible fire at them that they haven’t shown their faces again. In such a great action, we had only five dead and eleven wounded. I saw, in fact, that Pujitos was busy settling the latter in the nearby houses with the help of the generous neighbors, and that around the first five a crowd of women were intoning a thunderous miserere of imprecations and laments. At the four northern gates, no other important battle had taken place other than the one Fernández told me about.” He continued thus: “To think that we will surrender here is to think of the impossible. Let all of Madrid surrender; but Los Pozos will not surrender. Isn’t that true, lads? ” The lads, sitting on the ground of the aforementioned garden, were already eating soup, accompanied by women and children; And they ate with such gusto, and such was their slowness and tranquility, that they didn’t seem inclined to support the gigantic plans of the porter of the Accounts and Reasoning office. On the contrary, one with his rheumatism, another with his coughs, and the other with his chills, they had a look of satisfaction at the end of a venture that began with the appearance of a practical joke. “Well, if it’s God’s will that we surrender, we’ll surrender,” said a brave man, who was at least sixty years old. “We’ve done everything that honor demands. No more is possible,” said another. “When the leaders have agreed to surrender, they will know that it is impossible to resist. ” “I,” added a third, “have done my duty. I fired at least three shots. ” And I, although I didn’t fire a single one, was loading the shotgun of that little soldier with the blond mustache. “This is untenable,” Don Santiago bellowed with rage. “But what can we expect from men who are eating soup when the victor of Europe is a hundred yards away from us? Get out of here, souls of marzipan, bodies of mummies, and blood of syrup! What good are those gray hairs you are dishonoring? What good are your years, until now undebased? What good is having participated in those glorious campaigns?… Nothing, what is said is said. Madrid will surrender; but Los Pozos will not. ” “Look, my husband,” said Doña Gregoria at this point, who, together with the other neighbors, had come with a basket and something to drink for Don Santiago, “you have already done your duty; You’ve already behaved like a brave man, and this is so true that all over Madrid they’re telling of your exploits, and even the Captain General is said to have made a speech holding you up as a model of good patriots. Enough already, and since it’s all over, and there’s no more war for now, don’t be stubborn. What are you going to do on your own? The Great Captain didn’t reply, and up and down the walk, with his weapon in his arm, he was focused solely on his agitated thoughts. “Let’s stop this nonsense, my husband,” added Doña Gregoria, “and go and finish this little stew and this bottle of wine. Can Napoleon perhaps say that he’s defeated you? Not so, because he was careful not to show his face here; for if you had managed to catch him… ” “Get out of my sight, get out of here,” the veteran suddenly shouted. And don’t seduce me with your little stew and your drink, for I’m not a man to indulge in indolence in days of danger. Away with the siren songs, the seductions of love, and rich delicacies. I won’t eat: I’ve said I won’t eat, and that’s enough. I’ve said I won’t return home defeated, and I won’t. Madrid will surrender; but I won’t surrender. “There are more stubborn men!” Then the Great Captain called his wife, and taking her aside with me to a corner of Bringas’s garden, which was where we were, he spoke to her very gravely: “Lady Gregoria Conejo, how long have we been married? ” “Forty-five years, three months, and nine days, if I count correctly, ” the old woman responded, absorbed, without understanding what this would lead to. “In these forty-five years, three months, and nine days, have I caused any displeasure to Lady Gregoria Conejo? ” “No, my husband,” she replied, somewhat moved. “Well then, if I have given you any, I beg you to forgive me, and that says it all. ” “You’re crazy, Santiaguillo. Why do you talk such nonsense? ” “Do you have any complaint against your husband? ” “I don’t; and if he doesn’t have any against me… ” “Well, for my part,” said the Great Captain with some emotion, “I tell Doña Gregoria Conejo that I love her today the same as the day we were married, and that she still seems to me as pretty, as cute, and as sassy as when we were sweethearts, and that I have no complaint against her, except that she hasn’t given me children, which, in truth, has been God’s will. ” “Yes, my little boy,” replied the old woman; “but what’s the point of all this talking?” “This is to make you go away and leave me, because if not, we’ll quarrel for the first time. But you must go, forgiving me for any wrong I have done you.” made in the course of our common life. In my will I leave you everything I own, which is not much, and in addition to the eight masses I left ordered, you will have another eight said for me. And I want to be buried with my lance and with the two reales that Don Luis Daoiz gave me when I took his boots to the street of la Ternera, and enough of these words. “Oh, Holy Virgin of Maravillas, my husband is mad and wants to kill himself!” exclaimed Doña Gregoria, throwing her arms around his neck. “Santiago, don’t say such nonsense… Do you want to leave me a widow? What is all this about wills and masses? ” “I have said that if Madrid surrenders, Los Pozos will not surrender; and if Los Pozos surrenders, the garden of Bringas will not surrender,” the old man stated dryly, disengaging himself from his wife’s arms. “Back, seductress; back, siren; “Back, weakness of my courage! ” “Barbarian, animal!” said the good woman, weeping. ” You give me this payment; this is how you treat someone who loved you so much! It was only yesterday that we were married, and it seems to me that I see you coming with your garrison cap, so graceful and so buffoonish, to the gate of the house where I served… Let’s see, my boy, if you remember those little songs you used to sing to me… ” “I’m not in the mood for little songs, madam. Go away. ” “And to love a man for fifty years, to be in love all your life and look into your husband’s eyes, only to receive this payment!… Santiago, I’m so angry. Let’s go home, and curse the Emperor, the cause of my misfortunes, and anyone I see eaten by dogs.” Neither the entreaties, nor the threats, nor the wiles of his wife broke the resolve of my illustrious friend, who, refusing to eat, so as not to succumb to complacency, rejecting all thought of rest, once again paced the expanse of the garden, weapon in hand. It so happened that an infinity of neighborhood children, who had previously been forbidden to enter there, finally overcame, with the great force of their curiosity and mischief, the rigors of the guard; they snuck in suddenly and in a crowd; they ran around the fortification, poking their noses in everywhere, and touching the cannons and gun carriages with their hands , delighted to see all that tremendous apparatus up close . As the siege was considered over, no one cared to interfere with their most impertinent inspection and meddling. Once they had fully engaged their hands, noses, and eyes, they began to imitate the soldiers, shouting war cries and marching in time, all just as their elders had seen them do. With these military displays, they entered the Bringas orchard, beating drums, firing shots, blowing bugles, and neighing like horses, all done with their mouths, in a thousand discordant sounds that thundered through the air. As soon as they saw Don Santiago Fernández, whom most of them knew, they went straight to him and surrounded him, shouting amid leaps, jumps, capers, and bucks: “Long live the Great Captain! Long live the Greatest Captain!” Having seen and heard this, our illustrious veteran stopped and, taking off his hat, made several salutes and made several courtesies, saying: “Thank you, a thousand thanks, my lords. I have already said that if Madrid surrenders , I will not surrender.” The cheers and shouts, always accompanied by stamping, somersaults, and somersaults, bordered on delirium. “You are all great patriots, are you not?” my friend continued, “and not like these cowards, corrupted by pleasure. I see that youth is worth more than maturity, and I would like to see you by my side, brave Spaniards, defending our beloved Monarch.” The uproar and commotion of the boys upon hearing this was such that it cannot be described or painted, for it seemed as if all the little angels conceived by the marriages of a century were there doing their thing. There you could see the running, the trampling, the butting of heads, the singing and shouting, the clapping, the kicking , the running and twirling, swirling around my friend. whose legs remained motionless for a long time in the midst of that buzzing swarm. “Such displays of affection, gentlemen,” he said at last, “touch me, and I can only consider them as proof of how well received my conduct has been in Madrid. But let it be said that the fulfillment of duty does not deserve praise, for such praise is only for the extraordinary and heroic. My duty is to defend this place, and I will defend it. So, enough of acclamations and applause. But what if you want! That was a good family to heed such exhortations!” One of the leaders had to give the order to throw them out, and even then it was difficult to free Don Santiago from the noisy ovation. Furthermore, our colonel wanted all strangers to leave the fortified enclosure, and finally, not without effort, we got the women to leave, including Doña Gregoria, who left tearful and saddened, charging me not to lose sight of her good husband. I don’t know if I mentioned that Don Tomás de Morla had recently passed through Los Pozos on horseback , on his way to Chamartín, where the Corsican had his headquarters . The conference with the Emperor lasted a long time, because Morla’s return was very late, and certainly, upon his return, his gloomy and changed face showed that there had been both toads and snakes in the interview. That giant with the heart of a child was treated by Napoleon like a schoolboy. It later became known that the victor had treated him like a maniac, bringing up his failure to comply with the capitulation of Bailén and threatening to shoot him and his troops if the town didn’t surrender by six o’clock the following morning. The afternoon passed without any military event worth mentioning. The French took up their positions without firing, and we, certain that everything would be over, were also quiet and expectant. The commotion inside the town persisted; and from what I heard, a large crowd, certainly not at all calm, filled the Puerta del Sol, their attention fixed on the Post Office, the Junta’s residence. Exhausted from exhaustion, the great Pujitos lay down on the ground next to me and said: “I expected this to happen. Didn’t I tell you that the traitors were going to sell us out to the French?” “More than treason,” I responded with great sadness, “we must attribute this poor result to a lack of resources for defense. ” “What?” the hero cried angrily. “What lack of resources, what a dead child! Volunteers are more than enough. But, son, we can do nothing against traitors, and even if I see them rotten, and the scabs are eating them up. The ill-tempered and even worse-looking Santorcaz was here recently, and I didn’t wake him up because one doesn’t want to make a fuss on these occasions; but…” And he gave a snort that announced exterminating plans against the enemies of the country. “And why did that charlatan swindler come here? ” “To look for you, boy. Do you know you must be careful? When we told him you weren’t there, he stamped his foot on the ground and gritted his teeth. ” With him came Majoma, Tres Pesetas, and other strays who now make up his retinue, along with a certain Román, who was a servant in a wealthy house. When he heard you were gone and saw Santorcaz throwing such a fit, he said to him: “Well, he won’t escape tonight.” What’s up? These are bad people, Gabriel, and I already told you they’re sold body and soul to the French. So now we have to flee from them like the itch, because they’ll put us in what they call a “pulicía,” which is like a bailiff’s, to arrest whomever they want. “They won’t arrest me,” I said, “at least not while I’m a soldier. After the surrender, I’ll find ways to keep them from catching me, although the truth is, my friend Pujitos, I don’t know why those gentlemen hate me, or why they’re talking about whether I’ll escape or not.” –I tell you that they are worse than Judas, and that now they will make friends with the French, as if they are all one, wolves and foxes… well, and They’ll beat anyone they get their eyes on with a club, unless they raise a tremendous amount of insults against me, and then paper me up and put me in the shade. ” “There’s a lot of truth in all that friend Pujitos said ,” I responded, “and God forbid those scoundrels give us any grief; and if we can’t live in Madrid, everyone should go outside, and let’s fight where they know how to die rather than surrender to the French. ” The hero stood up, and putting his hand to his breast, he made exclamations of ardent patriotism, after which we separated. As night fell, the regular troops at Los Pozos received a peremptory order to retreat, and it was when the Junta formally agreed to the capitulation, the Marquis of Castelar not wanting to witness this event, nor to have the troops surrender, that he planned to escape with them through the Puerta de Segovia, which he happily accomplished at midnight. Left alone with the countrymen, what hope remained? For the surrender of Madrid to be honorable, diplomacy, not arms, had to make an effort. I told the Great Captain what was happening, hoping that, discouraged, he would retire to his house, as other poor veterans had done, convinced of its futility. He swore that a capitulation agreed upon by the Junta was impossible; but contrary to what I expected, he suddenly said: “I have to go home, Gabriel: will you accompany me? ” “At once,” I replied. And we asked the chief for permission, which he granted us willingly. It was already very late at night. Chapter 20. We soon arrived at our home on Barquillo Street. My friend opened the door of his house with a key he had with him; we went upstairs; he opened the entrance of his house in the same way, and we found ourselves inside the small parlor, where the discreet reader has so often seen me in the company of my kind neighbors. On the back wall, where the usual lance had sat since time immemorial, there was a kind of altar, on whose table two wax candles, placed in brass candlesticks, illuminated an image of the Virgin of Sorrows, a Saint Anthony, and many other holy images that had been taken down from the four walls to gather there. A few ribbons and bows, in the absence of flowers, served as decoration for the improvised tabernacle, with several jugs and pots that had once been luxurious and beautiful, but now crippled, maimed, and wounded. In front of all this was the leather armchair, and sitting in it was Doña Gregoria, fast asleep. The poor woman, who had so succumbed to fatigue, had her head bowed on her chest, her face still wet with fresh tears, and her clasped hands indicated that sleep had overtaken her in the depths of her fervent prayer. Her husband was stunned when he saw her, and then he said to me: “Gabriel, let’s not make a sound, or she’ll wake up; it’s better for the poor thing to rest.” Then, going to an old chest of drawers in the corner, he added in a very low voice: “Here in the third drawer is my will, and in this other one all the money I have saved, with which my wife can support herself for the rest of her life, which won’t be much. I’m going to write down my last wishes. No jokes, and don’t answer me anything.” And immediately he sat down by the nightstand, and with a clumsy goose quill, he drew two dozen crooked lines on a piece of paper. “Here I direct,” he added, looking up from the paper, “that masses be said for me at San Marcos, where Don Pedro Velarde, that bravest man among all brave men, is buried. As for my bones, I make no arrangements , because I don’t know where they will fall. ” “Are you still stuck with these obsessions?” “I said. I will speak out loud so that Doña Gregoria wakes up and puts the pears at a quarter for you. ” “You will not do that, because I will strangle you, for I do not want her to abandon her sweet sleep to suffer bitterness. Here in this first drawer I leave my last disposition. ” And then, getting up and approaching his wife on tiptoe, He gazed for a good while, pale and moved. After a while, he led me to the next bedroom, and sitting on the bed in a place from which, through the half-open screen, the face of Doña Gregoria could be seen, illuminated by the altar lights, he spoke to me thus: “If anything weakens my spirit, it is the sight of my innocent wife, whom I am about to leave a widow. I confess that when I consider this, my eyes cloud, my heart oppresses me, and I am about to give up all my ferocity. Can’t you see her from here? It seems like yesterday we were married; it seems like not forty-five years have passed, and she appears to me with the same celestial figure she had back in the days of Maricastaña, when I used to go to the gate, bringing her half a pound of pears in my handkerchief or a couple of Astorga shortbread cookies.” All this time, she hasn’t given me anything to complain about, and we’ve lived together like two doves, loving each other the same as the first day. Don’t you see her from here? Don’t you see her beautiful face, so serene and calm despite its sadness? I’m seeing her with her golden hair, with her little mouth as red as a pomegranate shell, with her sweet blue eyes, which when you look at them seem as if the heavens open up before yours; I’m seeing the mother-of-pearl of her complexion, and her graceful and gentle little body, as well as her alabaster throat. Oh, my God! So beautiful, so good, and so unfortunate! Whether it was the effect of her imagination, clouded by those words, or because the situation gave Doña Gregoria ideal charms, the truth was that despite her white hair, her wrinkled complexion, and her so-considerably old age, I was seeing her as beautiful as the Great Captain had said. A miraculous effect of thought! “Look, Gabriel: ever since we saw each other fifty years ago, we loved each other; seeing each other and loving each other were one and the same, just like they say about lovers in Teruel. Our courtship lasted five years, because I didn’t have the money; but from the first day we arranged the wedding. During that time, there were no arguments, no jokes, no jealousy. We’ve never been jealous of each other, because from the first day, trust was our guiding light. Everyone was envious of me. Oh! When we got married, we were so happy that we wouldn’t have traded our house for seven empires. And since then, son, this happiness hasn’t changed. Oh! My heart breaks to think that from tomorrow she’ll sleep alone in this bed, which has seen us together for forty-five years. ” Saying this, the Great Captain put his handkerchief to his eyes to dry his tears. “Come on, my friend,” I said, “I really don’t know whether to laugh or get angry hearing what you’re saying. Are you crazy?” “If you don’t understand this,” he replied, “it’s because you’re a simpleton and a selfish fool. Do you know what it means to do one’s duty? Do you know what honor means? And if you know all this, do you ignore the honor of one’s country, which is worth more than one’s own honor? Listen to me carefully: if the thought of Gregorilla’s widowhood, Major, causes me anguish and sorrow, I feel much greater pain when I consider that the capital of Spain is being handed over to the French. This is terrible, this is frightening, and I wouldn’t hesitate to give a thousand lives and suffer all kinds of torments to prevent it. Spain defeated by France! Spain defeated by Napoleon! This is enough to drive one mad; and Madrid, Madrid, the head of all Spains, in the power of that fool! So a nation like this, which has had all other nations under its sole , and especially France—” So this nation, which previously did not allow a word to be spoken louder than another in Europe , must surrender to four hungry loopholes? How can this be? Drive out the Moors, discover and conquer all of America, invent the wisest laws, extend your empire over all the discovered land, raise the first temples and monasteries in the world, subdue peoples, conquer cities, distribute crowns, humiliate countries, conquer nations, and then fall at the feet of a miserable little emperor who came out of nowhere, a deceiver and a liar! Madrid is not Madrid if it surrenders. And don’t come to me saying it’s impossible to defend itself. If it’s not possible to defend itself, the duty of the people of Madrid is to let themselves all die within these strong walls and burn the entire city, as the Numantines did. Alas! All my companions have behaved cowardly. Spain is dishonored, Madrid is dishonored. There is no one here who knows how to die, and everyone prefers a miserable life to honor. “But when you can’t triumph,” I told him, “it’s foolhardy to continue fighting, and it’s better to save your life to use it successfully on a better occasion. ” “Foolishness and nonsense! Honor commanded the people of Madrid to die rather than surrender, and honor commands us at the Puerta de Los Pozos to all die there rather than surrender it. ” “I don’t think they’re willing to do that.” “Well, I am, because my conscience, which is the voice of God, commands me to. The Gate will surrender; but the Bringas Garden is under my command, and whoever wishes to enter it will pass over my dead body. ” “Crazy and even ridiculous temerity! ” “So it will be for those who have no idea of the honor of the homeland, and for those who see nothing beyond this wretched