CHAPTER III.
I WENT back to the ship in a worse state than that of the day before. The lady occupied my thoughts more than was desirable for content or peace of mind. I went back again that afternoon and again the next day. Her interesting figure, her eyes—so black, so innocent, and so piquant at the same time, were rapidly penetrating my soul. And as always happens in such cases, her eyes first began to please me and then her voice began to enchant me; soon it was her fine hands, like alabaster; a little after that the soft veil of hair that adorned her temples; immediately thereupon, three little dimples in her right cheek. At last I found happiness in a certain defective way she had of pronouncing the letter R.
These and other discoveries of like importance could not be made, it is evident, without due attention, all of which, instead of pleasing the lady, annoyed her visibly. She always received me cordially, but not with her former frankness of manner. I observed, not without pain, that in spite of the gayety and animation of her conversation she revealed a bit of disquiet in the depths, as if fearing that I might again say something unwelcome. While comprehending this, nevertheless I had not the force of will to stop gazing at her more than I should.
At last the wig was brought in secret to the hotel. Doña Amparo tried it on in the most absolute privacy; she found it imperfect. It was returned to the hands of its maker; various changes were effected in it without either the public or the authorities becoming aware of the fact, and after various trials equally secret the good lady emerged as fresh and juvenile as if my sinful hands had never attacked her charms. For in spite of all—that is, in spite of the wig, of years, and of obesity—Doña Amparo had not completely lost her charms.
They invited me to take a drive with them through the environs of the city. The pleasure with which I accepted may be imagined. On reaching the country we alighted, and for an hour we feasted our eyes upon that smiling and splendid landscape. I found myself happy, and this happiness incited me to show towards Doña Cristina great deference and gentleness of speech. I felt impelled to say to her everything beautiful and interesting that occurred to me. But she, as if divining these perverse tendencies of my tongue, curbed it with tact and firmness, asking me some indifferent question whenever there seemed to be any danger of my uttering something indiscreet, leaving me with her mamma while she went on ahead, or taking pains to make her mother talk. This did not dishearten me. I was so stupid, or so indiscreet, that in spite of these clear signals I still persisted in seeking pretexts for directing various whiffs of incense towards her. I declare, however, that I did not think I was acting the gallant. I believed in good faith that such obsequiousness and such flatteries were legitimate; for we Spaniards from remote antiquity have arrogated to ourselves the right of telling all pretty women that they are pretty, without other consequences. But she cast doubts upon the correctness of such a proceeding. That these doubts were not ill-founded I see clearly enough, now that the mist of my sentiments has been completely dissipated and I read my soul as in an open book.
It chanced that that same afternoon, on our way back to the city, seeing the numerous and handsome country houses that we passed, Doña Cristina remarked:
"Our place at Cabañal is very charming, but not sumptuous. My husband is not satisfied with it; he wants something better."
"He wants something better?" I cried without stopping to think. "But if I were your husband, I could desire nothing!"
The lady kept silence for a moment, turned her face towards the window to look at the road, and murmured ironically,—
"Well, sir; let us have patience."