The Joy of Captain Ribot

by Armando Palacio Valdés

That was for me a memorable night! As soon as I had put out the light I understood that it was going to be long indeed before I could woo sleep to come to me. A whirl of wild thoughts filled my brain, disordering, agonizing. The lovely vision of Cristina came in the centre of all, but did not succeed in calming their ardor, nor controlling them. In vain fancy called up the scene of the handkerchief and that adorable face, softened and moved, the sight whereof had made me happy all day long. In vain I invoked the celestial felicity that sooner or later must descend upon me. Whether it was illusion or reality, I thought that the fruit was ripening, and already responded with delicate tremors to the continued shaking that my hand gave the bough. Perhaps it would be long in falling into my lap. But I ought to confess that this alluring future possibility did not leave me peaceful and joyous as I had hoped. I tried to become so by closing my eyes, but this did not do it. My eyes were only the more widely open. My forehead burned my hand when I passed it across it. I experienced a strange restlessness that obliged me to change my position constantly. The curious suffering whose first slight stings I had felt during the day, now pierced me fiercely and intolerably.

This suffering was nothing else but remorse. To be really happy it is a necessity that a man should be contented with himself, and I was not. Another image, melancholy and grief-stricken, followed always after that of Cristina in the interminable procession of my thoughts, disturbing the happiness of which I had had a glimpse. It was that of Martí. Poor Emilio! so good, so generous, so innocent! His mother-in-law wrung money out of him and would have ruined him to support her son in his idleness; his friend, whom he looked upon as a brother, deceived him; his brother-in-law, upon whom he heaped kindnesses, ridiculed him publicly. He had no heart near him that was loving and faithful except that of his wife. And I, an outsider, to whom he had offered so much frank and affectionate hospitality, I would snatch it away! The idea weighed down my heart, made me feel myself disgraced. In vain I forced myself to picture in lovely colors what it would be to be the lover of Cristina, to taste of the intense pleasure of passion, and the joy of conquest. In vain I tried to make my fault seem less by recalling to mind the shortcomings of others. In my ears sounded ever a voice assuring me that to go on would be to be unhappy. And my quivering nerves kept me tossing between the sheets with my eyes ever more and more wide open.

The hours went by, sounding slowly, sonorously, and sadly from the cathedral clock. I tried earnestly to shut my eyes and go to sleep, but fiery, invisible fingers pressed open my eyelids. At last I bounced out of bed, struck a light, dressed myself, and began walking the floor. And when I had paced back and forth for a while, searching the most secret corners of my heart, I understood what must of necessity be done. I had recourse to chloral, more chloral than I had ever taken in nights like this of sleeplessness and struggle. I renounced my desires once for all, my hopes, the enjoyments of love and the flatteries of self-love. I entered into my spirit with a lash and drove from it the perfidy of will which, for the few pleasures that it gives us, causes us so many burning wounds. This cost me labor, for it hid itself away in all sorts of corners, obliging me to pursue it closely, leaving it no point to stop upon. But at last I succeeded in driving it out in sober earnest, and I stopped in the middle of the room, tired out, perspiring like one who has performed some heavy task, but at peace. I undressed again, lay down on the bed, and the winged god, son of sleep and night, bore me away in his arms to the mysterious palace of his father.

When I awoke, the sun, already high in the heavens, was shedding its golden rays upon the city. As soon as I had dressed myself I went directly to the house of Emilio. The husband and wife were together in the sewing-room, and with them were Doña Amparo, Isabelita, Doña Clara, a dressmaker, and a domestic. The first question that was asked me was where I had been the night before. I excused myself with a headache. Cristina, who was embroidering near the balcony, did not lift her eyes, but I noted on her face the same expression of gentle compassion that she had worn during the episode of the handkerchief. And, too, while I was talking with the others I saw that she stole a swift and timid glance at me.

I improved a moment when all were occupied, and approached her. Drawing the handkerchief from my pocket, and in a voice so low that the company could not hear me, yet not low enough to make any secrets suspected, I said:

"I have carelessly kept a handkerchief of yours, thinking that it was my own. Until I got home I did not perceive my mistake. Here 'tis; take it."

She lifted her head and gave me a look of intense surprise; her face flushed a vivid carmine; she took with a trembling hand the handkerchief that I held out to her, and again bent her brow over her embroidery frame.

After that, tell me frankly if I have not the right to laugh at Cæsar, Alexander, Epaminondas, and at all the heroes of pagan antiquity in general! At least I live in the intimate conviction (and this thought makes me vastly greater in my own eyes) that if Epaminondas had found himself in my shoes he would not have returned the handkerchief.

I turned anew to the group and joined the chat with animation, although, perhaps, it was an excessive animation. My soul was profoundly moved and it should be declared among these frank confessions that, although I felt no pride in my heroism, neither did I experience that sweet content that the moralists say always accompanies good actions.

I lunched with them and we went afterwards to Cabañal, where the afternoon passed as merrily as ever. But my gayety was only feigned; although I wore myself out pretending it, and to divert myself, I am sure I cut a sorry figure.