existence, nor anything beyond the bread they eat every day.” “Surrendering oneself to death in this way is suicide, and suicide is a great sin. ” “It is not suicide, no. The inescapable law of the homeland has placed me in a place that I must defend, even at the cost of my life. Are superior forces coming? Come then! The homeland commands me to wait calmly, and the law forbids me from moving my feet from that place. Didn’t martyrs die for religion? For the homeland is a second religion, and rather than violate its law, a man must die. And what is death?” Fools are afraid of death, because death takes away their food and joy. Fools! Are not those of eternal bliss better food and better enjoyment? Look there, my wife. It is true that it grieves me to leave her; but I know that I shall lose sight of her only for a time, and that her virtues will then carry her to where she will be before my eyes for all eternity, without whose company I believe that heaven itself would be tiresome to me. To die! That is a great thing to die, and you have a ready eye! For is dying an evil that can be compared even to the pain of a scratch received on earth? And if dying is nothing to the miserable body, how great and auspicious an event is it not for our soul, especially if, in the nobility of our end, we elevate ourselves above all things born! To die for one’s country; to die in the place that one’s duty marks for one; to die, not for the conquest of a piece of land, nor for a piece of bread, nor for a base ambition, but for something that cannot be seen or touched, namely an idea and a pure feeling! Is this not to make ourselves equal to the saints of heaven and to draw as close to God as a creature can get? Having said this, he fell silent. I made no reply, for such greatness had astonished me. After a good while, we returned from the bedroom to the parlor; he approached Doña Gregoria with very soft steps and gave her many kisses, so eager not to wake her that his lips barely touched the old woman’s wrinkled skin. Then he wiped away his tears, and casting a sweeping glance over all the objects in the parlor, he said to me in a deep and solemn voice: “Gabriel, come.” Chapter 21. There were no arguments against him, and anything I could have said to him would have been preaching in the wilderness; For this reason I decided to cease my obstinacy, reserving to myself the right to employ any stratagem afterwards to prevent a misfortune. As a long time had elapsed during the visit to the house , when we left it was already dawn, and noticing more people in the streets than are usually found at such an hour, we went to look around a little before returning to Los Pozos. It was about six o’clock when we entered the street of Fuencarral, and since this was the hour appointed for the surrender, numerous groups of men were going up and down the aforementioned road, some armed, others unarmed, but all in a state of great agitation. Some were declaiming loudly against the capitulation, calling Morla, the Junta, and Castelar their best friend; others were letting off steam by insulting Napoleon; many were breaking their weapons, throwing them into the stream; some were firing their rifles in the air, thus increasing the general unrest. Finally, towards the Arch of Santa María, we saw some Dominican and Mercedarian friars who, haranguing the crowd, were trying to calm it. “Come on, let’s run to our post,” said Fernández, “lest they have a surprise in store for us. ” “It’s not yet the appointed hour,” I said, trying to stall him so that we would arrive late. “How come not?” he exclaimed excitedly, quickening his pace. Let’s run, lest we arrive too late and they surrender Los Pozos. We were wrong to abandon our post out of foolish sentimentality. Who knows what those people will do if I’m not around! Let’s run, for I’ve already said that Madrid will surrender, that Los Pozos will surrender, that the Bringas garden will surrender ; but that the Great Captain will not surrender. We began to run when I was suddenly stopped by a man coming in the opposite direction. It was Pujitos. “Gabriel,” he said to me, very breathlessly, “go back, don’t go to Los Pozos; run and escape however you can. ” “Why? What’s going on?” my friend asked with the utmost anxiety. “Has
Napoleon come himself? ” “What Napoleon, what Juan Lanas!” Pujitos added, pushing me back. “Run quickly, because if you get there, they’ll catch you. Those dogs were here just now after you. ” “Who?” “Who could it be but Don Luis Santorcaz, the one they call Román, and the three or four scoundrels who hang around with them? ” “And why are they looking for me? ” “To arrest you. ” “And who is he to arrest me?” I exclaimed, filled with rage. “But didn’t they say why they want to arrest me? What have I done? ” “Yes, they did, and it’s all about treachery and I don’t know what other mischief. So, run. Look, they’re coming. Cool air, and good morning. ” “Eh? Enough of this nonsense,” said the Great Captain, “and I won’t delay any longer, I’m needed elsewhere.” And he resolutely marched up the hill without saying another word. Once I was alone with Pujitos, we continued our altercation, he trying to force me to retreat, and I insisting on continuing, for it seemed like a fable to me, the story of my imprisonment and the transformation of Santorcaz and Román into constables, and above all, into my pursuers for treasons I had never dreamed of committing. But he finally managed to convince me by recalling past events that could explain, if not justify, that act of revenge. I thought it prudent to follow the advice of my comrade-in-arms, a man who, despite being foolish, was still honorable, and I slipped away at a brisk pace in the direction of the Holy Spirit. Near Ancha Street, I had a fortunate encounter with the appearance of my reverend friend, the mercenary friar, who, accompanied by a large crowd, was coming in the opposite direction. “Where are you going, Gabriel?” he said, stopping me. “I’m running away, Father,” I replied, “running away from infamous enemies who are pursuing me for no reason.” “Who, who is the daring man who harasses you?” he exclaimed spiritedly. “Perfidious men, wicked men who have been spies for the French, and now appear as officers of justice. ” “But of what justice? Who commands us? Let us find out once and for all. Does our Chamber of Mayors still command us, or does a mustachioed French General command us , in the name of Napoleon? Has the town already capitulated? ” “I don’t know, Father; but the fact is that these men are seeking to arrest me, and with or without authority, they carry out their royal dispatches in full force and effect. May he who gave them to them to satisfy infamous personal vendettas be cursed. ” “Let’s see what that is…” “No, Father: I don’t think I’ll see anything but the street where I’m running.” because I know the kind of people into whose hands I’m going to fall. “By the Most Holy Virgin of Carmen, no one will touch the hair on your clothes, at least not if you’re going with me. Come, gentlemen,” added Salmon , turning to those following him, “I’m going home. Father Salmon, of the Order of Mercy, bids you farewell: I am nothing now, my children; you no longer have Padrito Salmon; you no longer have anyone to preach to you, or to advise you, or to tell you jovial things. It’s all over: Spain belongs to the French; goodbye, friars and nuns, they ‘re going to get rid of us all, my children, and don’t make a fuss, for these fusses are worthless now, since religion cannot be defended with tears… Don’t cry, or _late piache_, as the other said, and we’ll succumb.” Goodbye, my children, for now they want to make you all heretics, and we religious are unnecessary. I give you my blessing: be careful, be careful with your little sins. And you, unfortunate young man, come to me, for we still have a little influence, and no one will do anything to you if you go in my company. Come with me to La Merced, and there we will try to keep you safe. As we marched together toward Calle Ancha, we heard around us the loud and heated voices of men and women shouting: “Long live Father Salmon! Death to Napoleon! Death to the King of Cups!” ” You will be safe in my convent,” the mercenary told me later, “until you can leave Madrid. Do you intend to leave? ” “As soon as I can, Father: I cannot and should not stay here any longer. ” “You are right: some of my companions are also planning to leave to raise the spirits of the people there.” I will not leave Madrid, because my nature is so delicate and flatulent that it cannot withstand the labors, hunger, and hardships of a mission. I stick to the house in Madrid: I neither remove nor appoint a king, and although they say Brother Copas wants to remove us, it’s all nonsense, my son. I know that emissaries of the Emperor are wandering around Madrid, sucking us up with their mouths closed so that we will pay homage to him and compromise with him, an indispensable requirement for treating us wonderfully. Therefore, I think he serves as well with Peter as with John, and go ahead with the lanterns, because if they give you loaves of bread, don’t ask for cakes, and if they give you the heifer, go with the rope, for as the other said, a hand that gives a crust is good even if it’s Turkish. I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t reply to my friend, although my silence didn’t stop him from talking all the way, during which no misfortune befell us, nor did we have any unpleasant encounters. “We’re home now,” he said to me as we entered. “Come up and try some of the sticks from yesterday’s pot that the refueller has saved for me today, to put with rice. And I warn you that I’m a specialist in all things rice, and I owe myself the introduction of clams and cinnamon into Valencian paella.” We went into his cell, where he left me, returning a short while later with a small casserole dish under his cloak; and with this and a bottle he’d taken from the cupboard, along with a basket full of pieces of bread, figs, olives, nuts, sausages, cheese, dates, and other victuals, he prepared a lunch that suited me perfectly. “This very cell you’re in, which is mine,” he told me while we were eating, “was occupied more than two hundred years ago, back in the 1620s, by that illustrious mercenary Friar Gabriel Téllez, generally known as the maestro Tirso de Molina. It is well known that in this very place, and perhaps at this very table, he wrote his famous Chronicle of the Order, because it is believed he didn’t write any plays after becoming a friar. ” “Hasn’t Your Paternity taken to writing plays?” I asked him. “Well, I’ve made some, and they’re rotting away in that cupboard. But I haven’t tried to have them performed, because the Prior forbids us, although they are all devotional. I made one that I don’t think is bad, and it’s titled The Holy Child of the Guard. Another one I composed with the title The Tutor of the Church and Doctor of the Law is also quite appealing .” all in stringed sonnets, interspersed with what are called sevenths of the royal family; and I was so busy with cards for these little works that I would string together two in a week, and if I hadn’t been forbidden, I would have tripped Bustamante, who wrote three hundred and twenty-nine comedies of saints. “And what is Your Paternity busy with now? ” “What am I to be busy with, lad, but making cricket cages? Don’t you know I’m the first cage-maker in Madrid? Well, by my faith, such works give me little trouble. Look how many there are there. The one with three floors, with two beautiful towers and a figurative clock in the center, is for the nuns of Constantinople, and that other round one that’s nearly finished is for the Discalced Carmelites, who have been driving me crazy with that blessed work for a month.” Indeed, an entire corner of the cell was filled with cages, both made and yet to be made, with all the materials and tools typical of that trade. Of the books, I saw nothing but the pamphlets and papers he had collected a few days before at Amaranta’s house. “I am a man who abhors laziness,” Salmon continued, “and I am not like others in this same house who occupy themselves with nothing , although there are some, truth be told, like Father Castillo, who day and night are immersed in a sea of books and papers. ” “And truly, Father,” I said, “since there are no captives to redeem, all of you should spend your time doing some useful task. ” “Well, there are those who, unless it’s throwing bars in the garden and playing tute in the sun, do nothing.” And if not, in the next cell you have Father Rubio, who spends his life writing riddles and enigmas, which he sends to the nuns so they can give him back the solution and new problems, and they have established profits and losses for the one who gets it right and the one who gets it wrong, which losses and gains always consist of some food. And what about Father Pacho, who has taken up knitting and does some fine work…! This is womanizing, which I don’t like. I at least have made admirable progress in the most eminent art of cages, and I also dedicate myself to medicine, for which, with that Dioscorides who sits at the head of my bed covering the bowl, is more than enough for me. Our conversation continued along these lines until I felt like sleeping. My friend asked the Prior’s permission to remain there all day and even all night, as a refuge from unjust persecution, and they took me to an empty cell, where he settled me on a very soft bed, so that sleep overtook me that I did not remember myself until the following day. Chapter 22. When I got up and had finished the breakfast that Father Salmon had brought me with his own charitable hands, I went out to the upper cloister, where my friend said to me: “There is great news. Yesterday at about ten o’clock the city was surrendered to the French, the capitulation having been signed by the Emperor at his headquarters in Chamartín. ” “And has there been anything at Los Pozos?” I asked, regretfully remembering the Great Captain. “I believe it is the only point where there was any resistance, since General Belliard, the Governor of the city, took possession of all the others without difficulty. ” A small, old friar, leaning on a stick, came out to meet Salmon ; A man who seemed sickly and ill-tempered, who said: “Does Your Grace, Mr. Salomón Jaulista, know the terms of the surrender?” “Brother Palomeque, I don’t know; but I believe that Fray Agustín del Niño Jesús has arrived , and they say he has a copy that a member of the Board gave him. ” “What, back to the cloister, Father Palomeque?” said a young friar, with a beard, a broad neck, a neat face, a flushed nose, a small bangs, and a certain gallant air, who suddenly joined our group. “What’s up,” Palomeque answered angrily, banging his stick hard on the ground, “is that last night they stole one of my hens, one of the six I had in the coop, and woe to the scoundrel if I find him out!” By our holy habit, if my suspicion of a friar who is too effeminate and syrupy is true, I swear that I will pay for it! —Oh curas hominum! Oh quantum est in rebus inane! Oh cupidinitas gallinacea! And all this anger is over a dry, puny cock, with whose broth one could administer Baptism? —Enough of joking; and if she was puny, I didn’t have her for any drone! —exclaimed Palomeque. —But come on, and tell me once and for all on what terms this cursed capitulation was made. Over there appears Friar Agustín del Niño Jesús. Indeed, with a grave step, the said Niño Jesús arrived; he was a very tall friar, dark, with hair on his chest, of fearful appearance, fierce eyes and a voice, by strange contrast, so childish and high-pitched, that it seemed to come from another throat than his own. Two other friars followed him. “Let’s see, Mr. Musician, what does that draft say?” the bearded friar asked. “Now you’ll see,” said Agrages, “was Father Augustine’s reply . “I believe Napoleon has accepted all the articles, except for two or three of the less important ones. ” “The first,” said Salmon, “speaks of the preservation of the Catholic religion, without allowing any other. ” “Exactly,” replied the Child Jesus, taking out a piece of paper; “and the second of the liberty and security of the lives and property of the residents of Madrid.” It also establishes respect for the lives, rights, and property of secular and regular ecclesiastics of both sexes, preserving the respect due to temples, all in accordance with our laws. ” “Since they are not going to comply with it,” Palomeque indicated, “it’s excused for them to say so. Go on. ” “Why should you read any further?” What follows will be of little interest, and I bet it talks about whether the troops will leave Madrid with the honors of war or not. “Exactly,” said Friar Agustín, “and there’s also another article that establishes that no person will be persecuted for political opinions or writings. ” “That’s very poorly thought out and even worse resolved,” said another of those present, who was Father Rubio, fabricator and architect of riddles, “because if they don’t get rid of the Freemasons and journalists …” Then the syrupy little friar, who was none other than a teacher of theology, approached Salmon and said: “Does Your Paternity dare to throw two points at the bar this afternoon after the siesta? ” “Well, I shouldn’t dare?” he replied. “And you, Gabriel, do you play at the bar?” “This young man,” said the teacher of theology kindly, “is that prodigy of the Humanities, that consummate Latinist of whom Your Grace spoke to me? ” “The same one you wear and wear, or rather, the second Pico de la Mirandola. Your Grace can examine him and you will see what chestnuts are.” I repeated that I did not know a word of Latin, and that my entire fame in that language arose from a mistake. ” “He is a moderate,” said the theologian. “And since you are such a great Latin, answer me this: what does *Vino a lo que vino* mean? ” “That is not Latin, but Castilian,” said Salmon. “Oh!” exclaimed the other, clapping his hands. “They both got stuck. So Castilian? Well, it is as Latin as the *Arma virumque*.” _Vino a lo que vino_, or what is the same, _vi no aloque vino_, which, literally translated, means _with strength I swim and I feed on wine_. “This Friar Jacinto de los Traspasos de María is a well of knowledge, ” said Salmon. “Gabriel, you’ve got stuck. ” “And tell me,” continued the other, “what does _Archiepiscopi toletani onerati sunt mulieribus_ mean? ” “That is clearer than water, my lord Don Teólogo,” replied Salmon. ” It is blasphemy and slander; but whatever it is worth, it means, saving the intention, that the Archbishops of Toledo are loaded with women. ” “Oh geese, oh beasts of burden! I’ve got them again,” said Friar Jacinto. The _archiepiscopi_, which seems to be a plural nominative, is a singular genitive. From the sounding word _mulieribus_, I make two, namely: _muli æribus_ And it turns out: _the Archbishop of Toledo’s mules are loaded with riches_. Ahaha! Well, what does this _you eat snails_ mean? _Oh! I’m not one for headaches,_ replied Salmon. _Let’s leave that, and since he’s beaten me at Latin, this afternoon I’ll beat him at the bar. _Not this afternoon,_ said Rubio, _because Friar Jacinto has promised to come with me to see the Constantinoples, who are dying to meet him. _And Castillo, where is he?_ asked Palomeque. _At Mass._ _Oh, _patres conscripti__!_ said another friar who came hurrying up the cloister. _Great and stupendous news! Three Councilors from Castile have arrived, and they’re in conference with the Prior. _And what are those devil Councilors doing?