Artegui

“ Artegui, on his side, regarded her as the traveler, returning from snow-clad and desert lands, regards some smiling valley which he chances upon by the way. Never before had he seen united to the grace of youth so much vigor and luxuriant bloom. Notwithstanding the night spent in the railway-carriage, the face of Lucía was as fresh as a rose, and her disordered hair, flattened down in places, gave her the air of a naiad, emerging bareheaded and dewy from the bath. ”

“ He had his hat on, and the first objects to attract the eye in his person were the gleaming pin of his necktie and his low-cut light yellow shoes, of a somewhat daring fashion, like those of a manolo. The entrance of this new personage effected a transformation in the scene; while Artegui rose to his feet, furious, Lucía, restored to full consciousness, passed her hand over her forehead and sat upright in her chair, assuming an attitude of reserve, but unable to steady her gaze, which still wandered. ”

“ Artegui shrugged his shoulders. Sardiola, taking this for a sign of assent, launched forth:
“The young lady looks as if she were never out of temper, and you—you are always as if you had just received a beating. In that you would not be a very good match for each other.”
Lucía burst into a laugh and looked at Artegui, who smiled indulgently, which encouraged her to laugh still more. The breakfast proceeded in the same cordial manner, animated by Sardiola’s chatter and by the infantile delight of Lucía. ”

“ A charming subject it would have formed for a modern anacreontic ode—the woman holding up her glass, the wine falling in{160} a clear and sparkling stream, the thoughtful looking man gazing alternately at the disordered table and the smiling nymph with glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes. Artegui felt so completely master of himself that, melancholy and disdainful, he looked at Lucía as the traveler looks at the wayside flower from which he voluntarily turns aside his steps. ”

“ The earth, from over-culture, over-manuring, over-plowing, had acquired an indescribable air of decrepitude. Its flanks seemed to groan, exuding a viscous and warm moisture like sweat, while in the uncultivated land bordering the path were spots of virgin soil where grew at will the ornamental superfluities of the fields,—vaporous grasses, many-colored flowers, and sharp thistles.
The path was too narrow to admit of their walking side by side, and Artegui followed Lucía, although he strayed occasionally into the fields, with little regard for proprietorial rights. ”

“ They closed the windows on one side of the compartment and the flickering light played on the ceiling of the carriage, appearing and disappearing like children playing hide and seek. The mountains grew black, the clouds in the distance turned flame color, then faded, one by one, like a rose of fire dropping its glowing petals. The conversation between Artegui and Lucía languished and then ceased entirely, both relapsing into a gloomy silence,—he showing his accustomed air of fatigue, she lost in a profound revery, dominated by the saddening influence of the hour. ”

“ The arrival at Bayonne surprised Artegui and Lucía as if they had wakened from a prolonged sleep. Artegui quickly drew his hand away from the knob of the window on which it had been resting and the young girl looked around her with an air of surprise. She noticed that it had grown cool, and she buttoned her collar and put on her necktie. Men with woolen caps, girls wearing handkerchiefs fastened at the back of the head, a stream of passengers of diverse appearance and social condition pushed and elbowed one another and bustled about in the large station. ”

“ He had a bronzed face and a soldierly air which accorded ill with the patent leather shoes, and hair flattened down with bandoline, which is the livery imposed by the public on its servants in these places. A broad scar, running across the left cheek from the end of the mustache down the neck, added to his martial appearance. The waiter stared fixedly at Artegui for a moment, then, giving a cry, or rather a sort of canine bark, he exclaimed:
“It is either he himself or the devil in his shape! Señorito Ignacio! It is a cure for sore eyes——”
“You here, Sardiola?” said Artegui quietly. ”

“ They went into the adjoining room and Lucía remained alone with the corpse. She might almost have fancied all that had passed a terrible nightmare. Through the open window could be seen the dark masses of the trees of the garden; the stars shone brightly, inviting to sweet meditation; the tapers burned beside Pilar, and in Artegui’s dwelling the light could be seen shining behind the curtains. To descend ten steps and find herself in the garden, to cross the garden and find herself clasped to a loving heart, for her soft as wax, but hard as steel for her enemies—horrible temptation! ”

