That evening there was very little talking, singing, and dancing at the Elorza tertulia. Virtue, stern by nature, does not approve of noisy demonstrations. The young people of both sexes expressed the deep, pure satisfaction with which their sacrifice had inspired them by an ineffable severity, making them demure and silent the most of the time, as though they were meditating deeply on some Gospel text. Great, therefore, must have been the displeasure felt by all when Don Mariano said to them at the last moment:—
"Ladies and gentlemen, Thursday, at eight o'clock in the morning, I should be greatly pleased to have you meet at the quay, properly provided with hats, parasols, wraps, and so forth and so forth. Nothing is more likely than that the sailors of my falúa will be anxious to take us down to El Moral, and, as you well know, it wouldn't be polite to disappoint them."
The tertulia deplored this determination which deprived them of making a sacrifice for the universal brotherhood, and manifested it with a running fire of laughter, remarks, and disorderly movements: "What a man Don Mariano is!" "He always has to be playing these jokes!" "Thursday, Thursday!" "What engagement have I for Thursday? Oh, none, I believe." "Must we take waterproofs?" "I think cloaks will be enough." And so on.
And in fact, on Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning, Don Mariano's launch and the quarantine boat, both clean and adorned like damsels on a fête-day, were impatiently waiting for the people, tossing side by side in the slip by the quay. Four sailors in each were making the final arrangements, from time to time casting inquiring glances now at the river, now at the streets which led from the quay. The passengers were not in sight, and the tide had already gone down two feet and a half. One of the sailors expressed his dislike of tardiness in a rough voice which was far enough from fashionable. At last appeared a variegated group of women and men among whom straw hats and red cloaks predominated, and the old sea-dog who had just been swearing like a pirate blasphemed once more out of pure satisfaction, and put down a gang-plank between the dock and the falúa for the people to cross on. The first to leap on board was Don Mariano. The boat gently tipped on one side when she received her master's weight, as though making him a loving bow. All the young ladies, including, of course, the Delgados, next came tripping on board, leaning on Don Mariano's strong hand: the gentlemen followed. When the first falúa was full, they began to load the second, and this was quickly accomplished. In the first, among other people of distinction, were the two Misses de Delgado with their sister, the widow, who chaperoned them; the De Merinos with their brother Bonifacio, the most self-satisfied of all brothers; three or four officials from the factory, Don Mariano, Don Maximo, Martita, and Ricardo. Maria did not go because she would not break her vow to refrain from all recreation. Likewise Doña Gertrudis's indisposition prevented her from taking part in the excursion. In the second boat excellent accommodation was found by our friend, the fascinating, sprightly Señorita de Morí, under the watchful goggle eyes of the illustrious Isidorito. Likewise, we can distinguish among others a very pretty young girl named Rosario with whom the young swell at her side was not able to dance on the evening of the Elorza soirée, on account of the war proclaimed by the pianist against the German. The sailors were just going to cast off the lines for starting when from one of the falúas came a voice, asking,—
"But the De Ciudads?"
The De Ciudads were missing. Don Mariano and the quarantine doctor were in consternation at the mention of this name, which was such a guaranty of respectability. Before they had recovered from their consternation, there appeared at the end of one of the streets leading to the quay the six señoritas accompanied by their papa, their mamma, their engineer Suárez, and two small brothers. It was impossible to accommodate so many people in the two falúas; they had to hunt up another, and man it with the first sailors they could find, and thus precious time was lost. But at last, as everything in this world can be managed except death, the De Ciudads and their friends were well bestowed in a fishing-boat, and the captain of the quarantine gave the signal for the start. The twelve oars of the falúas began to strike the water in time with a gentle splash, like the arms of one stretching.
The level of the river was smooth, motionless, and bright as a mirror; the sun cast upon it wide, silvery spots towards the centre, and darker ones near the edges. The sky was covered by a delicate veil of clouds, making a splendid rival for the ladies' hats and parasols. Only a gentle breeze laden with the keen odor of pines on the shore came timidly kissing the soft back of the waters, and the no less soft and fresh necks of the ladies. It was not as yet a legitimate sea-breeze, but a hybrid kind[44] with the characteristics both of sea and land. The oars now put out all their agility, and with their blades lifted the crystal of the waters, causing fleeting, foamy whirlpools; all faces showed the healthful joy which is always caused by motion and the ever new and beautiful spectacle of nature. The girls, bending over the gunwale of the boat, delighted in taking off their rings and plunging their hands into the water, letting it pour with a murmur through their white fingers: they talked, they screamed, they laughed, and they exchanged greetings from one boat to the other. The young fellows spattered their faces with their canes or suddenly leaned to one side to scare them, taking great pleasure in their cries of desperation. All was noise and hubbub in the little squadron. As they came near El Moral, the marine characteristics of the breeze began to get the upper hand of the inland ones; it grew stronger, sometimes even blowing violently, as when the falúas passed by some glen made through the hills or sloping banks which shut in the river valley. The ribbons on the hats, the pennants on the mast-heads, handkerchiefs and neckties began to flutter violently. The voyagers felt the sweet deafness caused by the keen, salt-nurtured wind of the sea. A few aquatic birds of little account flew out from one shore and went flapping above the falúas, which was sufficient cause for Don Serapio, in a fit of enthusiasm for the sea, to get upon deck and, leaning over the flagstaff like one possessed, to sing the song which begins:—
| "Al ver en la inmensa llanura del mar. |
| When o'er the mighty prairie of the sea, |
| I watch the sea-gulls in their rapid flight, |
| My soul is filled with envious thoughts," etc. |
If the river could blush, it would not have failed to do so on hearing itself called so hyperbolically the mighty prairie; but it took it in bad part, believing that there was some joke intended, and was seriously angry. At all events, the wind undertook to wreak vengeance for it by suddenly snatching off the inspired singer's sombrero and cutting short the current, not to say the torrent, of his voice. The falúa in the wake picked up the hat and restored it in a very water-soaked condition to its owner, who showed no more desire for the time being to continue apostrophizing the sea-gulls.
The little squadron stood nearer and nearer to the handful of houses at El Moral, distant from Nieva about a league and a half. The town kept growing more distant from our voyagers, offering them a beautiful spectacle. It was situated under the brow of a not very lofty mountain, decorated with green gardens and groups of laurel and orange trees on all sides; its white-walled houses seemed to have been placed in such a situation by the hand of an artist who believed in combining the advantages of nature so as to produce the æsthetic emotion, as a stage manager would say; the dazzling whiteness of the town stood out against the dark green of the mountain like a great patch of snow stretching down from the top; the silvery sheet of the river extending at its feet waited motionless and humble till it should melt into its bosom. The gentle, pine-clad hills which bordered the shores, and which our voyagers left one after the other, seemed like the bristling backs of huge, fantastic monsters.