_ “From what I’ve heard, Napoleon sent them to fool us, to see if he can get a deputation of regulars from all the Orders to go and pay their respects and give him a pat on the back in his barracks at Chamartín. ” “To hell with it. ” “So, pat on the scourge of the people, the enemy of religion, the jailer of our King? Very well, after being cuckolded, beaten, and then the beatings, it’s all over. ” “Since even the stones will rise up against Napoleon, and he will finally have to leave with his brother, it’s pointless to beat around the bush.” At this point, Father Castillo arrived from saying mass, that discreet and sharp friar who had purged the books at the Countess’s house . “Father Castillo, so we have a visit from Councilors from Castile so we can humble ourselves before Napoleon?” “I know nothing about this. ” “I’m determined to leave Madrid and go through those provinces to preach war, gathering armed men,” said Rubio. “And if I get released by land from the Barco de Ávila and deliver four sermons there, I’ll even raise the stones,” affirmed the Child Jesus. “I won’t move from here,” said Castillo. “The statutes command me to reside in this house, and here I will reside as long as they don’t throw me out. Our Order was founded to redeem captives, not to preach war or arm soldiers. ” “Very well said; but neither was it founded to be kicked by Emperors and spat upon by Juntas. ” “God will do with our Order whatever He pleases,” replied Castillo. ” In the meantime, we are better off in our house than out on the hills and valleys inciting men to kill each other. And it’s not that we cease to be patriots.” The prayers of a pious friar will do more for our armies than the furious and cruel sermons of those wretches who, with their habits on their belts, have launched themselves into the war. And tell me, good Child Jesus, do you find the conduct of that Dominican whom I do not wish to name, who has distinguished himself by his bloodthirsty impulses to slaughter Frenchmen, meritorious and worthy of a Christian and a priest? No: nothing that is contrary to the general laws of charity should distract us from our ordinary lives. “With fine rhetoric, Father Castillo comes now,” said another of those present. ” No, otherwise, let us become honey for the imperial flies to eat. ” “Tell me,” asked a third, “has Señor D. Librote y Cata pergaminos heard that Napoleon is going to reduce the number of regulars to a third? Yes, that’s very nice. Let Father Castillo applaud him. And let us see it and keep quiet, shall we?” “Well, I like it! So if a daring conqueror endangers our institute, we’ll consider it well done. ” “So, reducing us to a third?” said Salmon. “A fine invention! These are the much-vaunted novelties of the philosophers and all those French-style Masons around these days. ” “I won’t argue about whether or not it’s advisable to reduce the number of convents,” said Castillo. “This is a delicate question, and one about which much could be said. What I do affirm is that the reduction in the number of regulars, and the ideas of putting a stop to so many foundations, are quite old, and a thousand eminent republicans have dealt with it.” You all know that there has been quite a lot of clamor about this in the last century. And what else? At the beginning of the seventeenth century, when no one yet dreamed of encyclopedias, revolutions, lodges, or philosophies, respectable figures, and among them some very wise Spaniards , expressed themselves in the same vein. Since I dedicate myself to searching for old papers, consider, my dear brothers, what a coincidence! These days I have found two that are perfectly suited to intervene in this conflict. And he immediately went to his cell, which was very close by, and returning with two old books, showed them to his brothers. “Here they are,” he said. “One is the Memorial that Fray Luis de Miranda, retired reader of the Order of Saint Francis, gave to King Philip III at his Council of State , concerning the ruin and destruction that threatened the republic and monarchy of Spain if a remedy is not quickly found.” The causes and reasons he sets forth are: FIRST, the multitude of treasuries who are going from secular to ecclesiastical. SECOND, the innumerable people who, for their own personal ends, are becoming religious from secular, without any need for it, but rather to the detriment of the religions themselves. This was written in the early years of the seventeenth century, and if the evil was real, Your Paternities can judge whether it has increased, with no one having resorted to a remedy. The other book is entitled Speech by Dr. D. Gutiérrez, Marquis of Careaga, in which he attempts to persuade that the Spanish monarchy is being destroyed and destroyed by the ecclesiastical state, the foundation of religions, chaplaincies, anniversaries and entailed estates. This was printed in 1620. So, my brothers,” the good Castillo added crookedly, “two hundred years ago someone already had the talent to say that we were many. Now, then, my dearest friends, each one of you should put your hand to your chest, consult your conscience, and ask yourself if you think you are in excess: intelligenti pauca. And those hens, Father Palomeque, how many eggs have they laid this week? And how are those cages going, Father Salmon? What does Your Paternity tell me about those secret little riddles that the Constantinoples sent you yesterday, Father Rubio? Have I got them right now? And how are those flute notes going, Fray Agustín del Niño Jesús?” And so he went on, directing humorous digs at everyone, although they didn’t get irritated, thanks to the respect they had for him. With this and Castillo’s withdrawal , the circle broke up, and almost everyone went to peer at the door of the Prior’s cell to see if they could discover the mysterious commission of the Councilors of Castile. When Salmon and I were about to disperse a little in the garden, we saw an elderly friar who, devoutly reading his prayer book, was pacing in the lower cloister. I asked my friend who this venerable fellow was, and he told me: “This is Father Chaves, the most pious and reverent of all the friars in this convent, although he seems to me to be somewhat of a fool. He does nothing but pray, read holy books, and attend to all the sick in the house. He has not been out of the house even once for fourteen years. He receives no gifts, only those he can give to the poor.” He hardly eats, and whatever they give him here he saves to distribute on Saturdays to a mob that comes to the gatehouse, because, as he says, since he cannot redeem captives, he wants to redeem those who suffer the worst slavery of all, which is misery. I told you before that he was a fool; but the truth is, son, Chaves is an excellent brother. “God has put everything in the world,” I thought; “and just as nothing is perfect, there is nothing that is absolutely bad.” Chapter 23. The next day, Salmon gave me very bad news. “Do you know what’s happening, Gabriel?” he said, entering very early in the morning into the cell that had been assigned to me. “Well, I’ve learned that the French government, which now governs us, has appointed as bailiff, or as they say now, officer, chief, or I don’t know what kind of police force, that same Santorcaz who wanted to arrest you. This has outraged everyone who knew him, and it proves to the It is clear that he had already been sold to the French even before the siege. It is also beyond doubt that in those days he was appointed bailiff by the Chamber of Mayors, although no one can quite figure out how he achieved this. He is accompanied today, as before, by his squad of low-lifes, who, as you know, were the ones who a few days ago stirred up tempers against the French in the slums, passing themselves off as ardent patriots. But tell me, what have you done that they want to arrest you for? Because they have told me that he and his men are searching for you with a real frenzy, scouring every corner of Madrid. “In truth, I don’t know on what they base their pursuit,” I replied, “because no matter how much I rack my brains, I cannot think of a single action of mine that from a hundred leagues away resembles a crime. But those men are very bad, and the cause of their wickedness should not be sought outside of them .” “Well, I’ve been told that all day yesterday, this Santorcaz has done nothing but arrest suspicious people, that is, people he assumes are hostile to the French. ” “It’s a personal vendetta,” I said, “or perhaps a desire to seize me for some base intrigue. ” “What a filthy scoundrel! And this is how the King of Cups and his brother want to make themselves loved by the Spanish! Well, it’s not a bad storm that’s coming upon us. They say Napoleon tore up the act of capitulation, issuing several decrees yesterday that are contrary to what was stipulated. ” “Well, my Father,” I said, “I see that I must flee Madrid with all haste. ” “Flee Madrid! Do you think it’s easy now? Stay a few more days in this house; the Prior will have no objection, and then we’ll see how we get you out of the town. Oh! They’ve assured me that the escape is very difficult even for rats.” It seems that the people of the towns near Madrid are up in arms. The French fear that this is some plot with those here to foster an insurrectionist movement within the Court, and they have resolved to isolate Madrid. The surveillance at the gates is worse than that of inquisitors: they don’t let a living soul leave without searching them and giving them a thousand turns; and if the traveler doesn’t have a little piece of paper they call a “letter of security,” issued by that blessed Superintendency of Police, anyone I see as food for wolves is subject to a court martial. So, son, you’re in danger; you can’t live in Madrid, and getting out is very difficult. Ah! Right now, something occurs to me, and that is that we can request the protection of the Countess, at whose house you were the other day, whom I’ve been told is a friend of the French. “The Countess, a friend of the French! ” “I mean, a partisan.” His cousin, the Duke of Arion, who has spent his entire life in France, entered Spain with Bonaparte, to whom he is very devoted, and is currently at the headquarters in Chamartín. The day before yesterday I was at the Countess’s house, and they were expecting him from one day to the next. Since he has arrived, it would not be difficult for that kind lady to obtain a letter of safety for you to escape. In the meantime, my son, you are safer here; and whether you like it or not, you and I are going right now to see the Prior of the convent, who is a man of so much worldliness and so much backroom business that he would be willing to sell it to the morning star. He will tell us if what happened to me is reasonable, or if there is another more expeditious means of getting you to safety. And without further ado, I am taken to the cell of the Father Prior, who at that moment had returned from saying mass and was winding up two ounces of chocolate. Father Ximénez de Azofra was a small, middle-aged man with very lively eyes, a malicious smile, courteous manners, and a pleasant conversation. He received me with great kindness; and when Salmon explained to him the straits I was in, he said the following: “Under other circumstances, unwary young man, it would have been easy for us to help you by taking you to the shelter of this house. But now everything is the other way around. The intruding government looks at us with very bad eyes, and it would be enough for us to protect you for us to be accused of being accomplices in the Insurrection, as they call our holy cause. Truly , I hate that rabble more and more. See what they’re doing now. Since Madrid surrendered, they’ve had no time to break their agreement; and if they promised to respect the lives, liberties, and property of this neighborhood, yesterday they’ve only been arresting and imprisoning honorable people, whom they accuse of aiding the insurgents of Talavera and Cuenca. It’s all suspicion, accusation, and fear even of vain shadows; And since the remnants of San Juan’s army and the troops of Castaños who joined the Duke of Infantado are in these surroundings, stirring up the towns against the French, the latter see a spy in every inhabitant of Madrid, and have resolved to prevent all communication between the inhabitants of this town and those of Ocaña, Toledo, Talavera, and Illescas. For this reason, they do not allow the entry of peasants, fruit sellers, and vegetable vendors, which is why all goods are so expensive today. ” “This is a bad situation,” said Salmon. “So, my dear Prior, in good times we shall receive nothing from our farms in Leganés, Valmojado, Casarrubuelos, Bayona de Tajuña, and Santa Cruz del Romeral? A fine future! And then _quid manducaverunt vel manducavere_? ” “Oh!” “Friend Salmon,” the Prior replied maliciously, “that ‘ventorumque regat pater’ comes in handy here, which means ‘wind in the belly,’ as that barefoot fool we’ve been laughing at so much translated it. We must do penance. ” “Good, good,” exclaimed Salmon, snorting. “Long live the Emperor of the French, King of Italy, and protector of the Confederation of the Rhine! In that way, Your Imperial and Royal Majesty, whom I shall see roasted on the grill, will succeed in winning the sympathies of the regular clergy. ” “He doesn’t care about our sympathies, friend Salmon. ” “But in short, Father Prior, this young man, for whose morality and good conduct I vouch, needs to leave Madrid, and I have no doubt that with your influence you will be able to obtain a letter of security from him, with which, disguised… ” “What a trick Salmon has!” said Ximénez de Azofra. “What can I do?” So he sees me in haste, and demands my maidenhood. Have I not told you that they distrust the regulars, and have especially taken a shine to those of this house? “I did not know such a thing. On the contrary: I heard that Your Paternity is one of those who go to Chamartín to pay their respects to my lord Don Caco Imperial, king of the rogues, and protector of the congregation of the Rhine… conete and Cortadillo. ” “Me!” exclaimed Ximénez in astonishment. “I was not born to kiss the hand that whips me. I am a Spaniard, and I will be a Spaniard as long as I live. I have preached from the pulpit of La Merced against the Emperor, and I will not imitate those who, being at first unbridled patriots, are now lukewarm patriots with glimpses, hints, and appearances of being Frenchified. It is true that a deputation from all classes of society goes to Chamartín; It is true that I have been invited to go, and see here the letter that the Corregidor has addressed to me on this matter, and which, if there were justice in the land, should be burned by the executioner’s hand. Is it not a shame that men humiliate themselves in this way? Yesterday everything was malice against the “ogre of Corsica,” all insults and vilification ; today everything is soft talk. The same Lord Corregidor of Madrid, who in his proclamation of November 25 said: “Spain is invaded by the tyrant who rules in France, who has perfidiously broken the holy laws, etc.” That same Lord Corregidor D. Pedro de Mora y Lomas, Knight of the Order of Charles III, of the Council of His Majesty, Undersecretary with exercise of decrees, intendant of the royal armies and of this province, corregidor of this town, subdelegate of royal Revenues, intendant of the royal Regalia of House and Lodging, general superintendent of royal and municipal Exchequers of it, and subdelegate of Montes and Pósitos, etc., etc., because the string of titles has no end; that same Corregidor, I repeat, is the one who today He directs an appeal _ante diem_ to all the councilors, deputies of the Commons, the attorney general and representative, mayors of the Brotherhood, Mesta and high bailiff for the noble state, to the most illustrious auxiliary bishop , ecclesiastical and military vicars, to the venerable chapter of priests and beneficiaries, to the reverend prelates of all religions, to the collegiate body of the nobility, deputies of the five major guilds, and to all the deputations of the sixty- four neighborhoods of this town. Why do you think? Well, nothing less than to make it known _that the town of Madrid will have had the honor of offering itself at the feet of His Majesty and Reverence to express its recognition of the kindness and indulgence with which this Court has treated it, to congratulate itself on having His Majesty within its fold, and to express to it that if it managed to deserve His Majesty’s dignity and appreciation, it would consider itself fortunate_. How about that? Is this dignified and patriotic language? Furthermore, the summons—he added, scanning the paper—calls for Napoleon as a loving father, and for his misdeeds as beneficent views, and the object is to gather a certain number of respectable people who will set their spurs toward Chamartín to ask Bonaparte to deign to grant them the favor of seeing their august brother, our King Joseph, in Madrid. Come, come, I can’t read any more, because such baseness makes me blush . It is true that those who signed this did so by yielding to threats from the Commandant-General, M. Belliard, who puts his knife to their chest; but that does not excuse them, for if not treason , they must be charged with a weakness and frailty bordering on crime. “So you’re not going to Chamartín? ” “Me? Not a chance.” I’ve heard that Father Amadeo, abbot of San Bernardo, and Father Calixto Núñez, abbot of the Basilios, are representing the regulars . You see: what can be expected from those unfortunate Benitos, so abandoned by God? The Minims, some poor Franciscans, the unfortunate Agonizantes, not a few Augustinians, all the Gilitos, the Hospitallers, the Donados, the Discalced Carmelites, and those unfortunate Afflicted, who are the greatest fools in Christendom, will fall into the trap; but Merced will uphold its banner; Merced will not flatter Emperors; Merced, in union with the Dominicans, will challenge the power of the tyrant, against thieving Frenchmen and sinful Spaniards. And the provisions will be through the roof, and the gates of Madrid will be closed to good wine, to rich oil, to eggs, to cabbage, to Extremaduran bacon, and to Candelario hams. “Well, well: let’s eat parsley salad and nun’s straws dipped in lemon water. Long live the country, Mr. Ximénez; long live the little pride that will make us look like spatulas! ” “Well then: what I told you,” continued the Prior, “I told those who came to wheedle me; and upon hearing my words, they treated me with such bitterness that I expect great misfortunes for our Order and our house. So there’s nothing I can do for this young man.” They were just getting to this point when Father Castillo entered accompanied by two other friars. One, I later learned, was called Father Vargas, and although he belonged to the same habit and Order, belonged to the convent of the Calzada Trinity, also a mercenary redeemer of captives, and the other was a Dominican, from the convent of Santo Tomás, and his name was Father Luceño de Frías. “There, there it is,” exclaimed Vargas in a thunderous voice. We can no longer doubt the veracity of these decrees, because they are distributing them in print, and I have a copy here. All the decrees bear the date of the 4th, and are such that they could burn in a candle on a Sabbath night. “Let’s look at them. Is it true that they reduce us to a third? ” “So true that…” said the Dominican, “they don’t reduce us to a third , but rather they split us down the middle, Señor D. Ximénez de Azofra.” “Attention, I’m reading,” said Vargas, placing a printed paper before his eyes, wearing green armed goggles. “The decrees read as follows: _In our Imperial Field of Madrid on December 4, 1808. Napoleon, Emperor of the, etc… Considering that the Council of Castile has behaved in the exercise of its functions with as much weakness as deceit… that after having recognized and proclaimed our legitimate rights to the throne, it has had the baseness to declare that it had subscribed to these various acts with secret and perfidious restrictions, we have decreed and decree the following: Art. 1. The members of the Council of Castile are dismissed as cowards and unworthy of being magistrates of a brave and generous nation. _ “Well, I say,” exclaimed Ximénez, “that this is very beautifully done. ” “It is true,” affirmed the Dominican, “because those gentlemen have been playing two games, and they want to eat with everyone. Go ahead. ” “Another,” continued Vargas. “In our Imperial Field, etc… Napoleon, etc…_ This one does not give an exposition of reasons, nor any consideration, but simply says: _Art. 1. The Tribunal of the Inquisition is hereby abolished as an attack on sovereignty and civil authority. Art. 2. The assets belonging to the Inquisition shall be sequestered and reunited with the Crown of Spain. “You see,” the Dominican declared without concealing his anger. ” It couldn’t have happened without that. Out with the Inquisition, and in with heretics, and in with Masons: what does this matter to those who care nothing for spiritual matters? ” “This means little,” said Castillo, “because the Holy Tribunal practically no longer exists, abolished by the softening of morals. ” “But the formulas are preserved, my lord,” the Dominican replied harshly , “and the formulas have great force. It is true that they are not burned or quartered, which, by the way, is excessively soft, given the situation we are in today, eaten up by heresy; “But there are still degradations and simulated torments, which look very good on the bad guys. ” “Item,” Vargas continued. “Art. 1. A single individual may possess only one encomienda .” “Go ahead, that’s of little interest to us. ” “Item. Art. 1. Feudal rights are abolished in Spain. Art. 2. All personal charges, all exclusive rights to fishing, almadrabas, or other rights of the same nature, in rivers large and small; all rights to ovens, mills, and inns are suppressed, and everyone is allowed, in accordance with the laws, to freely expand their industry. ” “That’s nothing new,” Castillo said, “and it’s a shame that our rulers, in their indolence, have allowed the French to boast of promulgating such a good law. ” “That’s it, that’s it, may your grace do the mammola!” “Luceño de Frías observed with the utmost displeasure, sitting astride a chair to rest his arms on the back. I like Father Castillo’s ideas. If that’s what Your Paternity spends his life among bookworms for , then God grant us good things.” And taking out his snuffbox and extending his hand towards the Prior, he added: “Señor Ximénez, a little dusting, there are fewer duels with snuff.” “I won’t waste it,” replied the Prior. “Come on, friend Vargas, a little dusting. ” “I won’t waste it, that’s just old women’s business. Here I have some little Havana cigars that deserve to be sucked by the angels in heaven. If Señor Prior gives me his permission… ” “Come,” cried Salmón, “those tobacco-loving incense burners and censers from the East, which so well kill boredom. ” “There they go,” said Vargas. They are a gift from the Marchioness of Fresno, and they were sent to me by placing them in the hand of a Baby Jesus, who sent me to give him a coat of paint. “Well, with regard to that decree that has just been read,” said Castillo, “my conscience dictates nothing but praise, and praise I will give him, even if it was written by the great Tamerlane. Are these not perhaps the same ideas that have made our great Jovellanos famous throughout the world ? Did not the Count of Floridablanca himself attempt something in this matter? And did not the wise counselors of Charles III beat their heads off trying to remove these obstacles to industry? All We know that that eminent King lost the desire to promulgate this decree. “Jesuit things!” exclaimed the Dominican, rocking in his chair. “But those scoundrels are also playing at Napoleon’s heels, trying to make a profit. On with the reading. ” “Then go ahead,” continued Vargas. “Considering that one of the establishments that harm the prosperity of Spain are the customs offices and registries existing from province to province, we have decreed the following: As of January 1st, customs offices and registries from province to province are hereby abolished. Customs offices will be placed and established at the borders. ” “That’s no problem either,” observed Castillo, “and the central Junta, since it thought of decreeing it, shouldn’t have waited for the French to do it. ” “This