“What, man!”
And then Leon went on to tell him such plain truths about certain companies that his father-in-law suddenly lost the delicate hue that his complexion usually wore and a deep purple tinge, like mulberry stain, flushed his cheek and betrayed his indignation. After a short pause, during which he devoted himself to twirling the waxed ends of his grizzled moustache till they looked as formidable as bull-darts, he rose and began to examine the objects of natural history.
“Well, there is nothing more to be said on the subject,” he muttered.
He touched and turned over everything, taking up this thing or that to inspect it more closely and then peeped through the microscope.
“But I cannot see anything,” he said, with that odd pride of ignorance that is occasionally to be met with. “I am no good at all at such things ... thanks.... How much your microscope helps you! Now, do tell me—can they see the soul with this? Or is it because they cannot see it that they maintain that it has no existence?”
And before his son-in-law could reply he went close up to him, and, standing in front of him, looked at him for a minute or two; then shaking his head he said: “I cannot help thinking that my poor daughter has very good reasons for complaining.... I do not mean that you are not a thorough good fellow, Leon; but really if you think of it ... she has her beliefs, you have yours—or, to be accurate, you have none. Your lack of religion and your contempt for the time-honoured beliefs of the Spanish People grieve and offend her deeply. My dear fellow,” he added, laying his hand on his son-in-law’s head with an affectionate gesture. “You must remember that the Spanish People are above everything religious, and you know Leon that we are not in Germany here—that land of Utopian dreams.”
Leon attempted some explanation. “No, no, to leave her at liberty is not enough,” Tellería began again with some vehemence. “You must take some definite step. You have a reputation for atheism that is really appalling. I am frank with you, and for my part I would rather lose my position and my name in the world than have such a character for atheism as you have gained. I quite enter into María’s feelings; she is deeply religious—she and her twin brother were born to be saints—and in the end she will hold you in horror; she will fear and detest you, and be unable to live with you ... and if it comes to that, the fault will be yours for having expressed yourself so extravagantly in your works. Of course we all have our leaven, more or less, of heresy ... that is to say, I have not; I am orthodox to the bone, I do not meddle with philosophies ... however, we all, even the firmest believers, fail in our duties and neglect them; but at any rate we exercise some caution, we have some tact, we keep up appearances, we remember that we live among an eminently religious nation and that we must set an example to the lower classes or they will kick over the traces. This is not Germany. There is nothing I hate more than a Utopia. The Spanish People have many faults but they will never outrage the sentiments which have formed the foundation of their country’s glory and of the respect it commands both at home and abroad. To crown our misfortunes the aristocracy of Castile....” But the worthy gentleman did not succeed in finishing his sentence, for Leon interrupted him with some energy.
For a long time their voices could be heard alternately even in the distant room where the birds were singing. María and her brother paused in their conversation to listen to the parliamentary muttering that reached them from the study.
“Those tiresome birds do not allow us to hear a single word,” said the young man. “Listen María, papa and your lord and master are disputing over something. What a waste of time!”