“I am sure of it,” said Leon gloomily.
“And the more I feel it,” Fúcar went on, folding his arms, “the less can I understand her fancy for Cimarra; a fancy, I say, for I can think of no other word. She never even tried to justify herself by the attraction that a handsome man always has for a woman, though Cimarra was what you call a good-looking man....”
“Decidedly.”
“In spite of that I cannot comprehend it, for Pepa felt no charm, no fascination; in short, her choice seemed to me a very bad one; however, I could not oppose her, I had not the strength to oppose her. That has always been my weak point. When Pepa was but a baby she used to whip me and I laughed at it; when she grew to be a woman she wasted a perfect fortune in trifles, and still I laughed. When Federico asked for her hand, when I spoke to her about it and she said she would accept him—well, I did not feel inclined to laugh; but I consented. What could I do? At the same time Pepa did not seem to me to be very much in love; still Federico suited her for a husband.
“In short, on an evil day they were married—I spent a hundred thousand dollars on the wedding! What a day! If the whole human race had married on that day it could not have brought more misfortunes on my devoted head. My poor child has never had a happy hour since. She seemed to be consumed by some mysterious anguish—moral? physical? God only knows! She was mad after every form of entertainment and luxury—it is madness. Look at the girls of the present day; they marry for nothing on earth but to be free to amuse themselves, to spend money and whirl giddily through life. Not even during the honeymoon did I ever see Pepa and her husband really loving to each other. ‘This is like having a wooden doll for a husband,’ I said to myself. Sometimes she was silent, sometimes drunk—I can find no other word—drunk with banquets, balls, trumpery novelties, and fine clothes. Every day she must have something new, and sometimes not all the marvels of the Arabian Nights would have cheered her melancholy. Poor foolish child! As for Federico, she troubled herself no more about him than if he had been a chair. She treated him as if he were an idiot. Ah! Leon, my good friend, we live in a strange world. A vale of mistakes, that is what I call it.”
“I do not deny it; but it is even more a vale of tears.”
“Just so. Well, as I was saying, I began to be very anxious about my Pepilla’s health and even her reason. Happily her child was born, and from that time I date her regeneration. She ceased to be captious and extravagant; she devoted herself to the care of the little girl and gained that balance of mind, that majestic dignity—I can find no other word—that she has never lost. It was just at the time when the child was born that Cimarra showed himself the blackguard he was. But you know—all Madrid knows the history of his infamy, his swindling villainy. He shortened my life by ten years, the scoundrel! How many tears has my poor girl shed in this very room! How many times has she begged my pardon for having given me such a rascally son-in-law! ‘I was mad,’ she would say, ‘I did not know what I was doing.’ While he was ruining me, she would kiss me and implore my forgiveness. ‘We must set one thing against the other,’ I said.... Well, it is all over! God Almighty ... Providence ... You had better prepare her for the news.”
“I?”
“Yes, you are clever; now I should not know what to do but just go in and say: ‘Pepa, your husband is dead....’ Now you can go in and take up a newspaper, and say: ‘What a terrible fire at sea!’”
“I? No, not I. Excuse me, I cannot invent a scene. It is your duty, or that of some member of the family.”