also seems like a mouthful to Reverend Castillo, ” said Luceño. “We’re feeling well.” “Is that what your grace’s books are about ?” “Attention,” Vargas indicated with a dramatic gesture, “now comes the big part.” “Considering that the number of religious members of the various monastic Orders in Spain has multiplied excessively; that if a certain number is useful in assisting the ministers of the altar in the administration of the Sacraments, the existence of too many is detrimental to the prosperity of the State, we decree the following: Art. 1. The number of convents currently existing in Spain shall be reduced to one-third. This reduction shall be carried out by uniting the religious members of many convents of the same Order into a single house. Art. 2. No novice shall be admitted, nor shall any be allowed to profess, until the number of religious members is reduced to one- third. Art. 3. Regulars who wish to renounce the communal life and live as secular ecclesiastics are free to leave their convents.” Art. 4. Those who renounce the communal life shall enjoy a pension determined according to their age, which may not be less than three thousand reales nor more than four thousand. Art. 5. From the assets of the convents that are suppressed, the sum necessary to increase the congruity of the priests shall be taken. Art. 6. The assets of the suppressed convents shall be incorporated into the domain of Spain and applied to the guarantee of the bonds and other effects of the public debt . During the reading of this decree, no other sound was heard in Ximénez’s cell than that produced by the flight of a fly, which was circling behind the remains of the priory’s chocolate, like Bonaparte behind the kingdoms of Spain. After it was read, there was still a good while of silence. Chapter 24. “Play castanets, clang tambourines, pound mortars, pluck violas, and bang zambombas to celebrate the talent of the wise legislator, sated with filth and eaten by lice, who issued that pompous and coruscating decree from his head!” Luceño finally exclaimed, banging his head on the arm of his chair and standing up. “So, a third?” said Salmon. “So out of every three there will only be one left? ” “That’s right, and the rest will be out on the street begging, because a pension of three thousand reales for people who are to live decently is like stuffing yourself, a glutton, with a raisin and a half. ” “And out with the novices. ” “And no more professing! ” “And with the goods the priests’ congruity will be increased. ” “That’s good too,” said the Dominican. Praise him, Father Castillo. Let them take what belongs to us and give it to the priests! Who are the priests, and what do those idiots do for the good of Christianity? Well… since the priests are such lukewarm patriots… I’m giggling! “The best thing would be for the property of the suppressed convents to pass to the domain of Spain. ” “What does Spain, or San España, or Marizápalos have to do with those property? ” “So our farms in Leganés, in Valmojado…” asked Salmon. “You can see it! All those unfortunate Minims, Gilitos, and Franciscos, who have nothing, are laughing at this . What does it matter to them? That’s why they’re going to do the _like the porta bu_. Good, very well. And the Afflicted do the same , they are the most outrageous gang of fools I have ever seen. “Don’t grumble, brother,” Castillo indicated. “God forgive me,” said Luceño, “and I don’t say this for any bad reason, there are Afflicted of all kinds. But do your graces believe that this matter of the thirds will be carried out? ” “I think it will be somewhat difficult. ” “Well, I fear that they will go ahead,” affirmed Luceño; “this morning a councilor who is going to Chamartín told me in confidence that they have already made their plan, and that in a few days the subtraction and division will begin, to begin the demolition of the convents. ” “The demolition! ” “Yes; they are destining all these houses to be state offices, and the first one that will fall to pieces is this monastery of La Merced where we are now.” “What, La Merced! They dare do it!” exclaimed Ximénez de Azofra, hitting his knee. “What! They dare demolish this house, which belonged to the great Tirso de Molina? And the great devotion inspired by the Virgin of the Remedies, which is in one of our chapels? And the tomb of Hernán Cortés’s grandchildren? No, it can’t be. They should demolish other religious houses in good time; but this one is not venerable for so many reasons, besides its antiquity. ” “And the Trinidad Calzada is also threatened,” Luceño pointed out, “if not with demolition, at least with emptying. ” “That can’t be,” Vargas declared, “for my house holds more glory than all the other cloisters of Madrid combined.” “Say it, Blessed Simón de Rojas and Father Hortensio de Paravicino, author of the book _De locis theologicis_.” “Author of the _Oraciones evangelicas_, the _Historia de Felipe III_ , and the _España prueba_, Your Paternity means,” Castillo pointed out maliciously, “that the book _De locis theologicis_, even the street kids know is by Melchor Cano. ” “Castillo is right: I was mistaken. But whatever you want, my convent also has the honor of having rescued, through Fathers Bella and Gil, the immortal Cervantes, author of _Don Quixote_, Mr. Castillo, since I also know something about authors. If convents need to be vacated for offices, there’s Santo Tomás, where they all fit. ” “How is that! Santo Tomás! Evicting Santo Tomás, the most illustrious of Madrid’s convents!” ” —the Dominican exclaimed impetuously . “And what would become of this town if they took away the spectacle of the processions that leave there on the occasion of the functions of the Holy Office? By all accounts, there are plenty of houses in Madrid, if they want to make small squares, as they say, although it’s better not to touch any of them, because seventy-two convents for a population of 160,000 souls, it seems to me that’s not much. The houses of religious men barely occupy a little more than half the perimeter of this great town, which is not at all excessive, and of all the houses that rise in it, only four- fifths belong to convents, pious memorials, chaplaincies, and other foundations. ” “And tell me, Luceño,” asked Ximénez, “are Dominicans going to the meeting called by the Corregidor? ” “I don’t think so.” According to what I’ve heard, the only ones willing to go to Chamartín are the prefect of San Cayetano, the abbot of Montserrat, two Agonizantes, a couple of Franciscans, a Rector of the Girls of Peace, and an Afflicted. “Well, those will get a cut, don’t doubt it, your graces. The decrees and the third parts will rain down on us. ” “My opinion is,” said Salmón, “that since it costs very little to go from here to Chamartín, nothing will be lost by having a couple of Fathers go, and I’m willing to do it, for it’s good to be on everyone’s good side, and pride is a sin, and whoever spits in heaven’s face falls on them. ” “Not in my lifetime: no one will go from this house,” assured Ximénez de Azofra; “and as for this young man, there’s nothing we can do. It would be unworthy to ask favors from someone who treats us badly, threatening to turn on us and split us as if we were scythes of earth.” So find someone who can provide you with the _security letter_ to leave Madrid. “It’s a bit difficult,” Luceño stated, “because I understand that they are very careful when delivering such letters, and without them it’s impossible to take a single step outside the doors. ” “However,” said the discreet Castillo, “there are many people who, being in good standing with the French, can help this young man. Don’t you know any person of high position and influence? ” “Yes, I already thought of approaching the Countess,” Salmon indicated, “and I trust that her generosity will rescue this young man from the evil predicament he finds himself in. The Marquis has become Frenchified, and they say he is going to enter into the high servitude of King Joseph. ” “Don Felipe is desperate for any government to remember him,” Castillo said. “There must be some truth in that, because three days ago, after presenting himself at Belliard, he went to El Pardo, where he has settled with his daughter. Yesterday, I believe King Joseph must have arrived at that royal place.” Despite the influence the Marquis has at the bourgeois Court, I wouldn’t trust him with any delicate matter. I think the Duke of Arion, a relative of this family and one who wields great power at Headquarters, would be more effective in the present case. “An admirable idea! We’ll see the Duke. ” “He hasn’t yet arrived in Madrid; and unless he exposes himself to the dangers of a trip to Chamartín, this young man wouldn’t be able to see him. ” “The best thing,” added Salmon, “is for us to see the Countess today. Is the Paternity of Mr. Castillo going there today? ” “In a little while, since the Marchioness has sent for me today with all haste. If this young man wants to come with me, I’ll take him. ” “Most opportune,” added Salmon. “I’ll go too.” But, son, if we happen to pass by those savages on the street… “Well then,” said Ximénez, “to make your journey safer, I’ll lend you my carriage, which, with its two gallant mules, should already be in the garden. ” “Very well,” declared Salmon, clapping his hands. ” The carriage seems like a good idea to me; but to be on the safe side, we’ll dress you as a novice. Let the priory’s carriage come and take me to the Countess’s house. ” “Well, I’ll get in there too, and you’ll drop me off at Santo Tomás on the way ,” added Vargas. “Well, I’m going there too,” said Luceño, “if you let me stay at the Descalzas Reales.” And so the conference ended, with no more results than my improvised novice disguise and my trip to the Countess’s house, where what happened to me will happen to the reader if he has the patience to read on. Chapter 25. The Countess was very astonished to see me. He was in the same room where he had received me a few days before, and when we entered, he left the desk where he was writing to come to our side. Castillo began by inquiring after everyone’s health, and then briefly explained the reasons for my visit and my new suit. Having accomplished this mission, and adding that he needed to see the Marchioness, he asked Amaranta’s permission to go inside, and with that, Salmon and I were left alone with her. “It’s rumored that I’m Frenchified,” Amaranta said, “but it’s not true. My uncle has embraced the cause of King Joseph with such enthusiasm that when we contradict him on any point relating to these matters, he wants to eat us all. He has been living in El Pardo with his daughter for the past three days in the Royal Palace itself, since the intruding King has insisted on including him in his high service.” My uncle is overjoyed , and if he comes to Madrid this afternoon, as I said, I will beg him to provide me with a letter of assurance for this young man. ” “You are safe now, Gabriel,” exclaimed the mercenary. “Did I not tell you that this exalted lady would get you out of such a difficult situation? ” “Even better, I can get it through my cousin the Duke of Arion, who, more than Frenchified, is pure French, and if he comes to Madrid tomorrow, as I hope, I will not forget this errand. ” “Well, there’s no need to think about them laying hands on you,” said Salmon, rising. “You are safe now, my boy; prostrate yourself before His Greatness and thank him a million times for so many favors.” And now, Countess, if your grace allows me, I’m going to see my lady the Marchioness, who the other day spoke to me about some cottage cheese, about whose merit she wanted to know my vote. Amaranta and I were left alone, which pleased me, for I wished to speak with her without witnesses. “My lady,” I said, “how grateful I am to your grace for this new kindness! Now it is my duty to ask your grace’s forgiveness for not having left Madrid, as I would have wished. ” “You would have enlisted.” “Precisely, and now that disarmament allows me to leave, an unjust persecution, the reason for which I cannot explain, has detained me in Madrid, hidden in the convent of La Merced. I immediately told her about the incident at Santorcaz, adding that the former disloyal steward of the house was trailing behind the brand-new chief of police. ” “I know,” Amaranta told me, “and I was afraid that some danger was threatening our house.” That’s why I’m so glad Inés is with my uncle at the Pardo Palace, where nothing bad can happen to her. The first day I felt very uneasy; but we have old friendships and relations with the leading figures of the French party, and now I’m at peace. I fear nothing from those wretches. “I only need,” I said, “to thank Your Grace for the other favors that Licenciado Lobo told me about. I didn’t need them to carry out my resolution, and without a posting in Peru, without a certificate of nobility, and without promises of money, I will know how to ensure that Your Grace has no complaints about me. ” “No,” he said, smiling, “the posting I requested from the Junta, I hope the French government will now also grant me, and Lobo is in charge of all these matters, to whom I have given letters for Cabarrús and Urquijo. You will go to Peru, you will have your certificate of nobility, and with this, and with God’s help, you will be able to become a useful man.” My conscience compels me to do this for the sake of a helpless person who has a right to my consideration. On the other hand, I will not forget that you have made a promise, and everything I do for you is merely the anticipated reward you earn by fulfilling what was agreed upon. “My Lady Countess, I will religiously fulfill my promise,” I answered resolutely, “and I cannot accept the reward. My dignity does not permit it. ” “Do you have dignity?” he said, laughing. “But no, I must not laugh. Why should you not have it like anyone else? The truth is that those of us who are in a certain position see only ourselves . As for your determination not to accept anything, I will arrange things so that you accept.” We were thus speaking when Salmon returned to our side, and at once he cut short the thread of our conversation, saying: “I am greatly pleased, my lady, by the news I have just heard from the authoritative lips of my lady the Marchioness.” Peace be in this house, madam, and since everything seems on the way to being settled, let us bless the hand of God. “Is Your Paternity speaking about my cousin’s situation?” Amaranta said. “Yes, I believe we have her on the road to recovery. ” “I see that the most ingenious resource devised by your grace’s great understanding has had its effect. And how did you receive the news? Were you troubled, did you shed many tears…? Because really, madam, to tell you right off the bat that that young man…” And Salmon paused like a prudent man, fearing to speak of such a delicate matter in front of a stranger. “Your Paternity may speak without hesitation,” Amaranta said in a tone that seemed somewhat deliberate to me, “because since the only person hearing us is not aware of the facts, it matters little… ” “Well, I was asking, madam, if when you were told and proven of the young man’s death, you did not show your grief in a noisy manner, with fainting, screams, crying, and other outbursts typical of feminine weakness. ” “Nothing of the sort, Father,” Amaranta replied with signs of satisfaction. ” At first, I didn’t want to believe it; then, when it was proven irrefutably , with the large documents that Licenciado Lobo brought, it seemed She doubted it, and finally, when I told her so, pretending to be sorry and grieving greatly at the death of that unfortunate man, she began to believe it. What convinced her most was the truly theatrical device I used to make her believe it. They were all talking to her about this matter when I burst in unexpectedly, feigning great anger at being given such sad news without any preparation; I snatched from Wolf’s hands those scraps of paper, which purported to be death certificates, copies of the hospital book, or something else, and tore them to pieces in front of her. At the same time, I began to arrange for cordials and other necessary remedies to be given, assuring her that she was quite right to be sorry for the death of one with whom she had had such a sincere friendship. This had its effect, and later, when we were both shut up in my room, I said to her: “Calm down; it may yet be that he will be saved.” I promise you that if he lives, you will see him, and who knows, my little cousin… It may be, it may be…» She became very distressed, and I added: «You must have resignation; you must learn to suffer. I no longer want to thwart such a determined inclination , because your happiness comes before anything else. Unfortunately, God wants to resolve the matter in another way and call that young man to his bosom. This morning I was at the hospital, I saw him, and the truth is… there was little or no hope.» And with this her sadness increased, but without tears or exclamations. Then I too began to cry, and I embraced her and gave her a thousand kisses, saying: «You see how it is not in my power to make you happy. I assure you that for my part I would stop at nothing to achieve it; but God has arranged it otherwise. Try to calm down and have resignation.» When I told her this, I convinced her. Alas! Afterwards, her expression was one of resignation. She spoke little and seemed to be meditating. She has worsened considerably in a few days; but this will undoubtedly pass. Now she has gone to El Pardo, for a change of location is a very good remedy for these mental illnesses. Her capricious and blind mania has greatly displeased us; but it seems to me that in a little while everything will be over. “Oh! What happiness!” exclaimed Salmon. “There is a great doctor of pain, named Doctor Tiempo. When all hope is lost with the idea of death, that gentleman doctor works wonders in a couple of weeks.” I listened to this exchange and admired the extreme artistic skill of that charming courtesan, such a master of deception and fiction. “You have done very well, Your Grace,” continued Salmon, “to bring into play those ingenious devices that prove your immense talent. It was a shameful thing to see my child in love with a ragged street urchin, who is undoubtedly one of the most vile and despicable people that mothers have ever produced. ” “Oh!” “No,” Amaranta said with a certain jovial emphasis. “We made an effort to paint him that way; but there’s nothing despicable about him. I have reliable information about his background and conduct. In addition to having demonstrated on several occasions a nobility of sentiments that can only be expected of people of good birth, his position is more than average. It’s true that due to family misfortunes, so common these days, he was reduced to poverty; but it’s proven that he comes from a very noble family from the finest estates in Andalusia, as evidenced by his outstanding record. And furthermore, imagine Your Paternity how much personal merit he must have, when the Central Junta spontaneously gave him a prestigious post in Peru, a post the French government seems to have now confirmed. ” I had to make an effort to contain the laughter that appeared on my lips. “Well, I certainly didn’t know that.” So the discreet nymph hadn’t set her sights on any Piruetan. In any case, it is good that the importunate memory of the clerk from Peru has been removed by a deceptive fiction . Of course, madam, there is no need to think about Don Diego. “Oh! No… we are decided. Don Diego will not be your husband in any way , even if we renounce the good friendship of the woman from Rumblar. In the end I have convinced my aunt, and we will soon prevent that young man from entering this house. He still comes here; but his presence so displeases us that from one day to the next we will bar him from entering. “And this relative of your lordships,” said the mercenary, “this Duke of Arion, who is considered a very learned young man, is he not destined to be the husband of the jewel of this house? Pardon my curiosity. ” “I don’t know,” replied Amaranta. “Nothing is planned. My cousin has lived in Paris for fourteen years: he hardly knows us.” Thus the conversation continued for a good while, when we heard the sound of voices, and saw that with great noise and uproar the diplomat entered, in his traveling clothes, and so cheerful, so festive, so talkative, that we immediately took him for the possessor of the highest state secrets. “Niece,” he cried upon entering, “here I am.” But I’m the game of bindweed: eat yourself in, eat yourself out. I have to leave right now; but if my list isn’t lying, there are one hundred and two people I have to see between now and four in the afternoon. If I go crazy! If I’m not up to so much business! Let the Marquis go and explore the Duke of Alba’s mind, to see if he’ll give in or not; let the Marquis draw up a list of the great people who are willing to comply with José; let the Marquis see the Corregidor of Madrid; let him take a tour of the Five Guilds to see if they’ll advance funds or not; let him go, let him come, let him run, let him write, let him advise, let him consult, let him sound out… Jesus, Mary, Joseph! This isn’t living. I didn’t want to get involved in such chores. But they forced me, they caught me, they put the rope around my neck. When King Joseph says he can’t do anything without me; When he introduces me to his brother, praising me with phrases I don’t repeat so as not to seem boastful, it’s impossible to evade… Oh! What a mess, what coming and going! Nothing is to be done without my saying _let it be done_. And you, Mr. Salmon, what do you say to these things? –What shall I say, but may God keep you for a thousand years by that King’s side, to see if you avoid the third parts they’ve threatened us with? –Everything will be arranged, man, everything will be arranged. Despite the decree of proscription, we have saved the lives of Infantado, Alba, Santa Cruz del Viso, Medinaceli, Híjar, Fernán Núñez, Altamira, Castel Franco, Cevallos, and the Bishop of Santander, sentenced to death by the decree issued in Burgos on November 12. They are simply being sent to France. The Emperor has arranged many other things, modifying his original determinations; but I cannot say them, no; I won’t say a word to you, niece, about these delicate matters: I can already see you smiling… I can already see you about to use the weapons of your seduction to lay siege to the fortress of my secret; but I won’t say anything to you, no, not a syllable; nor to you, Salmon, who looks at me with those big eyes, which reveal all the lust of curiosity. “I don’t want to know anything about that,” said Amaranta. “And my little cousin? ” “Very happy. ” “How very happy? ” “No, no; I mean, very sad. In two days, I don’t think she will have said six words. She goes about her work with an assiduity that astonishes me, and there is no one who can make her appear in the great hall of the Palace. ” “You were very wrong to leave her alone,” said the Countess with some anger. “And what will happen to her? Aren’t the servants still there? Isn’t she with your maid and Serafina, who never leaves her side for a moment?” “But I already told you that Inés must not be left alone with maids and servants anywhere,” Amaranta added, clearly annoyed. “Are we living in an unpopulated area?” said the Marquis, laughing. “In El Pardo, in the very Palace of El Pardo, where a King lives with a large number of servants and guards, can’t my daughter be left alone for four or five hours? If you could see what a magnificent room they have assigned me on the ground floor! Its balconies overlook the Jardin del Mediodía, and one can enjoy a delightful view from there. Yesterday and this morning, Inés went out to take a walk in the garden. What a lovely time the poor thing had!