“ And Lucía, with disheveled hair, pathetic, beautiful, threw herself at Artegui’s feet and embraced his knees. Artegui raised her with difficulty.{329}
“You know,” he said, with confusion, “that I have attached little value to life; more, that I have hated it ever since I have realized its hollowness, and have known what a useless burden it is to man ”

“ They spoke little more until they reached the hotel. There are conversations which awaken profound thoughts and which are more fittingly followed by silence than by frivolous words. Lucía, tired, without knowing why, leaned heavily on the arm of Artegui, who walked slowly, with his accustomed air of indifference. ”

“ Artegui and Lucía stood silent for a few moments at the doors of their respective rooms; at last, the former said:
“You must want to wash your hands and face and brush the dust of the road from your dress and rest for a while. I will leave you now. Call the chambermaid if you should require anything; here every one speaks a little Spanish.” ”

“ The horses set off at a heavy trot, and the vehicle rolled along through the well-paved streets until it reached a house with a narrow door, marble steps flanked by consumptive-looking plants in pots, and bright gas-lamps, before which it stopped.
A fair, tall woman, neatly dressed, wearing a freshly ironed pleated cap, came to the door to receive them and hastened to give Artegui’s valise to a waiter. ”

“ What I find strange is—you. Come, Don Ignacio, you know it very well. I have never before seen any one who thinks as you think, or who speaks as you speak. And therefore, at times,” she murmured, taking her head between her hands, “the idea comes to me that I am still dreaming.”
Artegui rose from his chair and drew near the fire. His manly figure loomed up in the glowing light, and to Lucía, from her seat on the floor, he looked taller than he really was. ”

“ Artegui shook his head, and bending toward Lucía, murmured:
“How do those stars seem to you? One might fancy they were sad. Is it not true that when they twinkle they look as if they were shedding tears?”
“They are not sad,” responded Lucía, “they are pensive, which is a very different thing. They are thinking, and they have something{127} to think about,—to go no further, God who created them.”
“Thinking! They think as much as that bridge or those vessels think. The privilege of thinking”—Artegui laid a bitter emphasis on the word privilege—“is reserved for man, the lord of creation. ”

“ And Lucía turned her back on Artegui, and leaning her elbows on the window-sill, looked out of the window.
Artegui remained for a moment standing in the middle of the room, looking at the young{119} girl, who doubtless was swallowing her tears silently, undecided what to do. At last he approached her, and almost in a whisper:
“After all,” he murmured, “there is no need to be so greatly troubled. Dry your tears, for if you live long enough you will have time and cause in plenty for them to flow.” ”

“ She felt as if she were clasped in a fiery embrace, in which her strength was gradually melting away, and summoning all the power of her will, by a desperate effort she tore herself from Artegui’s arms and stood trembling, but erect, before him. Her tall form, her gesture of supreme indignation might have made her seem like a Greek statue, had it not been for the black merino gown, which served to destroy the illusion.
“Don Ignacio,” stammered the young Leonese, “you deceive yourself, you deceive yourself. I do not love you—that is to say, not in that way ”

“ The train started and Sardiola remained standing on the platform waving an adieu with his napkin, without changing his attitude, until the smoke of the engine had vanished on the horizon. Lucía looked at Artegui and questions crowded to her lips.
“That poor man is greatly attached to you,” she said at last. ”

“ Artegui smiled again, and the young girl observed how well a smile became that countenance, generally so emotionless and somber. It was like the dawn when it tints the gray mountains with rose-color; like a sunbeam piercing the mists on a cloudy clay. The eyes, the pallid and hollow cheeks kindled; youth was renewed in that countenance faded by{133} mysterious sorrows, and darkened by perpetual clouds.
“You should always smile, Don Ignacio,” exclaimed Lucía. “Although,” she added reflectively, “the other way you look more like yourself.” ”

“ Father Urtazu used to laugh at me sometimes, saying, ‘Patience, every autumn brings its fruit.’”
“Father Urtazu is a Jesuit?”
“Yes, and so learned! There is nothing he does not know. Sometimes, to vex Doña Romualda, the directress of the seminary I attended, I used to say to her, ‘I would rather have Father Urtazu for my teacher than you.’”
“And now,” said Artegui, with the brutal curiosity that prompts the fingers to tear apart the bud, leaf by leaf, until its inmost heart is laid bare, “and now you are happier than ever before? I should say so! Just think of it—to be married, nothing less!” ”

“ Artegui smiled again as he looked at the young girl.
“The misfortune does not consist,” he said, “in rendering a service, but in the recipient showing so much gratitude.”
“Well, then, I too suffer from the same disease as Sardiola, and I am not ashamed of it,” declared Lucía; “you shall see by and by.”
“Bah! all that is wanting is that I should have people grateful to me without cause,” responded Artegui, in the same festive tone. “It is not so bad when there is some motive{105} for gratitude, as in the case of that poor Sardiola.” ”

“ Well—now I have fallen into the habit of indulging in thoughts as gloomy as your own—and of wishing for death. If it were not for the hope I have, nothing would make me happier than to lie down in Pilar’s place. I used to be strong and healthy—I never know now what it is to be well for a moment. This has come upon me like a thunderbolt. It is a punishment from God. The greatest bitterness of all is to think of you—that you must be unhappy in this world, lost in the next.”{336}
Artegui listened with mingled joy and pity.
“So that, Lucía——” he said meaningly. ”

“ Artegui looked so fixedly at her, that Lucía felt her cheeks burn beneath the ardor of his gaze, and blushing to the roots of her hair, she murmured:
“I tell you all the nonsensical thoughts that come into my head. As we have nothing else to talk about——”
He continued to search with his gaze the{100} open and youthful countenance before him, as the steel blade probes the living flesh. He knew very well that frankness and candor are often more truly the signs of innocence than reticence and reserve, and yet he could not but marvel at the extreme simplicity of the young girl. ”

“ If I had his money, his money—you should see!”
“But tell me, don’t you think there is something between Artegui and Lucía?”
“Pish, no,” said Perico, who, differing in this from his sister, was not addicted to speaking ill of people unless they had given him some cause of offense. “This Artegui has only milk in his veins, milk in his veins, and I am very sure he has not said as much as that to her!” and he snapped his thumb nail against the tip of his forefinger.
“The truth is that she has not a particle of style about her. But let us come to facts, Periquin ”

“ Lucía, without rising, held out her hands to Artegui, who found that they were soft and warm and soon released them.
“On account of the rain,” he continued, “I could not take you a little farther, as I wished to do, to Biarritz, where there are very pretty villas and parks in the English style. Indeed, we enjoyed scarcely anything of the beautiful country. How fragrant the hay and the clover were! And the earth. The smell of freshly turned earth is somewhat pungent but pleasant.” ”

“ Lucía drew it forward and sat down in it, facing Artegui.
“Say something,” continued Artegui, “let us talk. We must amuse ourselves, we must chat—as we did this afternoon.”{121}
“Ah, this afternoon you were in a good humor.”
“And you?”
“I was suffocated with the heat. Our house at Leon is very cool; I am much more susceptible to the heat than to the cold.”
“You found it pleasant, no doubt, to wash off the dust of the road. It is so refreshing to make one’s toilet after a journey.”
“Yes, but——” Lucía stopped. “I missed one thing—a very important thing,” she added. ”

“ Lucía was now familiar with the eccentricities, the tastes and the ideas of Artegui, and knew by heart his traits of character, and the events of his life, which were in no wise remarkable. The reader may find matter for surprise in the fact that Sardiola should be so well acquainted with all that related to a man with whom his intercourse had been so slight, but it is to be observed that the Biscayan’s native place was at no great distance from the family estate of the Arteguis, and that he was the intimate friend of Ignacio’s former nurse, on whom the care of the solitary house now devolved. ”