"Frankly, Ribot," she went on rackingly, "if it were possible for Cristina to care for you without troubling Emilio, I would myself go and intercede for you."
"Thank you, thank you," I murmured, pressing her hand before I got mine away.
"Believe me, you are as dear to me as a son, and I would give something if——"
Here her voice strangled in her throat, and I improved the precious opportunity to stride with tragic footstep from my scene of trial.
I went out in indescribable confusion. I felt angry, wrathful at such a woman, who with so much frivolity and folly lifted the veil of the most delicate secrets, the deepest intimacies of her family life. Between my teeth I called her coarse, imbecile, a bad mother. My anger carried me so far as to accuse her of an inclination to trade upon her child's attractions, of having been born for the part of a Celestina. Yet little by little I calmed myself, and with calmness arrived at last at justice. Doña Amparo was absolutely idiotic, of this there was no doubt; but she was not a bad woman. Hers was a heart that spread itself like butter over the first comer. It was necessary to her to be looked after and petted like a child or a dog, and like them she knew no difference between the hands that bestowed caresses. Reflecting thus, my spirit was little by little inspired with less wrathful sentiments; but I could not help thinking, all the same, that if the foregoing conversation should become known to Cristina, she would fall dead of shame.
I encountered her in the office with her husband and Castell. Emilio, who was beginning to organize and get under way his famous project for putting canals through the province of Almeria, was in an excellent humor. I suspected that Castell had finally facilitated the matter with the needful. Emilio was babbling away, chaffing his friend affectionately about his scepticism and theories, and his apathy towards business. If he had Castell's means at his disposal, he would undertake to become the richest man in Spain, at the same time giving bread away to many families and furthering the progress of the nation. When I entered, the torrent of his chaffing was diverted to me, and he threatened to marry me off within a period of not more than two months. Then he began talking to me about his project. As soon as the great family event we were all hoping for had come off, he would go to Almeria to hasten the preparation for the canal. He drew from the desk a lot of portfolios and showed me the plans, explaining details, and trying to stir up in me the same enthusiasm that animated him. I gave him a religious attention, but only in appearance. I really lost not one movement of Castell's while I looked over the papers, for I suspected him. I saw him manage skilfully to get near Cristina, who with one foot on the balcony sill was turning over a book. When he got near her, under pretext of examining the book she held, I observed that he brought his cheek near hers until it almost touched; and although his back was towards me and I, of course, could not see his lips move, I knew that he was whispering something to her. The lady moved her head abruptly away and tried to withdraw; but—oh, what a surprise!—Castell detained her, taking hold of her wrist. At the same time with his other hand he tried to put a letter between her fingers. Cristina refused to take it. There was a struggle in silence. My heart beat in my breast. I was afraid that Martí would turn his head and see what was going on. Not for sake of the villain Castell, it may be readily understood, but to save my friends from the scandal and from cruel trouble, I did everything possible to keep him occupied. Cristina's frightened eyes were several times turned towards us; then not getting free otherwise, and fearing that which was surely going to happen, if this struggle were prolonged a few seconds more, she decided to take the letter, which she crumpled and hid in her hand. Then, pale, yet smiling, she came over to us and busied herself also in looking over the plans, forcing herself to seem at ease. But her face did not lose its intense pallor and her whole body was trembling.
As for Castell, I never saw anybody cooler, serener, or showing less emotion of any sort. He remained a little while quiet, his hands in his pockets, looking out over the balcony into the street. Then he walked about the room. Now and then he would give Cristina a quick, scrutinizing glance. In spite of the profound aversion with which he inspired me, I could not help admiring the man's incredible audacity and at the same time his perfect self-control and unquenchable confidence in himself. I have never known anyone to whom other created beings represented less.
I did not lose sight of the hand in which Cristina had crumpled the letter. Emilio went on through the portfolios without ceasing his long prolix explanations. Then rising from his chair and taking Castell's arm, he halted him in his walk.
"Do you—don't you want to go into such a business?" he said in the chaffing tone.
"You know already, Emilio, that I can't serve you," replied the other, with his placid and patronizing smile.