… But when are you coming to El Pardo? By God and the Blessed Virgin Mary, let it be soon. They spend the nights there delightfully, and you can’t imagine how amiable, how discreet, how kind King Joseph is. How we laughed last night! He asked me: “Why do the Spaniards say I’m a drunk, when I drink nothing but water?” I was somewhat embarrassed; but I excused my compatriots as best I could. “Tomorrow,” said Amaranta, “my aunt and I will leave, for now, by dint of sermons, I am managing to overcome her repugnance for the French. And now that I remember, Uncle, you must procure me a letter of safety so that a person who is unjustly persecuted can escape from Madrid. ” “Oh, no, not at all!” said the diplomat. “I do not harbor insurgents, nor do I in any way favor insurrection. Letters of safety? ” Nothing, nothing, niece, do not shelter rogues, nor protect those who persist in increasing the evils of the country. Submit yourselves all to that blessed Sovereign who drinks nothing but water, and then precautions will be over. It is necessary to suppress the insurrection boiling around Madrid, and you do very well not to let even a fly out. “Well,” said Amaranta. “My cousin the Duke of Arión is to arrive tomorrow , and he will give me whatever letters of security I care to ask for. ” “He’s coming tomorrow!” said the Marquis. “I was expecting him tonight. I ‘ve been told he’s already fulfilled the mission the Emperor gave him in Burgos and has returned to headquarters. He will also enter King Joseph’s service. If he arrives tomorrow, you will all leave together immediately for El Pardo. How I long to see him! He was this tiny when his mother went to live in Paris fourteen years ago. I’ve never seen a more mischievous man. ” I, playing with him all the time, inculcated in him the rudiments of national history. Will God provide me with an excellent son-in-law? “We shall see,” replied Amaranta. “I cannot give my opinion until I meet him. The Duke of Arión was educated in Paris. ” “A French education,” said Salmon. “Vade retro.” Shall we bet that my lord Duke comes back a complete philosopher? ” “Oh, no!” exclaimed the diplomat. “Ever since I learned that he had joined the Napoleonic side, I had taken him for very discreet. His entry into Spain with the Emperor, the difficult commissions he has given him to enter into negotiations with the rebel cities, prove… but what do I see?… The two of them, and here I am, chatting away, forgetting the thousand commissions… Goodbye, niece; goodbye, Father Salmon and company.” I’m going crazy with all this coming and going… It’s terrible that those gentlemen can’t do anything without one… Goodbye, goodbye. And without ceasing to talk, he hurried out of the room and out of the house . Chapter 26. Having related these curious conversations, it is now my duty to tell what means the Countess used to facilitate my desired escape. She ordered me, then, to return the following day, promising to have everything arranged and in order, so that I could without loss of time set out on the march, defying the vigilance exercised at the gates of Madrid. Salmon and I did as we were ordered, and the next day, when we were preparing to return to Amaranta’s house, the Father Prior called each other, and he said to us: “This young man cannot remain here one more day, and tonight, if he does not find a means of escape, he must seek a safer refuge . ” “Safer than La Merced? ” “Yes,” added Ximénez de Azofra. They have come to warn me that the convents are suspected, that we are accused of hiding the conspirators and the spies of the insurgents, and it seems that tomorrow they will search all these houses, beginning with La Merced. ” “Fortunately, the Countess will protect you today,” said Salmon. ” Let’s go there without losing a moment. ” Dressed as a novice and in a carriage, like the day before, we went to Amaranta’s house, and as soon as she saw us enter, she said to me with a cheerful countenance: “My cousin the Duke of Arión arrived last night, and he has promised me get the letter of security within three days. “I would like to leave this very night, Countess,” I said. “This very night?” “We fear those Hottentots will search our house tomorrow,” added Father Salmon. “Well, we must make an effort and get out of this difficult situation,” Amaranta indicated. “The main problem is that one cannot trust anyone. I have been assured that the French police have extended their branches to many important houses, and that by bribing footmen and pages, they have under their surveillance the families they deem disaffected. I would not like to betray any servant, and… Ah! Couldn’t you go out in that same novice’s dress? ” “You are ill-dressed, madam, for these circumstances,” said Salmon. ” I understand that the search carried out at the doors is so scrupulous that it makes any trickery difficult. Some are made to strip, and not even modest maidens and those who are not are spared this humiliation .” They examine the features with lanterns, comparing them with the notes in the letter; they empty the purses, and this ceremony is repeated at two or three points, and before the eyes of various henchmen. “A household servant,” said the Countess, “has a letter of security. With it, and by disguising himself as a country bumpkin, wouldn’t it be easy to evade the suspicions of those people? ” “Country bumpkins,” I said, “are the most persecuted and the first to be arrested, because it is feared that they will connect the conspirators here with the insurgents outside. ” “At this moment,” Amaranta exclaimed, “a saving idea occurs to me.” Saying this, she called a servant and sent a message to the Duke of Arión, who came without delay, since he resided in the house itself. The Duke of Arion, whom I call thus because it pleases me, omitting his true title, which is one of the most well -known in Spain, was a young man of twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, thin, of average height, with a cold and expressionless countenance, elegant and restrained manners, like one accustomed to high etiquette, and with nothing notable about him other than the neat perfection of his dress. I say incorrectly, because he also had such a marked French accent and such an incorrect use of our language that at times it was impossible to listen to him seriously. The only son of a lady I will not name, who was a very learned woman and very well versed in languages back in the last years of the previous century, he went with her to Paris at the age of seven, during the time of the Directory. He was educated there, remaining three decades away from his homeland. He was a cousin, I do not know if second or third, of those I call Leiva; But the Marchioness, who had raised him, almost regarded him as a son. You already know that this young man, who was not lacking in a certain discretion and very bright intelligence, was a staunch supporter of Bonaparte, more out of political affinities than because of the friendship he felt for Marshal Berthier. When the Emperor carried out his expedition to Spain, he brought him with him, giving him I know not what position in the imperial household. From Somosierra, he was entrusted with a confidential commission among the wealthy residents of Burgos: he carried it out well, as far as I understood, and upon arriving at Chamartín, after a day’s rest, he went to Madrid to embrace those relatives of his, and also eager to visit his estate in Parla, where he was born. Arión arrived at night, and the following day I had the honor of seeing him, and very notable events occurred , resulting in a conversation that I cannot help but copy, gathering the darkest recollections stored in my memory’s endless caverns. “Little cousin,” said Amaranta, “you are going to do me a favor. ” “Oh! My dear cousin,” replied Arion, “de tout mon cœur. ” “Lend me, or rather, give me your letter of assurance. I have no doubt that you will give me this gift, since you have shown such a desire to give it to me. ” “Oh, my beautiful countess!” said the currutaco, placing his hand on his heart. “I am very obliged to your kindnesses, and if I could express what I feel… My wish would be that you would demand of me quelque” chose_ of more difficult, extraordinary, and dangerous, to prove to you that… ” Thank you for the condescension, cousin, and let us excuse the gallantries. I am an old woman. Is it customary in France for fops to flirt with old women? That fashion has not yet arrived here; but it seems to me that you carry the first imprints of it. ” “Oh, oh! ” “And you will not be angry if I take your name for a charity? I wish to facilitate the escape from Madrid of an unfortunate young man, who is being pursued by miserable policemen to satisfy a base revenge. ” “Oh, oh, volontiers! My beautiful contesse is free to do what she pleases with my name. ” “You will also give me one of your dresses, little cousin, will you not?” said Amaranta with charming grace, quickly examining me from head to toe. One of those magnificent suits you brought from Paris, made according to the latest fashions, which will serve as a source of consolation to all the dandies around here. Oh, oh, I am very happy to give you my habit! Well then, Amaranta said with satisfaction. I believe I shall be able to make progress with my invention. By nightfall, this young man will escape from Madrid with the least possible risk. And taking the letter of assurance from Arión’s hand, she gave it to me, saying: This afternoon, before leaving for El Pardo with my aunt and my cousin, I will leave everything in order. This young man may retire in peace; and if the discreet Salmon will be so kind as to stop by here this afternoon, I will give him the necessary instructions so that everything goes as planned. Madam, said the friar, I will return at nightfall, or whenever your grace wishes; for I have taken this matter as seriously as the interested party himself. “Please return before three, for we must leave early for El Pardo, as we must visit my godmother in Moncloa , where she resides and is ill, though not seriously.” I thanked the Countess for her many kindnesses; she begged me that if all went well, as I hoped, I would inform her, indicating the location of my residence so that she could send me further assurances of her protection. With this, the mercenary and I set off, very satisfied, to take the road to the convent. Later, when the friar returned from his second trip to the same house, I learned in detail about Amaranta’s marvelous plan, which was certainly worthy of her skillful and devious talent. “I have not seen a more gracious invention,” said my friend. “You put on the dress they will send you, so that you can pass for an important person; and since you and the Duke are of the same height and waist, you will look like a proper match.” With this and the letter of assurance you already have, tonight you are not Gabriel, nor Pico de la Mirandola, but the Duke of Arión, who is leaving through the Puerta de Toledo to go to his estate in Parla. A carriage will also be at your disposal… but what a carriage! The Countess suspects that one of her servants is being bribed by those unworthy brackets, and she fears to confide the secret to them. To remove this difficulty, I have asked a friend to provide her with a bombé… So in a bombé no less, my boy! I warn you that the coachman and footman are told that you are Arión himself; and since they do not know him, it is impossible for them to sell you, even if one were bad enough to do so. They will have orders to take you wherever you tell them; but you are advised not to go beyond Navalcarnero if you leave through the Puerta de Segovia, or Leganés if you go through the Puerta de Toledo, at which points I do not believe there is any danger. So, Your Honor, I kiss your hands. It’s impossible for them to suspect anything upon seeing your packaging and your letter of assurance… You’ll see how, far from raising any objections , those snobs will take off their hats to you and even offer to accompany you to your palace in Parla. May your honor be very happy! Amaranta’s idea was almost guaranteed to succeed, and if she didn’t run into Santorcaz, Román, or anyone else who personally knew me, my escape was inevitable, since my letter of assurance bore the name of a very important person, reputed to be very devoted to the French cause. I remained confident all day, and before nightfall a servant arrived with the suit, which suited me perfectly. It was extremely elegant and luxurious, due to the fineness of the cloth, the exquisiteness of its decorations, and the exquisiteness of all its accessories. However, it was not a court dress, but an everyday dress, albeit one that alone makes anyone who wears it stand out from the crowd , even if they are worn hanging rather than standing. It consisted of a jacket, waistcoat, and breeches of very dark green cloth, with stockings of the same color; a white collar with an infinite number of lace trims, and a brown rendigot with fur cuffs and flaps. This garment had been worn for some time, but it still looked very good. When I had fitted those garments over my body, all the friars came to see me, and they contended that nothing could be asked of art and good looks. that the tailor who had made such clothes had necessarily guessed my body measurements, and that, so beautifully dressed, I could set out to seek adventures in the high houses of Madrid, certain of finding someone who would look upon me with favor. I responded to these praises with laughter and jokes; but the truth was, and in conscience I do not wish to hide this, even though it does me harm, that I was a little conceited about my attire, and everything seemed to spin around me in a mirror, for there were such mirrors in the convents too. The most pleased of all was Salmon, who incessantly bowed to me, calling me “Sir Duke”; and finally, they took me as if in jubilee to the Prior’s cell, who laughed a great deal, exaggeratedly praising my good looks. Once dressed, they came to tell the friar that a young man was earnestly seeking him . The two of us went out, and in the lower cloister we found Don Diego, pale, bewildered, and restless. He approached the mercenary impatiently and spoke to him thus: “Father, Zaina is dying and wants to confess. ” “Poor Zaina!” exclaimed the priest. “And what is this?” “An illness that no one knows about, nor has anyone seen anything like it, for some consider it madness, others consumption, these rheumatism, and those melancholy. The truth is that she is dying irremediably, and now she has begun to cry after two days in which she has done nothing but bite herself, pull her hair out, or insult everyone, especially me, calling me a fool and a ninny. ” “You were her entourage!” said Salmon in a sour tone. “Oh, what kind of people does the Count of Rumblar mix with!” “Father, let’s stop arguing and go quickly and hear Zaina’s confession. She’s about to die. At times she cries a great deal and speaks quite right, saying that she wants to confess her sins to God so she can go to heaven. At other times she becomes delirious and utters a thousand absurdities, ordering everyone to wash the stones in the stream that are stained with blood, and then asking when the mat will finish passing, after so many years and centuries of passing before her eyes; in short, a thousand absurdities that are not worth mentioning. ” “Well, I’ll go there immediately; but first I’ll ask the Prior’s permission, as it’s already night. ” “Gabriel,” Rumblar said to me when we were alone in the cloister, “what is that suit? Have you become a knight? ” “Friend Don Diego,” I answered, “God has made us less. ” “And what about you? You’re nowhere to be seen. What are you up to with these friars?” “More respect, Señor Don Diego, for these good people,” I told him, ” if only because we are in their house. ” “I can’t see them. Santorcaz, who knows everything, has told me a thousand indecent stories that prove how evil this rabble is. We must put an end to them. Truly, I tell you, the moment I see a friar, I am horrified. Especially this Salmon, whom I call Father Tragaldabas, I can’t stand the sight of him. It’s true that he doesn’t adore me either, and he is surely the one who, by scheming at the Marchioness’s house, has made my planned marriage fail. ” “Is the Count no longer getting married? That won’t be painful for him, because I seem to have heard you say that he didn’t love his bride very much.” “It’s true that this Inés doesn’t appeal to me much; but I’m determined that she should be my wife, because it suits my interests. You know? Santorcaz has told me that every man should look out for his own interests, because without this, one cannot have any representation in the world. Besides, he, who knows everything and is smarter than the devil, assures me that I have talent, disposition, and am called to great things, which is why he says to me: ‘Don Diego, you need a good position that will allow you to display your gifts.'” “But don’t you have a comfortable position yourself? ” “Bicoca: the Rumblar estate is one of those that plays a mediocre role in small towns ; but here I can barely present myself in the fifth row. Our house has long lived in the hope that this Leiva estate, which is one of the largest in Spain, might be incorporated into it. ” If my lady mama was very upset when Inés appeared as the legitimate heir, once the marriage was arranged to avoid quarrels and disputes, she was very satisfied. So imagine her rage, and mine, now that the Marchioness and Countess have told me categorically that nothing has been agreed upon. My mother, to whom I wrote, answers me furiously, calling me a fool, a ninny, and an idiot, and threatening to come and spank me a thousand times if I don’t go through with the marriage, as a determined and inquisitive gentleman can. Frankly, I can’t think of anything; but luckily for me, I have that blessed Santorcaz there, who advises me like a father of the Church, and has recently devised the most ingenious scheme to keep the Leiva women from making fun of me. “I believe it will not be difficult for the Count to achieve marriage, and with marriage, possession of the estate, provided that young woman is willing to give him her hand. ” “Not so, because I’m not crazy about her, so to speak, and I would gladly give it all up if it depended solely on me. You must know, my friend, that I, more than all the estates in the world, crave unlimited freedom to do whatever I please: go to lodges, shout in the streets when there’s a riot, court the girls of the Avapiés, throw a couple of pesetas on a golden horse, and enjoy myself in peace and in the grace of God; but Santorcaz, who is my best friend and my mentor, as he calls himself, has me under his control and digs his spurs into me in this estate matter, reproaching me for my carelessness in such an important matter.” Since I also owe you enormous sums, which I don’t know how to repay, here is the promise of this, my heir apparent. I warn you that what dazzles me and drives me mad is the hope of possessing an income like that that allows one to spend and spend, and spend as much as one pleases. Is there any greater pleasure, lad, than going one day to the houses of all my friends and inviting them to a picnic on the Canal, laying out food for more than four hundred mouths, with as much abundance as at those famous Camacho weddings? Is there any greater joy than taking the arm of Pelumbres, who is, after Zaina, the first young lady in Madrid, and going out for a night out covered up, and then escorting her home? Is there any greater pleasure than visiting the interiors of the Príncipe or Caños theaters, and knowing that among those painted canvases there is not a Spanish actress, Italian singer, or French dancer who won’t surrender to one’s will? Is there any greater satisfaction than holding a bullfight, allowing free admission to the entire town, paying the fighters double wages, and fighting oneself in a fine suit embroidered with silver and gold? This and even more I hope to have, if what we have plotted turns out well. I remained absorbed and speechless, meditating on the immeasurable degradation to which that young man, so closely and meticulously educated, had fallen in just a few