“Why, come in at once! I want you to look around. What do you think of the house, eh? It is very good for the price. But then, the street is not very central. The parlor is not fixed yet; they have not brought the tête-à-tête, nor the large mirror, nor the hangings. One loses all patience with these upholsterers! The boudoir and the bed-room are farther along. Come in, come in!”
I entered and looked abstractedly at the boudoir, which was the extreme of commonplace, with its white marble mantle-piece, its arm-chairs upholstered in raw silk with a plush border of a darker shade, its tiny writing-desk, and its theatrical-looking toilet-table, dressed with imitation lace and adorned with bows of ribbon of the same color as the curtains. The narrow looking-glass over the mantle-piece did not have a gilt frame, but one of plush like that on the arm-chairs and sofa. My uncle wanted me to observe all this style, for he was like all niggardly people, when they make up their minds to spend anything extra, in wanting people to know about it.
“Do you see the little mirror?” he said. “That is the way they frame them now—a fashionable freak. And don’t think that they are any cheaper. Whew! they cost three times as much, my dear fellow. That empty space there, in front of the window, is for the piano. My fiancée plays beautifully.”
From the boudoir we passed into the sanctum sanctorum, the nest, or bedroom, which was a roomy apartment with stuccoed walls. The wooden bridal-couch, which was very broad and quite low, and had a carved head-board, was standing in the center of the room.
“The two mattresses are still wanting,” murmured my uncle, with a complacent smile. “Just fancy, the upholsterer has got it into his head to make them of rich, costly satin. I told him that cotton damask was good enough. If I had not been careful to furnish the house, your prospective aunt, who does not know what people are in Madrid, would have been swindled right and left. Look at those commodes; would you believe that the two cost me twenty-five dollars? People are so extravagant nowadays. Come now, and take a look at my study.”
We went through the hall and into his study, already completely furnished with its large desk, like a cabinet officer’s, and a big book-case which seemed ashamed to contain nothing but heavy government reports and half a dozen foolish and indecent novels, paper-covered, and very dirty. My uncle opened the glass doors, and taking a handful of books by Paul de Kock, Amancio Peratoner, and the Chinese Da-gar-li-kao, gave them to me, saying, with a suggestive smile: “I make you a present of them, my boy. Don’t get corrupted by reading them, do you understand? Just amuse yourself for a moment, and that’s all. Married men cannot keep such contraband goods in their homes. Send after them, or do you prefer to take them with you?”
I answered, that I had no time to delve in such serious writings, nor did they, in fact, amuse me.
From the study we proceeded to visit the dining-room, which was already furnished with sideboards and chandeliers, and then inspected even the humbler regions of kitchen and storeroom.
Back of the dining-room there was a cheerful little room, with a window overlooking some vacant lots.
“This is our spare room,” said my uncle; “so we shall be able to entertain a guest.”