Froth: A Novel

by Armando Palacio Valdés

There was a large infusion of true courage in this demeanour; but there was also a touch of affectation, and deliberate effort. The younger members of the Savage Club, though not much addicted to literature, are nevertheless to a certain extent influenced by it. The class of work they chiefly study is the feuilleton, and the fashionable novel. These books set up an ideal of manhood, as the old tales of chivalry did before them. Only in the old romances the model hero was he who attempted achievements beyond his strength, out of noble ideas of justice and charity, while in the modern story it is he who for fear of ridicule abstains from all enthusiasm and generosity. The man who was always risking his life for the cause of humanity is superseded by the man who risks it for empty vanity or foolish pride. Swagger has taken the place of chivalry.

The party remained, talking of their friend's coolness. However, he was not for long the subject of their praise, for the first rule of "high tone" is never to show surprise, and the second is to discuss trifles at some length and serious matters very briefly. The company presently broke up, all the illustrious gentlemen going out to diffuse their doctrines throughout Madrid—doctrines which may be summed up as follows: "Man is born to sign I.O.U.'s and cultivate a waxed moustache. Work, education, and steadiness are treason to the law of Nature, and should be proscribed from all well-organised society."

Maldonado, as usual, hung on to Pepe Castro's coat-tails. The reader is already aware of the deep admiration he felt for his model. And Pepe allowed himself to be admired with great condescension, initiating his disciple now and then into the higher arcana of his enlightenment on the subject of English horses and amber mouth-pieces. By degrees Ramon was acquiring clear notions, not alone of these matters, but also of the best manner of introducing French words into Spanish conversation. Pepe Castro was a perfect master of the art of forgetting at a proper moment some good Spanish word, and after a moment's hesitation bringing out the French with an air of perfect simplicity. Ramoncito did the same, but with less finish. He was also learning to distinguish Arcachon oysters from others not of Arcachon; Château Lafitte from Château Margaux; the chest-voice of a tenor from the head-voice; and Atkinson's tooth-paste from every imitation.

But, as yet, Ramon, like all neophytes, especially if they are prone to exaltation and enthusiasm, exaggerated on the example of the teacher. In shirt-collars, for instance. Because Pepe Castro wore them high and stiff, was that any reason why Ramoncito should go about God's world with his tongue hanging out, enduring all the preliminary tortures of strangulation? And if Pepe Castro, in consequence of a nervous affection he had suffered from all his life, constantly twitched his left eyelid—a very graceful trick no doubt—what right had Ramon to spend his time grimacing at people with his? Then, too, the young civilian scented not only his handkerchief and beard but all his clothes, so that from a distance of ten yards, it was almost enough to give you a sick headache. And there was certainly nothing in the doctrines of his venerated master to justify this detestable habit.

But the noblest and loftiest precepts of a great man too often degenerate, or are perverted, when put into practice by followers and imitators. Pepe Castro, though he was aware of his disciple's deficiencies and imperfections, did not cast them in his teeth. On the contrary, with the magnanimity of a great nature, he showed his clemency in pardoning and screening them. In his presence no one dared to make game of Ramoncito's collars or grimaces.

It was a little after four when the two "Savages" came out of the club, buttoning their gloves. At the door stood de Castro's cart, which he sent away after fixing an hour for his drive. He was first to pay a visit by Ramoncito's request. They went down the Calle del Principe, where the club was situated, not hurrying themselves, and looking curiously at the women they met. They paused now and then to make some important remark on this one's elegance, or that one's style; not as bashful passers-by who gaze and sigh, but rather as Bashaws, who, in a slave market, discuss the points of those exposed for sale. On the men they bestowed no more than a contemptuous glance, or, as if that were not enough, they shrouded themselves, so to speak, in a dense puff of smoke, to show that they, Pepe and Ramon, belonged to a superior world, and that if they were walking down the street, it was only in obedience to a transient whim. Whenever Castro condescended to be seen on foot, his face wore an expression of surprise that his presence was not hailed by the populace with murmurs of admiration.

Maldonado was the more talkative of the two. He expressed his opinion of those who came and went, looking up at Castro with a smile, while his friend remained grave and solemn, replying only in monosyllables and vague grunts. Ramoncito, it may be noted, was as far below his companion physically as mentally. When they walked out together they really looked very like some learned professor shedding the dew of learning drop by drop, and an ardent disciple greedy of knowledge.

"By the way, where are we going?" asked Castro, vaguely, when they had gone down three or four streets.

"Why, were we not going to call on the Calderóns?" asked Ramon, timidly, and a little disconcerted.

"Ah! to be sure; I had forgotten."