months, under the supervision of his rigorous mother; instructed only in apparently good things, in excessive fear of superiors, in contempt for novelty, in abhorrence of worldly things, in respect for tradition, in the shrinking of the spirit; educated to be a great lord and representative of all patriarchal virtues. See where his imagination had gone, bound during childhood with a hundred chains; see down what dark cliffs his will, raised in respect, tumbled savagely; see what kind of daring bird emerged from that egg, hatched in the heat of the petty ideas of the last century. It is true that when that innocent hen hatched into the world , she found that from the broken shells, instead of chicks, came a thousand other unknown vermin, and the unfortunate woman cackled in anguish, without knowing who had conceived them. “But if she doesn’t love you either,” I said to Don Diego, “what you plan will not be so easy. ” “That’s what it seemed to me; But Santorcaz, who knows more than seven, has filled my head with catalogues, beginning by telling me that I was a fool, and mocking me so stupidly that at last I got angry and said: “Well, I’ll be bolder than Judas, and I’ll dare everything that needs to be dared; for neither Leiva, nor you, nor anyone else, will laugh at me.” “And what is Señor de Santorcaz doing now?” “The French have made him chief of the petty police, a position he performs with flying colors. He lays hands on all those who are disaffected with the new government beautifully. It’s true that they criticize him a lot, calling him a traitor; but he laughs at everything, and says that there is no better king than Joseph, and that the Spanish are animals. This made me very angry at first; But I’ve grown accustomed to hearing him say it, and I myself, who was once more Spanish than Ferdinand VII, now don’t give a damn about Spain, and I dance to the tune they play… But you’ll see what we have planned. To prove to him and all his friends that I don’t deserve such mockery, I’ve decided that if Inés doesn’t marry me voluntarily, she will marry me under duress. “That seems difficult to me. ” “It seems so, but it isn’t. You don’t have great ideas or a daring heart, as I’m going to have now; so you won’t be able to understand this. Imagine if I manage to trick the girl and sneak her out of her house, without her aunts or cousins noticing, and take her nicely wherever I please for a few days… ” “But that can’t be, because that honest young woman won’t leave her house with you, much less if, as you say, she doesn’t love you one bit.” “You’re a fool, I see,” he answered with roguish petulance. “That’s what I thought; but Santorcaz and his friends called me the Flycatcher of Burgos. I warn you that you must have your heart set forward, as they say, and dare anything. Let Inés go out with me… let me take her to a house we have prepared for the purpose, and then her own family will give us their blessing. The century has it that way.” I had to make an effort to restrain the indignation that such baseness aroused in me. “I don’t care,” he added, “that Inés doesn’t love me at this moment. I ‘m sure she’ll go crazy for me as soon as we become more intimate.” Everyone says I have a certain appeal… well… well… a hook for catching girls… I’m just waiting for her sadness to pass… I don’t know if I’ve told you that back in the days when my fiancée was abandoned in the world, she had for a boyfriend a stray, a petty thief, a scoundrel… What things one sees in the world! The strangest thing of all is that she has remained faithful to her ragged beau like something out of a sentimental novel, which shames everyone in the house. It’s as if they had to make her believe that young man is dead, so that she wouldn’t dishonor the family by thinking about him! But none of that is relevant, and I find it increasingly difficult for you to get such an honorable young woman out of your house. A beast, of course she won’t come out if I tell her where I’m taking her; but since I won’t say it, we have prepared some kind of trick. What? –I have already bribed Serafina, her maid, to whom I had to give a good sum, and it is certain that tomorrow morning very early the two of them will leave. to take a walk in the palace gardens, finding themselves in a certain solitary spot, where it is the easiest thing in the world to put my thought into practice. Santorcaz assures me that this will turn out very well, and he is the one who arranges everything, who prepares the carriages, who has looked for the house, who has given the money to bribe the servant. If you could see how much interest he takes! “I believe it.” “Tomorrow morning everything will be arranged. By that time the Marchioness will be absorbed in her devotions, the Countess will not yet have risen, and the Marquis will be fast asleep. ” “Sir Don Diego,” I said, concealing my anger as much as possible, “and don’t you see in this a series of repugnant basenesses, infamies, and shamelessness, unworthy, I do not say of a gentleman, but of the most ragged hustler? Whoever is capable of doing this is destined to end his days in prison. ” “I will speak to you frankly.” When Santorcaz and his friends told me their plan, I felt a certain inner repugnance, and I won’t hide it. But they laughed at me a lot, and they called me a slob, a blackbird-hearted man, a weakling, and other insults that greatly outraged me. At the same time, Santorcaz is pressing me to pay him the large sums I owe him, which already exceed five years’ income from my estate. In addition to this, my mother sends me some letters from Bailén in which she styles me a schoolteacher’s squire. She says that if I don’t go through with this marriage by some means, I’m a fool and a simpleton, and that I’ll lose and ruin my family with my laziness and idiocy. Even Don Paco writes to me telling me that I’ll be forever unworthy of the high-sounding name of Rumblar if I don’t seize that estate, and there you have it… There’s no other option but to do it. Away, then, with the nun’s scruples, and onward. Now I’m going to prove that I’m a man up to that point, capable of anything and ready for the most daring things. What do you think? Don’t you approve of my conduct? Aren’t you enthusiastic about hearing me? “So, early tomorrow?” I asked, with more interest than Don Diego on the matter. “At daybreak. I don’t know if I told you that she gets up very early. Santorcaz says the sooner the better. No one in the family will find out about the case until we’re in Madrid. I’ve already written a letter to the Marchioness, feigning great love and telling her that the irresistible force of my passion compels me to act thus, and many other very well-worded things; like the one Santorcaz wrote… But, my boy, it’s late, and I’m leaving: I want to see what will become of this poor Zaina, and whether she dies or not.” The truth is that he loved me quite a bit, and God knows if I may have had a hand in his illness… Just as Pepa Ramos’s sister has me crazy now… Do you know her? How pretty and cute she is! Goodbye, I’m going there. Do you want to come? What are you doing here with those friars? But tell me, have you inherited anything by chance? I don’t know you. The friars are very scheming… Goodbye, goodbye, I still have something to arrange for my trip to El Pardo at dawn. And saying this, he left, leaving me alone in the cloister. I was pacing there , gripped by the greatest agitation, when I was informed of the arrival of the carriage sent by Amaranta for my escape. At once I ran to the street and, entering, asked the footman: “The Countess, where is she?” “She left this afternoon for El Pardo,” he replied respectfully, hat in hand. “Where would you please take her?” “To Pardo,” I answered resolutely. “The Countess said we would leave by the Puerta de Toledo, on the way to Illescas. Does Your Grace want to take a detour? ” “To Pardo, you fool, to Pardo straight and without detours!” I exclaimed furiously . “Didn’t I say to Pardo? At full speed.” The mules took off at a breakneck speed, taking me on the way to the Royal Site. Chapter 27. The carriage was stopped at the Puerta de San Vicente, they opened the door, I presented my letter of assurance, and after overwhelming me with compliments and courtesies, they let me pass. I was detained again towards San Antonio, and a third time at the Puerta de Hierro. So many These inconveniences made me see that it was extremely risky to leave in disguise, and entirely impossible without the prescribed document. But I passed the journey safely, and none of those who cast their importunate glances inside my carriage suspected the role that your servant was playing. I was in a state of indefinable agitation, and the progress of the mules seemed so disproportionate to my feverish impatience that I felt an impulse to dismount and run on foot, believing in this way to arrive more quickly. Carried along by a blind and invincible determination, I had formulated it in these simple terms: “I will arrive, I will see the Countess, inform her of Don Diego’s treacherous intention, and then I will depart. Nothing more is necessary.” I was not thinking of difficulties of any kind, and minor inconveniences were then scorned by my impetuous will. I paid no attention to my planned escape, nor did I care whether I was dressed this way or that . Falling into the hands of the police, once I had carried out my plan, mattered little to me. Finally, in a little over an hour, we arrived at the Palace Square, where I saw a large cavalry escort and many carriages. My coachman whipped the mules and drove them through the wide gate to the vestibule from which the grand staircase begins. I saw everything illuminated, filled with Spanish and French guards. Military music played the imperial anthem from the gallery overlooking the staircase. Napoleon, who had gone to dine with his brother, was still there. Imagine that one dies and wakes up on another planet, in another world, finding oneself in a different form, in a different atmosphere, in a different environment, where fauna and flora grow that bear no resemblance to the flora and fauna of the world where one was born. This was my impression: I was dazed and stunned. However, hastily leaving the carriage, I asked the first servant who appeared to me for directions to the apartments of the Marquis of X. At the same instant the footman said to me: “Come, Your Grace, this way, it’s on the ground floor on the left.” Two or three, I don’t know how many, hastened to let me in, and my footman, entering before me, said to the servants who were going out to meet him: “The Duke is here; tell them that the Duke of Arion has arrived. ” I don’t know how they took me; I don’t know how I entered; I don’t know what place I found myself in: I only know that I found myself in a very bright and warm room, and that the diplomat, embracing me , exclaimed: “You rascal, thank God we see you! But why have you come so late? Our dinner is over… Ah, you rascal, you’re so tall!” I stammered out some excuses; But understanding at once that it was necessary to dispel that deception, I said: “Is the Countess not here? ” “She hasn’t come. I’m alone with my daughter. But, my boy, you don’t have a French accent, and they told me you spoke like a grinder. Come, come: I’ll present you immediately to King Joseph, who so longs to see you. There ‘s the Emperor. Good news! He’s agreed that his brother will once again be King of Spain, and all differences are settled. So come… come… But, cousin, how is that?” he added, examining my attire. “How come you haven’t come in formal attire? Well, listen… you ‘ve also come without watches… And what about your crosses, and your Legion of Honor, your Christ of Portugal, and your Charles III, and your Saint Maurice and Saint Lazarus, and your Black Eagle? ” “Stop joking,” I replied, unable to hide my impatience. “I’ve come now on an urgent matter, and on which depends… ” “The fate of Europe?” ” -he said, interrupting me. “I’ll run, I’ll run at once to inform Urquijo. Are you coming from Headquarters ? Has a courier from France arrived there with news of the Austria? ” “No, it’s not that,” I replied, not daring to dispel the deception. “But you say that my lady the Countess isn’t here? ” “Your cousin? We were expecting her this afternoon; but she had to stop by Moncloa to see her godmother, and as she is in articulo “mortis_, I presume Amaranta and my sister have decided to stay there all night. Have you come from Madrid, or directly from Chamartín? ” “I’m very sorry,” I said with the greatest anxiety, “that the Countess isn’t here. ” “I’ll introduce you to my daughter, come. Well, it’s a shame you haven’t come in formal attire. It’s true that you’re familiar with the Emperor, and if you announce yourself, you can go see him in that suit… But tell me, what news do you have? Has any mail arrived at Headquarters? Have I got my way?… Shall we bet on Austria?… You can tell me. You know that the Emperor consults me about everything… But, my boy, do you know that you have an arrogant figure? They told me you were… like that… a little round-shouldered and… a flat nose, and one eye a little… But no… I see that they had deceived me.” You’re better than I supposed, and your face… I could almost swear it’s not unknown to me… well… I’ve seen you somewhere. We were in a luxurious salon, decorated with magnificent tapestries. There was a sound of voices in the adjoining rooms; but there was no one there but the two of us. The diplomat, grabbing the lapels of my coat, shook me, suffocated me, drove me mad with his endless chatter. It was in vain that I tried to deprive him of the floor, talking about other things, and especially mentioning something about the purpose of my trip. That fool took the floor right out of my mouth, eager and hungry to tell him everything, and with his gesticulations, his perpetual chatter, like the sound of a rattle, kept me stunned, angry, nervous. “Oh, my darling little nephew!” he continued. If you would confide in me the news you bring… It will have already reached you that I am the same reserve… Because I have no doubt that you have something, yes, sir, something serious. If you had come to the dinner, you would have done so earlier and in a different outfit. And it’s nothing more than that you were at Headquarters , and Major General Berthier sent you in haste with a commission. Let’s see you, tell me alone, just me… Are you going right now to see the Emperor? If you want, I’ll pass word to the gentleman to bring you in. They’ve already finished eating, and the Emperor, King Joseph, the secretary Hugues Maret, Urquijo, and Monsignor de Pradt, former Archbishop of Malines, are conferring together. “Come on, announce yourself, let’s go up…” “My lord,” I said brusquely, no longer able to hide my impatience and unease, “I have not come to speak with the Emperor, nor with King Joseph, nor with the Archbishop, nor do I have anything to do with any of those gentlemen. I have come to…” And I fell silent, not daring to tell him the purpose of my visit. “So the Countess isn’t here?” I asked again after a brief pause. “Go ahead, with the Countess. No, she isn’t here. We were expecting her this afternoon; but as I understand it, she’s stopped at Moncloa to accompany her godmother, who is dying by the minute. It may be that she arrives before midnight . ” “Then I will wait for her,” I said resolutely, sitting down in an armchair. “I see that Amaranta interests you more, and is of greater importance to you , than the fate of the world.” “But you won’t tell me?… Here in confidence… just to me,” he said, sitting down next to me and placing his hand on my thigh. “What, man of God, what shall I tell her, if I know nothing? ” “You’re tiresome, nephew. It would be very satisfying for me to know before the Emperor himself, and to be able to tell all those who are there, dying of thirst for news. ” “You say the Countess will arrive before midnight? How far is it from here to Moncloa? ” “But what do you have with Amarantilla?… All that’s to hide. But come… I want you to meet my daughter. You’ll hear from her later. Poor thing! I’ve taken her in and recognized her… It’s necessary to somehow repair the errors of our youth. You’ll have heard a lot about me in Paris. There are still enough ruins there from my destructive zeal in matters of love. But come… you’ll meet Inés… she’s very beautiful.” She has n’t picked herself up yet, and if she’s lying down I’ll make her get up. “No,” I said, “I will see her tomorrow. My situation, my dear ladies and gentlemen, was quite compromising. The Countess, whom I needed to see and speak with, was not there. I did not wish to break the solemn promise I had made to her when I promised never to introduce myself to her daughter; and truly, if Amaranta had surprised me there in the company of Inés, all my explanations would have seemed to her like tricks and dirty tricks, and the adventure of my disguise a treacherous ruse to snatch from her that treasure of her family which, for society and a thousand other reasons, was so implacably forbidden to me. I thought about all this while Don Felipe de Pacheco y López de Barrientos was driving me crazy to get me to give her news from headquarters. Thinking very quickly over the situation, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to use the same diplomat for my purpose, since no other member of the family was in the Palace. But for this it was also necessary not to lose the disguise, nor to lift the veil of that amusing deception, because if this happened, it would all end with me being thrown out into the street or placed at the disposal of a bailiff. Briefly meditating on my plan, I began its execution in the following manner: “Later, my dear uncle, I will inform you of everything that is being said at Headquarters. For now I want to speak to you about another important matter. ” “Important? Let’s see,” he said in a low voice, as impatient as a child. “Most important. ” “I can guess. England, the common enemy… ” “It’s nothing of the sort. What I’m saying is that this Count of Rumblar… Oh! He’s a young man of extremely bad habits. ” “We already know that; but let’s leave Don Diego for now, what nonsense! ” he exclaimed with displeasure. “You must be prepared in case…” At that moment, two figures dressed in uniform entered the room , one of whom was Spanish and the other French; But both of them spoke our language. We stood up, and the diplomat gravely introduced me to them, saying afterward: “No matter how much I prod him, nothing; he doesn’t utter a word. He comes from General Headquarters with extremely interesting news. ” “Are you going up to see the Emperor?” one of them asked me. “No, sir,” I replied, obliged to continue the farce. “I don’t need to see His Majesty for now.” “At General Headquarters,” the other said to me, “what is being said about the Emperor’s attitude toward his brother? ” “Oh!” I exclaimed, showing importance. “Many things are being said. ” “Many things!” repeated the Marquis, making a fuss. “It has not yet been decided,” added the one who seemed French, “that the Emperor, our lord, will cede the kingdom of Spain to his brother. What have you heard in Chamartín? Does His Majesty insist on the idea of considering Spain as a conquered country?” “Yes, gentlemen, as a conquered country,” I replied with great aplomb, adding my two cents to the world’s troubles and upheavals. “The truth is,” said another, “that the two brothers are not very much in agreement. Is the idea of annexing Spain to the territory of France taking shape? ” “Yes, gentlemen,” I affirmed, pitying the fate of my country. “Spain will join France. ” “Oh! What a calamity!” exclaimed Don Felipe. “We cannot in any way continue to serve the French cause. And you insist on dividing our country into five viceroyalties? ” “Well, what doubts have you, gentlemen?” I replied in the tone of a clever man. ” But it is still doubtful whether there will be five or six. ” “However,” indicated the one who seemed French, “I believe that tonight they will be reconciled. ” “Of course, if the Emperor decides to treat Spain as a conquered country, he will be motivated by the intrigues of England.” “From England, precisely,” I replied briskly. “You took it right out of my mouth. ” “And the senseless resistance of the Spanish people. ” “Exactly… the senseless resistance…” “Despite everything,” said the Spaniard, “I doubt very much that Napoleon could carry out such a daring idea, and even less so now when the weather is running Rumors that the Austria… “What do the latest dispatches say? It seems the Austria is arming. ” “Yes, gentlemen,” I replied in a prophetic, mysterious, and sibylline tone. “The Austria is arming and… I will say no more. ” “But, man,” the diplomat suggested, “we are all friends here. Say at once everything you know.” “Excuse me, gentlemen,” I indicated courteously. “I would gladly do so to please such amiable people; but before my desire comes my duty; before the satisfaction of a friendly whim, the conscience of my discretion, whose impregnable bulwark is vainly attacked by gallant suggestions or cunning courtesies. I will remain silent for now; but bear in mind that the Austria… the Austria…” The three courtiers looked at each other, and I examined the paintings on the ceiling. Suddenly two others entered, whom my august uncle also introduced to me; But here I was less fortunate, because one of them, upon greeting me, said with a certain malice: “It’s very peculiar. Three years ago I saw the Duke of Arion in Paris, and I don’t recognize his features in yours. Either I’m out of sorts, or you’ve changed considerably.” Fortunately for me, the diplomat had stepped back a little, and I was careful not to get involved in conversation with that gentleman. It also seemed to my good fortune that another came to rescue me from my difficulties, arriving suddenly and in great haste, saying: “Gentlemen, the conference is turning into a brawl. They’re raising their voices loudly, and shouts can be heard from the West Corridor. Let’s go there and we’ll hear something. You