Miguel began to puzzle over what he meant, and was inclined to imagine that it might be some loss or diminution of his property.
Don Bernardo dismounted, leaned against one of the bars to rest, and rubbed his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief, heaving a deep sigh; then he took some iron balls and began to open and shut his arms with the solemnity that accompanied all his acts.
After a few moments' silence, which his nephew dared not interrupt in spite of the curiosity that piqued him, the old gentleman dropped the weights, and approaching him with his eyes fixed and open like those of a spectre, he said in a hoarse tone:—
"Forty years ago I married.... Forty years have I been cherishing a viper in my bosom! At last its poison has made its way into my blood, and I shall perish of the wound!"
Miguel did not understand, nor did he wish to understand, those strange words. However, he said:—
"I have always supposed that you were happy in your marriage."
"I was, Miguel! I was because I had a bandage over my eyes. Would to God that it had never been taken off!... There is a day in my life, as you know well, when, in order to rescue the honor of our family, I descended to give my hand to a women of very different rank from mine. In return for this immense sacrifice, don't you think that this woman ought to kiss the very dust on which I walk?... Now then, this woman is a Messalina!"
"Uncle!"
"More correctly an Agrippina."
"But after forty years, when my aunt Martina is already old and venerable!"