Saragossa: A Story of Spanish Valor

by Benito Pérez Galdós

"A pretty time to come! Among so many, so many people," said Mariquilla, weeping, "not one lifted a hand to help him. I nearly died of fright, seeing him in such danger. I looked anxiously into the street, and there was no one but enemies, no one; not one kind hand or voice among all those men! One of them, more cruel than all, knocked my father down. Oh, oh, remembering this, I scarcely know what happened next! When I saw it, my fright paralyzed me for a few moments. Until then I never knew what violent anger was, how a sudden impulse, an inward fire, could drive me on. I came to him. My poor father was lying on the ground, and the wretch was trampling upon him as if he were a venomous reptile. When I saw that, I felt my blood boil in my veins. As I have told you, I ran about the house, looking for a weapon, a knife, an axe, anything. When I heard the cries of my father, I flew down. Finding myself among so many men, I felt a strange, uncontrollable timidity, and could not stir a step. The same man who had kicked him handed me a fistful of gold. I did not want to take it, but I did; then I threw all the coins into his face, with all my strength. My hand was as if filled with thunderbolts, and I felt as if I were avenging my father, hurling them at that villain. I went out afterwards, looking everywhere for you; but I could not see you. I found my father alone in that inhuman crowd, down in the mud, begging for mercy."

"Oh, Mariquilla, Mariquilla of my heart!" cried Augustine in anguish, kissing the hands of the unhappy daughter of the miser. "Don't talk any more about all that. You tear my soul in two! I could not defend him. I—I had to go. I believed the crowd was after something—else. You are right. But let us talk no more of this which grieves me so, and gives me such bitter pain."

"If you had come to the defence of my father, he would have felt gratitude towards you. From gratitude one passes readily to affection. You would have been received openly in the house."

"Your father is incapable of affection for any one," replied Montoria. "Do not hope that we can accomplish anything in that way. Let us trust that we may arrive at the fulfilment of our desires by hidden ways, perhaps by the help of God when it least seems likely. Let us not depend upon aught else, or think of what is before us. We are surrounded by dangers and obstacles that seem unsurmountable. Let us hope for help from the unseen, and filled by faith in God and the power of our love, let us wait for the miracle which will unite us. For it will be a miracle, Mariquilla, a wonder like those they tell of in olden times, that we refuse to believe."

"A miracle!" exclaimed Mariquilla, sadly. "It is true. You are a young gentleman of position, the son of parents who would never consent to see you married to the daughter of Señor Candiola. My father is abhorred all over the city. Everybody flees from us. No one visits us. If I go out they point at me, and look at me with insolent contempt. Girls of my own age will not associate with me, and the young men of the city who go about singing serenades under the windows of their sweethearts, come to mine to utter insults against my father, calling me also dreadful names to my face. Oh, my God, I understand that it would be indeed a miracle for me to be happy! Augustine, we have known each other now for nearly four months, and you have not yet told me the name of your parents. It certainly cannot be as odious as mine. Why do you hide it? If it were necessary that our love should be made public, you would not dare meet the looks of your friends, you would flee with horror from the daughter of Candiola."

"Oh, no, don't say that!" cried Augustine, pressing against Mariquilla, and hiding his face in her lap. "Don't say that I am ashamed of loving you. In saying that you insult God. It is not true. To-day our love remains a secret, because it is necessary that it should be so. But when it is necessary to make it known, I will make it known, and defy the anger of my father face to face. Yes, Mariquilla, my parents will curse me, and turn me out of doors. A few nights ago you said to me, looking at that monument which we can see from here, 'When that tower becomes straight, I will leave off loving you.' I swear to you that the strength of my love is more immovable than the equilibrium of yonder tower; for that could fall to the ground, but could never stand upright. The works of man are variable, those of Nature are unchangeable and rest evermore upon an everlasting base. You have seen the Moncayo, that great rock which is near Poniente in the suburb? Well, when Moncayo gets tired of being in that place, and moves and comes walking towards Saragossa, putting one of its feet upon our city and reducing it to powder, then and then only will I cease to love you."

By this sort of hyperbole and poetic naturalism my friend expressed his great love, flattering the imagination of the beautiful girl, who responded, leaning forward, moved by an impulse like his own. They were both silent for a moment, then the two, or rather the three of us, exclaimed all together, looking at the tower whose belfry had flung to the winds two signals of alarm. At the same moment a globe of fire ploughed the black space, describing rapid circles.

"A bomb! It is a bomb," exclaimed Mariquilla, trembling, and throwing herself into the arms of her lover. The dreadful light passed swiftly over our heads, over the garden and the house, illuminating on its way the tower, the neighboring houses, and the nook where we were hidden. Then the report was heard. The bell began to ring violently, and was joined by others near and far, loud, heavy, sharp, jangled; and we heard the noise of feet and voices of people in the nearest streets.

"That bomb will not kill us," said Augustine, soothing his sweetheart. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes, very, very much afraid," she answered. "I spend the nights praying, asking God to keep the fire away from our house. Until now no misfortune has come near us, either now or in the other siege. But how many unhappy ones have perished, how many houses of good people who never harmed any one have been destroyed by the flames! I long earnestly to go like other women and take care of the suffering; but my father forbids me, and is angry with me whenever I propose it."