could have seen there how those courtiers ran through the corridors; how they scurried through the labyrinths of the Palace; How they rushed ahead of each other, vying to be the first to catch a piece of news, a stray voice, a gesture seen through a gap, an accident, a flash of royal glances, any pettiness that might be favorable to them. I followed behind them and went out too; we crossed a large hall, where there were up to twenty people in different uniforms; they entered new corridors; they passed from room to room, finally arriving at a long, very dark corridor with windows overlooking a narrow courtyard. There were five or six others there, leaning out of the windows, very attentive to I don’t know what, for I saw nothing worthy of attention. They all approached with quiet steps, whispered very quietly, and listened and looked; but what were they looking at, what were they attentive to? The courtyard I am referring to was very narrow. On the opposite wall was a large window whose glass panes, closed and covered from the inside with a gauze curtain, admitted the light from within. The thick winter curtains were drawn back on either side, leaving a triangle of light, with the sharpest angle at the top. Within this triangle, several shadows were drawn, but precisely one, a magic-lantern effect produced by the presence of a man between the light illuminating that room and the hollow of the window. The shadow moved in accordance with the varying degrees of animation of the word, and on this shadow and its irregular movements, the entire courtiers gathered there fixed their eyes, ears, attention, and souls . “They’re speaking more quietly now,” one of them said very quietly, “but a little while ago, some words were clearly heard.” And they stretched their bodies outside the corridor, hoping that their auricles might catch some syllable on the fly. I also listened; but the truth is, it was as loud as a desert. What really excited my curiosity was the shadow that occupied the center of the triangle. It was that of a stocky, round-headed man with short hair. The slow movement of his arms as he spoke, the movement of his head as he listened, was noticeable; the signs of assent, the vague and strong denials were clearly noticeable; the tenacity, the doubt, the gesture of question, of answer were noticeable; and such was the truth with which that shadow reproduced the person. The same one, that one even thought one could detect in it the smile, the furrowed brow, the astonishment, and all the other forms of language the human face possesses and uses. Sometimes the head, turned frontally, projected a round shape in the window; other times, turning, it projected its profile; then we saw a hand raised at its height, and we clearly distinguished the index finger, strengthening and giving energy to the word; then the hands disappeared, and the arms, joining the mass of the body, indicated that they had been crossed; then a long time passed without the figure making any gesture, a sign that it was listening or that it was meditating, until it once again began to act. “Now look,” said one of the courtiers, “how it says no, no, and no with its head.” Indeed, the shadow moved its head, making the negative sign for a few seconds. “Surely it’s saying that it will not cede its rights to the Crown of Spain to anyone ,” one of them indicated. “What he’s undoubtedly saying,” another spoke up, “is that he’ll go through anything except for the English to come in here. ” “No way!” exclaimed a third. ” What he must be saying is that the Spanish can’t hold out for long.” Then the shadow nodded his head repeatedly and very insistently, emphasizing the movement with his hand. “Well, now he’s saying yes, yes, and yes,” one suggested. “He’s undoubtedly talking about his unquestionable right to conquer. ” “And that he can dispose of the throne of Spain as he pleases. ” “Nonsense! I bet it’s nothing of the sort, and what he’s doing is asserting that he’ll defeat the English.” A little later the shadow put his hand to his nose. “He’s taking tobacco,” said the courtiers. “That’s thirteen times since we’ve been here.” Then the shadow brought a bundle close to his face, tilting it downward, and a distant snore was heard from our observatory. “He’s blowing his nose!” ” —exclaimed the courtiers. “A good sign!” said one. “No, but a very bad one!” added another. Then the shadow rose, and instantly merged with other shadows. A moment later, having separated the others, it stood out again; but it was already transfigured, for the round head had disappeared into a larger, trapezoidal shadow. Once the hat was on, it would have stood out from all the shadows that night usually engenders, and from all those that can return from the Elysian Fields or the Christian cemeteries to wander the world. “He’s coming out now…” said the courtiers. “Let’s run to the hall.” And that wasn’t running, but rather flying in disarray. “Aren’t you coming to the hall?” the diplomat asked me. “Can’t you see I’m not dressed up? ” “That’s true; but you… I’m warning you, the Emperor is leaving. Have you come to speak with King Joseph? ” “I don’t want to see the Emperor tonight,” I replied. Although he treats me quite intimately, and we often play a little tute… “Tute!… well… I certainly didn’t know that. ” “Yes… Well, I was saying that although we are very close, and we treat each other like two friends, I can’t present myself like that in the drawing room when the others are dressed in evening dress. You won’t go either… ” “Oh, yes! I’m going to the drawing room… Because I warn you that the Emperor, when he came in, looked at me, and then asked who I was. So now… ” “But have you never spoken to him? ” “I’ll tell you: what it’s like to speak to him… like that… well… like I’m speaking to you now, no… but we have exchanged notes, and believe me… on occasions, with pen in hand, we have dressed like Easter eggs. ” “Will you retire to your chamber? We’ll talk a little, and then I ‘ll leave. ” “At this hour! No… you must stay here. Don’t doubt that the Countess will come early tomorrow morning. We’ll talk as much as you like; But after I go to the living room and see if His Majesty looks at me again, and finds out everything that is being said… What do you know if King Joseph will want to call me like last night so I can give him a little conversation? “Let’s first talk about a matter that interests us… It’s a matter of few words. ” “Let’s go into my room,” he said, arriving at the parlor where he had first received me. “No, right here,” I replied. “Now it occurs to me that I must leave as soon as we’ve spoken a few words. ” “How odd! Man, I’m freezing here. Let’s go into my room. ” In fact, we went into another room and sat down; but we hadn’t even settled down on the sofa when a servant entered, saying: “Here is a gentleman who comes to tell Your Grace that the Count of Cabarrús wishes to see you immediately. ” “At once, I’ll come at once. Oh, most amiable Minister!” exclaimed the diplomat with sudden and immense joy. “Cousin, you’ll stay there. Inés will come to keep you company. ” “No… Don’t let her bother you,” I replied uneasily. “I’ll wait alone. ” “Let Miss Inés come,” said the diplomat to the servant. The servant looked at me attentively. “Bring my daughter here,” repeated the Marquis. “Tell her that the Duke of Arion, her relative, is here; let her come at once to keep her company, because the Emperor… I mean, King Joseph… I mean, Minister Cabarrús, has summoned me to consult me on a serious matter.” And without waiting any longer, for his impatience was feverish, he left, leaving me alone. I was so agitated that I could not appreciate the length of time that was passing while I remained in the solitude of that room, without perceiving any other sound than the ticking of a mantelpiece clock and the crackling of the logs burning on it. I was beside myself with anxiety, restlessness, and unease, and at the same time, in a frightful struggle, there presented to me the ineffable happiness of seeing Inés and the grief of my troubled conscience for breaking a faithful promise. At times it seemed to me that the minutes passed with inconceivable rapidity, and at other times that they stood still before me, staring at me like shameless little genies. My spirit, at times impatient and filled with amorous yearnings, urged me to penetrate the inner rooms, searching for her who had not appeared; and at times I felt like opening the window, throwing myself through it into the adjacent garden, and fleeing that house forever. I was ill sitting, and ill standing, and ill also pacing from one corner to the other in the small room: my pulse and temples throbbed furiously, and that violent, rhythmic pounding soon set me on a feverish rampage, which inflamed me throughout. Inés was taking a long time. “If she doesn’t come, I’ll die,” I said to myself, finally forgetting all the considerations that had initially made me fear her arrival. I don’t know if it was hours or minutes; I only know that many of my thoughts were fading away, and that others were coming to replace them, only to leave again. In this way , I appreciated the passage of time. The clock moved forward a long way, without Inés appearing. That solitude began to become unbearable, and the idea that she would not come represented itself in my thoughts, causing me immense pain. After my initial doubts, my spirit had surrendered to the joy of supposing she would come, and her delay put me in a feverish state. Dragged by an irresistible force, without noticing my situation or any circumstance, almost unaware of what I was doing, I opened the small door that connected that room to the next one. Upon entering, I found myself in a dark room; but since some light was entering through the newly opened door, I could see where I was walking. With very quiet steps, I crossed that room, and seeing my image darkly reflected in the mirrors, I felt afraid of myself. At the far end, I saw another door that immediately gave way to my hand, and I found myself in a third, smaller room. Profound darkness reigned there; but after a short time, I discerned a perpendicular ray of light in the black depths. At the same time, I thought I heard a woman’s voice on that side, and this, in the dim light, drove me further in that direction. I walked very slowly, stretching out my hands so as not to bump into the furniture; I walked like a thief, holding my breath, drowning out the sound of my footsteps, believing that even the fluctuations in the air as I passed would betray my presence to those in the house. I had lost all control over myself, and focused on nothing but reaching that ray of light as quickly as possible, beyond which I could already hear Agnes’s voice more clearly. At last, I arrived . Through the narrow crack, nothing could be seen; but I could hear it. Two women were talking. After a while, one of the voices said something as if saying goodbye; I heard the sound of a door, and everything fell completely silent. I waited a while. Then I placed my hand on the handle and, very, very slowly, I lifted it up, lifting it so that it made no noise. When I thought it was enough, I pushed, and the door gave way; I pushed harder, and I opened it little by little, taking care not to let it creak. During this operation, all my blood stopped inside me. As the door opened, I began to observe everything within the room. First, I saw a bed with white curtains, then a table with women’s needlework, and finally, a figure kneeling before a prie-dieu. Turning toward me, that figure, resting its forehead on the prie-dieu, was not easy to recognize, since only the hair of its head was visible ; but I recognized it, and it was Agnes. Advancing resolutely, but always with very quiet steps, I entered and approached her. Chapter 28. When Agnes raised her head and saw me before her, after a shudder that indicated the greatest terror, she remained astonished, speechless, ready to faint. At the same time, my emotion prevented me from uttering a few words to reassure her. My presence terrified her; she was undoubtedly going to scream. “Agnes, Inesilla,” I said at last, “don’t be frightened: it’s me, it’s myself.” Did you think I was dead? No: look at me closely, I’m alive. Don’t be afraid of me. Saying this, I embraced her, holding her close to my breast. “Did you think you would never see me again?” I continued. “They told you I was dead. Rogues, how they deceive you! Here I am; don’t ask me how I came. I don’t know. I believe God has brought me by the hand so that we may meet. ” Inés was a long time coming back from that stupor which for a few minutes seemed to rob her of consciousness: she looked at me with astonished eyes; she shed a few tears, and her face, fluctuating between tears and a smile, revealed a different sensation every second. After a while, fixing her attention on my dress, she seemed deeply astonished; she laughed again and questioned me with her eyes. Her hands and arms trembled alarmingly in mine, and fearing that the shock produced in her system by such a strong surprise would go too far, I took her in my arms, placed her with the greatest care on the nearby sofa, and sat down next to her, trying to calm her and explaining in precise terms my unexpected appearance. “But where were you?” she said to me. ” In your father’s room. He left me there when they called you, and there he was waiting for you. Why didn’t you go?” My impatience was so great that I couldn’t resist, and like a thief I snuck through those rooms until I got here. “And how did you get into the Palace? ” “That’s a long story. Many things have happened to me, Inesilla of my heart. I don’t know how I got here. I had promised never to see you again or speak to you; but I don’t know why I find myself at your side and see you and speak to you. So you thought I was dead? ” “Yes, dead!” he said sadly. However, I hoped it was a lie, and many times I’ve thought you were going to come. Last night, yesterday, just now, I was thinking about this, and when I was alone, I felt great anxiety, believing I saw you in the mirrors, or coming out from behind those wardrobes, or entering through any of those doors like a ghost. But how did you get here? What invention did you use? If they discover you… You’re dressed like a gentleman. “Yes, Inesilla,” I replied, kissing her hands. But even though you see me dressed as a knight, don’t think I am one. I am the same as I was before, when we were at Don Mauro’s house: that is to say, I am nothing. You are so far above me that you should be ashamed to look at me. Hearing this, everything changed in her spirit, and I saw her smile in a spontaneous and festive way, the painful emotion of the first moment now lost. “I didn’t think I would see you again,” I continued, “but chance or Providence has willed that I should see you. How unfortunate we are, or rather , how unfortunate I am! Because I have to renounce you, I have to leave never to return. Don’t you understand that it must be so, that it cannot be otherwise? It would have been better for me not to have been born. Why did I know you? Why did you become a great lady? Why did God, who took you from humility to bring you to the palaces, leave me in misery and in the obscurity of my name?” “You haven’t told me yet why you’re dressed like this,” he indicated with the greatest astonishment. “None of this is mine, Inesilla,” I replied with profound sorrow. “These clothes are like those that actors put on when they go on stage dressed as kings. Then they take them off and look like beggars: I am the same as myself. If the farce that brought me here is now discovered, your servants will throw me out of the Palace ignominiously. I am nobody, I am nothing. I thought I would never see you again; but some higher power has placed us together tonight, and I, who have sworn before the Countess, your cousin, never to see or speak to you again in my life, am now at your side to tell you that I love you and adore you, and I am dying for you. I will be a villain, a cheat, a wretch who mocks all the propriety of society; But being all this, and even more, I insist on saying that I cannot stop loving you, even if all the powers of the earth forbid me to, and even if all your relatives and ancestors were to stand among us sword in hand since the beginning of time. ” Agnes seemed to be meditating. After a moment of silence, she said to me sadly: “My relatives are very cruel to me.” “No, my little child: consider their position, their name, what they owe to society, and you will understand that they can do nothing else. How can they admit me into your family? The idea that you love me horrifies them, and they believe themselves dishonored just by looking at me. Your cousin the Countess is very good. If I had time to tell you about the benefits I owe her and the affection she shows me, you would be astonished. ” “The time has come for me to return to my family everything they have given me, and take for myself what they have refused to give me,” said Agnes. “You will be prudent and wait.” “I will speak frankly to my cousin. She has told me that she wants to see me happy at all costs, and she is the one who defends me from the impertinence of my five teachers, and the one who saves me from etiquette, which is what I hate most. I will tell her that you have been here… ” “No, no, for God’s sake; don’t tell her I have been here. I must leave right now, Agnes; I can’t stay with you any longer. ” “You mustn’t go,” she said, taking hold of both my arms to stop me. “I will tell my cousin everything; I will tell her that you haven’t died, that I know you haven’t died, that we have seen each other, and that you must return. ” “No, don’t tell her that: from this moment on, I no longer deserve the benevolence she has shown. ” “Oh!” exclaimed Agnes with great sorrow. ” Then what recourse is left to us? What can we do? When will you return?” “Never,” I answered, without paying attention to what I was saying, for my excitement did not allow me to form concrete ideas about anything. “How come never? ” “Yes, I will come back whenever you want,” I said, clasping her to my heart. “ If you command me to come back; if you, scorning the resolutions of your family, insist on loving me the same as when we were two poor, helpless children, I will come back, I will break the promises I made to your cousin, because, alas! surely your cousin does not know how much I love you, how much I adore you, and how we have sworn an oath to each other that is above all others. Tell her I am not dead, nor have I I will die while you live, because I do not want to and must not die; tell her that I will be here as long as you do not throw me out, and that before you were a Countess, a Duchess, and a Princess, you had resolved to marry me, that I am not a knight nor anything else, although having your affection I would not exchange myself for all the nobles of the earth. Inés, upon hearing this, grew very animated. Her cheeks colored, and the bright light in her eyes indicated an irruption of pleasant sensations and ideas of happiness that suddenly took possession of her dejected spirit. Taking my hand, she said: “I swear that I will marry only you, whatever your fate may be, whatever your position. They say I am rich, and that I am noble. Is this not enough? I will tell them that if they do not love me in this way, they should take away everything they have given me.” I will tell them that you are more of a gentleman to me than all the others, and, finally, that no human force will force me to stop loving you, because God has ordained it so. Let us trust in God and hope. What seems most difficult suddenly becomes easy. I know, without anyone having taught me, that when things must happen, they do, and that the will of the little ones often triumphs over that of the great. With these words, which indicated, along with a firm love, a profound meaning, Agnes showed me the superiority of her soul, strong enough to place the immortal laws of the heart above all the conveniences, worries, and artificial laws of society. “Agnes!” I said, lavishing her with the tenderest signs of affection. ” Despite being so high up, you are today as unhappy as I am; but for both of us, happy and peaceful days will come.” I had forgotten all fear, the reasons for my presence in that place, the lateness of the hour; I didn’t remember her family, or my escape, or the police, or anything; I saw no world but that small—what do I say small!—that infinite world that lay between our eyes. “You know and feel better than I do,” I exclaimed; “you show me the path I must follow, and I will follow it. I love you so much that I would like to die right here if I knew you were to be for someone else. And let setbacks come, let pride come, let family obstinacy come, let obstacles come, let it all come, I despise it all. What are a hundred thousand count’s crowns worth, and the greatest riches in the world? All that will not be enough reason to take away what is mine, my Inesilla of my soul and my heart. If I am poor and miserable, so be it: it matters nothing, since , miserable and poor, you want one hair of mine more than the crowns and treasures of all the dukes of the earth. Isn’t that true?” And now let all of society, all of Europe, all of history, and the whole world come and tell me that you can never be mine. Let them come, and I ‘ll tell them to go away, because we don’t need them at all, and we’re worth more than all of that. Isn’t that true? When I promised your cousin to renounce you, I promised the absurd and the impossible, something that didn’t depend on my will, because the love we have for each other is the work of God, it’s like life, and only the one who gives it can take it away. That’s what I said, and in this tone we talked a little longer, and then we changed the subject and continued conversing, seriously and jokingly, about a thousand things that were happening to us, without remembering anything other than ourselves, and least of all the time that was passing so quickly. From one topic to another, the object that had brought me there came to my mind, and I told him about the incident with Don Diego and his clumsy and abominable plans. She was surprised at this, and told me that she had never supposed Rumblar to be so thoroughly evil. We then went on to talk of other matters, and she laughed at my dress, and I at her amusing witticisms, as I recounted the palace ceremonies I had attended. The thought of the great danger I was in there repeatedly crossed my mind ; but I was so happy that I myself cast that importunate thought far from me. At last, a maid suddenly entered and said: “Is there anything I can offer Miss?” Inés told her no and left; but she watched me out of the corner of her eye the whole time she was there. We continued talking, and after a while another maid appeared who also looked at me closely, asking, “Has the young lady called?” And as soon as she left, I seemed to hear whispers and the sound of footsteps behind the door. I told Inés my misgivings, and we immediately agreed that I should leave. What a scandal! It was well after midnight. She herself took me to the room where the diplomat had left me earlier, and after discussing for a while what would be best to successfully complete that step, we agreed that I would wait for Don Felipe, continuing, when he returned, in the same role as Duke of Arión, and that under some pretext I would leave afterward, making sure that I was safe before morning and at the hour when Amaranta or her aunt were bound to arrive. Agnes took her leave of me, giving me great hope and promising that we would meet when I least expected it , and I was left alone again where I had been before. Tired of waiting, I tried to leave; but I found the door locked from the outside, and at the very moment I realized it, I felt an unknown hand also close the one that had led me to Agnes’s room. I was a prisoner. I listened to certain nearby noises and again perceived the whispering of various voices, like the laughter and mockery of servants and other people; this further revealed to me the danger I was in and the proximity of a disastrous event. This was what the Duke of Arion had come to stop me at. Shortly after, I also heard the diplomat’s voice, somewhat disturbed, saying: “Go and warn the guards. Are you sure he’s not carrying weapons?” Then the murmurs died away, echoing again toward Inés’s room, with the voices of a man and a woman, mingling in a lively dispute. Inés’s voice was heard very close, although I was unable to understand what she was saying. Filled with anguish, but also furious at the idea of being taken for a thief, I banged on the door with my feet and hands, demanding that it be opened, which increased the laughter outside. “It’s quite possible he has pistols,” said the diplomat. “Don’t open them until a squad of guards arrives.” But the servant, to whom such prudent warnings had been addressed, paid no attention; he opened the door for me and, rushing toward me with two others of his own ilk, said: “You won’t escape, no. Let’s see, search his pockets thoroughly and take out everything he has. ” “Scoundrels,” I shouted, struggling with them. “I’m not taking anything. You’re the thieves and robbers, not me.” “I think you ought to tie him up, boys,” said the diplomat, entering with great boldness. “I certainly suspected this young man wasn’t my relative. He must have his pockets full of jewels: search him thoroughly. Are you saying he was in my daughter’s room for more than three hours? That can’t be, sir,” he added, turning to me. “Who are you? By God, there’s some mystery here. ” “This is the one who served as a page to the Countess at the Escorial ,” said one of the servants, pushing me with such force that I fell to the ground. “This man was in Córdoba six months ago, and every day he came to the door of our house,” said another, kicking me once he saw me fallen. “And he is, if I’m not mistaken, the one who threw pebbles at the window,” affirmed a maid, digging her nails into my flesh. “I think I saw him at home dressed as a friar,” said another, hitting me on the head with the fireplace tongs. “I already know him, and I know very well what brings him here,” said a third, pulling me hard by the hair. “So, no less than the Duke of Arion?” said a footman, slapping me on the jacket with such force that it tore from top to bottom. “Look at the Duke of Arion! He certainly didn’t come with any small nerve!” exclaimed another, tying my tie so violently that I thought I’d be strangled. “Strip him at once. ” “No: wait until the authorities arrive,” ordered the Marquis. “So he’s a page of Amaranta’s, who went to Córdoba, and who used to throw little stones.” dressed as a friar? I was right when I said that this face was not unfamiliar to me. In the Escorial, in Córdoba…! Is your name Gabriel? Gabriel, Gabriel!… So Gabriel… And saying this, Don Felipe Pacheco y López de Barrientos paced around the room, no doubt turning over contradictory thoughts in his mind. Let the reader judge my martyrdom upon seeing myself among those vulgar servants, whose souls took delicious pleasure in degrading the one they believed to be Duke and trampling on my supposed nobility and chivalry. At first, I defended myself rabidly against their crude insults; but my strength, which was weakening by the moment, was useless against so many, and I threw myself into the vengeful hands of that irritated little rabble who could not tolerate the fictitious rise of one of their own. I believe they would have broken my bones; that they would have dragged me in a crowd through the house; that my clothes would have been torn piece by piece, and with them my flesh; that I would have been torn to shreds with pinches, prickings, and scratches, if the arrival of the Countess had not suddenly put an end to the painful scene of my crucifixion. I saw her appear when the first light of day was already fully illuminating the room, and she seemed to me like a saving angel. The surprise this sight caused her, together with what she had been told upon her arrival, had made her quite beside herself. Anger and compassion followed one another rapidly on her face. She seemed unable to believe her eyes; she looked at me, almost lifeless and battered, and recognized in my clothes those of the Duke of Arion, which she had given me to escape. For the time being, in spite of her anger, she freed me from all that rabble, and having the servants go outside, she remained alone with me while her uncle went in search of someone to take me to prison. Chapter 29. “My lady,” I said, quickly grasping her thoughts at that moment, “do not condemn me, Your Grace, without hearing me; do not judge me ungrateful, disloyal, and a liar, if you so thoughtlessly find me here. ” “How unworthily you have deceived me!” he replied, in a voice troubled by anger. “I never believed it: I thought you had in your low and ignoble soul a spark of the fire of honor. No: your abject condition is revealed in your actions, and one can expect nothing but duplicity and wickedness from the miserable urchin of the streets. Hypocrite, where did you learn to dissemble? How could your despicable character, formed by all perfidies and evil intentions, be disguised by the appearance of honest simplicity and noble sentiments? ” “My lady,” I replied, “your grace will treat me differently when you learn what motives have brought me here. ” “I don’t want to know anything. Have you seen my daughter? Have you spoken to her?” “Yes, madam. ” “Oh! It’s impossible that seeing you has failed to make me understand what kind of person you are. Where is Inés? Let her come here, and if, upon seeing this ragged scoundrel disguising himself as a great lord to reach her; if, upon seeing a palpable example of your baseness and vile condition in this pitiable figure of a Duke, who, bruised and broken, crawls along the ground begging for mercy, she persists in believing you worthy of being remembered, Inés is not what I want her to be; she is not my daughter; she is not of my blood. ” And indeed, I crawled along the ground, bruised and broken; and confused by the Countess’s anathema, I implored her forgiveness in disjointed words, indicating in half-sentences the facts that attenuated my fault. “Madam,” I exclaimed, prostrating myself until my lips touched Amaranta’s feet , “it is true that I have broken my word. Throw me out of here, Your Grace.” Hand me over to the constables; allow them to take me to jail, to the prison; have me killed if you like; but do not ask me, no, do not ask me in any way to stop loving Inés, because that is asking me for the impossible and something I cannot promise. Your Grace will tell me about your house and about all houses. I confess my smallness; I recognize that compared to Your Grace’s greatness I am like a grain of sand compared to the size of the whole world; I am nobody, I am a fool, a wicked, a wretch, and everything else you want me to be; but I cannot stop loving Inés. When her parents abandoned her, I loved her; when she was alone in the world, I was her friend; when she was poor, I worked for her. I believed that her sudden change of fortune would separate her from me forever: I promised falsely; I promised what I could not and should not fulfill, what was beyond my will; I promised to renounce what has always been mine, and my blindness and my error have lasted until this night, when I saw you and spoke to you, Lady Countess; until this night when I understood that Inés cannot, cannot in any way withstand the overwhelming weight of her nobility. Amaranta struck my humiliated face with her feet. I felt the soles of her shoes wounding my head, and the lace of her skirts swept across my forehead. The Countess was frantic and cruel in her unbridled anger. “What did you say?” she exclaimed. “You won’t renounce me? Do you know that a wretch like you can disappear from the world without it even noticing? Despicable worm! I don’t crush you out of compassion, and you rise up to insult me! ” “I don’t insult Your Grace,” I said. “I respect and venerate her who has shown so much desire to favor me. Your Grace can make me disappear from the world if you like: I certainly deserve it. I promised Your Grace never to see you again, and I haven’t kept my word: I am a scoundrel and a wretch. I came to this Palace with no intention of seeing you; I found myself alone, and an irresistible force, a fever that devoured me, drove me to your room, where I saw you and we spoke for a long time. Oh! Are you asking me, Your Grace, to stop loving you? It cannot be. Are you asking me, Your Grace, never to see you again?” ” Then let your greatness be such that they give me death, because while I have a single breath of life left and while I have the strength to crawl, I will run after her, I will seek her, I will penetrate to the most hidden places and I will climb to the highest, without ceasing in this pursuit until Agnes tells me that the war to the death waged between her and her noble family is over . ” “Oh! I want to conclude at once,” he said, unable to contain his agitation: “let my daughter come here; I will bring her here, she will see you before me, and if still… No, it cannot be. My God! What aberration, what absurdity is this that we are witnessing? Wretched beggar,” he added, turning to me, “go away. The fault lies with those who have given you more importance than you deserve. Agnes despises you: if you believed otherwise , you are mistaken. Why did you not do what I commanded you? Why did you come here? You deserve death, yes, death. I am not cruel; But should the life of an unworthy being, who would be lost in the world without anyone missing him, hinder the happiness of an entire family, hinder my peace and destroy the grandeur of a house like mine? No, it cannot be. Go from here; let them take you, let them drag you away like the infamous thief that you are. If she feels sorry, let her feel sorry; if she suffers, let her suffer. One cannot live like this. I will be inflexible; I will teach my daughter her duties; I will teach her the respect she owes to her name, and she will obey me, whatever the cost. “Let the others kill her, your honor,” I said, “and when she has succumbed to the violence, the vexations, and the tyranny of her relatives, let her mother have the consolation of not having laid a hand on her. ” “What are you saying? What did you say?” “Amaranta asked, staring at me fixedly , her tone, attitude, and expression changing completely in an instant. ‘What did you say?’ ‘I said that Your Grace must not, that you cannot contribute to killing her. ‘ ‘To kill her!’ she exclaimed in amazement, as if hesitating between admitting or rejecting the idea. ‘Yes, madam. Your Grace knows very well that Inés is very unhappy.’ I then saw how the anger dissipated from Amaranta’s face, how her countenance cleared, how all traces of indignation, biliousness, and nervous tension disappeared, and that calmed tempest was succeeded by a reflective stillness into which her spirit instantly sank , thrown from the heights of anger to the depths of despair. Meditation. She looked at me for a long time, and I looked at her. She was deeply thoughtful. She was in the grip of one of those invading thoughts that come suddenly and occupy the whole soul, that suspend all sensations, and envelop and seize all the faculties. At last, without blinking, without taking her eyes off me, without making a movement, she heaved a deep sigh and then said: “Yes, my daughter is very unhappy.” It was doubtless not the first time she had said those words to herself . Seated on the sofa, she rested her chin on her thumb and forefinger, and her elbow on the arm of the chair, and remained so for a long time. It seems to me I am looking at her. How beautiful, how imposing, and how captivating! “A worthy shell of such a pearl!” as a great contemporary poet has said, not referring to this one, but to another. Then she raised her eyes and examined me attentively; but how, with what interest, she looked at me! The glimmer of indignation that had once made her so terrible had disappeared from her eyes. I dared not say anything. A sweet sensitivity filled my spirit. Amaranta, a slave to her thoughts, repeated again: “Oh! Yes: my daughter is very unhappy, and I cannot make her happy.” Having said this, she looked at me with some perplexity. Her eyes reflected a deep compassion for me, perhaps some more favorable sentiment. At first I thought I was deceiving myself; but my heart, with its mysterious language, told me that the Countess’s feelings toward me had suddenly changed . My own feelings were striving to overflow from my breast. I approached her, and she said: “What did you talk to Inés about? What did she say to you?” I could answer her no other way than by throwing myself on my knees at her feet. But she repeated the question, trying with her hands to raise my forehead, which had pressed firmly against her knees. “My lady,” I finally answered, “he told me the truth; he told me that he could love no one more than me.” I was kissing her hands and felt her weep. That situation lasted a short time. We heard a great noise of voices; the door opened, and the Marchioness appeared at the threshold, terrifying, overwhelming with anger and severity. With her came the diplomat, Don Diego, the true Duke of Arión, some servants, and soldiers of the guard. Amaranta said nothing, nor did I. The attitude in which they found us must have surprised them more than the news that there was a thief in the house, and I am sure that each member of the family interpreted that scene differently. Regarding this, my readers will see something later that will interest them. Since the servants thought I was a petty thief, police officers arrived, and when Santorcaz entered the room and ordered his men to seize me, the two noble ladies fled with the rapid pace of terror. The uproar of that moment did not prevent me from hearing distant screams and the agitated voices of women in the inner stables. An officer of the French guard, summoned at the last minute by I know not who, somewhat contemptuously threw the constables and the bailiff out of the Palace, treating us all as people of a perverse ilk. Chapter 30. Do not pity me when you see me on this ignominious rope, grouped with twenty other unfortunates. We are not thieves, nor murderers, nor forgers; we are patriots, insurgents of that great epic, and we are being taken to France. Fortunately, that advice of the captain of the century did not come true for us, who said to his brother: “Hang a few scoundrels, and this will have a great effect.” From what happened later, it has become known that Álvarez of Gerona was also among the scoundrels. They did not hang us, for I am still alive to tell the tale; And when I say don’t pity me, it’s because, after I was arrested, the police didn’t accuse me of any other crime than treason to the French cause, and they judged me sufficiently punishable by exile. “I know very well that you’re not a thief,” Santorcaz told me in Madrid when They placed me on the rope that clasped the forty hands of the insurgents in a cordial grip—but you are a vile informer and busybody, who must be placed a hundred leagues from Madrid. If you were willing to be my friend and take a stand , I would get you a position in the police force, provided you served me well in this business. Not with words, because I didn’t deserve them, but with a look of contempt, I replied, and then I pondered my fate until the rope moved and the forty feet of that human serpent began to move. We were the rogues that the overly generous French government had refused to hang, and we were being sent to France. With us was the great poet Cienfuegos. Isidoro Máiquez and Sánchez Barbero followed shortly after, although not impaled. As I took the first steps, I looked at the one on my right, his elbow tied to mine. Oh, unparalleled fortune! It was Don Roque, the newspaper reader. “Ah, Mr. Don Roque!” I said. “Does the _Semanario Patriótico_ also talk about this? ” “My dearest Gabriel, God has placed us together in misfortune as in prosperity. Patience, and may the Virgin allow us to see our unforgettable town one day. ” “Why are they banishing you? ” “Son, for a prank. I was indiscreet enough to say in a public place that our unfortunate neighbor Don Santiago Fernández was a hero no less great than those of antiquity, and could be compared to Codrus, Leonidas, Horatius Cocles, Mucius Scevola, and Cato himself for the fortitude of his mind. Don’t you think so? ” “Did our friend die?” “Yes: when General Belliard went to take possession of Los Pozos, everyone laid down their arms. Don Santiago remained locked up in the Bringas garden. What do you think he did?” Well, in the morning, upon returning from his house, he piled up all the firewood he had placed there to warm us. You will remember that there was also a large quantity of old wood from the house they had demolished on the corner. With those materials and the wood, he made a large parapet in the back corner, where the empty chicken coop was, and placed himself inside his improvised fortress. The French tore down the garden gate, and when they saw that mound of wood, from within which a hollow voice was saying: ” Madrid will surrender, Los Pozos will surrender; but the Great Captain will not surrender,” they thought the one who said this was crazy and began to laugh. But Fernández had put a good quantity of cartridges inside, and, as he fired, he began to fire through the openings and gaps in his pile of wood. The French, who saw themselves wounded and some of them killed, attacked the chicken coop, destroying the old wooden parapets. Fernández did not stop firing at them from within. But watch out, for smoke might begin to rise, and then flames that grew rapidly, and the hoarse voice of the defender of the henhouse was shouting: “Long live Spain! Death to the French and to that scoundrel Napoleon!” The officer ordered the wood to be moved aside to extract that unfortunate man, who undoubtedly excited his admiration; but Fernández shouted again: “Madrid will surrender, Los Pozos will surrender; but the Great Captain will not surrender,” until the voice ceased, and the flames, spreading voraciously, destroyed everything. The immense bonfire smoked all day. When it was over, they searched for the body; but it was turned to ashes. Don Roque fell silent, and at the same instant the one who was leading us through Mala de Francia ordered us to halt. When we stopped, we saw that along the road and towards Chamartín, some carriages and a large number of horsemen in dazzling uniforms were coming. It was the Emperor returning from his visit to the Palace of Madrid and walking towards his headquarters. He was traveling in a carriage, and as he passed, our guide and the soldiers guarding us ordered us to cheer him. It was necessary to distribute a few blows with the rifle butts to make us obey, and when the great man passed, some saluted him. No doubt because of these and other similar ovations, he wrote on December 17: “In the towns through which I pass, I They express great sympathy and admiration. _” “Finish telling me about our friend’s death,” I said to Don Roque once the procession had passed. “Nothing remains,” he replied, “but for all his greatness and power, the man who just passed by doesn’t even come close to the immense stature of the Great Captain. Some have said our friend was mad; but is that one over there in his right mind? ” January 1874. “Napoleon in Chamartín” not only portrays a defining period in Spanish history, but also invites us to reflect on power, ambition, and the price of freedom. Galdós, with his unmistakable style, transforms historical events into a close and emotional experience that transcends time. If you have been moved by this narrative, don’t forget to explore other National Episodes, where history comes to life through unforgettable characters. Thank you for joining us for Ahora de Cuentos. Until the next story.
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Crítica: usa en demasía “guión bajo”. Molesta. Gracias