“Carmen, what is the meaning of this? Did you know anything about it? Why, Castro Mera writes to me saying that everybody declares that your father is secretly married to his maid-servant’s niece!”
My aunt tried to control her voice as she answered bravely:
“It must be true, for Benigna also has written about it to Salustio.”
“And you say so in that quiet way?” cried her husband.
There are moments in which the curtain is drawn back, and you surprise the soul in all its nakedness and perceive its mysterious shapes, however quickly the surprised one may try to cover them up. That cry fully revealed my uncle’s soul, hard, dry, and vilely mercenary—like a great many others which roam around the world inclosed in bodies less Jewish in appearance.
“It is a great joke—your taking it so coolly,” he continued, excited and beside himself. “According to that you don’t care if your father is crazy! Because that is what it is—senile imbecility, dotage! But your brother and I will take steps to annul the marriage, and have that old man put under a guardian. Getting married! What a farce! That is what is called laughing in the face of all the world and making fools of stupid sons-in-law!”
His eyes flashed fire, his hooked nose gave emphasis to the expression of avarice and rapacity on his coarse lips, his face was flushed and almost as red as his beard, while his trembling hand mechanically took up and laid down again on the table already set for lunch, knife, fork, and napkin.
“What do you expect,” replied his wife, firmly, taking her place at the table as though nothing had occurred. “My father is master of his own actions for the very reason that he is so old. It is not true that he is in his dotage, and the respect we owe him ought to prohibit us from opposing his will. Let us be patient. It would be worse if he were to live in a scandalous manner.”
“You are a fool!” exclaimed her husband, losing all restraint for the first time, and determined to free his mind. “At your father’s age there is no scandal possible, or any such nonsense; all that there is, is folly and imbecility and ridiculousness—that most absurd of all things, marrying a young girl of low birth, a servant! Within a month’s time he will find that his head is too big for his hat. You women don’t know about such matters, or know what you are talking about. It is your lack of experience and ignorance of the world, which you do not know, nor have you any reason to know it. So you would do better to keep quiet most of the time. And, by Jove! if you will hear it, your father ought to have told me, before marrying off his daughter: ‘Felipe, don’t be too sure of me; although I am so old that my pantaloons fall off me, I feel lively and wont be long in getting married again. And as at my age a man always has children I shall have two or three boys who will leave my daughter out in the cold.’ How nice, hey? How nice!”
My aunt kept quiet. The pallor of her cheeks, her quick breathing and her flashing eyes indicated the indignation and protest which raged in her soul. But instead of opening the valve, she repressed her feelings and took a glass of water which was on the table. I heard the glass click against her teeth while she drank, showing how rapidly her pulse was beating. My uncle, without paying the slightest regard to her agitation and her brave silence, went on, growing more and more excited with his own words: